#i just think you sound absolutely ridiculous when you listen to a song that was quite literally about jesus. of christianity. and you think

[livvyofthelake]

sorry that was just about me getting soooo annoyed when cultural christians who are self described atheists consume religious media and ignore all the religious connotations and meanings lol

[a-hazbin-reader]

HII I just wanted to say I simply adore your Alastor headcannons.. ❤️

I unsure if you’re accepting request but if you aren’t you can ignore this one 😅

I was thinking of a pining Alastor with a fem reader who never sings. Like she has always hated musicals, and ever since she’s been in hell she noticed it’s just one big musical. And the moment they finally actually open up and sing.. it’s not with Alastor. But probably Angel to make him feel better.. So he’s all jealous that the reader hasn’t sung with him.

And at the end they share a lil love duet and slow dance .. like, singing at last by Etta James..

I don’t know..I just love how you write Alastor. Your writing is absolutely phenomenal. 💕

I've been avoiding this one because it makes me think of Nix- 😭

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Alastor being a MENACE, Grumpy!Reader, Mentions of Drunk!Reader

Description: 👆⬆️

You don't sing, you're not the kind of person who's just going to break out into song like everyone else around you

You sang along to music, sometimes sure, or maybe even sang to yourself, but you didn't live life like you're in a musical

You had better things to do with your time than dancing around to mysterious music and making up words on the fly

It was something that annoyed Alastor because no matter how hard he tried to get you to join him in his little song and dance, you just walked away

And left him feeling ridiculous for even trying to make music with you

Good

Your serious demeanor and closed off nature only served to make him want to win you over even more

He doesn't like people being a mystery to him, he wants to know what you're thinking and how you're feeling all the time

For the sake of knowledge, of course, not out of any romantic desire or anything as ridiculous as that

After several failed attempts to get you to sing, Alastor just assumes you've got a bad singing voice and gives up

Only to be PISSED when he's proven wrong because WHY WON'T YOU SING WITH HIM

He finds you holding Angel to your chest and singing to him, the poor spider holding back tears as he relaxes into your arms

Alastor just hides and listens to the sound of your voice more confused than ever as to why you don't sing

You have a BEAUTIFUL VOICE

It reignites his desire to get you to sing with him and he becomes more of a pest than ever for you

He tries to trick you into humming or singing, turning on the radio when you two are alone in hopes that you'll take a liking to a song

"Do you have a particular music preference, my dear?"

"Can't say I do, whatever you pick is fine."

You only roll your eyes and continue looking at your book, the only sign that you like the music is your leg bouncing to the beat

He later catches you humming a little tune with Niffty as the two of you clean up together, the happy look on your face is the most precious thing he's seen

Alastor tries to invite you out to a concert/musical, waving two tickets in front of your face

"What do you say, my dear~? You and I listening to the most wonderful music in hell together?"

Only to watch your face scrunch up at the idea and realize that he's about to be rejected

"That's not really my thing, maybe you can get Charlie to go with you."

He ends up giving the tickets to Charlie and Vaggie, letting the two of them have a date night

You're smiling and singing a little song with Husk later that night, cooking a late night dish with him

He sulks the entire night and glares at you whenever your paths cross because HOW DARE YOU

WITH HUSKER!?

He even tries taking everyone to a karaoke bar and pulling you up on stage, hoping you're drunk enough that you'll sing

Only to be the victim of your drunken rage and get body slammed into a table instead because he startled you

"Alastor!! Are you okay!? Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! I will pay for the table!"

Charlie is panicking because everyone is STARING, but you just glare down at him, cheeks flushed from the booze

"Don't... sneak up on me like that..."

He'd be lying if he said it didn't turn him on a little, laying there still in shock over what happened

"Understood."

Later, he hears you singing along to a song someone else is singing to. You're so drunk by that point that he doubts you even realize you're doing it

But you still sound so good even when your words are slurred and you're not even singing the right song

It gets to the point where Alastor's mood sours whenever you sing because he wants to sing with you but you always turn him down

You're trying to open up more but it's difficult to open up to someone like Alastor because it's impossible to know if he can be trusted

Your better judgment tells you no, but your heart whispers that you should give him a chance

Alastor just wants a duet with you so badly

You two would kill it, and he knows it

He's playing at the piano one day, singing to himself for entertainment more than anything

It's a song from his childhood, bringing up memories of happier times with his mother

When you suddenly saddle up next to him and begin to play as well, adding another layer to his song

His tail wagging and the way his eyes light up are the only indication he gives that he's excited by your presence

He keeps singing, feeling renewed by your musical accompaniment and really enjoying the music

Only to be graced with the sound of your own voice joining him, your hands briefly crossing over each others to play the right notes

The simple graze is electric for both of you, but neither would admit for years to come

He was right, you two sound better than anything he's ever heard before and he can't help but look at you because surely you feel it too??

Only to be flustered by the blush on your face and the small smile you give him, obviously pushed beyond your comfort zone but trying hard

It's all he can do to swallow the lump in his throat and focus on the song instead of how good you look or how beautiful you sound

Only when the song is over do you two realize how close your faces have gotten, gazing into each other's eyes like lovesick teenagers

You both are leaning in closer, gazes drifting down to lips-

When Alastor suddenly jerks away and walks across the room from you, his face burning from the realization of what almost happened

You deflate a bit and worry that you read him wrong, standing up so you can leave with your pride still intact

"Alastor, I'm so-"

Suddenly, the radio comes to life, Alastor picking a station with a slow romantic song playing before holding his hand out to you

"Care to dance, my dear? It'd be a shame to let such a good song go to waste..!"

You're both blushing and avoiding looking each other in the eye but you take his hand anyways, being pulled flush against him

If anyone were to peek in and see you two, it would certainly look like you two were a couple dancing to a romantic song and having a moment

Alastor has one hand on your hip while the other gently holds your hand, your head resting against him in an attempt to hide how embarrassed you are

His ears are folded back, and the smile on his face is wobbly and awkward, your other hand on his shoulder suddenly seemingly very interesting

Good thing nobody is peeking in on you two, except everyone is peeking in and passing around cash

"Pay up Angel, Husk, Charlie won fair and square."

I hope you guys like it 💓

[bookyeom]

pairing: dino x reader word count: 3.8k warnings: swearing, alcohol, kissing and the barest of suggestive content (it’s hardly there, but it’s insinuated) 

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary.

false alarm by matoma, becky hill

i heard sirens in my head  from the first time that we met thought it was a false alarm  yeah, we started as a spark didn’t think we’d come this far but here we are

now I’m burning in your arms  endless fire in my heart  no, it’s not a false alarm

A/N: Happy Birthday to our Makdoongie!!

*****

Everything is currently a bit of a blur, but a pleasant one. 

You’re sufficiently buzzed, the thumping of the bass vibrating through you as you wait in line at the bar. You sway contentedly to the beat as you manage to slide onto an empty barstool, waiting as the song changes to see what the new vibe is. You’ve just opened your mouth to order from the frenzied bartender when you register the first few beats of Bruno Mars’ Finesse, and you squeal. You stand up abruptly, nearly falling off the barstool as you do so, and whirl around to face the crowd.

You push yourself up onto your tippy toes, eyes scanning the room frantically. You’re on a mission now. Everyone and everything is a blur in the dim light of the club, fading into the background until you find exactly who you’re looking for. He’s already looking back at you, both hands in the air as he points in your direction. He’s too far, and the music is so loud that you can’t hear him, but you know he’s shouting your name. 

You push through the crowd towards him, one half-finished drink order and a confused bartender forgotten behind you, your own hands raised in the air as you whoop and holler. You’re practically vibrating with excitement as he weaves through the huddle to meet you halfway, and when you meet in the middle, you’re absolutely euphoric. 

You both immediately drop it down. 

You’re not a bad dancer, and Chan is far from it. You’re sure that the two of you are being stared at as you take over the floor, fake twerking and throwing your hands in the air. The movements are absolutely ridiculous but you’re hitting the beat, feeling the music — honestly, you’re absolutely killing it. All you can see, all you care about, is Lee Chan next to you with his head thrown back, laughing and having the time of his life. You can just barely hear his laugh over the pounding of the bass, but you know the sound of it by heart, anyway. You’re beaming, inhibitions thrown to the wind as you find your rhythm with him right there beside you. 

You never feel as happy as when you’re with him. 

This is something that you’ve come to acknowledge as truth. It’s also something you don’t allow yourself to dwell on — because the implications of what it means is terrifying.

The song has just reached Cardi’s rap part when you catch Chan mouthing something, and your eyebrows raise in question. He tries again, and you shake your head. I can’t hear you, you try and mouth back, gesturing, and his mouth forms an ‘o’ in understanding. Then he’s leaning down, lips by the shell of your ear. 

“This song is the best,” he yells, a hand finding your hip to keep you steady as you’re jostled by the ever-moving crowd, and you nod, turning your head to reply. 

“It’s our song!” You yell back, and he pulls away just enough to grin down at you, nodding furtively in agreement. His hand is warm where it’s still settled on your waist. 

You think time stills for a second when your eyes meet. His gaze is unwavering as he beams, and you can’t help but feel like the only other person in the room when he looks at you like this. 

Shit, he’s beautiful. 

It’s not the first time the thought has hit you without warning. You’d blame it on the alcohol if it wasn’t something you catch yourself thinking almost every single day now — that he’s beautiful, your friend Chan. That he’s beautiful and warm, and all things good, and that he’s one of the best things to ever happen to you. 

He still hasn’t let go of you when the song changes, but the moment between you ends so quickly that you wonder if it even happened at all. You hear the opening notes of J.Lo’s On The Floor and Chan cheers again, his hand slipping from your waist to find your fingers. He moves to twirl you and you oblige, letting him spin you out and back in. You belatedly realize what a poor decision you’ve made when you end up with your back flush against his chest, bodies pressed tight together. His arm is snug across your chest, holding you to him as he sings the lyrics into your ear, swaying you dramatically to the opening lines. You think it can’t get any worse — and then the beat drops. 

You are wholly unprepared for the way Chan begins to move against you. Both of his hands drop to settle on your waist as he begins to move his hips back and forth to the music, and your breath catches as your eyes flutter shut. 

Shit.

There’s a reason you never dance seriously with Chan, and it’s because you know the damage he can cause. You’ve seen him dance, seen him do it all from hip hop to contemporary, and you just knew that his body could move against yours in ways that would make you blush. 

You were right.  

Don’t panic. Don’t make it weird.

You’re grateful for the drinks you’ve downed because with the liquid courage, you somehow manage to swallow your nerves and allow your friend to guide your body along with his as he dances. Your head falls back against his shoulder and your fingers reach up, searching for his hair, his neck, anything that will help anchor you to him. He responds by pulling you even closer, his breath warm in the space between your neck and shoulder. You can feel him everywhere, can feel his body pressed against yours, can feel your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. But you don’t hesitate, don’t let yourself think, don’t question anything. You just let yourself feel it all.

Until he abruptly comes to a halt, the song not even halfway through, and brings you to a stop with him. 

It feels like you’re moving in slow motion as he turns you to face him. Gone is silly, giggly Chan, and in his place stands serious, pensive Chan, staring down at you like he’s trying to figure something out. He’s so close, your hand falling to rest on his chest as the two of you remain frozen in the middle of the dance floor. You have absolutely no idea what to think, or say, or do, as his eyes wander across your face in the haze of the flashing lights. You’re not sure how long it takes but he decides what to do for you both, taking your hand and pulling you towards the exit. You hold on for dear life, not daring to let him go. 

As soon as you step into the cool of the night air, Chan turns around, backing you up gently against the wall of the building. You’re sure you’ve been floating for the last ten minutes. You can’t see or hear or think about anything or anyone but him, and how gorgeous he looks in front of you, hair messy from dancing, cheeks flushed. His hands find your face, his forehead falling to rest against yours, and it’s all you can do to just breathe. He’s so close, and all you can think about is how you want him even closer. You swear you can hear his heartbeat — or is it yours? You’re not sure. You’re in a daze, because of the alcohol and because of him, and you’re desperate for him to do something. Anything.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low. “Do you want to—”

“Yes,” you cut him off almost immediately. He inhales a sharp breath at your hasty response, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments, and you wait. Then he’s taking your hand again, pulling you to the curb, and hailing a cab. 

You don’t let go of each other’s hand the entire way back to his apartment.

You’ve been in Chan’s apartment many times. This shouldn’t be new.

But it is, because his hand is in yours as he pulls you through the threshold, and then his hand is finding the middle of your back to pull you in, and then he’s backing you up against his front door.

You don’t think you’ve ever held your breath this long. You feel fuzzy, untethered, a little bit insane as he looks at you. You don’t think he’s breathing, either. His free hand finds your face, and his thumb is brushing your jaw, and you wish you knew what was the right thing to do.

You know what you want to do, you just don’t know if you should.

“Y/N?” 

When he says your name, you let out a breath. “Yeah?”

His eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s struggling, too. “Do you… Um, do you want to shower?” 

You almost laugh, because that was not what you were expecting him to say, but you suppose he’s right. This was probably a terrible, awful, horrible, no-good bad idea. That doesn’t stop your heart from sinking, though.

You nod and he takes a step back, running a hand through his hair. You try to clear your thoughts, try to calm your racing heart as you follow him to the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything else, just hands you a clean towel from the cupboard with a soft smile. You thank him quietly, and the door is almost shut behind you when he says your name.

“Y/N?”

You turn, embarrassingly quickly. “Yeah?”

He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out for a moment. Then he tugs on the towel in your hands, pulling you closer and nearly causing you to stumble. His forefinger and thumb catch your chin, holding you steady as he presses a soft kiss to your lips. 

You don’t remember much of your shower after that. You’re in a daze, hot water streaming down your face, when you hear a soft knock and you jump a little.

“Yeah?”

Chan's voice sounds softly through the door. “I just put some clean clothes on the floor outside, okay?”

When you get out, you take your time drying off, trying desperately to wrap your head around what’s happening. You pull on the t-shirt and shorts he’d left you, taking a deep breath before heading out and into his room. You don’t miss the way Chan’s eyes widen as you enter the room, the way his eyes give you a onceover, or the way his fingers brush yours as he passes you on the way to get a shower of his own.

The air is tense when he re-enters. You’ve already crawled under his sheets — which, again, should be nothing new. What’s new is the way he hesitates, his eyes meeting yours as he towel dries his hair. 

“You can get in with me,” you say softly after a moment of quiet, and he nods. He seems to hesitate for a moment anyway, hand lifting to run through his damp hair. Then he’s climbing in next to you, and you can feel your heartbeat roaring in your ears as his warmth joins you under the covers. 

Are you allowed to touch him? Are you allowed to want to? 

You decide that there’s no going back now. He’d kissed you first — it’s your turn. 

You inhale a breath, and then you’re rolling onto your side to face him. He looks at you in surprise, and it gives you some sense of relief to find that he looks just as nervous as you feel. Before you can lose your nerve, you close the space between you, your head finding his bicep as you curl up into his side. You can feel it as he lets out a breath before he relaxes next to you, his arm sliding under your shoulders, and you goosebumps erupt across your skin. You move to wrap an arm around his waist. You can hear Chan let out a quiet laugh when you do, and you look up at him with a smile. He raises his eyebrows, almost as though you’ve challenged him to something, and then he’s pulling you in and turning his body into yours so that he can tangle your legs together.

Alright, you think as you roll your eyes at him fondly, you win this time, Lee Chan.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Your head is clearing itself of alcohol more and more as the moments pass, and everywhere he’s touching you has your head spinning for an entirely different reason now. His hand has found the space where his shirt has ridden up on your waist, just above your shorts, and he’s begun to trace gentle circles against your hip.

“Chan?”

You break the silence. He hums from his place beside you, fingers stilling.

“Yeah?” His voice is just above a whisper, hushed in this sacred space between you. Like he doesn’t want to break whatever bubble you’re currently trapped in. You don’t blame him. 

“I’m not imagining what’s happening here, right?” You finally say, and you can feel his body tense up. Your voice is quiet — you’re just as terrified as he is.

After a moment, Chan moves his arm from under you and props himself up on his elbow so he can look down at you. His other hand finds your thigh, and he squeezes gently as he responds. “No. You’re not.” 

You pause, biting down on your bottom lip, and Chan’s gaze follows the movement. Then you admit, as soft as ever, “I’m not really drunk anymore.”

“Neither am I.”

There it is. 

For a moment, all you can hear is the background hum of Chan’s air conditioner and the beating of your heart in your own ears.

“So…”

“I’m pretty sober now, and I know exactly what’s happening,” he says, trailing off before adding quietly, “and I’m okay with it. I’m more than okay with it, actually.”

Oh.

“Me too,” you murmur, and then he’s smiling, his gaze on you so soft and warm that you almost want to look away for fear of melting under the affection of it. You don’t.

“Long time coming,” he says, and if your heart wasn’t skipping beats yet, it is now. 

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “Way too long.”

He smiles, head falling back to the pillow. It’s quiet for a moment as you just look at one another. 

“Please let me kiss you again,” he says after a pause, voice even softer than before, and you feel your entire body alight with electricity.

“Absolutely, yes.”

The wide smile you’re rewarded with is worth its weight in gold. The hand on your hip slips around to the middle of your back and he pulls you in, your arms wrapping around his neck as he finally, finally presses his mouth to yours. Once, twice, three times; he kisses you, deep and warm and slow, and you can feel it all the way down to your toes. 

You can’t help but chase his mouth as he pulls away, which feels embarrassing until you’re rewarded with the sound of a soft, breathy laugh full of pure joy from his lips. His nose brushes against yours, foreheads pressed together as you both catch your breath. 

“Why’d you stop?”

The laugh you receive this time is loud. It’s one of your favourite laughs; it’s the one that comes out when he can’t hold back just how happy he is. 

He doesn’t waste any more time. His lips meet yours, and you find yourself on your back again as he kisses you breathless. You find yourself taking mental notes and pictures of it all, just in case. You want to remember how he kisses just like you always imagined he would, soft and slow; how his hands are gentle in their wandering, just like you always knew they would be; how his mouth moves languidly against yours as his hand finds the side of your jaw. Tender, and as warm as the sun.

You don’t know what this means for the two of you, but you don’t think you ever want to forget how it feels.

When you break apart again, you can’t place exactly how you’re feeling. You feel shy, and nervous, and excited, and a million other things all at once. His eyes lazily wander across your face, thumb brushing your jaw.

Minutes pass. He doesn’t look away, so you don’t, either. 

You both know that there’s so much more that needs to be said, but you’re terrified to let anything ruin whatever is going on right now, so you don’t say any of it. Neither does he. Instead, you let yourself relish the feeling of his thumb against your cheek, let him look at you, let him lean down and kiss you one more time. His fingers are warm against your skin where they’ve slipped under your — his — shirt, and you hum against his mouth as he squeezes your waist gently.

“I think kissing is all I want right now,” you whisper, and he nods, brushing his nose against yours. 

“That’s okay,” he murmurs, leaning down to find your mouth once, twice more, before he’s rolling off of you. He turns away from you, and you panic for a moment, fingers reaching for him a little desperately, because space is not what you wanted. That’s not what you wanted at all.

“Please don’t go too far,” you say, and you would regret the desperation in your voice if you weren’t rewarded with the softest look from him in return.

“I’m just turning off the light so we can try and get some sleep,” he explains gently, fingers finding yours and squeezing. He doesn’t let go, even as he reaches for the lamp with his free hand, pulling you back and into his side as soon as the room goes dark.

You want to stay like this, to stay awake, to kiss him some more. But when there’s no more light and you’re wrapped in his warmth again, you can’t help but let your eyes fall shut.

It’s you that wakes up first. 

You know where you are as soon as your eyes open. You’re in Chan’s room, which is nothing new. What is new this morning is the way he’s got his arm draped over your waist, and his face is right next to yours on the pillow. And also that you kissed last night. A lot.

You panic a little when it all comes back to you, but your overthinking is overpowered by your need to pee. You manage to get out from under him with minimal damage. You try not to freak out as you wash your face, your brain reeling with what all of this might mean. You don’t regret it, of course you don’t, but does he?

You fight against everything in you that wants to run, to leave his apartment and pretend nothing happened. Because it’s Chan, and he’s a good friend, and you owe him that much, even if you’re a coward.

You’re grateful that you don’t have to wait for him long, because the longer you sit there, the more you want to throw up. You hear when he stirs in the other room, and you squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment in order to steady yourself. You wait with bated breath on one of the stools in his kitchen like a robot, rigid and tense, until you finally hear him enter. 

“Hey,” he says softly, and your heart leaps into your throat. 

“Hi,” you reply, voice just as quiet, and you meet his eyes. He smiles tentatively, a hand lifting to run through his hair. He looks so heartbreakingly beautiful like this, you think, when it’s early in the morning and he’s on his way over to you, eyes a soft brown in the sunlight that streams through the kitchen window.

”Did you sleep okay?” 

You think he knows you were staring when he speaks and it takes you a second to react. You blush, abruptly turning your head away from him. 

“Yeah, I slept well.” 

“Hey,” he says, and you can practically hear him trying not to smile. “You can’t hide from me after you kissed me like that last night.”

“Chan!” You’re absolutely scandalized as he uses the bottom of the stool to turn you back towards him. Your hands lift to cover your face, and he laughs. You wince as his laughs subside, but you don’t fight him as he gently pulls your hands away.

“Hi,” he says again, and you purse your lips. “I’m sorry for teasing you.” The smile fades from his mouth as his expression turns serious. “We should talk about it.”

You nod, even though you’re so nervous you don’t know if you can talk at all. 

“Do you…” He trails off as he lets go of your hands. He leans against the counter next to you, and you wait for him to continue. “I mean, would you want to do that again?” You furrow your brows, and his eyes widen. He’s quick to speak again, stumbling over his words. “God, I meant… Did you enjoy it? Kissing me and everything? Do you, um, do you want to do this?” 

His eyes squeeze shut as he finishes his sentence, and you can’t believe how flushed he’s gotten. 

“Do you?” Is all you can manage.

Chan’s eyes open again, and he blurts out, “I asked you first.” 

That’s fair.

“Well,” you say softly, “my head’s definitely a lot clearer now.” You watch as Chan deflates a little.

“Oh.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you clock the look of disappointment on his face. “Wait, no! I meant that — what I wanted to say is that even though I’m sober now, I still want to kiss you. Of course I wanted to kiss you last night, too. I wasn’t that drunk —” It’s your turn to flush crimson red now, and you force yourself to take a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is that of course I want this, Chan. I have wanted to be with you for so long, and I —“

Your surprised gasp is muffled as he pulls you into him, squeezing you so tight around the waist that you think he might break you. He buries his face in your neck and murmurs, “You should have said that first, oh my god. I have liked you for so long it’s embarrassing, so you need to stop talking before I literally explode.”

It takes a second for everything to process. Then he’s pulled back to look at you again, your legs moving to let him stand between them, and he presses his forehead to yours. Your hand lifts to his face, and you’re flooded with affection when he leans into the warmth of it.

“So,” he says softly.

“So,” you repeat.

He gazes at you, warm, and you bite your lip.

“Us?” You finally ask, and Chan nods with a smile.

“Us.”

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the fourth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Channie’s birthday. I know I just posted the Woozi fic yesterday, but it’s Chan’s birthday. What can I do?

Also, this fic in particular is very important to me, so I would love to hear your thoughts!

Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[bisnes-socks]

talking about ready to go on this fine sunday evening

the very beginning of the song, before the guitars come in, and it's just like a synth sound, some backing vocals and bass, reminds me of kinda like old school hiphop. an opening like that could easily lead into a real rap beat, it's giving like early 90's and early 2000's hiphop. i was kind of expecting it to go the rap route when i first heard the song! but nope, in comes a siiiiick metal inspired guitar riff (jukka i owe you my life???) that's some chugging, i am also ready to go with a riff like this. hell of an opening.

his vocals come in one style, transition into another, then a new style for the chorus, and yet another for the second verse. FOUR vocal styles for one song. that's not so typical for pop music these days. i love how fearless he is with vocals in general, he's not afraid of sounding weird or funny. and even with the funny voices, he himself never becomes a joke, because he commits and puts his whole back into it. that is genuenly a skill, to be able to be so playful and still be for real.

and his singing in the chorus is good, very pleasing. i especially love his voice with the word"haluut" like he hits some soft vibrato in the second chorus right there, that is some good shit.

and guys. the way the chorus is built. it's incredible.

the long pauses in between words is so good and so... cunty lmao. it's like he is leaving room for the listener to jump to conclusions, only to call you and your mother and the whole country and culture out for being negative nellies who wish artists would fail (context for that can be read here)

so the first time hearing the chorus is like:

sä (who me?) haluut (oh? i do?) nähä (see what 🫣) ku mä (when you what 😳) flomaan taas ojaan kuraiseen (ooooh snap he said that part out loud)

and like i said it's so cunty, it's so deliciously arrogant to open the whole entire album this way, because there is so much space in the chorus to expect all sorts of things. because it could go anywhere. like...

1. sä -> oh he's talking to me now

2. haluut -> he is calling out something i want and desire. that's very disarming as a listener, makes you feel on edge because whatever he is going to claim that you want, you either have to come to terms with him being absolutely bang on the money correct, which means he sees right through you and you feel exposed, or he is going to say something you don't want, which will be a whole different journey, could be funny, could be offputting, could be anything!

3. nähä -> oop, what is it that he thinks i want to see, is this going a voyeristic route? is he going to expose everyone for being horny for him? whatever it is he is calling everyone voyers, basically.

4. ku mä -> it's so very deliciously arrogant to just straight up make a chorus that starts by him straight up telling you, that you, yes YOU, want to see me [do anything]. he's like. you're obsessed with me, aren't you. and he is RIGHT. makes the listener a bit red in the face, don't you think?

5. flomaan taas ojaan kuraiseen / mokaan ja maitojunaan meen -> aaand (finnish) people know exactly where this is going now. he is calling out the culture, he is calling out the haters, he is calling out the negativity and the vahingonilo (schadenfreude?) in this country. and we know exactly who he is talking to, we all know these people.

KING SHIT.

THE CUNT ON HIM to make this the opening track because we know it's aimed at, you know, like Pekka from Janakkala or whatever, who spent all of 2023 huffing and puffing because he thinks this Käärijä business is ridiculous and a waste of time and so he told everyone who was excited about CCC and ESC that ultimately Käärijä would fail and embarrass himself and the whole country. So Jere knows Pekka from Janakkala is still mad that "mikä lie Käärepaperi se nyt oli" actually succeeded and continues to succeed, so he calls that shit out in the first fucken song. It's like he's saying hi to all the haters who put the record on with every intention of trashing it and complaining about it. and it is them to whom he is being like "why are you so obsessed with me honey, why are you here to peep at me, hmm?"

the gaps in the chorus are like the audio equivalent of awkward eye contact you can't escape. he's saying i fucken see you.

and then the one time he modifies the chorus, he says "mä haluun ajaa tosi kovaa, vaik pelti kolisee, hei baby i'm ready to go" and that's him informing everyone that he's going to continue to do whatever he wants to do, he doesn't care if he gets a bit banged up or bruised on the way, because he is ready. and then it goes back to like "you want to see me fail, but i'm ready to go". the confidence in all that is genuenly admirable and something that this culture needs.

and i think the rest of the lyrics, in the verses, are about that too. he's going full speed ahead because he does not care if he stumbles. he's doing what he wants, what he always wanted, it's his passion, and he no longer has anything to lose. he's not afraid of failure. he knows there are people who want to see him fail, because it would confirm their own sad world view, but he does not give a flying fuck and he's not going to let that kind of mindset affect him. so he is fucking ready to go.

and musically, this song combines all of the käärijä elements really well! like i said, the opening sounds first like old school rap, then like metal, then going into more of a dance beat, the use of different vocal styles, a strong message, proper attitude sprinkled with a lot of humour and some twinkle in the eye. and the way he switches between pronouncing ready to go the finnish way and a more "proper english" way, is also a fun little international Käärijä detail.

a banger of a song with the cuntiest attitude we've seen in a while. incredible.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨, 𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞, & 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐇𝐚𝐬 𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐒𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐄𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐦 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: mentions of self depreciating thoughts

↳ song: be nice to me—the front bottoms

masterlist!

𝐀𝐥𝐞𝐣𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨

• He is the best at assuring you that you're beautiful; no matter the time of day. Flattery is one of his love languages after all

• Whispers sweet nothings to you as he hugs you from behind, doing his best to squash each and every negative thought that pops up

• Most of what he says is in his mother tounge. It's a lot easier for Alejandro to spill his heart out to you that way. If you know spanish, he just smiles as he buries his face in your neck—placing soft kisses along your skin. If not, he'll gently translate it with just as much love as the first times

• Even though he might be a villian, Alejandro wont stand to see anyone put you down. Anyone. Not Heather, Duncan, Mal, Chris; you name it. He'll shut them down with a quick witted quip, tight smile conveying his true emotions

• Is adamant that is he doesn't win the game, he wants you to. After all how could you not? You're smart and courageous and stunning and—

• "Okay okay Al. I get it." You shook your head playfully, sighing

• You're the only one that gets to call him that. It's the only way he won't shiver when he hears the nickname. Plus he likes how it sounds coming from you

• "Anything for you amore."

𝐌𝐢𝐤𝐞

• Mike is in absolute disbelief that you'd ever think you were anything short of amazing. I mean, really? You of all people thinking thst you don't measure up to others? Impossible. He just doesn't understand

• Mike is comforting in the aspect that he doesn't get it. One of the reasons he has a giant crush on you in the first place is, well, literally everything about you

• He adores you, and will go on small tangents about all the things he loves about you without even noticing

• "—and I mean don't even get me started on your kindness!" Mike laughed with heat tinting the top of his ears. He had been talking for quite some time now, not noticing that you had been staring at him with a greatful shine in your eyes

• Once you sit down and explain that it's a mental state, he just sort of goes. Oh. And then proceeds to hug you tightly. And I mean tightly. This guy has some strength on him—we've all seen how he nearly crushed Cameron that one time

• "I'll always be here for you!" He titters happily. "I think you're amazing no matter what!"

• Probably calls you awesome sauce anytime he notices you feeling down. It's so ridiculous that it just manages to cheer you up everytime

𝐌𝐚��

• Durring All Stars, all Mal can think about is winning. He doesn't have time for pesky emotions like all the other peons. It'd just slow him down

• "Why do I care if they feel like dirt. It's not my problem they can't keep their eyes on the prize." Mal frowns at the confessional camera deeply. Normally, he'd be downright gleeful at the prospect of someone being thrown off their game. But he can only bring himself to glower

• For the sake up keeping up appearances, and only for the sake of keeping up appearances, he'll approach you this one time

• "Hey there buddy!" He dragged out the y in hey, hair flipped up on his forehead to look like Mike. "What's wrong?"

• Tells himself that he's only doing this to blackmail you later

• Cameras later cut to another one of Mals' confessionals. This time, he refuses to make eye contact with the lense

• "Maybe I helped them feel a little better. So fucking what." He glares. "It's not like I care or anything. Because I don't." Mal makes sure to emphasize that last sentence deeply

• He doesn't seem to mean it

𝐌𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐚

• His way of comforting you consists of taking his hat off and placing it on your head for you to wear. All while ruffling your hair

• Isn't opposed to sitting and listening to what's got you down in the dumps. He can't promise that he'll offer good advice, but the time spent with you is his way of showing that he cares

• Resorts to sly compliments and winks to try and make you feel better

• "Come on. Let's see that smile! Ah there it is, you beaut!"

• Later, he presents you with a nice rock from some excavating he had been doing for fun. Said it reminded him of you the moment he had dug it out

𝐒𝐯𝐞𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐚

• "Zis vill not ztand!"

• Svetlana immediately grabs you by the shoulders and brings you closer to her, an extremely serious look on her face as your eyes widen

• "You are ze best person Svetlana knows!" She furrows her brows. You begin to say something, but she cuts you off immediately. "You vil not slander your amazingness. Svetlana will not alow it!"

• Even if it was just a small self-loathing joke you made, or a giant trauma dump, she'll always act with the same intensity. Will not let you think for a single second that you're worth less than you really are

• Absolutely does silly tricks to cheer you up. Even pretends to fail a couple just to hear you laugh

• "Silly Svetlana!" She sighs dramatically from her spot on the ground, peaking an eye open when you're not looking to smile at the way you laugh

𝐕𝐢𝐭𝐨

• For once in his life time he stops flexing to listen to you

• Is absolutely baffled. Perhaps even a little bamboozled

• "Ayo, I know no one can ever measure up to tha Vito, but you're a close second." He smiles charmingly with his hands on his hips. It's his highest verson of a compliment

• Offers to take you out for a tan session at the lake. Insists that it always makes him feel better and that it will for you to. It's not like he's just saying that so he can see you in a swimsuit. Why would you ever think that?

• "Okay okay, you caught me. But it's only because I think you're smoking ho— ow!"

• Pretends to recoil in pain when you hit him, complaining about how strong you are. Is pleaded when you have to hide a smile at his antics

• "There we go sunshine! Now come on let's go. I know you're just waiting to get a peice of this action on the beach."

• You smile and tell him to shut up

[j0kers-light]

Hey Chaos! I have a headcanon idea, I think you do accept those and what you have are the closed oneshots??? Correct me if I'm wrong and feel completely free to ignore this ask

How do you feel about Joker x Mermaid! reader, maybe before he was the Joker, being Jack, or maybe his previous form, a malformed and strange mix of the man he was before and the one he will become in the future, a tormented soul who in the middle of the war he is fighting, trying to find a meaning to his life, hears a sweet song that draws him to the sea

It is then that she sees Reader, a mermaid wounded by some bullet, bomb, debris that has fallen into the sea, and she sees the goodness in him, and for a second he believes that he can be good, but upon seeing the monster hiding behind that man's eyes, Reader decides to leave forever.

What do you think about writing something like this?? Maybe headcanons pre during and post relationship (without hinting much at J's past, we love our mysterious King!)

Thank you!!🩷

His Lighthouse: Surface Level (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Surface Level - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi my sweet anon!!

Now I thought I was gonna let this be a head canon.... then I got to typing and here we are. It turned into a oneshot! Your idea got my brain a flowing and I was unable to stop. I had TOO much fun with this one and it shows. Thank you so much for your patience and I do hope you enjoy. 🥰🥰

As always, if you wish to be apart of the His Lighthouse official taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

P.S. if anyone is interested in the first siren call you sing listen to this 👇🏾for inspiration.

Captain said not to wander the beach late at night. Several men were already declared missing for not heeding the warnings. 

The local elders of the island also warned the men not to invoke her wrath. Their foreign chants sounded like rubbish to Jack’s ears yet he felt something strange befall him after one of the women flicked seawater infused with tropical herbs on his face. He was then forced to drink something putrid all to strengthen his bond with the sea.  

They wanted to ‘protect the Americans’ and held a ceremony to bless the squadron when another solider was declared missing.  

In short, Jack was ready to leave this hell hole. The endless sea and squawking seagulls were driving him insane. Jack longed to be deployed in active duty, in the heat of battle; not keeping the peace with the natives who were blissfully unaware of the raging war surrounding them.  

None of their rituals and charms mattered and that was the mindset that led him to sneak out his barracks with a pack of cigs and a bottle of rum.  

No one would notice him gone. He was not well liked within his squadron, a loose cannon ready to blow, they described him. The others were content being stationed in the civilian zone. Not Jack. His fingers itched for war but for now he was stuck here.  

He kicked off his boots the second he arrived at the white sandy beach.  

It was beautiful out with the moon high in the sky. It casted a glow on everything and highlighted Jack lighting a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the night sky without a care.  

He didn’t care about anything as he took swigs from his bottle. Was this all he was good for? Getting drunk night after night guarding an island? 

There were times that Jack thought of drowning himself at sea just to get away from the absolute nothingness this place brought.  

His friends back home were lucky. Hal was stationed right on the front lines and Ethan had already died fighting for his country. It just wasn’t fair they got to prove themselves whereas Jack was stuck on some military base in the middle of nowhere.  

The island was so remote, half of the occupants didn’t speak English, and almost all of the children had never seen ‘Americans” before. It was ridiculous and don’t get him started on the local folklore.  

If he had to hear one more prayer to their make-believe deity, he would puke.  

“Stay away from the sea when Y/n calls!” A translated omen was told. “She preys on tormented souls, like you brave men! Do not fall to her song!” 

No one gave proof that she existed except for tales and fables and constant headaches with all this mythical nonsense.  

Did they really believe a woman, half fish, half goddess could lure men out to sea with just her voice? It sounded straight out of a children’s bedtime story.  

Jack rolled his eyes every time an elder pleaded with him as he prepped for a nighttime patrol. If this was a siren who drowned men in the sea, why were they purifying him with seawater?  

Yeah, he would be real careful while out on duty.  

He had a better chance of being shot than lured to sea by some fish. The night dragged on as Jack downed his bottle and pondered life while overlooking the ocean.  

It was still as beautiful as it been the first night he arrived several months ago. The waves were foamy, crashing onto the dark rocks lining the shore. All was quiet and before long, Jack’s eyelids started to fall.  

Until he heard something.  

It was the saddest melody he ever heard.  

Without thinking, he turned course and shuffled over to the more treacherous stretch of the island. Here jagged rocks outlined the shoreline for half a mile. The water was colder and darker, holding the secrets the locals so desperately tried to ward away.  

Funny how they worshipped and feared the sea. Or rather what lurked within.  

Jack had no conscious thought as the waves tickled his calves, inciting him to wade in deeper. He couldn’t feel the numbing cold, yet he felt the anguish and helplessness being sung so beautifully.  

The call echoed loudly over the waves until it stopped like a record scratch. It was enough to snap Jack out of his fog and realize he was standing waist deep in the ocean. 

“The f__k?” he wasn’t that drunk. How did he get in the water? 

Jack was preparing to return to shore when he heard a splash followed by a strangled moan. His instincts demanded he investigate.  

He fought the tides to reach a denser cluster of boulders. He froze when he peeked behind them.  

The Legends did not do you justice. Jack had never seen anything as gorgeous as you.  

You looked every bit a goddess until he made eye contact with you. Your eyes were milky white with no pupils and to make matters worse, a row of pointed teeth was baring at him in a show of aggression.  

You were beauty and the beast, yet he wasn’t afraid.  

His eyes were drawn to the big gaping wound on your hip—or where your hip should’ve been if you were human. A mermaid tail took the place of human legs. Regardless of your anatomy, you were wounded given how you weakly clung to the jagged rocks.  

Jack slowly crouched down to inspect you further when you flicked your tail, dousing him with a powerful spray of water.  

He almost went under if he didn’t grab ahold of your tail. You yelped in pain and tried to shake the male off, but he was strong.  

He swallowed seawater in the struggle as you threatened to bash his head against the rocks. Jack fought back and pulled himself up on a flat boulder to catch his breath. “I’m tryna to help ya and ya try n’ drown me?!”  

He pointed at your abdomen. “That. Me. Help. Do you under-stand?” He acted out each word like did with the locals.  

You eyed this man warily. He was not the human you wished to lure tonight.  

You needed food to help heal yourself after swimming too close to naval ships fighting each other. Humans and their pointless wars. One of their weapons exploded too close and sent shrapnel flying into your tail.  

You couldn’t move your hips to propel yourself through the water— although you tried. The searing pain made it impossible to return home and you were already afar off to begin with.  

The island you were stranded on was inhabited by mortals who worshipped you and your ancestors, so you tried to call a believer for aid. 

None came and you were growing weaker by the minute. A wave pushed you more inland and subsequently, beached you on a low tide. The shallow pool was knee deep for a human but useless for your means of survival. It was a glorified kiddie pool and soon to be grave.  

The last human you expecting to hear your sweet song was this man. You could sense the turmoil and darkness lurking in his soul. How could he help you when he needed help himself? 

You did not wish to be bothered with him, but he was the only mortal who heard your cry for help.  

The pain was getting worse, and it took everything in you to sing at all. You lived for centuries; you refused to be bested by a torpedo and low tide.  

Jack was getting impatient awaiting a response. He assumed you didn’t understand English (he was surrounded by idiots these days), but you shocked him when you reached out and touched his arm.  

Like a bolt of lightning, he felt your words. ‘Yes mortal, I understand.’ 

Your fingers slipped away, and Jack saw how they left a tribal like marking on his pale skin. “What the.... What did you do?”  

He rubbed at the f/c lines and dots in panic. He glanced up when he heard a series of sharp clicks. Were you laughing?  

Apparently, he was wrong.  

You sacrificed your position in the shallow water to reach out and touch him and now you were too weak to submerge your gills again. He was hearing you choke.  

How did he come to that conclusion; he didn’t want to know.  

Jack acted fast and shoved your head underwater. He was expecting bubbles, a normal human reaction, but you were anything but. 

You gladly opened your mouth and sucked in precious water you needed to survive. It made for quite the provocative sight, although Jack wasn’t complaining. You were very easy on the eyes and currently nude by human standards.  

His eyes wandered down your chest where an octopus was attached. Its tentacles wrapped around you like a shawl and (for the time being) it covered your modesty. He knew he was drunk, but it still blew his mind.  

‘You are staring.’ 

Jack was startled back to the present when your pseudo voice scratched his brain. It was an odd sensation; one he was getting used to.  

“Well, you’re a f__king mermaid, yeah I’m gonna stare.” He backed off when you resurfaced with a pained grimace.  

Your skin was still touching his so you spoke again, ‘Mermaid?’ 

“Ah yeah, its uh.. what we call your kind I guess.” Jack’s hands naturally moved towards your injury to access the damage.  

It was oozing a gelatinous black substance, and it didn’t look good even by his standards. “I don’t know how to treat this. Ya know, since you ain’t human.” He added.  

You rolled your vacant eyes and looked at the stars. Jack noticed your gills moving at the base of your neck and at the tiny seashells that seemed to be embedded into your skin. You looked every bit a mermaid, straight out of a storybook.  

It still wasn’t clicking in his mind that you were real. 

You tapped his skin. ‘Just north of here there is a deeper alcove. Take me there.’ You telepathically said.  

“What?” Jack sputtered. How did you expect him to transport a wounded mermaid up the beach? His facial expression gave away to his thoughts.  

You squeezed his wrist, ‘You are capable.’ 

“And you look heavy!” He scoffed. Although he did drills like lifting heavy loads of gear, you were a mythical creature. You sent him tumbling with a mere flick of your tail and that was you wounded. He gave you a once over. How was he gonna go about this? 

The same odd clicks you made earlier escaped your throat but in a lower decibel. Jack panicked still not knowing what it meant. “What’s wrong.” 

‘Hurts.’ you closed your eyes and sighed. He had nothing to lose helping you, so he quickly made up his mind. It beat drinking the night away.  

“You said north, right? In some cave or whatever? Take a deep breath... err gulp? Whatever you do to survive.” He waited until you took on more water before picking you up bridal style.  

You weren’t prepared and wrapped your arms around his neck, ever mindful of your talon like nails. He lifted you with ease.  

Yves, your pet octopus moved a few tentacles to cover your wound as Jack navigated through the low tide in a northerly direction. He honestly didn’t know how to get to the cove you mentioned.  

He just let his feet guide him until he saw a small gap in the rock formation that looked right. Your people carved it out over a millennia ago and the humans that settled here declared it hallowed ground ever since.  

The healing water in the alcove would speed up your recovery but not fast enough. You just needed enough strength to swim home. You did not like dwelling above surface level for prolonged periods of time.  

You only emerged to hunt the sailors disrespecting your waters and to lure nonbelievers to their death.  

Interacting with a human for this long was a rarity that you did not prefer. Though this man in particular wasn’t so bad. He smelled faintly of your favorite kelp. 

You lulled in and out of consciousness as Jack struggled to carry you to the cove. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but you were heavy. Your tail made moving difficult as you couldn’t help flicking it, offsetting his balance as he walked.  

It was beautiful, you were too. Simply indescribable.  

From your dark skin tone to your curly hair tangled with seashells and fine gold thread, Jack now believed the locals when they declared you a goddess.  

A string of fresh pearls hung from the crown of your head that framed your face. He assumed you were royalty, given that a rare blue diamond hung from the knot of pearls at the center of your forehead. How it stayed fastened had to be magic.  

He had an urge to steal it if not for the two crabs clipping your hair out of your face weren’t watching him attentively.  

Precious jewels, octopus, and crabs weren’t your only abnormal accessory.  

More sea life seemed to cling to you, as if it were an honor to adorn your body. Jack tried to not freak out when he noticed the scales of your tail move as if they were alive themselves. He could even see barnacles growing at the joints of your elbows and lower tail. 

Everything about you was fascinating.  

He finally made it to the cove with you in tow. He took one step inside and shivered sensing something in the air. 

“I’m getting tired of this magic s__t.” Jack grumbled.  

He grunted as he lowered you into the water that glowed with bioluminescence fish. You chirped as you sank down, at last, fully submerged. Your hands played with the plankton coming to your aid until you noticed Jack awkwardly standing at the mouth of the cove.  

His fatigues were soaked through, and you admired him more closely now that the moon poured through the carved ceiling above. He was a model solider, all muscles and fine stature. His redeeming qualities however were surface level. Only you could see the darkness in his heart.  

And yet, you sensed a glimmer of light in him too. There was still hope for this mortal. For now. 

You curled a finger beckoning him closer. 

Now he understood the elders' warnings. With just a finger, you had him stepping into the sea. This alcove was deeper than the public beach back yonder. Jack couldn’t see the bottom and that made him wary. Was it wise to swim in a bottomless grotto with a mythical monster? 

No, nevertheless, he knew you wouldn’t drown him. You still needed him. You visibly struggled to stay afloat and Joker swam out to help you. It felt silly helping a fish to swim; it was the least he could do. 

Speaking of, he was at a loss here. Jack hesitated before asking. “What now?”  

You huffed as you floated on your back. A swarm of plankton hovered over your wound, but they wouldn’t be enough. At this rate, your recovery would take ages.  

Jack swam nearby, his hand darting out when you tipped your head back. He kept forgetting that was normal for you. You weren’t drowning. Neither you nor Jack seemed to mind that his fingers played with your hair. He loved the curly texture of it and how it defied the laws of physics. It felt dry to the touch despite being soaking wet.  

He kept the required physical contact needed to speak to him so you allowed it.  

‘Can you fish?’ you asked him. You were starving.  

Jack thought back to the many fishing trips his father dragged him along on when he was younger. ‘Bonding time with his old man.’ What good that did. He hated the man he was forced to call father.  

But you didn’t want to hear a pointless core memory of his, you wanted an answer. Jack nodded, “Yeah. I don’t got a line though.”  

Oh. You forgot humans hunted differently. He required equipment it seemed. You pouted, sounding like a rattlesnake hissing. ‘Useless.’  

Before Jack could protest, you gestured for him to cover his ears. He slapped his wet hands over them and waited.  

You used the last of your energy to lure a fish into the cove. Jack heard bits and pieces of your melody (his human ears weren’t able to pick up most of the notes) although he did feel a pull. Something primal in his brain ordered him to follow and he kicked his legs until he was practically glued to your side.  

Perhaps that was the reason you urged him to cover his ears. He was falling victim to your call. A shame he was already where he wanted to be.  

Screw patrols. He didn’t care if his Captain discharged him for abandoning his post. Swimming with an ancient mermaid was the most entertainment Jack had in months even if all this swimming was giving him a workout.  

You gave him the all clear to remove his hands. Jack did while watching a swordfish answer your call. 

It swam from the dark waters below and circled the two of you. Much to his horror, you plucked it from the water and proceeded to consume it raw.  

It was morbid and secretly hot to witness you in your element. You ate your fill with a flare of elegance and spat out the bones.  

He was captivated. You licked your lips clean once you were finished and checked under your nails for any debris. Some things were still human in nature. Your milky eyes grew heavy as sleep threatened to take hold. Jack noticed you slowly sinking into the water and got your attention by tugging your hair.  

“Someone’s sleepy. Will the big bad fish be alright on her own?” He had to get out of this cold water and return to base. He was losing feeling in his fingers.  

A violin sounding chord signaled your yawn. Your hand cupped Jack’s cheek affectionately to speak. 

‘Fret not, I will remain here. You need to get out the water.’ Yves pointed towards a forgotten trail leading out of the grotto with a slimy tentacle. ‘That leads to land.’ 

At least now he wouldn’t be left stumbling through the dark.  

Sneaking back while soaking wet was gonna be tough. His sergeant was gonna killl him should he found out. Even with all his responsibility, Jack hesitated to leave you here alone. “I’ll uhh check on ya tomorrow?  

‘Go.’ You urged. You swatted the water, creating a sizable wave to carry him back to shore. Jack stumbled to his feet after spending so much time in the water. By the time he looked back, the ocean was still, and you were nowhere in sight.  

Jack hoped he didn’t dream last night up.  

No one noticed him gone and he managed to creep back into his bunk (freshly changed of course) before morning call. The next day was done in the same monotonous schedule he kept for months now.  

Roll call, patrols, mess hall, guard change, and repeat. He begrudgingly did it all, bidding his time until the sun set. He made full usage of his breaks to visit the market in town and stock up on supplies. On his list was a first-aid kit, wool blankets, and lots of fresh fish. The fish monger raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry.  

The soldiers that invaded ahem.. protected the island were a curious lot. Jack was no different. He was planning to spend the evening with a mermaid. Jack tipped his helmet before leaving.  

If he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the old man croak over after catching a glimpse of the mark you left on Jack’s arm.  

He stashed his purchases in the pathway near the hidden grotto before dressing down into something more lightweight. His fatigues were practical but not ideal for prolonged periods in the cove’s mineral based water.  

He was teeming with excitement to see you. Would you be feeling better? Would you like the fish he brought? Would you be happy to see him?  

“Get a hold of yourself, she’s just a fish. A big, ancient, gorgeous, deadly fish...” Jack uttered to himself as he made the dangerous trek down to the cove.  

The setting sun guided him well until he ducked into the natural cave. Inside, it was dimly lit by the walls blocking the sun until he entered the main alcove where supernatural light flourished. 

Jack didn’t know what to expect. What if something happened last night while you slept? Could someone have found you during your moment of weakness? Did you up and leave?  

A thousand questions swirled inside his head as he walked to the water’s edge.  

It was calm, too calm—now that he knew about the dangers it contained. He saw the way you ate that swordfish last night. You were confident in your strength and there was an air of ancient wisdom that shrouding you. You been around for a while. The things you had seen in your lifetime... 

“Uh hello? Y/n?” Jack called out only to snort to himself.  

The human was calling the siren. He kicked the water to create ripples, hoping that would work. Just how deep was the pool? A deep sea fish swam here so rather deep. He dipped his legs in and popped open a bottle of rum as he waited.  

He forgot that you were injured, that probably delayed your trip to the surface. He nibbled on the bread and cheese he bought from the market. He wondered how long you would stay here until you were healed. Not like he cared or anything—he just enjoyed having something to do.  

That is, if you were coming back anytime soon. “This blows.” Jack sighed.  

He shivered at a sudden cold breeze and turned to fetch the wool blanket from his bag. While his back was turned, your head rose from the water.  

You sensed his presence when he created ripples in the water but struggled to surface with your limited energy. The swordfish you caught last night helped fight against your hunger, however; you were still ravenous. You tried swimming into deeper waters to call for help but you became exhausted fairly quickly.  

This wound had you stuck in your ancestral grotto. Which was fine if this man helped you recover.  

You watched him take out a long piece of textile to wrap himself with. He must be cold, you thought curiously. He locked eyes with you and jumped back.  

“Gahh! F__k!” How long had you been watching him in silence? You really were a predator. 

All he could see was your face from the nose up. The water was calm around you, not a ripple to be found. “You scared me.” Jack panted.  

You didn’t move and he idly kicked his feet back and forth in the water. Talk about a 180 from your mood yesterday, you just stared at him. “I uh brought you fish.” He took out the packages the fish monger wrapped for him.  

That got you to come forward, yet he was quick to notice your movements were sluggish. You didn’t glide through the water like last night. Something was wrong.  

“Hey... you okay? Oh! Ohh uhh..” Jack froze when you flopped your head onto his lap. He didn’t move (as if he could, you were heavy) as your hand squeezed his calf muscles.  

Even your voice felt off. ‘Thank you.’ You preferred your fish alive, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. You appreciated the thought. You glanced up into green eyes, clicking lowly in distress. 

“I know that sound. What’s wrong, ya don’t too good. Here.” Jack unpacked a whole mackerel, (your favorite) and held it to your lips. The implication was not lost on you.  

‘Feeding a monster? Aren’t you a brave solider?’ you mocked.  

Jack didn’t let your words affect him, “Open wide.” He watched your vacant eyes roll before you unhinged your jaw, slowing off the razor-sharp teeth and an unnaturally colored tongue. He slowly lowered the fish into your mouth and let go when your teeth grazed his palm.  

He couldn’t believe he was in some secret grotto feeding a mythical being. It would make for a wild bar conversation.  

It definitely wasn’t what he signed up for when he enlisted. You plucked the spine from your mouth with a sigh. ‘Do you have any more?’ You asked.  

Jack took pity seeing your sad eyes. He knew that look too well. You were weak from hunger. “Y-Yeah.. I uh bought a lot for ya.”  

And that’s how he spent the next half hour, hand feeding you in between bites of his own bread and cheese spread.  

His twisted mind saw it as a date. Yeah, a date with a gigantic fish. Jack huffed, jolting your head resting in his lap. You whined, voicing your displeasure.  

“Sorry uhh.” It was then Jack realized he didn’t know your name.  

The locals called you Y/n sure, but you did not know the term mermaid until yesterday. He found himself wondering what your actual name was. 

‘What ails you?’ You spoke after seeing a faraway look take over his features. He fed you well and now you were content resting your head on his lap. He was warm unlike the harsh coldness of the sea. You… kinda liked it.  

“I had a moment, I guess. I uhh.. I don’t know your name.” He confessed. It donned on you that you didn’t know his either.  

You tried avoiding the question with one of your own. ‘What do other humans call you?’ 

“Oh, now ya wanna know my name?” Jack laughed. All this time the two of you had yet to exchange formalities.  

He felt so embarrassed. His mama raised him better! You were a lady and deserved some respect. Jack straightened up while clearing his throat.  

“Private Jack White reportin’ for duty.” He fake saluted and laughed at your confused head tilt. He’d explain later. “The locals call you Y/n, the revered sea deity, but what should I call ya oh great one?” 

You rose to grab Jack’s face and pull him down so you could rub your nose with his. You spoke your given name into his head and watched him try out the pronunciation. 

“Did I say that right?” Jack teased.  

‘No. Humans do not have enough vocal cords. You are unable to replicate the vowels.’  

Another thing that separated you from him. Now he was told his speech was too primitive. “Whatever, it sounds hot in my head. Y/n it is then.”  

He assumed rubbing noses was your people's version of a kiss, so he repeated the gesture back. He chuckled when you jerked back with a shrill like chirp. Your tail flicked up from the water, hitting him with ice cold droplets. “So cute..” he mumbled.  

Although the temperature drop was his signal to go. “It's getting late. You gonna be alright by yourself again?”  

You refused to touch him to speak after he caressed your nose.  

“Aww, did I make the Great Y/n all flustered?” He dodged you trying to claw at his ankles. “I think sooo. Get some rest, Y/n.” 

You regained enough energy to send him off with a farewell melody. He was still humming the tune to himself when he reached his barracks.  

Jack cherished the days he spent visiting you in the alcove.  

Some of his fellow soldiers poked fun at his sudden change in mood. “Oh, Jack caught the eye of a local!” They weren’t wrong.  

He was more friendlier on base all thanks to you. He looked forward to the nights spent with you; feeding you fish, sharing stories, and slowly but surely getting to know one another.  

It was inspiring to remember how you had originally feared Jack when he found you beached in the low tide. Now you practically dragged him under to be near him.  

“Easy, Y/n. Don’t drown me!” He let you pull him into the dark water to nuzzle his nose in greeting. He still didn’t know what the gesture meant but it made you happy.  

He loved hearing the purring sound of your delight. He did anything he could to hear it.  

He promised to spot your attempt to swim outside the grotto tonight. The line of rocks was an obstacle he could help you overcome. Your wound was steadily healing with the plethora of fatty fish Jack provided along with the kind plankton who blessed you. Neither of you wanted you to fully heal.  

The moment you were healthy meant you would leave, and Jack was growing rather fond of you. He unfortunately did not know how you felt about him.  

He would be a fool to believe you actually enjoyed a human’s company. He was prey, not a companion. You had Yves for that and Jack envied the sentient octopus that clung to your bosom.  

He tried to shake off his feelings to no avail.  

You were otherworldly in terms of beauty and keenly aware of your charms. Even if the match was virtually impossible, he liked where things were going with you. He would cherish each day he had left.  

“Good job, now... come here.” Jack said to urge you back.  

This was your fourth time swimming laps from the ocean entrance of the alcove back to his arms. He could tell you were pushing yourself, judging by your hooded eyelids and agitated tail swishes.  

It was exercise to promote core strength back to your tail.  

You made it back to Jack and collided with him due to your exhaustion. He fell onto shore with you in his arms. “H-Hey, Y/n, you good?”  

The massive blue diamond on your forehead swayed as you nodded. Jack was speechless watching a beam of moonlight overhead highlight your beauty. Your lips parted and he was reminded how close the two of you were when it brushed his lower lip.  

This was wrong. You weren’t even human! but that didn’t stop Jack. He audibly swallowed as the moment drew tense.  

“F__k it.” He shortened the distance and captured your lips with his. You bristled at the contact until Jack tangled a hand in your hair and guided you through the motions.  

He rolled you over so the incoming wave could rehydrate your gills. He on the other hand needed air and pulled away with a smile. “Even better than I imagined.” Jack said listlessly.  

‘What.. what was that?’ You asked him. You brought a finger up to inspect your lips. They were tingling.  

“I ah.. that was a kiss. Kinda like how you rub my nose. That’s um.. it’s the equivalent of that for humans.” He explained.  

‘I don’t understand. You respect me enough to kiss me?’ 

“Wait what?” Jack was confused now. “What does,” he leaned down to nuzzle his nose with yours, “this mean?” 

‘You value or you respect me greatly. It is the highest form of gratitude for my kind.’ You confessed. Your eyes shifted away as your ears turned red.  

Oh. Not what he was expecting but still rather important. You were showing your gratitude, and he thought… 

Jack brushed a curl away from your face, “So… does your kind kiss like we just did?” 

He burst out laughing at you covering your face. Jack could tell you wanted to slip underwater in embarrassment. He wouldn’t let you.  

He pried your hands away so he could see you. “Cmon Y/n!” 

You were about to show him when a loud alarm sounded over the island. You growled and without hesitation, dragged you and Jack into the safety of the ocean. He quickly broke the surface to breathe.  

“Y/n! F__k, warn me next time! S__t, we might be under attack.” He tried to swim away to leave, but your nails dug into his wrist. “Y/n let go.”  

Then the first canon echoed off in the distance. You cried out, gaining Jack’s attention. He never seen you look so terrified.  

He snatched you up into his arms, tucking your head into his chest. “They won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He leaned back just enough to kiss you softly. “Stay outta sight, I’ll be back.”  

‘Jack…’  

If gunfire was heard this far away, you could only imagine the reality of it on land. You didn’t want him to go.  

“I’ll be back. Yeah?” He caressed your face as he drifted closer to the shore. You still didn’t let go so he got desperate.  

He locked eyes with Yves on your shoulder. “Take care of my girl.” He glanced at you again, “I’ll be back Y/n.” He wrestled himself out of your arms and swam to the grotto shore.  

There was little time to grab his things. Gunfire meant contact with the enemy. He needed to find a weapon and report to his sergeant for orders. 

Yet Jack hesitated.  

He looked back towards the ocean and saw your head poking out. You were centuries old but terrified of man and their weapons. It made him sick to his stomach.  

He didn’t know if mermaids could cry although you looked close to tears.  

Jack groaned as he took off his dog tags and wrapped them around your neck. You were about to ask him what it was when he stole your train of thought with a passionate kiss.  

It felt like a goodbye.  

Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “Wait for me, hm?” 

You nodded once and watched him disappear up the trail. The small glimmer of light you saw in Jack faded away as he left. You knew he wouldn’t return but you still blindly waited.  

You waited all night for the fighting to cease. You waited till the morning after when more ships arrived and departed in droves. You waited even as the waters changed warmth with the new season. You waited and waited and waited until it was obvious.  

Jack was gone.  

Years passed and he was a changed man.  

He’d seen enough war and the pointlessness it created to rebel from authority. It changed him and not for the better. You would not be pleased with the hatred festering in his heart, not like he cared.  

He didn’t care about anything.  

He saw the world with new eyes— he wasn’t the restless private stuck on an island anymore. Oh, but he missed those days terribly. His wrist itched every full moon, reminding him of a time he felt free. 

Free to be himself and to be understood by another. You were the only person who willingly listened to his ramblings. You didn’t interrupt or belittle his opinions, you let him speak freely and encouraged him to be open minded. He looked back on those months fondly.  

But that was the past. Now he wanted to destroy the future.  

“Ay Boss. Boss..? Yo J!” Frost had enough and yelled out to Joker.  

He almost didn’t respond. Joker. He went by The Joker now not..  

“There’s nothing here, Joker and it’s getting dark soon.” Frost kicked a nearby rock into the water. “We’re ready to leave when you are.” 

Joker nodded and returned his gaze out to the sea.  

He felt stupid coming all the way here after so many years away. The military base was now a museum, and the locals had been completely overrun by tourism from the growing resort industry nearby.  

Things were vastly different, but your grotto remained untouched.  

It was still tucked away on the northern shoreline with jagged rocks making it impossible to boat to. Mankind could not reach you and Joker preferred it that way.  

Years later, he still slipped a bit descending down the hidden trail. Was it always so dangerous or did love motivate him forward? He lost that feeling ages ago so a few scrapped knees and hands was the price to pay.  

What did he expect to find? You patiently waiting in the water, flicking your tail in anticipation? He hated himself for believing that you would.  

Frost was right. There was nothing here.  

He had to stop dwelling on the past. Promises were made to be broken. Joker had moved on and deep down, he hoped that you did the same.  

He sighed as he stood up to leave (for good this time) when he heard something. He froze, thinking he was finally losing his mind but no. It was faint, but it was heard loudly in his heart.  

Jack heard your call.  

[finelinevogue]

never too late

summary - billy plays you a song and you fall in love with him a little more

pairing: bestfriend!billy x reader

word count: -1k

a/n: first ever billy dunne fic! it’s probably absolute crap but pretend you enjoy it anyways!!! also let me know whether you want a pt.2 cause this is just a taster!!!!

“I have something new.” Billy walked into your room and slouched down on your bed.

He leaned back against your headboard with his guitar strung over his chest ready to be played. His t-shirt was ridiculously sweaty from how hot it was out, the open window barely passing a breeze through.

You were sat at your desk, scrapbooking again. You loved making scrapbooks for each passing year and due to it being December it had come that time of year again, to have your photos developed and stuck in a book forever.

“When did you get here?” You laughed at his audacity to just waltz into your room. You hadn’t even heard him knock.

“Well your mom was talking about another friend she knows who can get us a gig for next Saturday. So, about 40 minutes ago.” He joked about how your mom would just talk and talk and talk…

You shook your head and gave him your undivided attention, by coming to sit on the corner of your bed next to his feet.

You shook your head and gave him your undivided attention, by coming to sit on the corner of your bed next to his feet.

“So, you have something new?” You asked.

“Yeah.”

“Is it as political as the last one? ‘Cause I don’t think singing about how much you hate America is going to sell well.” You teased him, to which he responded by playfully kicking you with his foot.

“Actually, it’s a love song.” He sniffled, rubbing his nose with a finger - a nervous tick of his you’d noticed since forever.

You swallowed lightly, “O-oh. So you’ve got a muse, do you?” Your smile was small and Billy knew you well enough to tell just that.

“Is that so bad?”

“N-no. Aha, no not at all. What’s the song about?” You tried to steer the topic of conversation, before you ended up revealing your truest heart to him.

Billy Dunne could never know that your heart had always been his.

He just couldn’t. It was ruin everything.

“Well, they always say when the end of the year comes around you look back on the things that you regret not doing, saying… loving. So, I guess it’s a tribute to that feeling.” He looked at you with those big blue eyes and you were found all over again.

Falling in love with Billy had been easy.

Catching yourself from falling too hard, too quickly, has been the issue.

“Let’s hear it then.” You smiled more confidently, always excited to hear Billy sing. You often listened to the tape he had recorded for you before falling asleep, because it was all the acoustic versions of the songs that had never been produced further than that.

They were solely yours. That mixtape was your own personal slice of Billy’s heart, waiting to be played every night to let the love spill out of the music and into your own heart.

Billy started strumming the guitar and you were trying to memorise every note so that you’d never forget it. He smiled as he played, most likely thinking of the girl who he regretted not loving this year.

You watched him intensely, watching his fingers strum the guitar with precision and allowing the music to flow freely. It was a challenge not to smile in awe of him.

His lyrics were sad, but hopeful. It sounded like he was calling out to this girl and stressing there was still time for them. The year hadn’t ended yet and Billy sounded desperate to not finish the year without making sure she knew that. The melody was beautiful and catchy. No doubt you’d find yourself singing in every shower concert from now on.

Once he’d finished he looked towards you apprehensively to gauge your reaction. His brows furrowed when he saw you teary eyed.

“That bad, huh?” He chuckled briefly, trying to lighten the weird pressure in the room.

“No,” You rushed out, “God, no, Billy. Just, well– yeah…”

“Yeah, what?” He put the guitar down on the bed next to him and sat up so he was closer to your body. “Was it really awful?”

“Billy…” You rolled your eyes at how he could even suggest such a thing. Billy Dunne would and could never be awful at music. His lyrics, his melodies and his songs were always second to none.

Billy was made for the big stage and you dreamt every night that he would achieve those dreams. The day Billy performs for a crowd larger than 200 people will be the day you run on stage and kiss him for how much you love him.

“Hey.” He sat forwards a little more and took your hands in his. “What’s up?”

“The song was nice.”

“Nice? You’re upset because my song was nice?” He chuckled, finding that hard to believe.

“No, i’m… It’s just nice that you think of this person you wrote the song for in that way.” You looked into his eyes of ocean blue and fell a little bit more in love with him. You smiled and made sure he was smiling too.

He kept looking over your features of your face; scanning from eyes to nose to freckles to… lips. His eyes took in every inch of your face and yet all your could focus on where his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that told you a thousand different pictures on one canvas.

“Well, it turned out I more than love this person.” He smiled warmly, clearly thinking about this girl in his head.

“Why did you never tell me?”

Billy laughed a heavy gasp, turning his gaze towards the more interesting looking floor and collecting his thoughts before turning back to you.

“I.. I dunno.” He smiled.

“Well I hope you play this special person your song and I hope they fall in love with you too.”

“I just did.” Billy said quickly, almost as if he didn’t say it now he never would. It felt unplanned for him, but it felt right.

“W-what?”

“Shit - Aha - Did you fall in love with the song? With me?” He asked so quickly that your mind was not focusing properly. “I’ve fucked this all up haven’t I? Fuck. Y/N, listen I—”

“Billy, you love me enough to write me a song?” You asked quietly, your eyes gently tearing up again.

“Always kinda have.” He smiled.

“God…” You laughed to yourself.

“What?”

“I just.. I never thought you’d ever actually love me back!”

Billy’s smile turned wider and into a large grin, with eyes full of hope. “You mean?…” He looked expectantly at you.

“I love you, Billy Dunne.” You said once quietly and then repeated it louder for ask your neighbours to hear. You wanted everyone to finally know your declaration loud and proud.

You wanted everyone to know Billy could be the world’s icon, but he’d always be your heart.

[triflesandparsnips]

So I was, as per normal, thinking again about Stede just collapsing into the cabin-kiss, and like-- we talk a lot about how Stede had just killed a guy, he was maybe not in the best headspace for sexy times, but--

in looking around for a kiss gif (AS PER NORMAL), I saw this one too:

...and I've been wondering and wondering about that face, right? Stede's face. A bit silly, kind of the embodiment of "smiling helplessly", a phrase that sounds bad out of context but usually appears when someone is just absolutely delighted by the existence of something-- or someone-- doing something ridiculous and amazing...

And it occurred to me that: Stede went to hide in his room so he could freak out, right? He's used to hiding, or trying to hide, how he feels when it comes to the childhood trauma stuff. And he's used to literally hiding in his cabin unless/until someone approaches that he has to mask back up for-- we see that all the way back in the very first episode of season 1.

But that night? The person who approached was Ed.

And not there asking him to be 'the captain'. Not telling him to 'man up' about the killing thing. Not even asking him to be the Romantic Lead or the Lost Love Return'd, roles Stede had been eager and wanting to play but just. not right now.

It could've gone wrong. Stede didn't say "come in"-- he didn't say anything at all, just opened the door, maybe expecting-- god, what he's gotten before, every single other time his entire life--

And Ed... changes the script.

He doesn't step in, doesn't break Stede's boundary, doesn't ask for anything from Stede. He just wants to see if Stede's okay. And more than that: By providing his own feelings about killing his dad, he's letting Stede know that, for the record? Stede doesn't have to be okay.

So... so for maybe the first time that Stede can remember-- or at least maybe the first time we see on-screen-- Stede is hurting, and. And someone comes to comfort him.

No ulterior motives. No quid pro quo. No requirement that he feel one way or another, be this or that kind of person.

Someone-- no, not just someone, Ed, who knows Stede, who's seen him and understood him and could ask so much from Stede if he wanted to-- just sees that he's hurting, and wants to help.

And like-- have you ever felt that kind of kindness? It's heady enough when it's a stranger. But when it's someone you know, someone you care about, someone you trust (hope, pray that you can trust) to hold the delicate, vulnerable heart of you--

Fuck, okay, that face, that silly face, that face that says nothing but looks like it's about to cry and to laugh and it's heartbreak for the past that never felt that kind of comfort and wonder for the person who made it possible in the present and it all adds up to just smiling helplessly--

Listen.

They say that in musicals, songs happen when a character's feelings are too strong for mere dialogue to contain.

I say that in this moment, Stede's actions aren't because he's addled from the kill, but because his feelings-- what love can mean beyond "romance", what it does, what it gives, what it allows, what it makes possible-- rise up and over and wash his hands against Ed's jacket and twist them both to the wall, and then, and then--

just collapse him into that warm embrace, where all the hundred thousand words he could try to find to explain what this love feels like can, for a short while at least, be transmuted into a form that can say them all at once.

[therosevest]

ok um i am going to vent on something as someone with an outside perspective and people are going to be normal about that right. okay lol. im sick of hearing about taylor swift <3 as compared to a few years ago even she is like... suffocating. and i feel like we never advance this conversation because on one hand we have people who swing into full misogyny when talking about her, and on the other we have people who won't admit that she blatantly uses feminism to deflect from her problematic behaviors, or at least they won't like, do anything about it, and in this way she sort of ends up misleading a lot of young girls into like. girlboss liberal white feminism. im not saying shes a supervillain for it but you can't deny the ramifications of what she does and doesn't speak up about, just given the absolutely massive platform she has. she is the biggest pop star in the world

for the record, i don't expect taylor to be like. a normal person. she was very famous from a very young age and people aren't normal about teen/adolescent stars, especially when they're girls and women. she had her personal drama aired out in front of the world, had so much misogynistic dialogue surrounding her, from demeaning her success to interrogating her dating life (and never holding the pedos who preyed on her at a young age to any sort of standard!) and for many years people weren't very critical of that. it was normalized to be trashing this young girl's name and saying vile shit about her to like the entire nation and i dont blame her for being like, a little off after that. and yeah i also don’t think we should look to celebrities as our end all be all of activism and opinions on sociopolitical issues

but we've gone full swing into like. she is so famous and so big that her actions can be harmful and she does these things anyway because she doesn't expect her fanbase to hold her accountable, lest they be acting like the very sexists who tried to ruin her career. at least i imagine that's what the thought process is like, at least at some level, but at this point it's just like. this woman makes so much money. so much money it's ridiculous. idk how y'all fathomed paying so much for concert tickets but like i'll give props that they at least seemed to have some insane production/theatrics... so like alright. there's that.

but she is reselling the same songs. sometimes that don't sound that good. and making more money off that. yes yes to 'officially own them' and whatever. and releasing vault tracks and other versions of albums with different songs on them. but never all the same bc u need to collect them all. and the thing is some of them are like kinda bad. but you listen to them anyway because we live in a time of overconsumption/consumerism in late capitalism and it's like trendy and fun to be able to tell what song of hers is playing in the first millisecond. sorry or just your personal attachment to her. and don't say it's embarrassing to be a taylor swift fan these days she's like. so huge. and some of you equate embarrassment with having to hear criticism toward her. which might not be as common if swifties idk stepped it up and actually expected something from her?

which i guess is getting me to my main point here. can you imagine like. what would happen if taylor swift actually said anything about palestine? or anything of value in the world right now? no one's asking her to be a fucking scholar on it but genuinely sorry there’s like a genocide. several. the most documented real time genocide of our time i don’t care if it makes you upset that people expect something from her. she is time's person of the year. she has everyone from young girls to lesbians to gay men to bored football wives to dads to well fucking etc you get the point tuned in. she has dabbled in so many different spaces done so many collaborations aligned herself with so many entities who can keep up? if she, as massive as she is right now, posted something as simple as 'free palestine' or called for a ceasefire, can you imagine what would happen? i can’t help but think about it when day in and day out my feed is filled with screaming people being pulled from rubble or having their limbs amputated.

but she won't, because, quite frankly, what does she have to gain from it? she’s teaming up with the nfl right now to make some more money, she's gotta have at least like 4 new albums recorded in the last two years and at least um what three more that you're expecting? and she doesn't even have to like? write new music really? (edit: oh boy!) why the fuck would she be doing anything with her time other than poisoning the planet with jet fuel to visit her pr boyfriend?

taylor swift is never gonna be punk or what the hell ever beyond like a white liberal-at-best moderate woman. but if any of you could talk to each other and talk about, like, organizing in ways that it would be impossible for her to continue to ignore these situations, and just keep playing her tour FILM (how could i forget) in israel and etc, like if you could flood her socials or do a mass movement (and it would be massive given the sheer amount of peoples' top artists she's in) of not listening/buying/interacting with her stuff, until her agents and whatever had to make some sort of statement? like that's the only chance we've got with her

i'm not saying don’t be her fan, or listen to her music, or have an attachment, etc, but she's been around enough vile, anti-feminist, racist things this past year that y'all DO need to hold her accountable. like way more than you do. or it's going to be like really difficult to. tolerate it. haha. like you SHOULD be vocally and loudly disapproving of her actions when it causes a lot of damage overall. speaking up about her insane climate irresponsibility when we're having the hottest years on record is not the same as the people who felt the need to like pick apart her dating life on the news. but can we talk about how she's officially like. circled back and now is purposefully making news about her dating life? for her personal gain and that of the fucking nfl? lol. in a way it is funny for her to ‘take that power back’ in a way, of her image, and i think that’s how some people might view it, but like on the other hand she obviously is gaining a lot from this. you know. a lot of actual money. she is going to profit off this image of her being misunderstood etc for as long as u guys allow it and well i just think that has run its course. yk

continuing into 2024 (edit: and now with the release of a new album!) i don't want to see swifties automatically exonerating themselves from difficult conversations because like they feel like their fave has faced enough unwarranted criticism. or bc other people should also be criticized. much of it is warranted! and you guys need to grow up and be able to talk about it and stop painting taylor swift's face as like the Pinnacle of feminism. she doesn't and shouldn't have to be, and she isn't, and she should in fact be held accountable when she does really fucking shitty things on account of they're shitty! i don't care that she's a woman! it's like that meme of oh yay a woman democrat sent these missiles. oh yay a woman is massively damaging the planet and proudly dated a violent misogynistic racist, and faced minimum criticism for these things over and over because your only comeback is ‘well what about’ if a man did the same thing, etc, you refuse to just look at the situation we do have. yes we should. we should do that we should hold men accountable but you can also like not accept awful fucking behavior from your faves when you have a chance. do you think that’s helping feminism genuinely. use your voice use your power (your money) to like. do something for once. i cannot keep living in the taylor swift echo chamber.

and for the record. i like enjoyed taylor like back when i was a young girl and she had a few songs on the radio, and i honestly even had a moment where i used guys' opinions on her as a first step to navigate who i felt safe around in a very hypermasculine sexist college space. because yes. some people do need feminism 101 and some people's genuinely misogynistic rage will be demonstrated in their hatred of taylor and her success. but at some point we gotta move on from that. if some people will look at the most powerful woman in the world, who has enough money to stay away from them and an extremely massive loyal fanbase watching and supporting her every move - if some men take out their hatred on her, a powerful white woman, how do you think they view and treat women who are not white, thin, "conventionally"/eurocentrically attractive, or accessible to cis/het audiences?

anyway i hope that i can bring a conversation to the swiftieverse cause i honestly believe u guys could have comparable impact to like. bts stans. maybe. if you put your minds together for a good cause. and we don’t have to do the oppression olympics or whataboutisms or WHATEVER for forever. can we please move the conversation forward does anyone else feel insane with like where we’re at

on that note, i really do think now is the perfect moment for you to disrupt shit with your voices and demand better from her. it might not save the world, but it could make a huge difference in changing peoples' minds

okay um. thanks 👍

tldr i can’t do another year of swiftie discourse i just can’t please if there is a god out there help us

[missoneminute]

As the resident "Peter person" which frankly is in short supply in these parts (listen, I mock y'all but with love), I get being on Peter's side in like, 2004. I was, I get it.

I bought into a lot of the narrative Peter spun, about how wounded and betrayed he was. And he was, that is fair. But Peter is very good at whining, and it takes a while a work out that for every raw truth he speaks, he has ten more fleeting agendas on the go, and all of them literally contradicting each other. And back then, Carl was just, really, really guarded - he was a lot, lot quieter than Peter on that front, he wasn't airing that laundry every fucking time he opened his mouth, unlike the big one. It was easy to see him as aloof, his motivations unclear and untrustworthy. Yeah, there was the occasional tearful interview, but Peter was LOUD. Very, very loud, and right after that he got so ridiculously famous that Carl's narrative was utterly drowned under the noise of it all. I can even admit it took me until I saw There Are No Innocent Bystanders to understand that these two people carried equal wounds, equal love, equal obsession and walked away from that experience both extremely damaged, and with a huge chasm in their lives only the other could fill. But in the intervening years it also became clear that you can't always trust what comes out of Peter's mouth. He may say the exact opposite exactly five minutes later, and for all the genuine, horrible pain he went through with that band, and with Carl, it's undeniable that he caused most of it. He wasn't well, neither of them were, they each handled it badly, as you'd expect a pair of mentally ill, drug addicted, codependent weirdos would. In hindsight, it's all incredibly visible, how it all played out and that there's no one left to blame, as the song goes. But that is what gets me. As someone who went on that whole journey, who absolutely took a side at the time, I cannot fathom how in the year 2024, with everything right in front of us and 20 some years of history so entirely exposed, how anyone held onto those prejudices, when those two men themselves have not. And if you got as far as 2010 still on a side, I don't know how you held onto it by sheer force after seeing them spill their hearts like they did. So, really, when I see these absolute muppets on certain Facebook groups act like it's 2004 and we haven't had a literal decade of water under the bridge and twenty years to gauge what these men's personalities are actually like, it's honestly embarassing. At the bare minimum people ought to grow up at the same rate as the band they love. If they can put it all behind them, y'all ain't doing anyone any favours pretending the sound of Peter spitting in a cup would be better than a Libs album just because you still think you gotta protect him from a man he loves and who loves him, dearly.

[emotoangel]

okay! today we’re gonna have a chat about some things I don’t usually chat about, because if it helps one person then it’s worth it! from someone who’s been there, if you’re in The Bad Place mentally right now, here are my tips for how to make it through!

I’m not a doctor or a medical professional of any kind, but I have been there, and I’ve seen lots of doctors and medical professionals (and part of my work is giving people this kind of advice) so I will relay on to you both what has been told to me and what I have tried.

first of all, if you’re reading this I love you, and there is nothing you cannot make it through. I know you don’t want to be strong right now, I know you just want things to be better or over or to be able to rest, and I know it’s really fucking hard to try and keep going when things feel like this, but I promise you there is nothing that is worth losing your life. absolutely nothing. no one deserves to take that from you - not family, not friends, not partners, and certainly not incredibly shitty celebrities or politicians. your life is special and powerful and you can make it through this, I promise you. so here are some things that will help:

1. try and practice even an ounce of self care. and I genuinely mean even an ounce. if you can’t brush your teeth, rinse your mouth with mouthwash or water. go to the toilet. shower if you can. have a glass of water or a drink you enjoy. brush your hair, or if you can’t brush it then put it up and out of your face. do some skincare, something, anything! if you feel like you can barely move from your bed, move to sit on the floor. just do something. move from wherever you’re currently rotting just for a minute.

2. if there is absolutely anyone you trust, call them. you don’t have to tell them how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking about or why you feel how you feel (though if you feel up to it, doing so will help) - you can talk to them about anything. ask them about what they’re doing this upcoming weekend. talk to them about a tv show you saw recently. talk about literally anything with them. just interacting with someone will make at least a little bit of a difference.

3. breathing exercises are fine if they work for you, if they don’t, try grounding exercises, such as the 5 senses technique. think about 5 things you can see, 4 you can hear, 3 you can touch, 2 you can smell and 1 you can taste. distract your brain even for a minute to give yourself just a little bit of respite.

4. do something you love. hey, you’re thinking about dying anyway, you might as well try something you enjoy first - right? listen to an UPBEAT song you enjoy (sad songs are fine, but ideally you want something to shock the system a little). if you aren’t able to think of a song, listen to some one direction (I personally recommend don’t forget where you belong, because you can’t not laugh a little when they sing ‘if you ever feel alone - don’t!’ because it’s just so fucking ridiculous) or fucking LMFAO or something. I dunno, man. listen to something that will make you laugh, like something by weird al yancovic or cosmo Jarvis or something. If you don’t wanna do music, make something. draw something shit! try and draw a dog from memory. make a paper airplane. crochet a square. just do SOMETHING that you enjoy. if you haven’t found joy in it recently, that’s okay. do it anyway. at least then something new exists that didn’t before, and that’s so cool right?

5. if you are in a place (country, state, county etc.) that has even some semblance of decent medical care, and you feel capable of doing so, call your GP/doctor and ask them for an emergency appointment. if you’re in the UK call 111. tell someone how you’re feeling IF it is safe to do so where you are. see if you can get some help.

6. if literally all else fails, do anything (within reason) that you can to fall asleep. listen to sleep sounds, meditation music, rain sounds idk. have a wank. take a singular melatonin tablet. spray lavender sleep spray. wrap yourself up in a heated blanket. have a bath. do whatever you need to do to get you to sleep. if it takes you 2 hours to fall asleep, it takes you 2 hours. you have panic attacks and you cry and you beg for someone to sedate you but you do not give up. you get some sleep.

and then you get up and you try again tomorrow. and maybe tomorrow you can brush your hair. or you can drink some water. have a slice of toast. brush your teeth. listen to a song you like. call a friend. call a helpline. call a doctor. and if you can’t, that’s fine. you try those things again the next day. and you keep trying. until eventually it comes more easily to you.

I don’t want to sound patronising, but if you’re thinking about ending it all then you’re already at rock bottom. it will feel like nothing can get worse. you will feel like everything is ending and this is your only option. so why not try a couple of these things, right? because things can’t really get worse. either they help a little or they do nothing, and then at least you’ve tried, right?

and I’m telling you now that bare minimum one of these things will help you, at least a little. I don’t live next door to you - I can’t provide resources for every single state, county, street, country in the world, but I promise you those resources are out there. and I can tell you now, from someone who’s been at rock bottom, it’s only up from here.

things will get better. you will meet friends who love you. friends who care about you more than you ever thought you could be cared about. you’ll see animals in the street and people in love and new flowers and you’ll try new foods and you’ll learn to love that shit spread that everyone enjoys that you hate. and you will have bad days. because bad days in life are inevitable. but you will make it through them all. right now, you only need to make it through this one.

if you need a hug, I am hugging you. if you need someone to tell you things will be okay, I am telling you right now things will be okay. if you need a sign to keep fucking screaming and crying and kicking and clawing to stay alive right now, take this as your fucking sign.

you can do this. everything will be alright in the end, and if its not alright, it’s not the end.

[tmntxthings]

I Don’t Wanna Fall In Love

author’s note: a short ass drabble before i fall asleep bc it’s 4 am over here

warnings: denial, fluff, and even more denial, unedited

song inspired ♪ don’t wanna fall in love by jane child (he’d totally jam to this 80s song)

—————————————————————————

He slammed his lab door shut. “Initiate laboratory lockdown.” He heard the locks click into place as he sped walked away. Away from that damn door, away from you.

That was what he needed. Distance. The farther away he was from you, the easier it was. He could cope when you weren’t around. It practically went unnoticed to even Donatello himself, that he was in l- lo- NO.

He wasn’t, that wasn’t what it was. Think rationally Othello Von Ryan. Him? In… an emotional predicament? With you of all people!? No! You were so irritating. You got under his skin worse than Nardo and that was quite an achievement.

Not only were you an annoyance. But you knew it so you just kept pressing his metaphorical buttons… and sometimes even his real ones that just happened to be on his battle shell…

You grated on his ever last nerve and it made his chest hurt. You were an absolute dumb dumb. With those dumb dumb eyes, so ridiculously big! And don’t get him started on any of your other features, even the way you sounded, that laugh!

He could scoff. As he collapsed into his swivel chair. He started twisting and turning. His hand going to his plastron as his heart finally steadied. Yes that’s all he needed, distance and time. Sooner or later this reaction would cease and this turmoil would be over.

Because Donatello, did not want to fall. He wasn’t the type to do so. It was supposed to be the other way around. The bad boys didn’t fall in l- lo- love. He gritted his teeth and his fist came down in a harsh bang on the table.

No he wasn’t, he refused to admit, that he could possibly even consider the notion, of potentially feeling such an emotion towards you. “Dee? You in there?? C’mon I was just teasing~” you hollered outside of the lab door.

He flinched, his heart stuttering as he listened to your voice. Stupid! “I promise, no more teasing just come out!!” You started to bang on the metal door, and you didn’t stop until he shouted, “Y/N!”

“Yes~!” Your tone went high, singing out the word. “Leave. Me. Alone.” He shouted, but if you could see his face, his eyes were wide as his heart palpitated in his chest. If he went back out there he was a goner. He wouldn’t admit it, but his face felt like it was on fire. No way would he subject himself to such torture, you’d surely tease him again for his not-so-bad-boy reactions.

“Pleaseeeeee?” You whined and his hand quickly went over his wrist tech to pull up the camera he had outside of the lab door. You had one ear against the door, listening for him, and one finger up on the cold metal, tracing hearts.

He jumped out of his chair, eyes shutting as he tried to erase that from his mind. No no no! You were so annoying! He turned off the wrist tech with a flick. “F-fine. Give me a moment,” he exasperated not knowing why he agreed. Not knowing why his heart jumped at your cheers. But he knew one thing for sure, he was definitely, most certainly not falling in love.

[nono-bunny]

The musical motifs, or lack thereof, of Kataang

@sokkastyles answered an ask about an anti-Zutara claiming that the Omashu story is about Kataang, which like, obviously anyone in the Zutara circles would realize is ridiculous, and they do a great job at articulating why, so go check that out! But the thing about the original claim that got me, though, was the mention of the Kataang theme. They mention having to look it up and finding it unremarkable, and this is where our experiences differ, I suppose- because for... whatever reason, I know EXACTLY what song that is, and as a song on its own? I like it a lot! It's very memorable for me, and I think it might be the only song on the OST I actually know the name of off the top of my head- The Avatar's Love. That said, it is... A complete failure at being a Kataang song- it's an Aang one.

It's important to note that I don't have an understanding/interest in music in the same way I do with writing, so I fully might be talking out of my ass or missing something, but... If I as a layperson can notice that something's off here, that still seems like something, and honestly I'd really love it for people who know more about music theory and whatnot to chime in here and give their takes on it!

So. The Avatar's Love. Pretty straightforward name! Aspects of it are present throughout the show in different variations, and I believe this version, which is the one usually referred to, was taken from the end of the final episode. Aang is the Avatar, and he loves Katara, therefore one would think the song would be about Katara, or the two of them, right? Especially since it's playing when they get together! Well, actually, it's... Not. The song itself is beautiful, it's tender and gentle and has a sense of something growing throughout, and it's very believable as a song for Aang's growing feelings... For the first half of it. Honestly, because there's no official recording of this song yet, I'm not sure the second half of it is even the same song, but I've seen it included and excluded equally so for now I'll just treat it as if it is... Because weirdly enough, the first half, the one that most feels like its about romance and growing feelings- that plays over the expanded gaang's hijinks, and the second half is the part that actually plays when Aang and Katara get together.

Why is the second half a weird thing to play during the scene of Kataang getting together, then? Well, the second half kind of swerves and changes course a couple of times, introducing something different each time: once at 0:58, into something that istg was often used to close out an episode with the gaang flying away on Appa- arguably has to do with Katara because she's a part of the gaang, but it's definitely not about her specficially. Another is at 1:26, which briefly gives off an Iroh feel for whatever reason (as evidenced by all the comments about him in what is meant to be the Kataang song- this is a version that doesn't even have the tsungi horn which he plays over the song in the final episode!) before quickly ramping up to a very hopeful, almost ethereal sound that becomes what I think is a variation of the main theme... Because this is literally the thing that's closing out the show, and they had to get that in there ig.

So... Yeah, there's very little that evokes Katara in there, actually, if there's anything at all. There are two very distinct parts to it, neither of which is about Katara- one of them at least absolutely feels like it could be about Aang's feelings, though! But the other is a mix of several different other high impact songs, and is very obviously only there to close out the show and evoke positive emotions to supplement these two getting together completely out of nowhere- like, to the point where if you're just listening to it, it feels completely disconnected from the other half and leaves you confused at the change, because it needed to correspond with what's happening on screen when it's playing because there's no dialogue there, but you're not getting that context so thematically it's just kind of a confusing transitional mess, even if it sounds really good. I like the first half a lot, and even if it's only about Aang's feelings it at least feels relevant, but the second half is... Not great at being a theme for these two. This is a song about Aang's feelings for Katara, about winning and getting the girl, and there are virtually no traces of her presence here.

What does a song about Katara sound like, then? Well, I'm super glad you asked!

Literally nothing like the song that's meant to be a representation of her and Aang's relationship! Until 1:24 where the iconic Avatar theme briefly comes into play, that's... Something? After all it also appears in The Avatar's Love! But it's not in there because of her, it's in both because it's just... One of the sounds that feature frequently in the soundtrack, because it's the main fucking theme of the show.

What about Aang? What does his song sound like? Is his sound actually more present in The Avatar's Love?

Of course it is, because you see, Aang's theme fully IS just the main theme. He is well and fully represented in The Avatar's Love, while no trace of Katara's theme makes an appearance there, aside from the main theme, which is actually just Aang's theme.

Btw, remember those ethereal sounds that I mentioned appear towards the end of The Avatar's Love? You know where else they appear?

That's right. The main title theme. To be fair, it IS narrated by Katara, which is... Something, I guess? Except... You listen to this song and hear Katara, but the words are all about Aang- Aang's gonna save the world, everybody, he's the Avatar! And... Katara is here to tell his story, I guess? This is the theme that closes out their "love story"- a story which is wholly centered around Aang.

So. Yeah. I think I've made it pretty clear by this point why I think The Avatar's Love does a bad job as the Kataang theme. I've never been and never will be a Kataang fan, but to bring it back to the post that inspired this one for a sec, for me what made the difference between not being a fan/preferring something else and actively disliking the ship is the lack of reciprocity that at its core stems from Bryke being idiots who wanted to have a will they/won't they without knowing how to make the eventual "they will" make sense.

This whole thing is absolutely not a slight against Jeremy Zuckerman, who I think did a fantastic job with scoring ATLA- the Kataang theme turning out like it did isn't his fault. Case in point, the Aang part of it is fantastic! But when the show had to bend over backwards to make Kataang happen very suddenly at the last second, in the closing shot of the show, my guess is that he had a choice to make- is this going to be a song about Aang and Katara coming together, or about ending the story with Aang fulfilling his destiny and getting his happy ending? And of course he chose the latter! Because the way Bryke wrote the story, there was no room for the former, there was no room for considering Katara outside of her attachment to Aang. That was never what Kataang was about, that's why she's barely a factor in their song- for Kataang to happen, Katara has to be taken out of the equation.

The Avatar's Love is not about the person the Avatar loves or even the love they share with each other, it's only about Aang and his feelings for Katara. It's not about a mutual relationship or even mutual feelings, it's about yearning and achieving your destiny... And then, and only then, getting The Girl.

[muchmoreclever]

so... this is my first time writing smut. I'm very nervous about it so, apologies if it absolutely sucks. also, there is such a lack of marauders ladies smut so obviously i had to remedy this.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

words: 4194

warnings: knives, blood, oral (f. rec), marking, biting, hair pulling, aftercare.

It's late. Far later than she should be awake, and yet here she is. She had been sleeping peacefully, dreams of something warm and bright, the smell of chestnut and vanilla still lingering in her nose, when something had startled her awake.

Her first thought is someone is breaking in. She doesn't exactly live in the best part of town, and it wouldn't be the first time someone around her was robbed. Her second thought is if she should call the police, it seems the logical thing to do when one’s home is being burgled. Just as she's reaching for her phone she hears something that sounds familiar to her flatmate's voice–no, yeah that is definitely Lily. She’s humming something. So… they're not getting robbed then? Surely if Lily is out there humming about, nothing out of the ordinary can be happening.

Mary pushes back the blankets on her bed, sliding her legs over the side and walking tentatively to her locked bedroom door. With bated breath, she unlocks the door. In the silence of the room, the click sounds far too loud. She stands there for a moment with her hand on the doorknob, her heartbeat hammering away at her chest despite the fact she knows nothing can be wrong, there's just something in the air making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. In the purely animal part of her brain, she almost feels like prey.

When she pushes through the ridiculous fear, and steps into the hallway she can see a light on in the kitchen. The small little nightlight they had plugged in directly after Lily moved in, complaining of a fear of the dark. It's a warm sort of lighting that only casts over half the room, and barely makes things recognisable.

Mary walks slowly toward the light, her bare feet freezing on the cold hardwood. When she makes it to the kitchen she can just see the outline of Lily by the sink, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness. Lily has something in her hands, and her humming has become louder now, the song recognisable, it's a song she never even heard Lily listen to before, who’d of thought she was a fan of Nelly Furtado?

“Lily?” Mary hesitantly asks, Lily's humming cuts off and her body straightens, but she keeps her back to Mary.

“Did I wake you?” Lily asks, “I didn't mean to, was just… Getting a snack.”

There’s something in the way Lily says the last word, it has weight to it, but Mary couldn't think of a single reason as to why. She steps further into their tiny kitchen, barely a few steps away from Lily, and reaches into one of the cupboards, pulling down a bowl.

"Do you want me to make you something?” Mary asks, and it's silent for a beat too long, “Lily?”

Something is dripping, in the silence Mary can now hear it. For a moment she thinks it's the sink, that Lily left it on or maybe it has a leak but as her eyes travel to it, it's dry as a desert. Her eyes search for the source of the sound, travelling down from the sink to the countertops, and from the countertops to Lily's hands, which are, in fact, dripping . At first, she isn't really sure what it is, only that the parts of Lily she can see are covered in it. 

“Oh my god–Lily?” She breathes, “Are you alright? You're blee–?”

“Are you scared?” 

Yes. Especially now.

Because Lily has turned around, all innocently doe-eyed and covered in blood. And Mary is no stranger to blood, she's been an ER nurse for nearly three years now, and she sees blood every fucking day of her life. Pints of the stuff, all poured out onto herself and other people, she knows inhumane amounts of blood–but somehow this is more. It's everywhere–in her hair, arms, her mouth. Yes, her mouth thats where it's the worst. It’s caked around her lips and her chin, and neck, as if she had been–

As if she had been eating it.

Mary is a logical girl, there has to be a logical answer to this. She just can't think of one.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” Lily says, and she brings her hands up, for a moment Mary tenses, as if Lily is going to reach for her, but no. She simply is holding an apple and a knife, she continues talking as she casually cuts the apple, as if she and it aren't slathered in blood. “I thought you were working, or I would've been quieter.”

Mary can't say a word, her mouth has gone completely dry and her heart is once again working double time. She watches as Lily cuts into her apple, her crimson hands a stark contrast to the slick silver of the blade, she watches as those same hands take the apple slice and slowly pop it onto her tongue, she seems to almost hesitate for a moment, her mouth hanging open before her teeth sink into the skin, liquid slipping between her lips and falling down her chin, mixing with the blood.

Lily lets it fall for a moment, before darting her tongue out and licking her lips. And really, there must be something horribly, awfully wrong with Mary because she is… she is finding it difficult to breathe for an entirely different reason than fear. Lily must know it too, because she is staring intently at Mary, her pupils blown and her lip between two sharp teeth. 

Carelessly, Lily lets her hand fall limp, the knife falling from it onto the floor with a clatter.

“Oh.” She sighs as if completely shocked by the turn of events, “Do you mind?”

Mary should know better. Mary should say no. Instead, she keeps her eyes on Lily’s and sinks to her knees, just for the thrill of seeing Lily's reaction and it does not disappoint. Lily's eyes widen slightly, a small proud smirk on her lips and she gives an encouraging nod to Mary. Mary lets her hand feel around blindly for the knife, not caring if she gets cut, Lily would probably like that anyway.

When she does finally find the knife, she lets her eyes leave Lily’s for a split second, just to watch herself wrap her palm around the handle, to see the way the blood stains her skin. When she looks back up at Lily her gaze has darkened, the smile is gone, and she is just observing Mary. As if waiting for the wrong move.

With the knife in hand and eye contact reinstated, she makes a move to stand back up but quickly stops when Lily gives a small shake of the head. Standing as tall as she can from her knees she hands Lily the knife and watches intently as Lily takes it back and gives it a once-over. Lily looks down at her with hooded eyelids as something akin to hunger overtakes her features, and without sparing Mary another look she sticks out her tongue and licks over the length of the knife, from the handle to the tip of her blade that she lets snag her tongue, cutting into it so very gently. Lily continues to lick the blade, letting her own blood mingle with the blood already on the blade, a sick union that Mary is so sure is born of murder of some sort.

When Lily finishes, she leaves the knife spotless. Mary is completely hypnotised. Lily, sweet, kind, fucking teacher Lily, is standing in front of her with a knife in her hand and a completely feral look on her face. She looks as if she wants to rip Mary apart, and for some reason, Mary is willing to let her. God, she never pegged herself to have a blood kink–

Lily is breathing heavily now, and twisting the knife around her fingers carelessly as if she wants to be cut. When she has a solid hold on it again, she decides the best thing to do is to stick it to Mary's throat, tilting her head up. The blade is warm on her skin, Lily is pushing with just enough pressure that she can feel the threat of skin breaking, one wrong move and she's bleeding.

“Are you still scared?” Lily asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Mary answers honestly.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No .” She all but pleads.

Lily smiles at her, and trails the knife up her face, to the tips of her cheekbones and back down to her cupids bow. Lily holds it to her lips for a moment as she slowly sinks down, crouching until she’s at eye level with Mary. Lily brings the knife down, pulling Mary’s bottom lip into a pout.

“God, you're just so fucking appetizing,” Lily whispered leaning in closer and closer until the only thing that separates them is the blade of her knife. Mary expects her to move it, maybe hold it under her throat again in a way so intoxicating, but Lily chooses to kiss her over the knife. She isn't careful about it, nor gentle, and Mary feels panic flare up when she tastes the first bit of blood fall onto her tongue, but it only seems to encourage Lily.

Lily does eventually remove the knife, once again licking it before she throws it carelessly over her shoulder so she can deepen the kiss. It's nothing like the kisses Mary has ever had before, it's heavy and violent. Lily’s tongue licking at her teeth and biting her lip where it split so blood will spill over, every time Lily tastes it she groans. The sound enough makes Mary willing to give up every ounce of her blood as long as Lily keeps making those noises.

Lily's hands are everywhere, travelling slowly from the small of Mary’s back up to her shoulders and then into her hair where she grabs a handful of Mary's curls and pulls . Mary can’t help but gasp as her eyes roll back, a moan falling from her lips as Lily takes advantage of the new territory, mouthing up and down Mary’s neck. Lily licks the heated skin, nipping at it gently at first and then more violently. Mary isn't completely sure, but it is almost as if Lily's teeth get longer, sharper . The more into it Lily gets, the more aggressive until she pulls back with a groan, wiping violently at her own face and smearing the old blood away, making a clean canvas for her newest project. Lily is hovering around Mary's neck, just under the soft spot where she can feel Mary's pulse. Mary can feel her haggard breath on her skin, she can feel Lily lick the skin and drag her teeth along it, but just before she can get on with it, Mary has a revelation.

“Wait–Wait, stop.” Mary gasps, and God, she knows she’s the one that stops it all but when Lily leans away she can't help but whine, “We can't. It's wrong, Lily.”

“Doesn't feel wrong to me,” Lily says, leaning closer and running her hands up and down Mary’s thighs.

And in all honesty, it doesn't, maybe it's the fact that she's never been more turned on in her life thats clouding her judgement, but she has never felt so sure about something. Even as she feels the blood from Lily's hands drying on the skin of her thighs, she's sure she’s never wanted anything. And really, she would just go ahead and fuck her if wasn't for the fact that her boyfriend would not at all appreciate it.

“I can't.” Mary shook her head desperately, “Nash would be so upset.”

Lily let out a sweet laugh, her hands tightening their grip around Mary’s thighs, leaning back into Mary’s neck, “Nash isn't a problem anymore, dont worry your pretty little head .” She punctuated the last three words with gentle bites up Mary’s throat.

Mary used every ounce of her self-control to pull back away from Lily, heavy-lidded eyes staring into hers, “What do you mean?”

Lily smiled something sinister, her pretty white smile stained red. Mary was starting to think she knew whose blood it was, and found herself… relieved, in a sick sense. God, she was so fucked up. So fucked up for this girl.

“You trust me, don't you Mare?” Lily asked, “You would've run if you didn't.”

Mary nods.

Lily leans in close to Mary’s ear, “Then stop thinking and let me help you.” Lily pulled back with a tender smile, “Thats easy enough isn't it? Just to sit there and look pretty?”

“Mhm.” Mary hummed as she watched Lily search for the knife she had disposed of earlier, her eyes brightening when she saw it.

Lily crowds back into Mary's space, pushing the knife flush with her thigh, “Just sitting there, trying not to get hurt? Sit so very still and careful for me?” Mary nods, “Letting me just… do what I want?”

“Yes.” Mary breathes.

Lily hums, something deep in the back of her throat and smacks harshly at Mary's leg. She pulls herself up in a way that should not be so seductive in their dingy little kitchen and lets her hands cradle Mary’s face.

“Stand up.”

Mary does.

Lily's hands wrap around her waist, pulling Mary to where she wants her, and with a strength you wouldn't expect from such a person she lifts Mary up, pushing her back onto the counter and stepping in between her legs. Her hands travel up from her ass to the hem of her shirt, and agonizingly slowly Lily's hands slip under, cold skin meeting warm and shivers erupting for both parties. Her hands go farther and farther until she’s caressing Mary’s breasts.

“No bra?”

“What?” Mary's mind has ceased to work, the words taking far longer than they should to sink in, “No I was–I was uhm, sleeping.”

“You never wear one to sleep?” Lily asks, but Mary hardly hears her, she’s gone ahead and let her eyes slip shut just enjoying the sensations that come with every move of Lily's hands. “If it's too distracting I’m going to stop.”

“ No! No, it's... No, I don't.” Mary grits out, “It's restricting. Bad for you.”

Lily's hands fall and Mary can't help but throw her head back into the cabinets out of frustration, “What the fuck? I answered–”

“Oh hush,” Lily chastises with a sharp pinch on the soft skin of Mary’s stomach, “stop being so fucking needy. Good girls are patient.”.

When Mary has finally pried her eyes open she sees Lily in a new position, the knife held snugly between her lips as examines her her hands. Most of the blood was gone by now, at least the bits that covered her arms, leaving just patches of pale skin and freckles. Mary wants to lick it, bite it, just as Lily had done to her. She wants to be just as violent. 

With a sigh Lily pops the knife out of her mouth, tossing it to the side once again and refusing on her hands–or more specifically her nails. Lily is a pretty girl, which was only amplified by the fact she kept herself somehow perfectly groomed at all times, including always having a fresh manicure. This week her nails are white, dotted with little pink roses. Innocent, and sweet. Everything she isn't. 

At first, Mary doesn't really get the problem. Yes, you have beautiful fucking nails, awesome! Get on with it and put your hand to use– oh. Yeah, she's starting to realize what's wrong. The woes of lesbianism. And honestly, she is fine with skipping that bit. Wouldnt bother her a bit as long as Lily just fucking does something, but Lily seems to have other plans as she brings her hand up to her face and all but rips the acrylic off with her teeth, spitting out the fake nails onto the floor. 

“Ow.” Mary hisses, cringing a bit, “Did that not hurt?”

Lily looks at her incredulously, “I'm a literal maneater. No, it did not hurt.”

“Oh,” Mary nods, “Right, sorry. Wait, are we gonna talk about that because–”

“Later .” Lily groans as she grabs Mary’s cheeks roughly and all but inhales her.

The kiss deepens quickly, hands in hair and nails clawing at skin hard enough to break. Lily is gripping everywhere, her shoulders, her waist, her breasts… Her mouth follows everywhere her hand bruises, kissing the pain away until she's grasping at her thighs and pushing them further apart.

She nips her way down Mary’s legs, taking her sweet time and ignoring every single beg. She only comes up to suck a bruise on her inner thighs, so close to where Mary wants her but dutifully neglecting it. Mary isn't even sure she’s alive anymore, her brain has become completely mush, she is only sensation. Lily has hardly even touched her and yet she feels like a single breath on just the right place could push her over the edge. 

Lily pulls away and wipes the spit from her chin, without a word she grips the bottom of Mary’s shirt and pulls it up and over, throwing it somewhere away in the abyss. Her mouth takes quick advantage of all the free skin now, biting at the sensitive skin before letting her tongue soothe the ache that came with being denied for so long.

Mary tangles her fingers in the soft strands of Lily's hair as she continues to mouth at her breasts, her back arching seeking the warmth of Lily's mouth. Lily continues to just bite, looking up at Mary with wide eyes and stained teeth, Mary’s dark skin so contrast to the white of Lily's teeth.

“Lily, Please– Please .” Mary gasps, “Please, please, please–”

Lily pulls away with a pop, “What? Tell me what you want and you can have it.”

“I, uh... Fuck..” Lily has slid her hands down to the waistband of Mary’s shorts, just the tips of her fingers venturing in.

“Keep talking.” Lily orders, “I want to hear what you want.”

And so Mary does. Babbling every incoherent thought as Lily drags her shorts, and then her panties. Even when Lily finally gives her what she's been begging for she talks, fighting through each moan and gasp as Lily puts her tongue to use, because if Mary stops talking…

There’s a harsh slap that brings Mary back to reality, Lily's glare sobering her as she realises the pleasure has stopped. Mary gasps and pants as she scrambles to get it back, willing to say or do anything.

“I'm sorry, sorry. Please, I'm sorry–Fucking christ ..”

“It's like you want me to stop,” Lily chastises as she lets her finger drag across Mary, “You just want me to get upset with you.”

“No, I don't, I'm trying I swear–” Marys cut off with a moan as Lily lets a single finger slip inside, pumping antagonizingly slow, her other hand rubbing comfortingly on her thigh,

“I think you want me to be mean to you.” Lily continues, “Don't you? You want me to deny you? Call you a fucking slut?”

“Lily, more, please–Please, I was–”

“Or do you want to be good?” Lily asks, “Take everything I give you? Like a good girl?”

“I can be good–I am.” Mary shakes her head, if she just moves her finger just there then Mary can… “I can be so good, swear.”

“Then stop fucking begging.” Lily whispers, “And take it.”

Mary has to bite her lip to stop the pleas from falling past, and as Lily slips in another finger Mary swears she's done for. The pace is slow at first, really drawing it all, but then Lily uses her tongue and she's starting to see stars. Lily can obviously feel it too, sucking Mary’s clit between her lips and humming as her finger goes deeper, curling up deliciously. 

Mary is choking, biting down on her lip so much that the split reopens and she can taste herself. She's trying her hardest not to beg, not to touch, to be good but when Lily groans around her clit she can't help but grab a handful of her hair and grind upwards. It doesn't take much after that to send her over the edge, her thighs shaking on either side of Lily's head and her eyes rolling back inside her head as waves of pleasure consume her.

When Mary is conscious of herself once again she can feel Lily pressing a soft kiss on her lower stomach, and massaging her thighs from where they have unclenched from around her head and fallen limp. Mary's face is burning and she’s sticky with sweat, her heartbeat is beginning to fall back to normal and her head is clearing up. She feels… well, kinda gross but in a really, really good way. Because nothing Lily could ever do, especially to her, could ever be bad.

“Alright, love, you're alright.” Lily is whispering as she pulls Mary flush against her own body, her hands hooking under Mary's thighs, “Come on, now.”.

Mary lets herself be pulled up, wrapping her arms around Lily's shoulders and letting her head rest upon them as she feels Lily walking them away from the kitchen. The air is cold and practically freezing on Mary’s bare skin, the only thing she can hear is the hum of the refrigerator and the pat of Lily's bare feet on the hardwood.

“Mare, open your eyes for a mo’, yeah?” Lily encourages, “Gotta put you down for a second.”

Mary hums in dissatisfaction but does open her eyes and unravel her arms from Lily's neck, allowing her to be put down on the bathroom counter. For a moment she’s confused about why they're in here, having assumed Lily was just bringing her to bed, but her questions are quickly answered when Lily flips the shower on and starts to undress herself. Mary watches intently as Lily pulls the stiff, blood-soaked clothing from her skin, it's stained her. Lily is careful with her discarded clothing, folding the garments the best she can and placing them atop the laundry hamper. Lily pulls her underwear off next, letting it fall down her legs and rest on the floor, in only her bra she comes toward Mary and turns.

“Little help?” She asks, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

Mary’s hands make quick work of the strap, unclipping the back of the bra and gently shrugging it off Lily’s shoulders, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder blades as she goes. Lily hums appreciatively, her head slipping back a little bit to give Mary room to kiss her way up her neck. Eventually, Lily's hand comes up to Mary's cheek and pulls her into a kiss, honesty it's hardly a kiss, just a brush of lips, the best part is how Lily rests her forehead on Mary's.

Lily offers her hand to Mary, helping her down off the counters as the bathroom steams up, pulling her into the soft spray of the hot water in their shower. Mary relishes in it, dipping her head back and letting her curls get wet. Lily’s hands are caressing her hips, soothing over dark bruises, she only pulls away to squirt soap on her hands and then begins to clean Mary’s skin. She massages away the sweat, blood and tears, whispering sweet things the whole time.

When it's Lily’s turn, Mary is exceedingly gentle. The water and previous activities have rid of most of the blood, but there's still enough to be noticeable. Mary and Lily switch positions, Lily now under the spray of water and Mary's hands lathered in sweet-smelling soap. Mary starts at her legs, working her way up until Lily is lying back against the hard wall of their shower and completely relaxed. In all honesty, it could turn sexual very fast, if thats what either one wanted, but the intimate nature of just taking care of one another is just as satisfying as sex would be at the moment. So Mary works her way up, taking careful consideration of every inch of Lily, until the water is stained pink and her skin is clean.

After, they wrap each other in towels, trading soft murmurs and even softer kisses. Lily eventually leads Mary to her bedroom, and without a second thought, they curl around each other under the warmth of the duvet. Mary's hands have found their way to Lliy’s hair, and Lily's arms have wrapped around Mary’s waist, her head resting on her chest. It's domestic in a way you expect from someone thats apparently.. so violent. It's something Mary wants for the rest of her life.

“Lily?”

“Hm?”

“What are you?”

Lily pushes herself up from Mary's chest, looking down at her with an expression so soft it makes her want to melt, “I haven't a clue what you mean.” Lily tucks a wet damp curl behind Mary's ear, “Maybe you should go to sleep, hm?”.

And so they do.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

[jmdbjk]

Mostly Sassy Jiminie...

Gonna start this off by saying that the translations on this particular live were hit and miss. Whoever did these, structured some sentences very awkwardly.

Anyway... he's eating healthy, working out, working on music, living diligently. Life as Jimin seems to be good. He's happy.

He then gave us this preview:

WHYYYYY DID YOU DO THAT JIMIN???

He says he had a decent sleep schedule until a few days ago and now it sounds like it all went to shit... maybe because he was staying up late talking to someone who is now on Pacific Time?

And then we got the cute little yawn:

We know Tae's notifs went off because he showed up in the comments:

Oh, snap. Sassy Jiminie appears.

He described his experience during Yoongi's concert and is looking forward to when he can perform again but gave absolutely no hints, just said time will go by fast. Easy for you to say.

He saw someone mention "Love Letters" the song/video that Armys wrote and produced for BTS' 10th Anniversary. Jimin was visibly moved while listening to it.

I also saw today that the group of Army who made this wonderful song was now having trouble keeping their song because some low life asshole is trying to defraud them out of their copyright on it. I want some kind of button that makes the evil, vile low life scum of the earth just disappear whenever it makes an appearance.

I've heard of the assumption people have that concealer is used on their upper lips to diminish them but Jimin just obliterated that theory:

Honestly, I'd rather have a closer look at Jimin's lips but ok...food was the topic... as in from the beginning through the end of this live. Jimin took recommendations.

Armys: "Travel?" "Tattoos?"

Jimin: "I don't think I should answer those."

He got contrary because I think some of the comments were dumb...

Army: "your lips are like goldfish" ... I mean... wtf? In what country are goldfish lips a compliment?

You can tell he's sometimes baffled at the ridiculously obtuse comments.... of course if you need to take care of your kid, go take care of your kid instead of watching the live...

Army: "show me your hands"... Those are some gnarly calluses... no one can accuse him of having soft hands...

And the cutest interaction, the Great Pocket Adventure!

And in we go:

This is the closest we'll ever be to... never mind... wow its dark in here...

We fit in Jimin's pocket but we won't fit inside his house... what kind of Honey I Shrunk My Fandom bullshit is that? I demand equality.

But we did see him have a giggling fit over it and so it was all worth it.

But back to the important thing... food...

And he did order one of the recommendations when he got home. Yum:

Sassy Jiminie ... between his general mood and the assanine comments, Jimin was on a roll:

And finally, the real TMI:

We know Jiminie, you ALWAYS watch Jungkookie's lives. And he is always watching you, Jimin-sii.

[saruman-the-silly]

Headcanons: Papas with a musician reader :D

summary: all of the Papas and what they would think when they found out you're a musician (I play a few instruments, with flute as my main instrument, so I wrote different instruments :D hehe but, also singing because I love to sing)

anyway, enjoy! and as always, thank you for reading <3

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

Primo:

You hadn't mentioned your musical talents to him, so I'd imagine he'd be thrilled if he ever found out.

Primo would be in awe of your ethereal voice, and could just listen to you sing for hours.

When he first stumbled upon you singing, you had been cooped up in one of the practice rooms with a piano, playing for hours on end. Primo heard your singing from the hallway and decided to look.

There you were, playing and singing, your voice powerful and your fingers gliding smoothly over the keys. You looked radiant.

Oh he was head-over-heels in love with you now. Primo would absolutely be your biggest fan, and would always come to just listen to you when you played.

Sometimes, he would join you. (Only if it was okay with you, he never wanted to interrupt anything) But when you sang with him, your voices paired so well with each other, it's like it was meant to be.

So, you sang more with him, and you couldn't deny that it made your heart flutter hearing your amore sing with you.

Secondo:

You had mentioned that you play and sing occasionally, but didn't seem to want to talk about it that much. Secondo never forgot it though.

When you came home from work one day, and started singing to yourself while doing chores, you were startled when Secondo's deep voice joined you. You spun around, not stopping your singing and found him smiling at you, also not stopping.

So, that's when you started singing together. Don't tell anyone but it really brought out the softer side of Secondo- he just loved singing with you okay?

When he found out you could also play the piano, he fell in love even more. You would then do duets with him, with Secondo playing the guitar and you the piano.

Secondo, like Primo, would mostly just enjoy listening to you. He's your biggest fan and if you ever decided you wanted to make your own music? He would absolutely help you get everything settled.

If you happened to become a successful artist, he would immediately squash all the rumours of you only being popular because of him and Ghost. He would absolutely show you off and would be every proud while doing it.

Terzo:

Terzo knew you had a history of playing the flute.

So, he went and got you a brand new flute. Obviously.

When he presented the flute to you, you squealed with joy and hugged him tightly, before trying it.

The melody you chose was eerily beautiful, being almost haunting when it flowed around the halls of the Abbey. Terzo was in love.

He'd just listen to you and stare with heart eyes while you played lol. He would also insist on doing a duet with you on the flute and him on the kazoo. (The thought of it may sound ridiculous but listen, the end result was actually kind of beautiful)

Now, imagine Terzos face when he found out you also sang. You would absolutely need to wear a turtleneck for the next couple of days, he loved it that much.

The two of you would then absolutely crush everyone else at karaoke nights. It's a bit unfair to the others really, but hey, when Terzo suggested a dramatic duet to Dancing Queen, you couldn't say no to him.

Copia:

Like everyone else, he would just fall in love with you even more.

Copia himself had played many instruments, but never mastering one completely, and he would be in complete awe of hearing you play for the first time. Your body swayed slightly to the music, your hands swiftly and fluently on the pads of your flute.

When he found out you also sang, it happened with him walking in on you dramatically belting out some Disney song. So, Copia decided what the hell, he joined you. It would be a full on scene from a movie with him, he somehow knew the lower melody? And all the choreography? Anyway, it was very cute and it became kind of a mutual hobby for you two.

Copia would also include you in his song writing sessions. He insisted he might need a new perspective to things, and you proved yourself useful. He would also ask if you wanted to join Ghost, but you declined, saying you never really did well with publicity. You preferred to help out in the background.

You two would then write songs for each other, and yes they would be super cheesy and sappy.

Like the other brothers, Copia would love to hear you sing and play, and it made his heart to backflips when you sang to him.

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

Something short and self-indulgent lol music is such a big part of my life so I thought about writing something like this and couldn't stop thinking about it :D