#it's also very bossa nova

[bunnyboygirlgod]

absolutely obsessed with the album worth of songs i've collected over the year and how it absolutely do not fit my vibe at all whatsoever akjfdghaldfkjghadfkljgh

[gamebunny-advance]

"No Straight Roads X Rhythm Heaven - BOSS RUSH Custom remix pack | Heaven studio"

So, it looks like someone beat me to getting all the songs remade in Heaven Studio XP, but I still think it's cool to see someone else's take on it~ (The thumbnail art goes so hard~)

And with Heaven Studio sniped off the web, and thus probably putting a halt on updates for the foreseeable future, I probably won't be finishing my mixes anytime soon since they depended on games that weren't implemented yet.

So, if I ever want to finish my own project, I'm probably gonna have to suck it up and swap out more of the games.

*sigh* Vs. 1010 just isn't gonna be the same without Freeze Frame...

[puppys-rhythm-heaven]

y'know i think remix 6's just have a good track record like. tengoku remix 6 is amazing, it's a medley remix after all. ds remix 6 is also v v good though also the space soccer to lockstep transitions are hell. fever remix 6 is v v good also fever set 6 is the best set in fever tbh. barbershop remix is also v great and yes i know how hot of a take that is klsdfjfkdsjdfskldsf-

[consciouschunkofmoss]

would glados and chell enjoy bossa nova i wonder...

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.�� Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[haizficz]

Billie Bossa Nova

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Kate Bishop x Fem Reader

Summary: you and your girlfriend are at a christmas party and your short dress leads to more for the first time.

Warnings: touchy and teasing Kate; shy but not so shy reader, veeery fluffy smut-//[your first time with the love of your life]; this is so much fluff omg

words: 1.6k

a/n: soooo, this is so different to what i usually write, but i´m reaaaaally proud of it. this fic is inspired by one of my fav songs "billie bossa nova" by billie eilish. this turned out really hot, so enjoyy:)

if you want more fics like this, let me know <3

--requests are open

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It was the day before Christmas Eve, Kate was already on her way to your house. Eleanor, her mother organized again a Christmas party like last year. Only this time, guns, arrows and the mafia don't play a role.

Right now you were in the bathroom putting on your makeup and dress. It was a red, fitted dress that was quite short, which really showed off your body. Kate loved it when you wore dresses like this. You notice it how she stares at you and how she always has her hand around your waist, showing that you are completely hers. That's why you loved wearing dresses just like that. On the other hand with your dress, you made your makeup pretty natural. Mascara, lip gloss and a bit of highliter made it perfect. You stayed away from the blush because you'll be blushing enough when Kate is with you.

Just as you were about to close your dress, your phone started ringing. It was Kate who called. She`d probably already arrived at your home and was waiting for you in her car. When you picked up you told her to come to you, which she did as quickly as possible because after a minute the doorbell already rang. You couldn't help but grin, put your phone aside and opened the door. Here stood Kate in her black, perfect-looking suit. She smiled at you, which made your stomach flip. You looked into her eyes as she looked at your body. After that minute you couldn't take it any longer and kissed her soft lips. Kate's hands moved up to your back and so she noticed that your dress wasn't closed yet. "I mean, should I zip it up or take the entire dress off?" You laughed at her words and slapped her jokingly on her upper arm. "Close it, you idiot."

After one or two small conversations you were on your way to Kate's car. She opened the door for you and put on your favorite playlist as soon as she started the engine. During the car ride, Kate would occasionally rest her hand on your thigh, sometimes quite dangerously high, according to your taste.

One hour later, when Kate parked the car and removed the hand that had been laying on your thigh for a while, you felt a certain feeling. You couldn't identify it, but you knew you were hungry for Kate's touch, more than you actually are. Why though?

As you both left the car and made your way to the building, you felt the cold winter air. You tried not to shiver, but you didn't succeed at all, and Kate noticed straight away how cold you were. She stopped walking and took off her blazer, you looked at her and started smiling. The moment Kate placed her blazer on your shoulders and you could smell her strong perfume, she reminded you, "I told you to wear something warmer." You started giggling and snuggled closer to your girlfriend as you continued walking toward the building. It was a further walk as Kate didn't park very close to the location. Maybe on purpose too.

When you arrived inside you met Eleanor and greeted her friendly. She invited you to dinner, so the three of you sat down at a table. After a while Jack also came to the table and you all had a not so bad conversation. Until you suddenly felt a warm hand on your thigh again. You stared at Kate, who wasn't even looking at you. She talked with her mother about her new bow and arrow. But when Kate lightly stroked your skin with her thumb, you started to blush and the same feeling you had in the car came back. You felt the need to kiss Kate, to touch her and you wanted to feel her hand all over your body. You were so deep in thought and felt this feeling more and more. The need also grew stronger. This was completely new to you, but you liked it. Time passed more and more slowly and the only thing you wanted at that moment was to be alone with Kate. The only thing you wanted was her.

You put your hand on Kate's and enjoyed the rest of the time, but you couldn't concentrate well on the conversations and the food anymore. An hour has passed, but it felt much longer. When Eleanor and Jack finally left you alone, the first thing you did was kiss Kate. She was surprised, which made her smile into the kiss. Your hand went to her neck and you started playing with her baby hair. Kate's hand moved from your thigh to your hip, pulling you closer to her. This step drove you crazy and Kate had to break the kiss to say something. "Wanna go to a more private room? I don't want that anybody else sees you naked except for me." Your giggle made Kate blush and took your hand. You paid for your meal and made your way to the hotel next door, where Eleanor had already reserved a room for the both of you.

Giggling, you opened the door to your room and the second you both stepped inside, the door was again already closed. Kate reached for the back of your dress and began to undo it. Immediately afterwards you took Kate's tie in your hand and pulled her closer to you. You began to kiss, slowly and pleasurably. In that moment Kate tried to unbutton her shirt, you couldn´t hold back your laugh, broke the kiss and helped her. After you shared a few giggles Kate met your lips before you even had a chance to move away from her.

These times, it was different when you kissed as usual. There was something relaxed about it, eventhough you could feel the hunger you both had. You sat at the edge of the bed, kissing, but a certain urgency came when Kate reached for the back of your bra. She finally got it off, moved her hands to your breasts and gently pushed you down. You scooted back, under the covers and Kate climbed on top of you. She started staring at your eyes while you softly move your hands up and down her back. You held an intense eyecontact and your heart was beating so fast. "You´re so beautiful, y/n." Kate noticed your right now creating blush and smiled at you. "I love you", you answered and pulled her head with your hands to yours. Your lips collapsed together and Kate´s hands touched your whole body. She started to kiss every part of your face, you gripped your hands tightly in her black hair, as she ran her hands again down your body. Kate kissed your neck and you let out a sigh. She kissed each of your collar bones, she kissed each breast as she stroked them.

Her touch was so careful and soft, that it felt like heaven. Her warm hands all over your body, and you could feel her hot breaths against your skin.

Kate continued kissing you, she kissed your arms, your palms, and each delicate finger that were lost in her hair just a moment ago. She found your stomach and kissed it from each rib cage to the next, her hands met your waist and the final piece of clothing left between you two. Kate began to pull it off, looked up as if to ask you, you let out a yes, so she took them off, as well as her own, and went back to kissing you.

You let out a sigh of delight as her lips touched places only her hands earlier dared to go, she kept going down, she kissed the inside of your legs, no part of your body was left without the kiss of your girlfriend`s perfect and soft lips.

When she came back up and met your eyes once more, you grabbed her neck and kissed her. Kissing Kate must be more than just an obsession, she makes a really strong impression. She kept her hands buried in your hair and you began to run your hands down her spine. You were a pianist, and Kate´s back was your piano, each bone of her spine were your keys, and you played all of them.

You returned your hands to her neck and hooked your legs around Kate´s knees and she collapsed on top of you, you used this chance to get her on her back. You sat on top of her, leaned down and whispered into Kate´s ear. "Now it´s my turn, archer." Kate couldn´t help but smirk at your actions. "Smooth, y/l/n." You giggled and kissed her happily before you laid down on top of her, rocking your bodies together as you ran your hands down Kate´s body. You didn´t really knew what you were doing, but you knew Kate liked it, so you didn´t stop.

Kate held her hands on your back, pulling you into her body as much as she could, it mattered not that you had no clothes on. It mattered not that you were as pressed into each other as you could be. You still didn’t feel close enough.

You eventually met Kate´s side and you kissed each other gently, stroking each other´s hair.

She held you as close as possible and you had never felt so comfortable as you did in that moment. "I think I´ll wear a short dress tomorrow." Kate started laughing hard as you said your joke, where hopefully be some truth behind it.

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@hard-core-super-star <3

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[pinkygirlymeg]

My opinions on 2.2 - As a Brazilian SPOILER WARNING

First off I'ma kick it saying yes, I am disappointed at Bluepoch for not adding diverse and PoC characters, however, this is a very much positive light on 2.2 because well, I enjoyed the update, I'm not here to defend Bluepoch but to appreciate the research and interesting things I think they added to their game about my people and culture.

I also think it's relevant to tell a bit about me, I'm a Brazilian woman natural from Rio de Janeiro, who early in life moved to a rural area in Goiás and later moved to the capital city of Brasília. I visited São Paulo, the city where 2.2 takes place quite a few times since parts of my family live there to this day, however the longer I've been there was 6 months, my visits to São Paulo also consisted mostly of living my the small towns around the big cities and living mostly in rural areas. (I've visited the big city but only to buy things that we didn't have mostly)

Starting off with some of the things I enjoyed the most: Music

So far there has been 3 songs of which I've listened

Starting with the one in the announcement of the special program; https://youtu.be/JsPw7aaB3WQ?si=aGYVp_yvvf1M5m5A

I do like the song, but this one is where they got the Brazil vibes a bit far off? They were going probably to the style of Bossa Nova, a Brazilian musical genre (noticable example are Garota de Ipanema) but I think in this one they went to much on a vibe that matches more french style music? Or at least reminds me of that (I'm sorry if I'm getting it wrong french people!!! Do let me know if I did).

The second one is the Livestream music! You can listen to it while they announce characters and garments;

I think the song is also not the best but definitely catches more of a Brazilian vibe, the style of music seems to be more centered around another genre commonly from the north east region of Brazil! (Noticable example is Figa de Guiné) Where they use a lot of triangles and little bit of the guitar, they're also going for a more beach style music to match the garments me thinks.

And now the third one and my favorite as off publication of this post. The "Trade Winds Garden" theme;

https://youtu.be/qCz036VZYXc?si=Gsbyl4JZzdPUpPqh

Once again they're going for a Bossa Nova vibe but this time, they nailed it perfectly. The strings and the chocalhos (sorry couldn't find a translation to that) work perfectly to create a representation in form of music! The style of the background of the new suitcase also fits the time period of Brazil's early 1900s or late 1800s that I think they're going for, the best example of a closely related song to this is also one of my favs "Águas de Março" is a music of the same genre who I think that this one might be based off.

Ok now with the characters and I'll start with the character I'm most familiar with the vibes!

Lopera the 6 star from the second part of the 2.2 version

Although we don't have much info on the story yet, she seems to be based of the "caipira" culture, I'll use the term Rural culture because "caipira" was a term used in a pejorative demeanor towards me and my family before.

Rural culture is a lot about family and as we know, Lopera ran away from her's, this is fairly common in these circles because living in a rural area while being young and full of dreams can be quite trapping! As for her design. I absolutely love it! From the hat to the sandal she embodies the spirit of a rural girl, the hat is ofc my favorite part, it's usually optional and men are more likely to not use hats as woman are. Being a Rural girl who easily burned in the sun I had to use long sleeves, long dresses and a really big straw hat, although the sandals are the norm when walking at home, usually we would use boots in the farm. In any case, I love her design and her clothes. In the i2 she seems to be more leaning towards a city girl, wearing the shorts and boots like she's ready for anything they throw at her. I personally like the i0 outfit more than the i2 for the many reasons I stated before and for the projection I did in her when I saw her.

Now for our singing best Anjo Nala!

I also loved her vibes! I saw a lot of people saying she's purple scary woman and I agree a bit with that but I really like this trope so I'm eating it! She's one of the characters that I also think I would enjoy way more if she has more melanin but for lore reasons I think she was never even a possibility for that.

First addressing the whole Anjo Nala is Kimberly, I disagree and don't think they are the same person. My evidence is that Kimberly has an identical twin who has been recently murdered! In the newspaper we can see that a ruthless murderer's life has been put to an end. I believe Anjo Nala is that twin who got murdered, aside from the visual differences both have, they also behave completely different at least from what we can see on the PV. Anjo Nala also speaks portuguese in one of her voice lines, knowing Kimberly she would've probably already said things in Portuguese had she known the language at this point. There's also some visual differences to the two, like anjo Nala's tail and horns being different than Kimberly's.

Now putting that to the side. Anjo Nala seems to be based of a more high class songstress. The beautiful girl who sings in the boats that pass by the river. Although that is a more romantic view of our culture it's still within Brazilian literature to have that type of character. The seducing demons from the rivers are also very much part of our culture as you can see from the "Boto Cor de Rosa" a character from Brazilian mythos and folklore.

The i0 dress looks simply so cute, matching the style and era of the outfits worn by the ladies here in the big cities of Brazil, as for her i2 it seems to be more of a stage outfit, I love it too, but personally, like Lopera I like her i0 more. Although I love the art and the background of her i2 and the references to the festivals of new year here and the carnival with the lights blowing in the sky voice line and the people laughing and dancing! She's a very cute character overhaul!

Mr. Duncan... Another character whom I think would look very good with more melanin, mr.duncan embodies a very common guy in Brazilian families, the "Tio do Pavê" or that cute and funny old uncle who cracks dad jokes whenever you meet with them, he seems like a passionate and generally nice guy and OMG I love seeing older man being added to the game! It really brings variety and the possibility of old men yaoi (looking at u Shamane), I really enjoy his character for how much I can see of him in my own family and it's very fun to think of all the cute interactions he could pull off! Design wise, he feels a little bit more like a tourist, although I've seen my dad wear similar outfits before when going to the beach or simply enjoying an outdoors barbecue. I like both of his i0 and i2 basically equally! I think he looks overhaul very nice

I won't make a comment about our skeleton hand just yet, White Rum seems like the most mysterious one so far! But I will make a post about them if I happen to have some new matured thoughts of if they get more info about them

Lastly for the garments, I LOVED the garments for this version, making the Brazil patch a beach vibes update is expected but they surprised me a lot! The outfits do look really like the things any Brazilian would wear to go to the beach, my favorites being Vila's and Yenisei's garment. Specifically talking about Yenisei, it might be me going on crack mode but I think her design is based off the Victoria Regia story of Brazilian folklore and I think it works perfectly with Yenisei's connection to rivers!

Marcus looks like the cute and sweet girl at the beach but girl that sunburn marks will be weird looking with all that fishnets /silly

Vila looks gorgeous and 37 is not beating the most beautiful character of the game allegations, I also think her garment has something to do with 37 accepting the malleability of truth and how it bends and changes like a river, truth changes in every different perspective!

Shamane looks gorgeous and I look forward to all the yaoi potential he got hwhshssh /silly and seriously I also love the representation of our fauna in Shamane's garment.

Few that was quite a lot I think I'm done for this post at least! I can and will yap more about this version once things come out and I'm yet to make a post about the PV, I did see it and I have some thoughts that I still need to mature! If you have any questions, suggestions or corrections they're all welcome! I just enjoy discussing things about my culture and country and how people from the outside world perceive us!

[leonardcohenofficial]

remember when (white) music men on the internet were acting as if laufey's growing popularity was the ultimate reason to start both hating on her and gatekeeping jazz; is laufey the gen Z savior of jazz? doubtful. is her type of vocal pop very clearly influenced by midcentury jazz, bossa nova, musical theatre and movie musical scores, etc., as well as reflective of her years of training and musical knowledge? yes. it's also quite good music and she knows what she's talking about which i think threatens people who view "pop" as an entirely flattening or dismissive signifier. i don't really care about the jazz/not jazz debate (and people citing the marsalis definition i think are also often being purposefully obtuse + resistant to music that doesn't fit his very narrow neotraditional view of the genre—by his standards much of spiritual and free jazz wouldn't "count" but i digress) when people are using it as a distraction or smokescreen to avoid talking about the actual quality of the music which as previously stated, i think when it comes to laufey is very good and i look forward to hearing what she does next

[saturngalore]

FORTUNA 🍀🕊️

named after the roman goddess of fate, FORTUNA is the debut album by the s-pop girl group, the fates. the album is filled with lush, unique melodies that perfectly compliments the women’s ethereal and peculiar charms. FORTUNA opens with an unbelievably dreamy and almost fairytale-like intro that melts into an euphorically rich and punchy deep-house title track. the album also includes songs ranging from calming bossa nova, upbeat saccharine pop, and r&b-tinged lullabies. the album itself perfectly captures the intense curiosity, nervousness, and giddiness of the three goddess-like figures and their hopeful late summer rendezvous with the oblivious morals they have observed from far, far away for their entire lives. one could only wonder for how long will these feelings of joy and wonder could last for these inquisitive deities before they have the chance to interact with the very same humans whose lives they have heavily impacted in both wonderful and terrifying ways.

album inclusions in higher quality below!

[oftenderweapons]

Bourbon Bossa Nova | MYG | Pt.1

This story is part of the Blue Crush Collab

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader (nicknamed Sunny)

Wordcount: 7k

Rating: 18+ (This part is pretty innocent, but Part 2 will feature mature content)

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, composer!Yoongi x lifeguard!YN

Content warning: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sexual thoughts. Allusions to death, child abandonment and family loss.

Synopsis: when you start your summer at Honeycomb Cove, you're only expecting sunshine, waves and annoying teenage bravado as you work as a lifeguard. What you don't expect is Min Yoongi. He wasn't expecting you either. Soon your morning walks are your favourite part of the day, until you realise it's not really the walks, maybe it's always been him you are, after all, waiting for.

Shoutout to the incredible folks who helped me find courage to keep believing in this fic - and finally posting it. To Mars (@joheunsaram), To Bells (@youtifulhobi) to Yannie (@ressjeon), my power squad who believed in this fic (and in my writing skills) more than I did. Here's to me finally breaking my dry spell!!! And to some of my old and new supporters and cheerleaders @lelegzem0, @aanncchhuu, @blushingatyou and @percheee (other people are most definitely in this list but Tumblr is limiting my access to previous notes so I can't find you all) You folks are part of the reason I'm still rolling in the dust here on Tumblr

Part two out now!

Here's my masterlist, just in case you're new

Also: disclaimer! (very important, I should have put this first) I'm not Brazilian, and I have very little familiarity with Brazilian culture, but I really wanted to do a shoutout to this incredible country, its people, its art and its music. If you have any notes you would like to leave regarding Antonio's characters and Yoongi's attachment to Brazilian culture, you are the most welcome, both here in the comments and in my blog. I'd love to learn more 💜

Enjoy the fic!!!

May is a great thing. Flowers everywhere, the smell of sunscreen starting to spread in the air, orange dawns, hair getting frizzy with salty air and too much time in the water. Sand under your toes, loose linen garments, wearing a sports bra and a pair of shorts all the time, throwing an oversized sweater on when the night gets too cold, the smell of citrus and geranium to keep mosquitoes away. 

Early summer is great. Way better than midsummer and August. May and mid-September had always been your favourite times of the year: the beginning felt like sparks starting to burst, and the end felt like the natural conclusion of things, that languid nostalgia sweeping in gently, like the soft wind ready to carry in autumn days and blow the leaves away. 

The smell of rosemary and lavender and juniper accompanied you to the beach as you walked down one of the side alleys. 

“Good morn’ Earl!”

The old man turned to greet you as he kept watering the hibiscus bushes before the sun became too blinding, burning the poor flowers. “Morning Sunny!”

“Remember your heart pill!”

“Sure! Already took it!” Earl shouted back, his voice bubbly and bright. 

You waved at him as you kept walking, ready to meet your next friend. “Hello Rosa!”

“Hi Sunny!” 

The old lady already had her cocker spaniel on a leash, ready for her morning walk. “When’s Mindy coming around this year?”

“Mid-July. And she’s taking her children too!” The woman looked ecstatic about her daughter visiting. 

“That sounds amazing! I really have to rush, bye Rosa! And bye Lemon!”

“Lemon say bye!” Rosa told her dog, making her bark just in time before you started your jog. 

Being a lifeguard was great. It was the life you had always dreamed of. You had always worked out to fit in the lifeguard guidelines requirements, and a good ninety percent of your decisions had been oriented to making sure that you could be a lifeguard from the second week of May to the first week of October — that is the entirety of tourist season. Once autumn arrived, you would resume working at the retirement home: it was only your second year with that working arrangement, and you weren’t sure it would work at first, but your grandmother being the godmother of the director of the elderly institute guaranteed you would always find a spot working there; plus, they were also constantly in need of an extra set of hands, especially if those hands came with a degree in nursing. 

You’ve always known you wanted to work in elderly care just as much as you’ve always known you were made to be a lifeguard. Your parents were worried over the sort of sacrifices and strains that such an occupation would entail: all the caregiving, and the cleaning and the affection you spend on people you’re inevitably going to lose; yet it felt natural to you. Sure, some people can be antagonistic and diffident, in some cases you end up being more of a nanny than a nurse, but most of the time, it’s worth it. After two years in this field, the ups are definitely brighter than the darkest lows, and you’re under the strong impression that it will keep being so. 

Back to the glorious morning in front of you, you took off your flip-flops as you reached the best place in the world: the golden beach of Honeycomb Cove. Smiling, you fixed your cap on top of your head and walked to your tower, depositing your stuff in the cabin before going for your morning run. As you were opening the umbrella, taking in the blue infinity of the ocean before you, you spotted an unfamiliar figure below, a big fisher hat on its head, a long-sleeved white shirt covering its arms, a stick in one hand while the other was pressed to his lower back in a fist. 

“Hi, hello there!” you greeted, a wide smile for the small, old man walking on the shore before your tower. The bizarre figure lifted his head up, eyes squinted, his button nose curiously pointing about as he looked for the voice.��

“Over here! Good morning, sir!” You waved energetically at him, the man frowning — not that you could notice that, because of the distance and the hat. 

“Morning?” he greeted back in confusion before continuing his walk. 

Yoongi was extremely confused when he heard the voice. His night had been too long for him not to suppose he was hearing voices. Maybe his time had finally come and that was the call of some deity summoning him to whatever comes after the struggles of the living. 

What he didn’t expect was for the voice to call again, this time the source clearly identifiable. He squinted at the lifeguard tower and offered a small wave in greeting. 

She — that had to be a she — seemed to be set alight in sunlight, the early morning light making her glow in something brighter than gold. 

He had a precise image in his mind for a second, something his grandmother had told him when he was a child. Something like mythology, like Achilles’ halo of hair, or Helios who carries the chariot of the Sun. 

He shook his head and continued walking, turning around only once he was several feet ahead and her long legs had carried her in the opposite direction, her wide strides amazing Yoongi, who could just stare at her golden, looped locks bouncing as she played with the back-and-forth of the tide, running along it. 

For a second, Yoongi thought of The Girl from Ipanema, shortly before remembering all the controversies behind it, and how much his grandmother hated the song because of “the male gaze”. With chastised pupils, he let his gaze fall back to the fragments of seashells at his feet, the distant fall of her feet meeting the sound of the tide calling to his ears in a hypnotizing beat. 

All the way back to his home, Yoongi let it ring and echo through all the empty halls of his brain, until he could finally — although artificially — recreate it in the calm of his home, and let it resonate through its corridors.

Yoongi would define himself quite a reserved man. He had his home — an old Victorian-style house in the more quiet and deserted part of the bay, too inhospitable for tourists, still linked to the naval history of the cove. He had renovated the house after his grandmother had left it to him, replacing the old wooden axes with new, not rotten ones, repainting the walls and repolishing the floors, installing soundproof panels on the room he had decided to turn into his studio. 

It had only been a short while since he’d moved into the beach house; his college in San Francisco and his scholarship and research in New Orleans had sent him spiralling between opposites, diving deep into sounds he wasn’t entirely familiar with, and in a bout of homesickness and confusion, he’d decided to return to his true roots, to his true north. 

Here he could daydream of green hills and golden beaches of a faraway place that he could only imagine through the saudade of an old immigrant. He could feel the beat of that city that was nothing but an overgrown village, the roaring of cars on dirt roads, and that open-armed man that seemed to be every man, every woman, every human being in that open-armed city — that all-forgiving man that seemed to welcome strangers, with their weary feet and guilty souls. 

He knew the place that inhabited his wildest dreams, his most romanticised visions, no longer existed. It had been erased by decades of progress and politics and human greed. That place where all his bedtime stories took place was no longer, and maybe it had never been. Yet Yoongi longed to reach that all-forgiving stone man and feel, just feel how the rolling waves carried all the nostalgia and the sins and the tears of those lost souls that reached a new land hoping for fortune and maybe a brand new start. 

He too was something in between worlds. Son of a woman adopted by a foreigner and a man lost in time, somewhere. And there was nothing more foreign to him than the woman who had raised him, the same woman who had given him the house he was living in. He had always been drifting in something somewhat estranged. His mother had been a nobody, abandoned before an orphanage, the only known facts were her name — Moonbae — and that she had been abandoned as the last of sixth children, her family too poor to afford her. As a twist of fate, she had then been adopted by an American anthropologist — Yoongi’s grandma — who had always respected her will to stay away from her past. Still, loss persecuted her, her loving, if a little taciturn adoptive father passing due to a mysterious disease somewhere in Guatemala. 

It took several years for Beatrice and Moonbae to settle in the old colonial house in Honeycomb Cove; Trice had returned to her great-grandmother to assist the incredibly old lady to her last breath. Needless to say, she then inherited the house. The women lived sheltered, quiet lives until Moonbae got pregnant. A summer fling, that was all it was, the man a fleeting tourist who took a risk too many, fathering a son he would never take care of. 

His absence was filled by someone who looked the exact opposite of the little moonbeam of a child, laying pale and tranquil in his cradle, lulled by strange, exotic songs that his grandmother had perfected for him. 

Beatrice fell in love with a man who became everything to Yoongi — someone Moonbae never approved of, so much so that she decided to leave town when her son was maybe four years old. She never returned. Beatrice never looked for her either. 

Antonio was eighteen years younger than Beatrice, his skin a rich cinnamon shade, his accent so thick that it took a while for Yoongi to decipher the heavy Brazilian cadence in the man’s English. 

Yoongi preferred when Antonio spoke Brazilian Portuguese, anyways. By the time the boy was fourteen, he and his acquired grandfather easily conversed on the wooden patio, drinking lemonade, a guitar in the man’s arms. Antonio taught Yoongi everything, the boy so taciturn, so eager to listen, that the nationless musician let all his woes and nostalgia pour out. And maybe the man was no citizen, something in between an exile and a fugitive, but in that old house, he found a home, with Trice constantly refusing to marry him and loving him like a madwoman at the same time. 

Yoongi doubted love like that could exist anymore. A love so strong that when she had passed, Antonio had magically drifted away together with her a few months after, disregarding his significantly younger age. What the not-so-old man would never say was that he passed in tranquillity, knowing that he had taught his spiritual child all he had to offer. 

And just so, Yoongi won a scholarship, all because of the easy, wordless afternoons when Antonio taught him to play three instruments and speak that language that reminded Yoongi of his old cat, Sweeper, and the way he lazily rolled around in the sun. 

Now he was just a young man graduated from a prestigious music academy in San Francisco, two of his compositions had been featured as soundtrack in a couple movies, and he was already producing for a small recording studio specialised in chamber music. He didn’t make much money out of it, to be true, but sometimes he managed to have an extra income with royalties, and he was currently composing his first mixtape — for which a studio had already contacted him, and the fact that Antonio had introduced him to some of the most influential artists in the San Francisco scene had quite definitely jump-started his career. 

He was living a cool life, the kind of life he had always seen himself living. He worked at night and finished his day at seven am; then he would head out for a walk, when the sun was still gentle in summer and when it would be barely up in winter. And next, he would sleep. Wake up around five pm. Get some food ready and start all over again. He’d returned to Honeycomb Cove only six months prior, so he hadn’t yet entirely reconnected with his local social circle, plus most of his friends were still in college, which meant that it wasn’t that easy to arrange a get together. But to be true he was quite excited about Seokjin being back in town and spring break approaching. By summer come, they would all be a great team again and he would feel like he had all the time in the world. 

His musings were interrupted by the doorbell. That had to be his pizza. It was almost eleven and Gerry, the old Italian man who owned the pizza place at the end of the street, always knew that Tuesday night meant late night pizza for Yoongi. 

He grabbed the money — already perfectly calculated so he could pay for the pizza and leave a tip for the delivery boy, Pippo. But tonight it wasn't the delivery boy knocking at his door. As he opened it, he found a wondrous mass of blond curls right in front of his eyes. “Oh, hi!” 

“Hey!” The voice sounded chirpy, familiar. 

A sudden breeze pushed the stranger’s perfume past the doorway, the scent crashing over Yoongi like the surf. God she smells good, Yoongi thought, lips agape as he stared at the woman in his doorway. It was a mix of coconut and papaya, the scent overpowering the tasty smell of his pizza. 

You put on your friendliest, warmest, brightest smile, then said: “We met on the beach right? You must be Min Yoongi. I'm _____. Gerry said you always dine alone and told me you could use some company.”

“I'm not a charity case,” Yoongi replied before realising how rude he'd just been. 

“Well, that's a funny introduction, Not A Charity Case. Is that the name you chose to go by? Like Jenny From The Block?” You shook your head and looked away. “What told you it's not me who could use a friend. May I?” You asked, pointing at the door, asking if you could enter. “You can ask Gerry. He sent me. I've just arrived for the season and I could really use a friend. He told me you're a good person and you're always alone too.” 

Yoongi was almost outraged by your insolence. Were you always so blunt? He was also confused: what kind of setup was this?!

You passed him the pizza and he lifted the lid, checking that it was actually his and that you weren't an imposter, or a serial killer. 

'Take the golden retriever girl. She needs a smart friend. -G,’ read a note left inside the box.

“Yeah, I’m Yoongi,” he said, almost defeated. “Come on in, then.” If he found his house entirely stripped of anything worth money, he would sue Gerry. 

“Oh. Thank you.” You flashed him a grin. 

Yoongi's knees almost caved. What a smile. It was like… like staring at the sun. But in a good way. It was like a blue sky. Soothing. Serene. Cloudless, pacific. 

You placed your own pizza box next to his on the counter while at the same time you looked around. “Wow, your house is so pretty. Your family lives here?” 

Yoongi opened his pizza and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “I don't have a family anymore.” 

You froze. “I'm sorry.” You were already failing at this. That's why your friends all had fake teeth and a medical record thicker than your cookbook. Not to mention the average age.

“It's okay. I got used to that. You should be the lifeguard, right? Wait, would you like some beer?” 

You shook your head. “I'd like some water please.” 

Of course you would, he realised. You had to be one of those health freaks. He could already anticipate how easily he could make you run from him with his suicidal diet. 

He placed a glass beside your pizza box before sitting down and getting ready to dig in. “I still owe you the money. From the pizza.” 

“I already paid for both. I thought that since I wasn't bringing you a housewarming present, I could at least buy you some food.” You took a slice and started eating up, humming and nodding at the taste. “I get why he works so much. This pizza is heaven.”

“Yeah. All the kids here grew up on sunshine and Gerry's pizza,” Yoongi mentioned casually. He liked that you talked with your mouth full. He did, too. Beatrice had never liked that. 

“Are you from the neighbourhood?” He asked before wolfing down another slice. 

“Kinda. I live a bit farther into the mainland. I used to come here on holiday when I was little. With my parents.” You took a sip of water as Yoongi learned one more thing about you. 

“I thought so. I don’t really remember you from growing up, and me and my friends know all of the locals.” Yoongi studied your face, trying to dissect any detail that could make you familiar. 

“I see. You’ve been raised here, I assume?”

“Yup.” The silence is heavy, but at least you can distract yourself with food. “So, lifeguard? That your dream job?” He said it sarcastically, almost evilly before he realised you were nodding eagerly and happily. 

“My great-grandpa was a sailor. I've always wanted to live by the sea.” You munched on the crunchy crust, Yoongi blinking rapidly. 

Making fun of you felt like shooting a dead body. There was no use — and no mercy — in doing that. “Shouldn't you be in college or something?” 

“I took nursing school. And I'm old enough to be out of college.” Yoongi’s tone had really made that sound like an insult, but you tried your best not to assume the worst.

Yoongi tried to get on his better behaviour. You were a new person, you wouldn’t understand his sardonic tone. “I'm sorry,” he said, contrite. 

“For what? Me being a certified nurse and a person in charge of other people's lives? I know I look stupid, no need to rub it in.” You arched an eyebrow, rather fed up with the weirdness of this exchange, of the man sitting before you. You stood up and closed the box of your pizza, still half uneaten. “Sorry I disturbed your night. Enjoy your meal—” 

“Wait, no! Don't go, please.” He didn't know what suddenly convinced him to make you stay. “I was a dick, I'm sorry, let's start over.” 

You hesitated for at least three seconds and then, despite your better judgement, you sat back. “I'm ____. But my friends call me Sunny. It's my middle name. Really. My parents thought it funny.”

It suited you so damn bad. Yoongi wanted to bask in your aura in a hammock with a slight breeze and a samba playing in the distance. “It's a really nice name. It really suits your appearance. And I mean that as a compliment.” 

You breathed out the tiniest laugh. 

“I'm Yoongi and that's the only name I have. We don't use middle names.” He relaxed once you opened your box once more. 

“Where is it from?” You asked, recognising the name being foreign. 

“My mom's name is Korean. She picked a Korean one for me too. Just to remind me we're not entirely American.” He was vaguely bitter about that. Maybe just indifferent, you told yourself. That must have been tough. 

“That's interesting,” you mused, drinking some water. “How old are you?” 

Your question was naive. Childlike. “I'm twenty-three. And you're…?”

“Twenty-four. Twenty-five in a couple weeks.” You smiled and he was once more lost in how radiant you looked. 

Once you were finished eating, you rinsed your hands at the sink, helping him get rid of the boxes before shyly following him as he moved to the living room. 

“Wow.”

“It's a bit overwhelming, I know.” He looked around, analysing the room through a stranger's eyes. “My grandma was an anthropologist, my grandpa too, though I never met him. She travelled a lot and always brought back fancy things.” 

“What's this?” you asked, watching a strange fork of sorts. 

Yoongi sat down and grabbed a bizarre little stick, no bigger than a pen, with a large ball at the end. He hit the fork, a soothing, metallic sound coming out of it and the box at its base, amplifying the cold dong. “It's a diapason. It gives a specific note. This one sounds like la. Or A, whatever notation you prefer. We use it to tune instruments like guitars.” 

You nodded. “That's interesting. I like it.” 

Yoongi chuckled. “It's very soothing, right? It resonates at a frequency that has positive effects on humans. My grandma used to play it when I needed to calm down as a baby.” 

Thinking that the coarse man before you had been a baby felt baffling. “And it still relaxes you?” 

“It does. But I think it's more of a reflex. I think they trained me. Like Pavlov's dog… Wait, was that Pavlov?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed with a giggle. 

“Sometimes I think I was a strange experiment. That's what happens when you have two scientists in your home.” He shrugged with a funny grin on his face, his cheeks going puffy as he did so. 

“It's okay. You lived through that. You're not doing bad for a lab rat. You could be having bald spots by now,” you joked, almost expecting him to get confused or disgusted. Instead he laughed. 

His laugh was so soft. He actually looked soft, with his gums out, his cheeks puffed up, his nose curled up cutely. Yoongi was cute. Very much so. 

“So, what do you do for a living?” 

He blushed to his ears. “I'm a musician. And a producer.” 

“Wow. That sounds cool! How does that work?” Your voice was filled with wonder, making Yoongi understand that after all it wasn't like you were dumb. You were just unashamed of not knowing things. 

“I make songs. Spend too much time on the computer fixing songs for other people. And then spend a little bit of time with my instruments, going through riffs and melodies, finding little things that inspire me for longer songs or pieces.” Yoongi stopped himself from dumping all of his artistic worries over you. 

“You studied at UCLA?” you asked, knowing that was the best place for a person like him. 

“Actually, no. My grandfather got me into an academy in the city. I mean, my granny's boyfriend,” he corrected himself. Considering Antonio his grandpa had always come natural to him, but he'd never substituted himself for Trice's husband. 

“It's so cute that she found a boyfriend. You mentioned your grandpa passed so I guess she met the guy after?” You posed the question gently, wording it accurately. 

Yoongi nodded. “Yup. I was a toddler when they met.” 

You hummed. “With all respect to your grandpa, I like when old people find a partner — or at least, someone meaningful to them. It brings a lot of joy and newness in their lives. Partnered old folks have a way less lonely life. And it seems they live longer too! I read a paper for a course back in college.” 

Yoongi was pleased to receive confirmation of you being an old people's person. Hopefully you also hated kids so he could actually deem himself safe. “So you actually liked nursing school.”

You bobbed your head enthusiastically. “I’ve always liked the idea of working in a retirement home. Old people have so many stories and so little audience. I like staying with them, helping them write memories they can pass to their overly busy children and grandchildren. And they learn about technology, they play cards. They crochet! Isn't that amazing?!” you exclaimed with a radiant look on your face. 

Yoongi realised you were a genuinely generous person. You reaching out to him wasn't just Gerry forcing you to Yoongi's place, but hopefully you needing a friend. It really seemed you could use a pal your age. “And how does that pair up with your lifeguard position?” 

You shrugged. “I've always loved the beach. And splitting it with caregiving helps me from taking nursing too seriously. It helps me worry less about people… passing, you know.”

Yoongi nodded. He hadn’t thought about what it means taking care of someone day after day after day, and then suddenly they’re gone. He also thought about the different weights of a job: probably that was the same reason why it had taken him so long to work on his music while delivering piece after piece for commission. He had lost the passionate side of it.

“So, your granny's boyfriend got you into a music academy and then?” 

Yoongi smiled, then he started telling you everything about that. 

The two of you talked way deep in the night, the initial strangeness turning into easy chit-chat about school, life, family and work… It was almost one in the morning when you realised it was time for you to go. Once Yoongi noticed how long he’d been talking to you, he blushed and understood it was time to say goodnight, no matter how warm and welcome he felt at your side. 

He accompanied you to the door, then stood on the porch, waving at you before wondering whether he should accompany you home. “You’re staying here in town, right?”

You nodded. “Yeah, don’t worry. I’m just five minutes away from here. I have my bike.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?” He rubbed the back of his neck as he waited for your reply. 

You shook your head. “I’m okay, don’t worry. I’ll be okay.”

Yoongi realised the reason why he felt sad about you refusing was exclusively because he wouldn’t be able to spend more time with you. He was struggling to let go, after only a couple hours of chatting, and at least half of that being awkward acquainting with someone new. 

And to further increase his struggles, he could almost hear Antonio scolding him for letting go of someone that made him feel good. “Will I see you tomorrow morning at the beach?”

You were ready to leave when you heard Yoongi’s question. It sounded vaguely insecure, as if he was testing the waters. “Come meet me at seven. I’ll be there.”

Yoongi nodded to himself. He should have asked for your number. Stupid social anxiety. 

“Goodnight Yoongi!” You waved from the gate before leaving.

He stood there, arms crossed, shrinking inside his striped polo shirt, its long sleeve doing very little in keeping him warm. So unexpectedly his night had changed. He thought about the percussion riff he’d jotted down that morning around nine, laying in bed, sleepless. For all he knew, you could have possibly changed his life. 

He would remember tonight forever. 

The following day, Yoongi left his house at six forty-five. You had given him a when, but not an exact where. He was nervous. And he was somehow hoping that seeing you in broad daylight would somehow lessen your magic. 

How wrong he was. 

He waited for you at the feet of your tower, leaning against it nonchalantly while he almost ran to get there in time. Watching you arrive in sunglasses and a white sundress was definitely something. You looked like the kind of girl that could have starred in Dirty Dancing. 

“Good morning, sir!” you greeted, waving. 

“Stop treating me like an old man,” he complained, however you heard some irony in his voice. 

“Not my fault you behave like one!” you bit back, amused and maybe a little cheeky. “Hello Yoongi,” you tried again, more calmly now that you were standing before him. “I’ll go get changed quickly so we can go on a walk.”

He nodded and looked at the horizon before him, his ears blushing at the thought that you were half naked just a few steps away. You looked so lean and fit and tall and he was… He was struggling not to let his mind run wild. After all you were just a prettily shaped woman. No more, and no less. 

All the months that had passed since he’d last slept with someone weren’t a valid reason for him to think of you half naked.

“Let’s go!” you exclaimed, basically throwing yourself down the stairs and taking a few small jumps on your spot — like a golden retriever too excited about going out. You started with a jog, only to watch Yoongi’s panicked look. 

You exploded with laughter. “See, I told you! You’re an old man!”

Yoongi hid his smile with a pout before catching up with a few quick steps. “Do you need to run or can you just walk?”

“I’ll walk in the water. Helps me burn more energy and work on my stamina,” you replied, entering the water to the point it reached your knees. “You can walk on the shore. Did you sleep well?”

He looked away.

“Oh, right. You work at night. So— Did you… produce?” You looked down, careful about not splashing him. 

“Oh, yeah. The conversation with you was very inspirational,” he conceded. He hadn’t worked half as much in the last four weeks. Listening to the little riffs and chords hidden in your voice was like experimenting with a new genre. It was as if he was building a new theme for you. Something that signified your presence, but at the same time conveyed the fits and starts of meeting someone new, and getting to know them, and discovering something new about oneself from all the analogies and differences they could see with the other person. As much as he was composing about you, about the little bits he’d learned about you, he was in some way also composing about himself. 

The process had been thrilling and once he’d finished the first, roughest draft, at dawn, the music felt so vibrant that it could properly and proudly accompany the rise of the sun. It was of course still only a draft, but the way you’d talked deep into the night, the way you’d circled around things until they’d come out right, had inspired him to give it all a try. It didn’t need to be perfect, it only needed to work. And work, in the end, it did. He only wished he had sampled a piece of your conversation — that joke about him being a lab rat… the laughs that followed. It would have been great for a skit. 

“You know, I really wish I could listen to your music. I'm kind of curious about what such a quiet person considers noise worth listening to.” You looked at him. “After all, music is just very tidy noise right?” 

He smiled. “Yeah, I would agree to that.” He looked at the seashells on the shore. “I'll make you a playlist. I'll include random stuff I like listening to.”

“Oh, I'd love that!” you replied enthusiastically. “We can make a playlist for our walks!” 

Yoongi’s ears perked up at that: “walks”, plural, which meant you would do this again, soon. He was pleased at the way you had so casually hinted at creating a routine. He had someone to share music recommendations with. Someone who would maybe recommend pieces to him in return. He realised he was excited about this. So many new sensations, and none of that as unpleasant as he’d thought. He could get used tho this.

Once the two of you said goodbye, he realised he couldn't go to sleep. He was too excited about making a playlist and sharing it with you. Walking with you in the gentle morning sun. Hearing you laugh. 

Yoongi understood: he was making a new friend. 

Having walks with Yoongi became extraordinary. You started associating him with the tender colours of the shyest sunshine, and the sweet cotton scent of his shirts in the gentle morning breeze. The way his soft locks danced in the ocean air, tangling together, the way his cheeks turned into little ice cream scoops when he smiled at you as you greeted him good morning. 

Likewise, Yoongi started adoring sunshine. You ended each of his nights, bringing him into the reign of soft morning light, introducing him to a brightness he'd always much preferred doing without. Truth was that his ears had become acquainted with your vintage summer bops, with the way your steps would automatically sync up with the beat of Pumped Up Kicks when the song started playing, and your little blonde baby curls would end up bouncing by the time the first chorus came around. Sometimes you looked like one of those strange horses trained to match the rhythm of music. Dressage, wasn't that? 

And then, you loved his calm acoustic ballads, the relaxing guitar riffs that accompanied the rise of the sun. 

Once your shared routine of morning walks was sufficiently cemented, you trained him, like a stray cat, to stick around some more after your walk, convincing him to join you for a morning snack. You always brought him iced coffee and a peach jam sandwich while you drank your aloe and matcha drink before indulging in an avocado toast. He liked your mornings as much as you did. You also probably liked each other too. 

Your perfect sunny streak was tainted only by a mildly cloudy morning, during which Yoongi showed up at your tower anyway, an extra sweater on top of his long sleeved shirt. He knew you'd probably be cold. 

The striped black number seemed to be big enough for you to fill it up comfortably. After all, you were half a head taller than him, and your arms were significantly longer. At least by three or four inches, he had to admit. 

When you showed up, you looked drowsy, your hair was half low and you were carrying a different bag from usual. “Morning old man,” you called, placing your bag at the feet of the stairs. 

“Morning, Sunny. Wait. Are those actually knitting devices in your bag? Wonder Woman ____ knits?” 

“Shut up. Linda taught me. It's just something to share with the ladies at The Orchard,” you justified yourself. “We'll see if you still joke about that once you get your soft, handmade cosy sweater this winter.” 

Yoongi blinked, suddenly realising his expression had been shifting to a pout. “Are you still going to be around this winter?” 

You invited him upstairs, avoiding the question for now. Could you wait from September to May to see him again? Could you go so long without him? 

As you picked up a half knitted torso from your bag, pressing it to his face, you realised you couldn't. You also realised you had made a naive mistake. You had thought you were domesticating a stray but in the meanwhile you had opened him your home, your heart. You had invested your time in him and that made him much more than a stray. You were giving him a forever home.

“Is this for me?” he asked innocently, gently, rubbing his face against the soft, airy fabric. 

“It’s alpaca wool,” you commented drily. You already knew you would give up on your long-term dream sweater only to see him all fluffed up in the pastel mesh of colours. You smiled as he pressed it closer to his face.

“So soft,” he murmured, nuzzling up against the small piece of knitwork. The moment he opened his eyes, you realised his nose was just a tiny bit red from the chilly breeze coming from the sea, carrying a storm in its wake. His cheeks were rosy and puffy, his eyes big and dark. And his eyelashes, so dainty and insanely… flirtatious? He looked like he was seducing you for the slowest of seconds. 

You looked away, cheeks aflame. “Let’s go. Before the rain comes.”

Yoongi startled at your tone, cloudy for the first time since that night when you’d known each other too little, and he’d been unforgivably too sarcastic. He followed you like a confused pet down the stairs, then grabbed his earpods and passed one to you. 

You were especially thankful for the music now that your thoughts were too scattered for you to form sentences and make some conversation. 

“It will rain in a bunch of minutes,” Yoongi commented. “There’s no use walking today.”

You ignored him. Would he leave if you agreed with his statement? Would he think walking was pointless, and therefore there was no reason for the two of you to spend any time together today? Too lost in trying to find a meaning to how sad you felt at the thought of being apart, you didn’t realise a raindrop had hit your nose. 

The storm was coming. 

An angry guitar riff came on, The Neighbourhood blaring from the earphone as Yoongi grabbed your hand. One drop followed the other, his hand around your wrist as he tugged at your arm, running fast, faster, to a speed that felt ridiculous considering how lazy he always was. 

‘I’m going back to 505, if it’s a seven-hour flight or a forty-five-minute drive. In my imagination you’re waiting lying on your side, with your hands between your thighs, and a smile…’

You ran, faster, short of breath, the music carrying you across the sand. You didn’t even realise you were trusting Yoongi completely, even as he led you past your tower, even as he kept running while the downpour broke loose, even as The Beatles came on, singing about jars by the door and lonely people, even as the morning got so dark, the sky like a purple shiner after a rowdy pub fight. 

You kept running, Yoongi panting as the two of you finally recognised the fence of his house, the tower barely visible behind the thick cover of rain and mist. “Come on!” he gasped out. 

You kept running until you were under his porch. “What the hell, Yoongi! Why didn’t we stop at the tower!?” you scolded him, barely alive, barely breathing — how had he worn you out like this? He was way less trained than you, and yet he’d managed to run by your side, keeping your pace, ending up winded, sure, but in way better a state than you’d thought he would be.

He shook his head, bent in two, his hands gripping his knees. “I was distracted! I wasn’t thinking!”

You shook your head, too busy pulling oxygen into your lungs to fight him back. After a few breathless minutes, you sat down on the first step of the staircase. “You knew it would rain. Why did you come?”

Yoongi felt called out all of a sudden. “I— I thought you were expecting me to come. I don’t have your number so I couldn’t text you. Or call you.” He sat down beside you, his hands pressed in between his knees. “I didn’t want you to worry or think I had forgotten.” He took in a large breath. Somehow the little effort of a confession required way more air than the makeshift marathon under the storm — it was definitely shorter than a marathon. Probably not even a tenth of it. He just knew that was the longest and the fastest he’d ever run, but you were running, and you were so majestic and he just wanted to be part of it. 

Yoongi paused, gathered his courage, then murmured, “I didn’t want you to feel lonely.”

You recognised the guitar strums immediately, the song changing once more. You looked at Yoongi, Hozier’s soft voice crooning at your ear. “What about you? Were you feeling lonely?”

He looked away, too shy, too old, too used-to-it to admit it. He had no right to feel lonely when you weren’t around. He had been alone for so long, but loneliness? It had been a stranger to him until he’d learnt your name. “I don’t—”

You pushed his hair off his face, your index finger casually following the handsome curve of his jawline. “Yoongi?”

He finally turned to look at you, once more innocent in the way he seemed to seduce you. He looked so pure and for the first time you felt so desperate to taint him. You needed him to look normal and mundane and you prayed for your crush to fade, for his sinless charms to be washed away so he would show his true colours, because no man should be allowed to be perfect the way he felt perfect to you. 

“Yoongi,” you whispered, your heart tied up with pining.

‘Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do.’

You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until it was too late, the lyrics making you open them only to notice Yoongi leaning towards you, his lips protruding in the most imploring pout you had ever seen. 

You were ruined. 

You tugged the earpod off, almost throwing it to the ground before hollering a ‘see you ‘round’ and running off in the cold rain. 

Yoongi, confused, afraid, sat on his porch as he watched you disappear. 

Part 2 will be out now!!

[beesmygod]

I'm actually bummed about YouTube as a whole bc We're in Hell and Channel 5 both turned out to be rapists and just kept making videos so now when I need inoffensive background noise at work my eyes glaze over and I type in "bossa nova" like literal elevator music is better

tumblr is fucking with me and wont let me post the whole post without telling me why but i think bc of all the links i put its getting flagged as spam lol. bear with me as i update this post

oneshorteye: speed run history vids about sierra games and their ilk. interviews with the creators. https://www.youtube.com/@OneShortEye

anomaly documentaries: short form docs about weirdness in the world mostly prior to 2000. delivery and presentation like a 1990s educational video. not edutainment. https://www.youtube.com/@AnomalyDocs

atrocity guide: similar in tone to the above. not as dark as the name would suggest. https://www.youtube.com/@AtrocityGuide

anyaustin: seeks out mundane, odd, tranquil, haunting, or idiosyncratic areas in video games. sometimes roleplays as a census taker to determine the unemployment rate of video game citites https://www.youtube.com/@any_austin

drripVHS: a hero, a legend. uploads rips of VHS tapes he picks up from thrift stores in the portland oregon area. soooooooo many RLM wheel of the worst picks can be found here. https://www.youtube.com/@DrRIPVHS

taskmaster/bbc shows: a shocking amount of british tv shows are uploaded in full on youtube by official accounts. taskmaster fucking rips lol https://www.youtube.com/@Taskmaster

bobby fingers: irish artist who creates dioramas of famous people and events while collecting an oral history of the event and everything surrounding it. this is underselling his production quality by a lot. subjects include mel gibson's drunken arrest and steven segal getting bodied by gene lebell https://www.youtube.com/@bobbyfingers

danooct1: computer enthusiasts who runs old, weird viruses from the 1990s-2000s on his machines. its funny how many of them were little pranks. https://www.youtube.com/@danooct1

primm's hood cinema: funny guy reviews hood movies. simple as. https://www.youtube.com/@PrimmsHoodCinema

treytheexplainer: history nerd (history student?) explains really, really, really, really, REALLY old stuff. but funny stuff. https://www.youtube.com/@TREYtheExplainer

ann reardon and how to cook that: an aussie mom who creates frankly astoundingly beautiful confectionery creations. started to debunk dangerous 5 min craft vids after becoming alarmed at their proliference. also shows how to fix your busted ass cakes and explains why they fucked up. https://www.youtube.com/@HowToCookThat

MEpearl: i love georgette i would move heaven and earth for her and her opossums she rescues. shes insane (strongly positive) https://www.youtube.com/@MEpearl

tara a devlin: some aussie who translates and plays obscure horror games of varying quality from japan. VERY obscure and weird stuff. fun. https://www.youtube.com/@KowabanaJapan

[belovedmusings]

When the curtains call time.

Choso Kamo x Reader x Suguru Geto

Explicit Smut 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part three of the ‘Two + One’ story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and upon meeting his new bandmate, Suguru Geto (the frontman and bassist of the band), you realize that you share a forbidden attraction to one another. Neither of you can stop thinking about the other despite you being happy with Choso. Tonight, you’re at the band’s show, and Suguru becomes bolder than he’s ever been before. Will the night end with your loyalty intact?

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, Choso is a sweetheart, Suguru is irresistible, reader is addressed without the use of “y/n” for immersion, minimal gendered language though you’re referred to as “girlfriend” once, mild, brief unwanted touches (from random stranger), protective Choso, protective Suguru, love bite, temptation

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Is It a Crime (Sade), Billie Bossa Nova (Billie Eilish), THE DEATH OF PEACE OF MIND (Bad Omens)

A/N: Suguru…oh, Suguru… (this chapter doesn’t have any hardcore smut but the nature of this story is mature so I’m still tagging it 18+)

Read below cut:

The next time that you see Suguru, it’s backstage at the venue that Curse Manipulator is playing. Choso was required to be there early for rehearsal, and seeing as you were going to the show later on, you figured you would just go along with him instead of taking separate cars, especially since afterwards the band is planning to stay for the after party hosted by the venue owner.

You’re dressed appropriately for a concert and party, but are wearing one of Choso’s zip-up hoodies to downplay the outfit for casualty’s sake while rehearsal is going on.

Though it’s been three weeks since you last saw Suguru, naturally he’s been on your mind everyday since. It’s been the same story—you’ll think about him, let your thoughts run wild, and have to take care of your frustration either alone or with Choso. You have new material to work with. His hot breath on your lips, the smell of his cologne, the feeling of him pressed up against you…it’s all delicious aid to your personal torture.

As such, you’re excited and nervous to see him again. Your dynamic with him is so strange; you two are aware of your mutual attraction, but equally as aware of how forbidden it is. You keep up formalities with each other but you feel like the both of you are constantly on the edge, just waiting for a single sign, for someone to make a move so that the dam holding you back can break.

That thought scares you.

You don’t want to hurt Choso. That is the last thing you would ever aim to do. He’s the love of your life.

Suguru is just different. He causes you to waver as if your resolve is non-existent around him. You love Choso and you want Suguru. It’s not like you’d ever trade your boyfriend for him. You just. You want him too. You want your cake and to eat it too, you suppose. Which is a very dumb and immature line of thinking, you’re painfully aware of, but it’s just how you rationalize things.

When you walk into the dressing room the band is using, you are not prepared for the sight that greets you.

Suguru sits on the leather couch, legs spread wide, arms out on either side of him, absolutely no shirt on his body. Your mind doesn’t know what to register first. His shape, his tattoos, his piercings. He’s fit—like, really fit. You knew his biceps were thick from the t-shirt he wore last time you saw him, but he also has a really built chest, pecs sculpted and muscular, and his abs are well-defined—they look as decadent as a damn chocolate bar.

His nipples are pierced as you had suspected last time, little silver bars running through each bud. You wonder if he’s sensitive there, if it hurt, if he liked that, if he likes getting touched there—

His tattoos undulate over his creamy, smooth skin, contrasting beautifully with it, flowers and dragons and pretty calligraphy in both English and Japanese, a few touches of blue amongst the black—

This is your own personal, very heavenly hell. Or a hellish heaven. You can’t decide. All of that information hits you at once and you’re reeling from it as you and Choso enter the room. It’s a miracle you’re still standing.

You think that you deserve a whole fucking reward for not collapsing on the spot.

“Hey,” Suguru greets, completely unashamed of his position. God, he’s taking up the entire room with his presence. It’s stifling, you can’t breathe.

“Hi,” Choso greets, unfazed and oblivious to your inner turmoil as he lets go of your hand to remove his guitar case from his shoulder and rest it against the wall. “Are the others here?”

“Yeah, Larue and Miguel just went to get snacks but they should be back soon,” Suguru answers. Only then do you notice the other two aren’t in the room. Damn. The bassist turns his gaze onto you and smiles. “It’s nice to see you again.”

You wish the ground would swallow you up right now. How can you be around him when he’s like this?

You have to dig really deep to summon the willpower to keep a level demeanor.

“Yeah, nice to see you,” you respond as evenly as you can, hurriedly walking to an empty chair and sitting in it. You feel better being off your feet.

Choso comes behind you and lays an arm around your shoulder.

“Baby, I’m gonna run to the bathroom really quick. Will you be okay for a few?”

You look up at him.

No, don’t leave me here alone. I can’t trust myself.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you force a smile on your face. You can’t protest without giving yourself away.

“Okay,” he responds, planting a kiss on your temple before padding to the door and exiting. The door clicks shut, and just like that, it becomes hot as an inferno in the room.

Suguru is up and out of his seat, moving over to you and kneeling—kneeling—in front of you.

“Hey,” he smiles with his lidded eyes, peeking up at you as they glimmer, a slyness to his expression. “I missed you.”

There’s no way he just said that to you. You swallow thickly, a strained smile on your lips, trying for nonchalant. “We’ve met twice.”

“You don’t feel the same way?”

His right hand, decorated with his usual rings, touches your left, sending shockwaves through your system. You’ve dreamt about him on his knees in front of you and it feels like reality is collapsing now that it’s coming true. Your desires are fighting with your rationality.

“It’s that neither of us should feel this way,” you say, deciding to just be honest. You need to have this conversation with him before you two fuck the band and your relationship up.

“I know,” he sighs, fingers gently brushing over your knuckles. Sparks scatter up your skin from where he’s touching you. “I don’t know what it is. I know it’s unwise. But I can’t stop thinking about you.”

You breathe in slowly. You have to say what you need to say. “Choso is my boyfriend. We can’t do anything about this. He loves being in this band and I don’t want to ruin it.”

Suguru nods earnestly, grabbing your fingers and pulling your hand towards himself. He holds your eyes as he presses his lips to your first knuckle, kissing it.

Your heart does a flip. The metal and soft skin make for an intoxicating combination.

“I know. And I like him. He fits the band perfectly and I think we can be a huge success with him,” Suguru tells you, kissing the next knuckle. Heat pulses from his mouth to between your legs, and you desperately try to maintain control. “I don’t want to hurt him, either. I know that he’s a good guy, and given getting to know him more, we could become really good friends.”

His words and actions are saying different things.

“Then why…why are you doing this?” You ask him breathlessly as he pecks another knuckle.

“I can’t stop,” he answers honestly. “I’ve never wanted someone as bad as I want you. And it’s difficult to even want to try stopping when I know you want me too.”

You take another deep breath. You need to tell him the brutal truth. “I won’t leave him for you. I love him.”

He doesn’t flinch. “I know that. I wouldn’t ask you to.”

That throws you for a loop. “Okay…well, I’m also not going to cheat on him with you.”

“I also don’t want that.”

“…you don’t?” Is he playing mind games? Or is he just as confounded by this attraction as you are?

He nods distractedly, turning your hand over and pushing your sleeve up. His lips brush over the inner part of your wrist and it’s so sensitive it has you gasping involuntarily.

Then, he flicks his tongue out and licks right over your vein, the stud in the center of it running right along the outline of it.

“Suguru,” you can’t stop yourself from exhaling, nerves alight with pleasure. You swear you see his pupils dilate at the sound and as if possessed by desire, he does it again, holding your eyes, and you give him a strained moan, caught in your throat, nails of your free hand digging into the armrest beneath it. He kisses the spot, closing his lips around it and sucking.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, taking your unoccupied hand and threading it in his loose hair, watching his mouth work over your wrist like a vampire in need of sustenance.

His mouth feels like paradise. The metal of the rings on his lips, the stud scraping against your thin flesh, the wet heat, the lewd sounds coming from his mouth that could easily be him devouring something else entirely—

His free hand snakes up the inside of your bare thigh and starts rubbing circles over it. Your mouth falls open, disbelief and bliss taking you in a chokehold. It’s almost painful how fast blood rushes downward, wetness pooling at your core.

You cannot be doing this right now. Any longer and he’ll have his hand where you need him yet can’t have him.

“Suguru,” you yank your sanity back like it’s your soul trying to leave your body. “Suguru, stop.”

At the firm tone, it’s like his own common sense returns to him. He exhales shakily and detaches himself from you, standing up. You both look at your wrist, which now bores a deep purple splotch.

Sweet merciful god, he gave you a fucking hickey.

“Fuck,” he breathes, running a hand through his hair. His lips are swollen, nose a little red too. Your eyes can’t help but travel down to the front of his black pants, which bear a very noticeable bulge. How hasn’t his mere presence killed you yet? He seriously got hard just from doing that to you? “I’m sorry. I…that was my fault. I know you love him. I won’t ask you to cheat. I don’t want you to. Just…”

He shakes his head, seemingly flustered and surprised with himself. His expression is muddled.

“I…I’m gonna get some air,” he decides, and you nod, not even knowing what to say. You’re barely processing what just happened. He looks torn between wanting to ravish you again and wanting to get the hell out of dodge.

He makes the mature decision for once and finds the shirt he must have come in, putting it on and leaving without another word.

You stare at the space he just occupied.

What the fuck?

Your eyes flit to the love bite he left on your wrist. It throbs, feeling exposed in the cool air.

What the fuck?

There’s physical evidence now. You let him mark you. You let another man put a hickey on your body behind your boyfriend’s back.

You feel sick to your stomach, yet a small part of you is pleased to bear Suguru’s mark. In such an intimate place, too. You hadn’t even known you were so sensitive there.

If Choso sees that, you have no clue what you’re going to do. This damn hoodie is staying on. You pull the sleeve back up past your knuckles and hide it away.

You then put your head in your hand and sigh heavily.

Things have just gone from bad to worse.

—-

You sort of zone-out through the rehearsal. You’re just sitting at a bar stool near the front, watching your boyfriend play and sing along with the band’s music while the light and sound engineers mess with settings, testing out their equipment and getting volumes right to ensure the best sound possible. The music starts and stops, starts and stops, so it isn’t the full experience yet. You know that will come later when the show begins.

You’re honestly just troubled to all hell about what Suguru did to you before Choso had returned from the bathroom. You didn’t hate it. You still don’t.

You hate that he couldn’t keep going, rather.

His eyes gravitate toward you every now and then, and you can feel them burning holes into you like the end of a cigarette. Choso’s gaze in contrast is just steadily warm like that of a hearth, and it makes you feel all the more shitty about yourself.

Who are you to let Suguru command your thoughts like this? He’s not the man you love. You want to fuck him, and that’s it. It’s just some stupid, basic human instinct that’s making you act like a mindless beast in heat. You might have a primal side, but damn it, you also have a conscience and you will not let the instinctual side of you win.

When rehearsal ends, barely to your knowledge, you return to the dressing room with the band once Choso calls to you.

“Okay,” Suguru begins once everyone is inside. “Things are looking great for tonight. We have about an hour, and Ijichi was kind enough to get us some pizza, so why don't we eat up?”

Larue hoots in agreement and Miguel claps, the two going right for the boxes lined up along a fold-out table at the corner of the room.

You met Ijichi, their manager, shortly before rehearsal. He’s a polite and slightly scatter-brained man, but he seems genuine, so you took a liking to him instantly.

“You’re welcome to the food too,” Suguru tells you, “Have some.”

Truth be told, you’re not that hungry. Being around Suguru makes you nervous enough to curb your appetite, but you don’t like to refuse hospitality, either.

“Okay,” you smile, tugging Choso along. He goes willingly, following you to the table like a puppy. You can feel Suguru’s eyes on the back of your head and you want to turn around and look, but doing so will just draw attention to him. You can’t do that.

You grab a slice of cheese while Choso grabs a pepperoni, and the two of you sit together on the leather sofa as everyone starts eating. Suguru is the last to sit with his slices, two stacked on top of each other, and you watch him fold them as he raises them to his mouth, taking a bite.

Fuck. How is the way he eats attractive, too?

Choso has his free arm around you and you think that it’s the only thing keeping you intact.

How you manage to make it through the conversation you can’t remember is a mystery to you.

Ijichi comes in a bit laterand informs you all that it’s fifteen minutes until the show starts, and with that, you help Larue clear away all of the food so that the other members can start fixing their appearances to go on.

“Baby,” Choso says, putting a hand on your shoulder as you drop napkins into the trash bin. You look at him.

“Yeah?”

“Do you wanna step outside for a second? We’re going to change clothes. I don’t know if you really want to see…the others.”

Oh.

A very helpful image of what Suguru might look like in just briefs robs you of clarity and it makes your heart jump into your throat.

If you saw that now you might leave the venue in a stretcher.

“You’re right,” you say with a laugh, “Let me know when I can come back in.”

He gives you a small smile and pecks your lips before letting you walk out of the room. You pass Suguru, his arm brushing against yours as he moves to remove his shirt again.

“Sorry,” he laughs breathily, those damn honey-colored eyes once again telling you an entirely different story.

“No, uh, my bad,” you manage before reaching the door and exiting.

As soon as you’re standing in the hall, you put your head in your hands and breathe in deeply, trying to center yourself as much as possible.

You will lose your mind soon. It’s impossible not to around Suguru. He has to know how insanely hot he is, right? And he’s so damn confident—except for when you’d told him to stop.

Right then, he had looked unsure, even shocked with himself. You’ve never seen that look on his face. He was flustered. You managed to fluster him.

You groan under your breath, shaking your head. It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. You can’t have him.

All you have to do is get through the night and go home with Choso. And then promptly never subject yourself to Suguru Geto ever again.

The door clicks and opens slowly, Choso poking his head out just in time for you to straighten up.

“You can come back now. Help me with my makeup?”

You nod, following him back into the room. You force yourself not to look around. You can’t look at Suguru. You can’t.

Choso sits at one of the vanity tables, watching you grab the bag you had forgotten on your chair earlier to place it on the countertop.

“I want the lines going up and down my eyes,” he says, “with the arrows. And purple eyeshadow, too.”

The last time he’d done that had been with the old band. It’s one of your favorite styles on him.

“I love that look.”

“I know,” he grins softly. “That’s why I want it.”

You can’t suppress the quiet, fond laugh it makes you give him, and you’re reaching for the small makeup bag inside.

You get to work, your boyfriend obediently closing his eyes as you brush the shadow on his lids gently, blending it in so that it’s darkest around his eyes and then fades nicely into his skin tone. Once the shadow is done, you move on to the liner, taking the pencil and positioning it in your hand.

“Look up for me,” you tell him, and he does as told, letting you rim his water lines with black. “Okay. Now close your eyes and keep ‘em closed.”

He effortlessly obeys, and you carefully stretch the lid of his right eye to line above his eyelashes, doing the same to his left eye. You use your shadow brush to blend it.

“Okay,” you smile, admiring your work as he looks up at you with his mocha-brown eyes. “Pretty.”

You take pride in the way his eyes widen and a blush paints over the center of his face, Choso becoming completely flustered.

“Ready for the line art?” You ask, acting unfazed. He nods, and you cup his cheek for a moment before switching the pencil for a liquid eyeliner marker. “Okay, hold still, babe.”

He nods, letting you draw the first line down from the center of his eye, past the tattoo, sharpening out at the edge. You thicken the beginning of the line, then repeat the process on the other eye, blowing a gentle stream of air over his face to dry it quicker.

“Wow. You’re really good.”

You jump at the sound of Suguru behind you, and you’re suddenly really thankful he didn’t do that while you were drawing on Choso’s face. You might’ve poked him in the eye or at least fucked up your work. Your reaction has both him and Choso laughing in response.

“Sorry,” Suguru chuckles as you look at him, clutching your chest. Oh god. He has heavy liner around his eyes, too, only there’s no color and it’s less smoked-out than Choso’s. “Guess I caught you ‘in the zone’.”

Choso rubs your arm. “She’s talented, isn’t she?”

“Very,” Suguru agrees readily. “I wish I hadn’t already done my own. I bet you could make me look cool, too.”

You already look perfect, you want to tell him, but by the grace of some merciful god, you don’t let that slip past your lips.

“I think you did a good job,” you respond, laughing breathlessly. He grins, shrugging.

“Ah, thanks,” he says. “Can I keep watching? I find it fascinating.”

That’s a rhetorical question. Like you could ever say ‘no’ to him when he asks like that—it would be rude.

“Sure,” you agree, and turn back to Choso. Just focus on him, focus on your boyfriend. “I’ll do the top now, Chos’.”

“All right,” he replies, closing his eyes again, and it allows you to draw continuations of the lines below his eyes straight upwards, through his brows, ending in the middle of his forehead. You blow to dry them quickly, then start working on the arrows.

Luckily, it seems like focusing on the makeup really helps to keep Suguru from invading your mind for the moment, though you’re very aware of his eyes watching you work.

You finish soon enough, and Choso turns to look in the mirror, smiling at the finished product.

“It looks perfect. Thank you, baby.”

He kisses your arm since it’s closest, and you return his expression.

“Of course.”

“Awesome,” Suguru adds, “He’s going to make quite the debut with the band looking like that. You might have competition.”

You raise your brows slightly at this. You hadn’t thought about what kind of response Choso was going to get from the audience tonight, but that makes a lot of sense. He is a living, breathing angel, with a heart of gold to match. He will have tons of fans.

Choso’s arm winds around you and he pulls you in, resting the side of his face to your body.

“None of them will have a chance,” he says, looking up to meet your eyes. “You’re all I’ll ever want.”

The earnest nature of that statement has you blushing. You weren’t expecting that at all, but you know that it’s true.

Suguru sucks in a breath and it’s then that you look at him just in time to see him concealing his true facial expression, fixing a smile on his features.

“That’s a good mindset to have in this industry,” he says. Only you seem to be able to see the turmoil behind his eyes. He claps his hands, getting everyone’s attention.

“Are we ready?”

“Yup!”

“Born ready.”

Choso stands beside you, nodding to him in affirmation.

“All right, let’s get ready to go on.”

The walk to the door that leads backstage is short, and you stop with Choso after the others go in.

“You’re going to do amazing,” you tell your boyfriend, leaning up and planting a kiss on his lips. “I’ll be watching from the closest bar stool to your left, just like I was for rehearsal.”

He nods, touching your arm. “Thanks for always supporting me like this.”

“Of course,” you laugh incredulously. “Always.”

He smiles. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go on.”

With an encouraging pat to his arm, you see him off, and make your way to the house of the venue.

You find your seat just before the lights dim, and soon after, the show starts.

You watched the rehearsal, but in its full glory, the real show has your heart pounding with excitement.

It’s a full house and the energy from the crowd is instantly electric as the first notes start playing and Suguru begins to sing. You watch him with complete disregard for the audience as he looks right over at you, lush voice caressing the air. He smiles and you feel your face flush—that man clearly has massive stage charisma, because as soon as he does it, the entire audience’s screams get louder.

He lets his eyes wave over the crowd and you take the freedom it grants you to look over to his right, where Choso stands and plays. He’s looking out at the back of the house, and you hum fondly. He’s always done that—looking over the people instead of at them helps to ground his nerves. But he must feel your eyes on him because he quickly looks over to you, and as soon as they connect with yours, you feel yourself smiling back. He perks up instantly, and puts more effort into his performance. It warms your heart. Your love has such a tangible effect on him, it makes you feel all sorts of special and needed.

The chorus of the song hits and Suguru is using his normally smooth voice to belt, and Choso backs him up, closing his eyes to sing, allowing you to look at Suguru again.

Oh, man. He’s majestic up there, all long hair, tattoos partially displayed underneath his black tank top, outlining his muscles perfectly. Even the belt he’s wearing hugs his body just right and accentuates the tiny sliver of skin above his waistline, beneath the bunched up fabric of his shirt every time he turns or raises the bass enough for you to see it.

To top it all off he keeps looking at you.

So now, you’re in some type of personal purgatory where your attention keeps switching between Suguru and Choso, the two having an entirely unbeknownst-to-them stand-off for you.

This carries on for half the concert until something else forces your eyes away from the stage as a whole. It’s during a small break, where Suguru is addressing the audience, talking about the music they’ve done so far.

A hand slinks around your waist, and suddenly the smell of hard liquor fills your nostrils. You turn to look, face breaths away from that of a man you’ve never met before.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he grins loosely at you, “You here all alone?”

His grip on you tightens.

Oh hell no. This can’t be happening.

“No, I’m not.”

He chuckles lowly. “I don’t see anyone with you. Why don’t we get out of here?”

“Absolutely not,” you bite back, putting your hand on his chest and pushing. He barely budges.

“Oh, feisty. I like that.”

“Get off of me, or I swear to g—”

“What’s this over there? You, at the bar stools?”

You freeze as you hear the entire room go quiet, looking over at the stage to see Suguru and Choso watching you worriedly.

“Just talking!” The man answers loudly to Suguru, right in your ear, and you grimace, pushing at him.

“Is your presence welcome?” Suguru asks, voice full of condescension. His eyes reserve pools of hot anger that he keeps strictly strained and controlled in the tight, patronizing smile he wears.

You shake your head immediately, and for that, the man beside you growls and grabs your waist with his free hand, trying to pull you into him.

“Hmm. Now that just won’t do.”

Choso hurriedly pulls the loop of his guitar over his head and Suguru takes it for him, the crowd moving as Choso jumps off of the stage.

“Get away from her,” Choso’s voice is dripping with venom. It makes your heart race—you’ve never seen him like this before. Granted, he’s never had the opportunity to get so protective before, but holy shit. Add that to his menacing build and dark-rimmed eyes and you have the makings of a man straight out of a novel.

It scares the man beside you enough to make him let go, finally, backing away.

“Hey man, I was just—”

“That’s my girlfriend,” Choso states coldly, sidling up beside you and placing his arm in its rightful place around your shoulders. “Don’t you dare lay a finger on her.”

“Curse Manipulator doesn’t tolerate harassment,” Suguru says into his microphone. “Everyone, what do we do to someone like that?”

“Boo!” Someone shouts, and the rest follow suit. Choso holds you close to him, hand rubbing up and down your arm comfortingly, trying to hold you steady.

“Security? Please get him out of here.” Suguru calls, and within moments, two tall and sturdy people you’d seen around the venue before the concert show up and lead the man by his arms out of the house, away from you. The ‘booing’ turns into cheers as he’s dealt with, yet Choso keeps his attention on you.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you huff, “Kind of embarrassed now. That was a lot of attention.”

“Yeah, I think Suguru was just as pissed as I was. Just spoke up before thinking,” Choso laughs softly, “Do you want to go backstage? You can watch in the wings if that makes you feel better.”

You take a breath and nod. You don’t want to be in the audience any longer, now that everyone’s attention had just been directed towards you.

“Come on,” He says, and leads you to the door beside the stage, taking you back there with him as Suguru smooths things out through the microphone.

“Well, that takes care of that. We’re not gonna let that guy ruin our night,” he says, “We’re only halfway through, after all. We have a brand-new song, exclusive and never-before heard coming up! It’ll be on our new album.”

As soon as the door closes behind you, you let out a breath.

“Thanks for getting him away from me,” you tell Choso as you walk up the steps.

“Of course,” he shakes his head. “I will always protect you.”

A surge of emotion overtakes you as you remember the downright ludicrous look in his eyes as he walked towards the man harassing you. You grab the back of his neck and kiss him, hearing him gasp in surprise. The kiss is passionate yet chaste, and when you pull away he looks slightly dazed.

“That was honestly hot,” you tell him, and he smiles bashfully. You want to continue kissing him but before you can, you hear the audience cheering after Suguru said something, and remember where you are. “Go on. I’ll be back here. Don’t wanna keep the fans waiting.”

He grins and places a kiss on your cheek before heading back towards the stage.

You watch him go, looking a little past him as Suguru tilts his head back to make eye contact with you. He quirks a brow as if to ask ‘are you okay?’ and you nod, feeling warm all over again. He smiles in relief, and just like that, he begins to introduce the next song.

Now alone with your thoughts, you sigh freely. That guy had been a nuisance more than anything, but it had shown you indirectly that both Suguru and Choso have a protective streak inside of them that you brought out.

How can you possibly stay sane with a realization like that?

---

A/N: the way you're just dancing around each other...and it'll only get crazier, too

please don't repost/translate, but feel free to reblog & share!

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[ummmlife]

Because you asked for it!!! literally no one ever asked for this

here are my...

Nanami Kento headcanons

Warnings!; none... maybe mention of nsfw?

My man here is fucking blind, like, he needs glasses to read. He also has prescription sunglasses, and has more than those ugly glasses he wears.

Started buying Rolex watches when he worked as a salaryman. He simply saw a man with a fancy watch one day and said "Oh, I want one of those".

Although he's a foodie, he often skips his meals, not intentionally though.

Has a great collection of alcohol in his home, that's not a surprise for anyone, yeah. But Nanami also owns a small barista kit to make cocktails.

He's not a virgin but the last time he had sex with someone was a month before leaving his salaryman job. Poor man.

Calling him "daddy" won't have any effect in him. He will probably be confused if you call him "daddy" like ??? why are you calling him father?

Now, if you call him "husband" or dirty talk to him like a good housewife (even if you're not a woman), gurl, he'll go feral.

Also, Nanami really wants to get married. The whole idea of being a family man and have his own spouse and children makes him happy.

He's cancer, duh.

Cry baby, also.

Nanami usually bottles up all his emotions to simply lay down on his bed at night and cry himself to sleep.

Unless you are not his partner, you won't see his clingy side. Nanami is needy, he needs to give and receive a lot of love.

He's the kind of man that sleeps all curled up with his partner, the more physical contact there is, the better.

Don't forget that he's a millennial. Nanami can't start his day without a coffee.

Yeah, he likes Harry Potter and shit.

His Instagram is: 8 post, 6 of them are about food.

He's more active on twitter tho, but not like you think. He uses twitter as his second newspaper.

Nanami seems like a very correct man who listens to classical music all the time, but we all know he's an emo at heart. But he also enjoys bossa nova a lot.

Since his grandpa is danish, he knows like 10 words in danish.

He's not blond, he started dying his hair when he was recruited into jujutsu high. Surprisingly, his hair is in a very healthy state.

Yeah, he knows how to dye hair.

Nanami had a lot of intrusive thoughts, some of those makes him very afraid of his own mind.

Only watch weird philosophical movies from unknown european directors... Unless you find him on a sunday's night watching the most cheesy romcom you've ever heard about.

He also reads manga, but occasionally. Probably likes something like Golden Kamuy or Vagabond.

His favorite sport is baseball.

He once tried pilates (Gojo's recommendation)... never more.

Loves edging himself when he has to relieve stress

Has a lot of plants, all in perfect health.

If his partner gets pregnant, he will ask to try breastmilk... Why? I dunno, he's probably curious.

His favorite position is missionary, boring af, but he likes to see his partner's face when they cum.

If he's in a relationship, don't expect him to jerk off. Even when he was single didn't jerk off unless he was incredibly horny, the plus of a relationship is that he will ask his partner to make love together to ease his human needs.

Likes cats more than dogs for pets, but he'll definitely have fishes or a turtle if he can.

Very sensitive, with everything in general. Textures, noises, flavors. If there's something that overstimulates his senses, he will have a bad day.

That's why he buys one specific brand of condoms and also 99% cotton everything that has fabric on it.

Very clean for the same reasons, he can't stand visual noise.

Nanami also cleans his home spiritually. Does he believes in that? Not necessarily, but it feels his home cleaner.

Loves being kissed on his forehead and jaw.

Also likes the sensation of being protected, he's always protecting people but he likes also to feel safe and cared.

If you ask him to wear a skirt, with a bit of struggle, will agree.

Has never tried anything sexual like bdsm or something like that. Just the basic 4 positions of sex.

Nanami is just a sweet guy who only shows his cute side when he's comfortable enough with his loved one.

That's all for now!

[merakiui]

I loved the ebb and flow!!! Floyb being down bad and pining for the reader is so.. ( ´ཀ` ) anyway, I hope your pillow is cold on both sides tonight! You deserve it ❀˖°

Now... what if Floyd got more bold with his actions and maybe does something in front of Azul to tell that he's better than him and that he should back the fuck up.

(Floyd knocking reader up accidentally and now It's too late to do anything? Lol, baby gets born and it starts looking like Floyd day after day. And while papa Leech and mama Leech are angry at Floyd, Jade gets to business and tries to knock reader up himself ⍢)

(♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈) thank youuuuu!!! I hope your pillow sides are also cold! Floyb being down bad is always so fun to write. I actually just wanted to write awkward first time sex with Floyb, but then I realized I didn't write anything to celebrate 4/20 and so I knew I had to write a small scene where you and the twins take edibles and cuddle while listening to bossa nova. <3 the pining paired with stepcest flavoring makes for a very delicious meal.

I believe in punk Jade supremacy!!! Jade who is something of the poster child for the family because he's the "good twin," and so he goes out of his way to reverse that preconceived notion by getting piercings and tattoos in his own rebellious ways. I think Floyd (and also Jade) being a menace to his step-sibling is very fun. The three of you may bicker sometimes and be utter pains to one another, but at the end of the day you love them (they love you a little too much, though... ;;;;).

Aaaaa I love the idea of Floyd trying to assert his dominance over Azul. The original idea for the prom scene was for Floyd to kiss you in front of Azul. >:D he's such a brat!!!! Maybe he'll do that instead just to remind Azul that, while he's allowed to be close, he's not nearly as close as you and Floyd. ദ്ദി´▽`) but Azul grew up with the three of you, so maybe he knows the twins are freaks. (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

(Omg Jade knocking you up next...... it's only fair, isn't it? You gave Floyd a child and now he wants one, too. You can make him a father as well, can't you? 🥺 all with those pleading eyes of his....... your step-brothers are so troublesome. >_<)

[lunarsights]

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨, 𝙈𝙞𝙣 𝙃𝙚𝙚-𝙟𝙞𝙣, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙃𝙔𝘽𝙀: 𝘼 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙝𝙚𝙣𝙨𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙣𝙜

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“Macarena” by Blitzers

“Youtiful” by Stray Kids

“Rover and Benz” by Aint Afraid

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Death (Rx), Queen of Coins (Rx), Seven of Wands, Page of Wands, Knight of Cups, The Lovers (Rx), Four of Swords (Rx), Two of Coins, Seven of Coins

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

they could be feeling a little neglected, or they could be focused on trying to save themselves/the group/one another when it comes to the situation - maybe helping one another take care of their mental health or figuring out how to ignore/overcome hate comments. they don’t feel defeated! that’s for sure! they feel “ready for the fight ahead” and “for whatever comes out”. they seem stronger than even they let on (at least publicly or at least they’re stronger than they’re portrayed to be). although there’s some apprehension about bringing up the past, it’s also giving “it’s been a long time coming”, so they could see this as a way to “tell the(ir) truth” or as a way to feel refreshed and “unburdened”

they could feel a little conflicted about this idea of following their dreams though; “things not turning out as they seemed” and “not being as stable” as they might’ve wanted. this could also be recognizing that they were kids and didn’t really know what they were signing up for; “didn’t know we were signing up for all this”. they could feel some stress and maybe somewhat overworked - more “overwhelmed”; “it’s a lot”. they could be figuring out how to balance their emotions and personal feelings about what’s going on with continuing to work and push through. their thoughts seem to be if they push through, then things will be “alright” in the end.

𝙈𝙞𝙣 𝙃𝙚𝙚-𝙅𝙞𝙣'𝙨 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“History Has its Eyes on You” from Hamilton the Musical

“Snooze” by SZA

“No Place Like Home” by Todrick Hall

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Six of Swords, Two of Swords, Justice (Rx), Ten of Cups, Nine of Coins, Knight of Swords, The Sun, Ace of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

“things are finally coming out”. min hee-jin could feel as if things are in a transition period; “the world is healing; i am healing”. “dawn of a new age” is also coming through, so she could feel as if she’s ushering a new “aesthetic” or “plan” for the industry.

“i have to make the tough decisions”. she could feel as if things are an “uphill battle” like she’s “against everybody”. the energy reminds me of how people described the entire industry wanting to see drake’s downfall and kendrick just being the person who was able to deliver the final blow - i’m unsure if min-heejin in drake or kendrick in this though. she could feel as if she’s clearing out the corruption and “dirty underbelly” of the industry “and HYBE is just one example” - she could expose more?

she could feel very calm and maybe calculated about everything that’s happening - like she always knew it would happen in a way. she could feel as if things are going to work out in her favor, and she’ll be rewarded “for [her] efforts”. she could feel “ready to go to war”.

𝙃𝙔𝘽𝙀'𝙨 𝙀𝙭𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙨' 𝙏𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“Gangsta” by YG & Mozzy

“Bossa Nova” by Kash Doll (Feat. Tee Grizzley)

“yes, and?” by Ariana Grande

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

Two of Swords (Rx), Page of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

they could feel as if they’re in a “no win situation”; something about “stock going down either way”; they could also feel this negatively affects their reputation regardless of what happens. they might not even care about what the law says or how “legal proceedings” play out to an extent because the finality of what happens is up to God/the universe/a higher power. they could have some insight about how things will play out in the end; they don’t seem to be as “in the dark” about things that people may feel they are. they could have “very strong plans behind the scenes”. at the very end, there is kinda this “burn everything” sentiment - not totally sure what that is.

𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙁𝙪𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙚 (𝙍𝙚𝙨𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟰 - 𝙀𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟱)

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“See You Space Cowboy…” by Logic

“Take A Break [Interlude]” from Hamilton the Mixtape

“Cheetah Sisters” by the Cheetah Girls 

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

The Star, King of Swords, Justice (Rx), Seven of Wands, Page of Coins, Nine of Swords, Five of Swords, Three of Swords, The Devil (Rx), Seven of Coins, Four of Swords, Ace of Swords

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

lots of swords and wands energy, so i could see them working on an album and/or continuing to practice despite everything happening. some of the members could write songs about the experience - a type of “cheetah girls realness” if you will. the members could continue to feel hopeful about everything, and there could be slivers of hope about the continuing of the group as time goes on; “it’s not over ‘til it’s over”. 

as expected, law will play a big part in everything. everyone could be (even if they don’t admit it) in the mindset that emotions are no longer important - the way to win is and that means being rational and winning over the courts “of law and of public opinion (for some)”. things may not turn out as expected in this area though; “even the courts can be corrupted; even public opinion can be tainted”. i’m asking about a small time frame, but everything will definitely take longer than and persist for more than a year. those with the better foundation/logic starting out may be “the winners” so to speak. 

there could be a lot of anxiety and conflict over whether or not newjeans will have a comeback. there could be “creative differences” and “issues” that pop up. they could start something, but it could be “shelved” or “uncompleted” and cause the members to feel “some type of way” - mainly upset? “heartbroken?”.

newjeans will be separated from someone with The Devil in reverse. HYBE and min hee-jin will separate in some way, but obviously newjeans is the “item” both will be fighting over huh? i can see a lengthy hiatus with maybe single releases sprinkled in with Four of Swords present. 

min hee-jin could get to keep newjeans - The Fool, Two of Cups, and other cards compared to HYBE’s Nine of Coins (Rx) and King of Swords. HYBE could “cut their losses”.

𝙄𝙢𝙥𝙖𝙘𝙩 𝙤𝙣 𝙉𝙚𝙬𝙅𝙚𝙖𝙣𝙨' 𝙄𝙢𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙎𝙪𝙘𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨

𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲:

“FNF” by Stray Kids

“That’s What You Get” by Paramore

“Black & White” by Todrick Hall (feat. Superfruit)

𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬:

The Hanged Man (Rx), The Devil (Rx), Ace of Cups (Rx), Ace of Wands, Six of Coins, Eight of Coins, Ten of Cups, Seven of Wands (Rx), Two of Cups, Queen of Swords (Rx), Judgement, Eight of Wands (Rx), Two of Swords, Wheel of Fortune

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠:

obviously, they’ll experience some career delays as a result of all this. “i’m catching up” keeps sticking out from Stray Kids’s “FNF”, so they could fall behind their peers compared to how it is now where a lot of 4th/5th gen girl groups seem to be at an even fight. whatever former views the general public now has of newjeans could be very different in the future; i know some people say newjeans comes off as school-girlish or not knowing a lot but people could see them as very mature and “well-tempered” or “well-behaved” after this. people could feel a little weird about them though? or the industry? like they “can’t look at things the same”. maybe the public or companies start being a little cold towards them or they can’t reach them like they once could. newjeans and their team themselves could feel a little “shaken” about everything, and this could cause their creativity to falter some. this creative block will only be temporary though! so, things could be looking bad for one comeback or single release or so. 

maybe once newjeans is a little more transparent about the effects of everything people will be more receptive? then, the public could feel sympathetic and the girls will feel unburdened because they won’t be holding back and things will “click” so to speak. then, they may feel like a more unified group and the public will start accepting them again, or they’ll start being “the newjeans [we] used to know”. but overall, newjeans will be very burnt out and exhausted after all of this; “that perseverance can only last so long”; it’ll take them a while to regain their balance, but it’s possible. they will feel bitter about everything though; “we could’ve gone so much farther” or “we could’ve gone an easier route” could be their point of view. 

the way everything (this whole drama) ends could feel fast paced and “out of the blue” possibly. with judgment, whatever doesn’t become uncovered will come to light in the end. some may feel people won’t/don’t care enough about what all will/is coming out, but in the moment it will be shocking and cause headlines. overall, newjeans will probably stay together, but their careers will definitely be stunted by this. it will take them a minute to get back on track and make up for lost traction compared to their peers. they won’t gain as much success and fame as they would’ve without this whole situation happening, and their fame could be capped to how famous they are right now (they could come back to this level of fame, but i don’t see them going above it like people originally expected).

[desafinado]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ confessing to them...

i know i sound stupid, i do. that's what love will do to you...

°｡⋆ diluc, zhongli, kaveh x reader (separately)

°｡⋆ tiniest teaspoon of angst, mostly fluff, reader is mostly bad at feelings, ngl i got most flustered writing zhongli’s part

note: yes the title was inspired by a laufey song, i love her music sm. i’ve been listening to a lot of “yearning” music (bossa nova, jazz, etc.) while writing recently… and i think it’s been helpful? also… i wanna do this with more characters but idk who yet, pls send suggestions!!

(diluc, zhongli, kaveh,) | (alhaitham, kazuha, kaeya)

diluc ♡

you had been childhood friends, and had seen everything he had gone through. the good, the bad, the ugly, you were always there with open arms. it only made sense that he trusted you with his most complex secrets (feelings included).

over the years, you only stuck closer to one another. there were never any big gestures or dramatic moments between you both, you simply kept each other company through it all.

honestly, it already felt like you were already in a long term domestic relationship. you, especially, were always one to indulge him.

you don’t know why you acted that way towards him. why you’d disapprove of his nightly endeavours, but leave your window open when you knew he was out…

or why you’d send over a basket of his favourite biscuits when you hadn’t met up in a while.

it was a rainy day when you realised why. you were watching the rain drops smash onto the concrete, when you felt particularly cold.

you lit up the fireplace, made some hot cocoa, but something still felt sorely off.

that was when the darknight hero made his entrance, thankfully not too bruised and battered, but absolutely drenched from the rain.

“you’re here?” he could only nod slowly, looking like he could fall at any moment. once you realised this, you quickly ran up to support him.

once you led him to your couch, he fell into a deep sleep. you slightly struggled to put him into a comfortable position, before giving up and letting him embrace you.

though you had also gotten drenched in the cold wet rain, you felt a warmth creep onto your face, your hands, and your heart. it filled that gap from earlier, the warmth that you had been so desperately searching for.

that was when you realised why you act the way you act the way you do; however, now you had an even greater question.

were you more stupid for letting yourself fall in love or not realising it sooner?

you were way past the point of no return, and realising your feelings and what they meant only encouraged it further.

you couldn’t picture a life without him, days without nonsensical discussions he’d only ever have without you, seeing him stop by your apartment with a new batch of grape juice.

you were clinging onto the hope that it wouldn’t destroy the friendship that took a lifetime (thus far) to build.

“the air feels tense.”

he speaks plainly, his brows furrowed into a concerned look. he sets the bottle of grape juice onto your kitchen counter and slowly approaches your sitting form on the living room couch. he sits down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, guiding your head to rest on his shoulder.

“is this about the wounds from last night? you very well know i’ve handled worse… or… have i angered?”

“no, diluc.”

his frown only grows more weary as you say his name. he loved hearing you say his name, of course, but you said it with such a tone of misery; as if you were begging him not to hurt you.

“then… could you please tell me? i don’t like seeing you like this.”

“then what? how would you like to see me?”

you almost snap at him, sitting back up and facing him fully. your words were laced with venom, and diluc was absolutely feeling the sting. his eyes widened, not having a clue as to why you were acting the way you did. seeing the shock in his face, your own expression softened. you weren’t fair to him at all.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know–”

“it’s fine, i’m sure you have your reasons, whether or not you’d like to talk about it.” he sighs, laying his hands onto his lap; trying to give you the space you need. he’s known you for all these years, of course he’s seen you get angry, as you have seen him in the same predicament.

“i want to talk about it.”

“then speak freely, i’ve never judged you.”

“i want you to judge.”

“so… you need advice?”

you nod slowly staring into his eyes, the next few words stuck in your throat. his eyes are far too sincere, and you have to close your own in order to get through it.

“what am i to do if i love you?”

a thick silence fills the air, there’s nothing but the sound of raindrops starting to drizzle outside. he thinks for a moment, before holding your hands in his. “is that so bad?”. he speaks a bit louder, hoping you open your eyes; your eyes stay shut, clenched harder even.

“it’s not bad… i just don’t know what to do. i don’t want to make the wrong move. i don’t want to lose you as a friend. i’m scared.” you let out a breath, the air feeling a bit less dense. you’ve made your peace and you could find solace in that, at the very least.

you suddenly feel a touch against your cheek, his hands rough, but his movements are oh so soft. you open your eyes in surprise to find him gazing longingly right back at you; the look he gave you was familiar, it was that same look of concern he’d give you when you were crying. this time, however, there was a sparkle to it. his face moved dangerously close to yours, lips faintly grazing one another.

“you’re not gonna lose me, love. i’m right here.”

zhongli ♡

a small little crush, that’s what you’ve always told yourself, but what kind of crush makes you so lovesick for almost a year and a half?

initially, you would just watch him from afar; i mean how could you not notice his handsome silhouette walking through the market.

later on, your stubborn (but well-intentioned) ginger friend decided to introduce you to each other. he hoped that introducing you would stop you from ogling at him, and maybe even become friends!

oh how wrong he was, because the more you found out about zhongli, the harder you fell.

sure, you were friendly now, but you’d never be able cease the wild blush that appears whenever he comes into your sights.

zhongli doesn’t think much of it though, in fact he finds it cute.

“you have a fever?” “n-no!” “is it a bit too hot then? i could fan you…” “yes, t-thank you…”

initially, you’d hangout with mutual friends. you think you’d faint if you’d have to spend an afternoon alone with him, but eventually you do (and you don’t faint).

friendly lunch dates turn into games of checkers at his house. you just let things escalate, letting him take the lead in your “friendship”.

he doesn’t take the trust you put in him for granted, and he holds your heart gently. if only he knew that even the smallest touch already lit your heart aflame.

everybody talks about his voice, yes, and your pupils would shape into hearts if they could, but what you love most about the way he talks is how much weight and feelings he hides behind his words. to see him talk about the world in such a beautiful way, he makes the human experience sound just a bit less painful than what it truly is.

eventually, he’ll tell you who he truly is. what he’s done, what he's experienced, and why he’s telling you. he trusts you now, and it’d feel unfair for him to keep such a big thing from you.

to be quite honest, it doesn’t change how you see him or how much you love him. it gives a perspective, sure, but you’re more happy that he trusts you in such a way.

your friendship only grows stronger after that, and you find yourself boldly lingering around him closer than you’d like to admit. making excuses to hangout alone, holding his hand a bit tighter as you walk through a crowd.

it’s too obvious now, and everybody knows it; you’re the only one he’s waiting for.

“childe told me a silly piece of information the other day.”

you’re fixing up two cups of osmanthus wine, as zhongli sits on the other side of the kitchen island. you’re too focused on getting the perfect amount into the cups that you don’t even register what he’s saying, only giving a small hum of approval.

“you had a crush on me before we had even met?”

you almost drop the bottle in shock, eyes wide and lips almost quivering. you’d get back at childe for this, but right now you were in flight mode. you set the bottle down and take a deep breath.

“m-maybe? um… why bring it up?”

he laughs softly at your reaction, flushed cheeks and bewildered eyes. he gets up from his seat and meets you behind the kitchen island. “just curious, the notion of such intrigues me.” he stands behind you and wraps his arms around you, taking the bottle of osmanthus wine and pouring the remaining into the two cups you’ve prepared.

“so, will you entertain my curiosity?”

his voice sends a chill down your spine, more so because of the position you’re both in. you’d melt into the floor right now if you could, but the confidence you’d recently gained was still standing strong.

“yes. i did.”

you sigh in defeat, turning around to look up at him. “i very much did…”

this time, he hums in approval as his puts down the bottle and his arms move up to hug your waist; while hugging him wasn’t anything too outrageous or new, this hug felt a lot more different.

“i see, would you give me a sip of the wine, dear?”

you nod almost too quickly, his chin lying on your shoulder. you bring the cup to his lips and let him have his drink. after a moment, he stops and you take it as a sign to softly pull the cup away and back onto the wooden surface. he lets go of you and steps back, giving you some space.

there’s a tinge of disappointment as he pulls away, and you turn around to face him.

“thank you. i must admit, i found you pretty cute as well. even now, with your flushed face… and you haven’t even had a sip.” his breath hitches, picking his next words very carefully. he doesn’t want to make you too uncomfortable, but now truly would be the best time. once he’s found them, his lips curves into a modest smirk.

“i wonder if your feelings for me have persisted all this time?”

you hang your head in defeat, avoiding to look at his form altogether. his smirk quickly turns into a reassuring smile; again, he moves one step closer to you, deciding to put an end to this game.

“y-yes, t-they have…”

he’s gentle in guiding your chin up to look at him. you’re forced to stare deep into his amber eyes, and you surely wouldn’t mind under any other circumstance.

“you love me, still?”

“yes… it’s only ever grown.”

“as did mine.”

“a-as did yours? what ar–”

he silences you with a gentle kiss, one you did not even realise was happening until he pulled away. your heartbeat was driving off into the sunset as he stroked your cheek.

“i suppose i did not make myself clear. i love you too, dear.” his lips meet yours again, much more desperately, affirming him as yours.

kaveh ♡

you wondered how kaveh, a man so uniquely brilliant and acclaimed in the field of architecture, would often spend nights asleep on your sofa.

you blame your older brother, alhaitham, for annoying kaveh to such a point, but you’re not really complaining either. you had grown so fond of his presence that you’ve gifted him with an extra key.

something about the way he carries himself, it charms you to no end. you also share a lot of interests, anyways, so you might find yourselves talking and/or drinking until the sun rises.

he’ll also work on some drawings, and you’ll just watch in awe of his process.

whenever he stays over, he makes an effort to bring some takeout, flowers, or some scented candles.

he insists you take it as thanks for putting up with him, and you do so humbly. if they’re some food, you definitely insist he eat some with you.

“ah, but this is for you! you can’t just—” “yes i can, since it’s mine… can i not choose to share it with you?”

you’re both quite stubborn when it comes to being polite, actually. he tries to cook you dinner, but you go one step further and buy some dessert. you try to offer him some of your pillows as well as a blanket, but he just teases you, saying he might as well sleep in your bed.

honestly, after all the time you’ve spent with him, you wouldn’t be opposed to that.

you wouldn’t mind hearing his soft snores in the morning, his arms around you as you both are too lazy to get out of bed.

you really shouldn’t be having such thoughts about him, especially when he’s so “well” acquainted with your brother.

but the other voices in your head do remind you of your autonomy.

you actually get a little bit disappointed when they seem to be getting alone, because that means less time between you and kaveh; moreso when kaveh has to go and travel for business reasons.

those times when he’s gone are when you realise just how head over heels you are for him. it seems like some of his romantic-ness rubbed right onto you; it's just that he wasn’t here to see it.

after he hadn’t visited you, let alone seen you, for a month, you came to a sickening reminder that he only meant to stay over when he needed a break from alhaitham. when he needed respite from the general chaos surrounding him.

your home was not his, he was only ever a guest who you’d let in time and time again.

your apartment was silent, no creaking of wood floorboards, no ringing of the oven timer; you left that way and expected it to be so when you returned. the blonde man setting up your dinner table, however, subverted those expectations.

“kaveh?”

he looks up from his work to see you at the door. his face lights up as approaches you, closing the door behind and guiding you to the table. you’re not completely sure what to feel as he pulls out a chair for you, and you sit down. it’s quite surreal being welcomed into your home by someone you were sure had forgotten about you.

“i’m so terribly sorry i haven’t stopped by in a while.”

you sharply inhale at the sound of his words. you were genuinely just baffled, you didn’t understand what had been going on. he takes your silence as a sign to continue.

“i’ve just been really stressed. they had laughed off all my previous proposals, they were pushing a deadline on me. i couldn’t even get a wink of sleep, it was just so…”

he lets out a long sigh, closing his eyes. you continue watching his movements closely, trying to decipher what exactly he was up to. he pauses for a second more, opening his eyes with a sudden brightness.

“but! it’s over now, so i’m all yours.”

he smiles at you cheerfully, awaiting a response, but your lips are still pressed. it looks as though there’s lingering fire in your eyes, and it almost makes him want to turn away. the keyword being almost.

“you… you don’t owe me anything, kaveh. it’s fine.”

you stand up, a plan to go into your bedroom and just cry into your pillow already swirling in your head, but before you can walk away, kaveh grabs your wrist.

“wait. are you that mad at me? i understand if you need some time, but—”

“i’m not mad at you, kaveh. i told you it’s fine”

“if it’s all fine, why are your eyes red?”

you blink, noticing the way your hand was shaking against his grip, the tears slowly threatening to spill. you finally give in and circle you arms around his neck, your face buried into his chest. he was more than happy to accommodate you and give you the comfort you needed. he brought you both to the sofa, he sat with you still in his arms, falling softly onto his lap.

“i’m… mad at myself.”

your voice is muffled against his chest, but just enough for him to hear. tears threaten to spill from his own eyes as paint flutters through his chest, having to see you like this.

“darling, why? be mad at me, please. i’m the one who deserves it.”

“n-no. i’m the one who fell in love with you, expecting you to come back, feeling like you owe me your time.” you only cry harder at your own agonising admissions. “don’t pity my love for you, just… leave me to live with it.”

“w-wait a minute, i thought you knew i loved you too.”

you pull away, looking up at him. his eyes are glassy as he stutters to get his words out.

“you loved me?”

“i do, i-i still do! t-that’s why i felt guilty. if i had known, i would’ve shown you better.”

“then please… show me, right now.”

you press your lips against his, your breath starting to even out. he graciously kisses you back, matching your pace. you both just stay like that, content to finally be at home.

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