#k-pop and religion

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

Lee Soo Man (SM) recently stated that he feels K-pop can achieve what religion has failed to achieve. Do you agree or disagree? Is this a dangerous statement to make, or unsurprising given K-pop's accoutrements? Is a secular, pop-culture-based religion such a bad idea?

Thinking of how to possibly give an answer to this, I was reminded of a famous Malraux quote in which he said "The 21st century will be religious, or it will not be at all." It could have been a good introduction for our discussion, except Malraux never said nor wrote that statement. Bear with me through this short explanation before I actually get to the words of another great (!), that is, Lee Soo Man.

I decided to do a quick google search in order to familiarize myself again with the various interpretations of the supposed quote because I wanted to be sure if it would make sense in using it in my response. I was surprised to find out that it has been made up somehow, a combination of other statements. To think the quote was also used in my high school history book and how fascinated I was at that time (or mostly confused, I wasn't really sure what it meant). How easy it is for the wrong information to be spread and become widely accepted. And I was nearly the point of contributing to that myself! It appears that the quote is actually a one sentence summary of some ideas Malraux indeed had about religion and how it will change in the 21st century. An actual quote sounds like this:

"The central problem of the end of the century will be the religious problem - in a form as different from that which we know, as Christianity was from the ancient religions. "

I will link the article which explains the common misconception and everyone is free to explore and read more about Malraux, The Human Condition and other philosophical themes related to humanity and religion.

In this particular case, I will take the freedom of coming up with an argument based on the actual quote, with the risk of maybe grossly misunderstanding it. But, as much as I've wrote a few paragraphs already on something unrelated, this is merely a BTS/K-Pop tumblr blog, so please be understanding with me.

So, the question is, is the 21st century religious? It is, it just changed its gods. Just as politeism was replaced by Christianity in some parts of the world and then Christianity losts its importance that it once had several centuries later, we are now facing a world in which I might suspect, we found our gods among us. Of course these gods are on some higher level, but they're not quintesentially different from the rest of us. They may remain gods forever, or easily stripped of that nature in almost an instant. Becoming a god is possible and the concept is sold as being attainable for everyone who wants it and works hard enough for it. I'd say even Warhol predicted what Malraux said in a way, with his ideas on everyone's 15 minutes of fame. We are living individualistic times in which we are told that we are important and special. Except we also love to worship others who are somehow a bit more important and special. We each have this need to believe in something, someone. For some it's Jesus Christ, while for others is Britney. We need them because they inspire, they bring comfort, they are doing things and are able to reach masses of people in a way that regular folks cannot.

And finally, Lee Soo Man is right, but also wrong. The idols he helped create and the culture of idols are some equivalent of gods that are worshipped, but they did not replace religion. They are religion. I don't think religion has ever failed. Some forms of religion may have failed or have been replaced, but the concept itself is ever present. One could say they're an atheist and they don't believe in a Christ or Buddha, but what about the shrine in their room containing albums, posters, photocards, merchandise? Listening and watching regularly to what the idols say and do? Preaching and praising them to the masses on social media? That's a form of religious worship. And it's not surprising because idols are meant to be worshipped. For their skills, talent, personality, beauty. It's all we talk about everyday. And some are religious extremists while others see it as something more casual, situating idols in a row with liking actors, writers, sportsmen, thinkers, gurus, youtubers, their own self.

[needle-noggins]

clearly i'm in an analysis mood so i'll share my thoughts on the GHG scene in Trimax Volume 2, mostly Legato, that crazy son of a bitch.

First, there's something to be said about his wild Iron Lung set up. On my first read I thought it was more of a punishment from Knives for threatening Vash, but I guess it's also because his body is physically broken? And/or a way to curb his power? Either way, Legato is the definition of "jokes on you, I'm into that shit" because he's so extremely broken (in every sense of the word). There's a definite link between Legato's trauma and the fucked up little guy he is now but I don't know shit about shit so would not consider myself qualified to discuss it further. Please read madnessmadness's trigun bdsm post as a supplemental.

ok, this next panel made me gasp. It's not a needle-noggins analysis without religious symbolism, so here you go!

Vash is literally hanging upside down, arms splayed out on an upside down cross, when Legato talks about him. Like, okay pontius pilate!! I think Vash is upside down for two reasons, the obvious being that the reader can tell that Legato is talking about killing Vash (cool abstract blood splatter too, which kinda messes with the cross form and makes it less obvious) (but i see you nightow, you can't escape my catholic eyes). The second, is, well, the way that Peter was crucified - not right-side-up like good ol' Jesus. The story goes that Peter requested to be crucified upside down because he didn't deserve to die the same way as Jesus. Trigun muddles so many biblical references all at once that a direct correlation can't be made at any given time, but I think we can interpret this here as Vash being unworthy/not the savior in Legato's mind (to him that's Knives, ofc).

An upside-down crucifix now is also a satanic symbol, just like. Inverting Christianity. Obvious "these are the bad guys". But I think that's a much more common symbol in western culture than to Japanese so I'm not gonna read into that too much.

nothing to add here other than Midvalley is lowkey fine (like if Wolfwood got his shit together) and here we can see the internal conflict of the GHG. Nobody's doin' it like Legato's doin' it, and I wish Midvalley pulled that trigger (it's not his place though, but damn it sure would save Vash a lot of trouble).

Bring back Knives' bodycon bdsm dress, Stampede!!!

"engrave the futility of his cause into his every bone" jfc, Knives. I've said it earlier but Knives's attempt to show Vash "the true nature of [humanity]" backfires so hard because instead he just shows Vash the nature of his own being, the terrifying weapon that he is (cough fifth moon). Vash doesn't blame people at all for how they see him, because baby boy has absolutely zero self-esteem and far too much compassion. Meanwhile, Knives is still a proud, burnt out gifted kid who is terrified at his heart and he's going to make it everyone else's problem. Knives understands his brother so little that he doesn't see that his plan is just going to make Vash fight him harder. Knives is too blinded by his fear and disdain for humanity to even consider it. Zero compassion. Fantastic way to highlight the overarching themes of the story. (/hand-wavy "you get it, right?" motion)

Someone please get Legato a napkin and explain to him that Knives is not God. Something something horrible deeds being done in the name of God's "will"; Trimax is both showing us space Jesus as our beloved self-sacrificing protagonist while also warning us against blind faith in a vengeful God, etc etc. It's my Trigun book club analysis and I get to choose the biblical symbolism to fit the way I hate modern Christianity!

[amber-lucca44]

Artists of the Month (May 2024) ⭐

1. Kendrick Lamar

Well clearly a lot happened with Kung Fu Kenny on May lol. 🥹😅♥️

His beef (and victory) with Drake was just a reminder of how amazing this man truly is. The Pulitzer prize winning rapper did enough this month for me to put him as my number one favorite artist, over Black Veil Brides. 😭💖💖

I replayed the hell out of "Euphoria" and of course "Not Like Us" ("Meet The Grahams" was too much for me so not that one but yeah followed the beef very closely 😭😭), and also listened to Good Kid, m.A.A.d City and Section.80 again... Ahhhh love him ♥️♥️♥️

2. A Skylit Drive

This is one of those bands I've always loved the sound of but never followed too closely? But this month I heard ASD after years of not hearing a song from it, and well wasn't disappointed one bit 😁♥️💕

Also listened to their classic Wires... And The Concept of Breathing album again, post hardcore masterpiece there 😭💖💖

3. BTS

Oh look @casetotu it's them again! Lol ♥️

This month I listened to Love Yourself: Answer, finally listening to that trilogy completely 😭💕💕

Then of course I went and listened to some other songs I hadn't heard before, and wow they really never miss 🥹💖💖💖

4. Kate Nash

I ignored her music for soooo long, for no real reason, but wow now I love her ♥️♥️

Listened to Made of Bricks, and Yesterday Was Forever for a second time. Oh yeah and replayed "Life In Pink" to death. 😀♥️♥️

On her Wikipedia page they said for some reason that her music "appeals to lesbians" and I felt a little called out based on how sapphic I tend to be 😂😭🏳️‍🌈💖

5. Bad Religion / My Chemical Romance (they tied 😗)

The first tie in my top 5 :o

I added them both cause it's only fair lol, loved them both equally this month ig 😭♥️💕

For Bad Religion, well I listened to many of their previous bangers, like "Infected", "Punk Rock Song" and "Fuck You", and also listened to their last album Age of Unreason 😁

As for MCR... Listened to The Black Parade again, and even ended up liking it more than before (went from an 8.5/10 to a 9.0/10 for me lol 💖). And of course, besides that, kept listening to many of their other classics, like "Cubicles", "It's Not a Fashion Statement, It's a Deathwish" and "Drowning Lessons", as well as of course "The Foundations of Decay" 😭😭♥️💕💕

[minilibrarian]

There’s a huge difference between teaching religion and practicing/preaching religion in schools.

Religion is a part of social studies and history that should be taught to children, as it’s involved in, and in many times is the basis of, huge world events and conflicts. We should absolutely be exposing children to the various different religious practices throughout the world and giving them quality information on what religion is and isn’t so as not to be influenced by the misinformation spread by religious extremists and bigots.

However, acknowledging and teaching about religion in school should absolutely not include the act of praying or persuading. Children shouldn’t have to swear their allegiance to their country every morning under a god they don’t have the information to decide whether they believe in, or listen to their teacher or coach preach and pray before they learn or play sports. This is completely different from and is outside the realm of education.

So, when I say religion should be kept out of schools, I don’t mean it shouldn’t be taught.

[kradnie]

what cds should I take with me for my trip

[deerspherestudios]

🔍 QNA MASTERLIST (PT.4)🔎

This masterlist covers general lore and an AU featuring MindReader!Mychael.

📍 For part 1, it's [HERE] for abilities, romantic/yandere traits and his opinion on kids. 📍 For part 2, it's [HERE] for anatomy. 📍 For part 3, it's [HERE] for reactions to different MCs.

Random Mychael lore❕

He has a different name in his own language, but goes by Mychael.

He also chose Mychael as a name himself.

He doesn't have a last name.

When did he start knitting and why?

Where did the nickname 'firefly' come from?

What music would he like?

His favorite smells are old books, honey and gasoline.

He's super ticklish.

How did he carry MC to his home?

His favorite thing to knit are beanies.

He'd love bringing you outdoors.

He's a quiet sleeper.

He sleeps in a fetal position.

He sleeps with both sets of eyes closed.

He'd love cheek kisses.

(Minor) loredump!

His knowledge on marriage.

He's overworked himself when fixing up the cabin.

Would he like stargazing?

You're not the first human he's found unconscious.

He'd be okay wearing a dress.

What's his wardrobe like?

He has a fear/phobia of snowstorms, thunder/lightning, trains/train whistles and water wells.

We can't get sick from him.

Does he have a religion/beliefs?

He would love the Shrek series.

The chickens' name origins (they're all flowers).

He's never considered humans as 'food'.

How did Mychael get his hens?

His favorite candies would be marshmallows and cotton candy.

If he had internet, he'd mostly look up arts-and-crafts and recipes. He'd also love DIY candy kits. He would enjoy nonverbal ASMR.

He prefers being warm.

He kinda celebrates New Years' and loves fireworks.

He doesn't need skincare but would enjoy face masks.

His first experience with bees.

He's never played UNO (but would love board and card games).

How does Mychael view the animals/people he meets in the forest?

More Mychael lore❕

He's ambidextrous.

His MBTI is INFJ-T.

His favorite desserts are pumpkin pie and cranberry muffins.

His favorite books are self-help skill books and picture books.

His favorite color is yellow. His favorite animal is a jellyfish.

He used to wear cloaks when it was socially acceptable to.

He doesn't believe in ghosts.

How did he learn to speak and pronounce words?

He would love origami.

He'd love to have a cow but think it'd be high maintenance.

He prefers tea over coffee.

His first time seeing the ocean.

He would enjoy K-pop, phonk and electropop music the most.

About MR!Mychael ❕

MR!Mychael origins and discussion.

MR!Mychael with MC with nice thoughts about him.

MR!Mychael wouldn't rescue MC in Day 1.

MR!Mychael analysis and the type of MC he'd fall for.

How MR!Mychael's power works.

How MC would meet MR!Mychael.

MR!Mychael would react the same regardless of MC's psyche.

MR!Mychael with an overthinking MC.

MR!Mychael can't see dreams.

MR!Mychael with an MC with an earworm.

[whatsnewalycat]

SURRENDER

Part Two of Ruthless | Stepdad Joel Miller x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Word Count: 6.2k+

Warnings: non-canon, Boston Joel, dub con, step-cest, sneaky sex, use of the word daddy in a sexual context, dad kink (that’s a thing right?), age gap, degradation, praise kink, avoidance, silent treatment, sneaking into bedroom at night, angst, collective grief, mentions of explosions and gunshots (nothing graphic), *it’s about the yearning*, hair pulling, no physical descriptions of reader aside from hair can be pulled, reader is 18-19, Joel being a bad dom and a bad caretaker, hot shower, food mention, mentions of religion, unethical D/s dynamics, dry humping, anal sex, physical restraint, face fucking, sub-space unlocked, dirty talk, dd/lg maybe i think, masochism, like a lick of fluff if u squint 

A/N: Heeeey buddy. As stated above, this is a second part to Ruthless. Big thanks to my love @frannyzooey for the help and hype, you're the best. Please be mindful of the warnings and tell me what cults you think exist in post-outbreak tlou.

[ my masterlist ] [ taglist ] [ AO3 ]

———

As the 19-year anniversary of Outbreak Day draws near, unrest festers in the streets of Boston.

Whenever August ticks over into September, residents of the QZ seem to divide into three distinct categories: people who want to forget, people who won’t let them forget, and people who are too young to remember. 

Born post-apocalypse, you fall into this third category. 

Which doesn’t mean the ripples of loss don’t touch you, contrary to what some may think. You still lost something. Everyone did. 

This fact is apparent when you take the scenic route home from your job posting at the distribution center. 

Rubble crunches under your shoes as you walk down the crowded sidewalk, passing by a message spray-painted over the battered brick building: WE’VE BEEN FORSAKEN. 

Graffitied sentiments like these pop up constantly this time of year. Overnight, almost. Your mom and Joel mostly blame Fireflies for the vandalism. The bombs, too. Apparently they stir shit up to make people uneasy, then recruit those who seem susceptible. That’s what your mom thinks, anyway. ‘Leveraging their grief against them,’ she says. 

You think it might be more than that, though. 

Yesterday you saw three separate arguments break out in the streets. When you were taking inventory of k-rations this morning, an explosion went off so close-by that boxes rattled off the shelves. It was the second bombing this week, and you don’t foresee it getting better until October. 

Sure, the Fireflies lay claim to the lion’s share of vandalism and destruction, but their activity is consistent year round. They are the baseline. But this? This is different. 

You attribute the excess chaos to this heavy, static feeling in the air. It clings to your skin and gets stuck under your nails like a thick cloud of invisible dust or spores. Microscopic particles embed themselves in the cracks and creases of each person inside the QZ, fertile ground for clusters of violence to sprout up at every turn. 

If you had to guess, you’d say this phenomenon probably spans the globe. All of you felt the loss of Outbreak Day, the whole human collective. Echoes of what humanity lost will likely still be heard a thousand years from now. 

Some people refuse to accept this. 

Like the guy a few strides ahead of you, who walks by an orange spray-painted message that reads REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOST and sneers, “Almost twenty goddamn years, fuckin’ let it go and move on.” 

You watch him. See his neck get all red as he mutters to himself and clenches his fists at his sides. He looks around like he expects someone to challenge him. Nobody does. 

This doesn’t seem to satisfy him. 

Further up the sidewalk, he encounters a memorial made up of candles and wilting flowers hugging the side of a residential building. He kicks it over and repeats his earlier sentiment, this time louder and directed towards the brick wall. 

“It’s been twenty fucking years, get the fuck over it already!” 

Of course, a passing spectator indulges him. 

“Hey—watch it, asshole!” 

The two men puff up their chests and start yelling back and forth, so you cut right down an alleyway to avoid the situation completely. 

When you arrive home, you find Joel at the dining room table, hunched over a map, holding a glass of whiskey like it’s a lifeline. 

Neither of you say hello, but when you glance up while untying your gritty shoelaces, you catch him staring at you. 

A jolt of electricity shoots through you. 

He corrects himself, returning his eyes to the map as he takes a big swig from his glass. 

“Mom home?” 

“No.” 

Nodding, you rise to your feet and slip out of your shoes, squirming with the excitement that one syllable brings you. 

“When’s she gonna be home?” 

He doesn’t look at you. Just shrugs and takes a sip of whiskey, too engrossed in his project to spare you attention. 

For weeks, he’s been trying his hardest to pretend you don’t exist, which would be typical behavior if he didn’t fuck you dumb a few weeks ago. Sometimes you’re not even sure that what happened between you was real. 

But, then again, sometimes… sometimes you feel him staring at you when he doesn’t think you’ll notice. Sometimes he touches your waist as he passes by. Sometimes at night you hear him pacing the hall outside your bedroom, the faint squeak of the warped floorboards giving him away. 

When this happens, you stare at the door and will him to do it. Aching with something stronger than want, you pray for him to cross the threshold. But he never does. 

You exhale through slack lips and wrinkle your nose at the canned goods. 

“Hungry?”

He grunts in response, which is Joel for ‘I could eat.’

Tilting your head at the handwritten labels, you present the options, “Stew or… meat and beans?” 

Another grunt, roughly translating to ‘Both options are fucking terrible,’ a sentiment with which you wholeheartedly agree. You grab the stew and empty it into a saucepan on the gas stovetop. 

While it heats, you steal glances at Joel, noticing the rigidity in his demeanor. His set jaw and tense muscles. The deep creases in his furrowed brow. 

You’ve coexisted with him long enough to understand he’s not immune to the heady thrum of anguish in the air this time of year. Like you said, nobody is. 

Joel distinctly falls into the “people who want to forget” category of the forsaken, but carries whatever or whoever he lost on Outbreak Day like a ten thousand-pound weight on his broad shoulders. He white-knuckles his way through the season of chaos and mourning and tries to act like it doesn’t affect him, but it does. 

You can tell, not just from the way he holds the grief captive in his body, but also from the obvious indulgence in his favorite coping mechanism: planning. 

Joel is a meticulous planner. 

Between smuggling runs, he comes home after a long day of manual labor at some job site and unwinds by plotting logistics. Drinking, too, but he clearly has a favorite. 

Hours will go by while he pours over reference material, maps or blueprints, making addendums of any notable changes he and your mom discovered. After this, he deliberates. Joel could chew up weeks with this step. He plots out each possible route, taking into consideration all the penciled-in shortcuts and caches they’ve stashed within a 30-mile radius, then determines the most beneficial path for their next big adventure. 

Given FEDRA’s current paranoid state, with the increased patrols and surveillance and whatnot, your mom and Joel won’t be making a trip outside anytime soon. But still, he drinks and plots and winds himself up into a tight obsessive knot. 

You divvy up the simmering stew into two bowls, placing one next to his glass of bootleg booze while you take a seat across the table from him. He ignores your presence, just flicks his eyes around the map like it’s supposed to give him the answers. 

When you’re halfway done with your bowl, you gently prod him, “It’s gonna get cold.” 

Sitting up in his chair, he sighs and scrubs his face with his hands, then folds up the map and sets it aside. 

The two of you eat in silence. Each wordless second twists hot beneath your skin. Your mind wanders to the dig of his fingertips in your soft flesh. The sting of his flattened palm. The stretch of his thick cock. The things he said to you—fuck.  

You’re tempted to tell him to do it again. To tell him that you’re still abiding by his rules. That you don’t sneak out anymore. That you haven’t felt the sweet bliss of release for weeks because you don’t fucking come without his permission. 

Over and over, you rehearse it in your head. You imagine yourself telling him, ‘I’ve been so good for you and you haven’t even noticed.’

The sound of him clearing his throat pulls you from your thoughts. 

He shifts in his seat a little, studying you, “You still seein’ that boy downstairs?” 

Your heart stutters. Heat floods your veins as you shake your head. 

“Why not?” 

All you can do is stare at him while trying to verbalize an answer. For weeks, you ached for his attention. And now that you have it? The words are stuck in your throat. 

You shrug, pushing your empty bowl away to lean your elbows on the table. When you look up at him again, he blinks. Waiting for a response. 

A rush of adrenaline makes the world around you buzz. 

“Why do you care?”

He clenches his jaw for a moment, then parts his lips to respond. 

The apartment door swings open. 

Both of you start at the intrusion. You jump to your feet to collect the dirty dishes while Joel turns to greet your mother. 

“It’s a fucking madhouse out there,” she grumbles, then pulls out the seat adjacent to him and starts telling him about her day. 

———

You step into the shower and hiss in reaction to the scalding hot water. 

The fact that it's warmed at all surprises you. Not an unwelcome surprise, even if it hurts a little. Most days the water comes out tepid at best, and you’d gladly accept a third-degree burn over a lukewarm shower. 

Besides, the sting feels right on your skin, as weird as that sounds. You relish the pain while washing yourself, thinking, ‘this is what I deserve for feeling this way.’ Hell fire, if the sidewalk preachers are right. If there is such a thing. If you’re not there already. 

Only once the water runs cold do you turn it off and go back to your room, leaving the door cracked open behind you. After putting on a big t-shirt and some underwear, you turn off the lights and climb into bed. 

For a while you stare at the water-stained ceiling and listen. You hear the roar of FEDRA’s armed vehicles patrolling the streets. Far away, gunshots ring out into the night. Some kid starts crying next door, then his mother lulls him back to sleep. 

Closing your eyes, you try to tune it all out and focus on the noises within this unit. Concentrate on the drip-drip-drip of the bathtub faucet. The ripping sound of your mom’s snores. 

Then, you hear it. 

A creak from the floorboards. Footsteps. 

Their bedroom door squeaking open. 

Everything goes silent long enough for you hold your breath and scream inside your head, please please please—

It starts again. One careful step, then another. 

His presence hovers there at the door for six restless seconds before he opens it and steps inside, closing it behind him. 

Your pounding heart squeezes your breath ragged. It comes out this shallow, shaky push and pull that broadcasts your consciousness. 

Still, you pretend. 

You keep your eyes pinned shut and listen to the advance of his footsteps to your bedside. 

Down by your feet, the mattress shifts under his weight. He doesn’t touch you for a while, only watches you, his gaze burning into your skin. 

Then, he murmurs, “I know you’re not sleepin’.” 

You blink your eyes open to look at him, in boxers and an undershirt, all hunched over at the foot of your bed. Always carrying that weight on his shoulders. The glow of the street lamp outside your bedroom window casts this perfect golden light on him that makes you kind of hate how good he looks. 

“What are you doing?” you ask in a whisper. 

Over the blanket, he rests his hand on your calf, then takes it back and shakes his head. 

You roll onto your side, swinging one leg over the blanket and tucking it between your thighs, a wordless plea for him to touch your hungry skin. Joel shifts further onto the bed, turning his body to stare down at you with a straight spine. His gaze drifts up your exposed skin, fingers twitching in his lap. 

This faltering self-discipline compels you. 

Joel is nothing if not self-disciplined. That much is true for all the forsaken, yourself included. 

Your working theory is that nobody wants after the world ends, they just need. Need to sleep, need to eat, need to fight. Anything to survive one more fucking day. It’s all any of you can ask for. 

So do you want him, or do you need him? 

And what about him? Joel fucking Miller, with his reinforced concrete walls and heavy heart. Was he ever capable of wanting? 

“Joel,” you reach out to touch him, beckoning him to meet you halfway. 

His eyes flick to your outstretched hand, then back to your face. He shakes his head, as if declining the offer, but you don’t retreat. You sit up and crawl across the bed to him. 

The column of his throat bobs, head rocking back as he watches you come to a stop. He almost lets you touch his cheek when you try again, but snatches your hand away before you can make contact. 

“Don’t,” he warns, the tone of his hushed voice deadly serious. 

He squeezes your fingers while you study his stonewalled expression, tilting your head at him, “Why did you ask me that earlier? If I’m still seeing Bert?”

“I was curious.” 

“Curious why?” 

His lips part, then close, gaze dropping to your mouth. 

Heat pulses through every inch of your body. You drop your voice to a breathy whisper. 

“Were you thinking about what you did to me?” 

Something flickers behind his eyes when they snap onto yours. It draws you in, urging you to scoot so close your knees butt-up against his jackknifed leg. 

“You fucking loved it, didn’t you?” you ask quietly, smirking a little when his stern face twitches, “You loved how it felt to make me surrender—” 

The dull throb of his tightening grip around your hand makes you gasp. A rumble slips from his chest, which could be read as a warning if you had an ounce of self-control left. If you didn’t need him to combust. 

You let your gaze drift from his burning gaze down the slope of his nose to his lips, “Do you think about it every time you see me, like I do with you? How fucking good it felt?” 

“It was wrong—” 

“Then why are you here?”

Your question comes out louder than you expected. It ricochets through the charged space between his body and yours, popping the bubble of awareness around you. 

All the little sounds you picked up on earlier seep back into the foreground. FEDRA patrolling. The whiz-pop of firecrackers going off maybe a block away. A faint murmur of conversation in the upstairs unit. 

He holds your stare, but doesn’t make a sound until a snore rips from your mom’s chest, signaling crisis averted. When he speaks, his words come out hushed and calm. 

“You need to be quiet. Understand?” 

The command liquifies your bones. 

You lick your lips and nod, “I understand.” 

“Good.” He studies you as if deep in thought, finally releasing your hand to pinch your chin and assert, “You know why I’m here. Stop pretendin’ you don’t.” 

It’s hard not to fall in line when he’s looking down at you like this, all hot-blooded and self-assured. Cocky, almost. But you try to push his buttons anyway. 

“I thought it was wrong.”  

“Don’t get cute with me. Yes or no?” 

Your pulse flutters. Tongue goes numb. All you can do is nod. 

He jostles your head a little, “Say it.” 

“Yes.” 

“Say yes please.” 

“Yes please.” 

He works his jaw back and forth, studying you, then tugs your shirt.

“Take this off.” 

While you pull the offending garment over your head and toss it aside, Joel moves further onto the mattress, leaning back against the wall. 

You follow him, swallowing the static buzzing in your throat as he ushers you onto his lap. The scrape of his rough hands on your waist may as well be a live wire crackling across your skin. He pulls you closer and closer until your belly presses into the worn cotton of his shirt. The heat between your legs settles on his stiff length. When he twitches against you, a heady electric current courses through your body and coaxes a whimper from your lips. 

It seems too intimate to look at him, so you cast your gaze downward. Your shaky hands lay flat against his chest, absorbing the rhythmic thud of his heartbeat beneath your palm. 

Being with him like this feels strange. Not strange how it sometimes is with a new partner, that clumsiness before you know how your bodies work together. 

It’s strange in a fucked up out-of-context sort of way. Of course, growing up around him never conditioned you to think of him like this. Joel fucking Miller, with his scarred-up knuckles and unending apathy. The only man who could make big brown eyes like that seem cold. 

All those years, you never considered him anything more than an obstacle. 

Even then, if there was some tiny shimmer of attraction lingering under your skin, a piece of you that wanted more from him, you never thought he could feel so solid and soft and alive. You never dreamed he could make you feel so fucking good.

“This stays between us,” he tells you, more of a command than a request. 

“I won’t tell if you don’t.” 

The tips of his fingers dig into your hips, and he purrs, “You’ve been good for me, haven’t you?”

You preen at the warm timbre of his voice, body arching into him as you breathe, “Yes.”

Under your touch, his muscles tense. He exhales hot against your cheek and guides your hips in a rocking motion, slow and steady, rubbing all those aching nerves hard against him. 

“You liked it, too. Didn’t you? How I fucked you last time?” 

A low-frequency hum throbs deep inside you, amplifying every sensation tenfold. You nod, rolling your hips faster, “I did, I liked it.”

“Yeah, you liked it? Or did you fucking love it?” he hisses, “Dirty little slut like you. Bet you loved getting fucked in the ass, didn’t you?”

“Oh my god, Joel—” 

“Tell me.”

“Yes yes yes I fucking loved it—” 

Too loud. 

He ceases all movement, locking you in place with a steel grip. All ten of his digits bury themselves in your skin. The exquisite pain makes you gasp. 

“Hush.”

You clamp down on your lips in an attempt to stifle yourself. Each heaving breath wiggles down to your core and back. 

“Look at me.” 

If you do, you’ll dissolve at the edges. You know it. You are sugar paper and he is a humid room and you are so incredibly fucked. 

Pinching your eyes shut harder, you shake your head and whisper, “I can’t.”

“Why not?” 

“I’ll come if I do.” 

The confession makes him throb underneath you. He husks, “Do it, look at me.” 

You do. 

Even in the shadows you can make out his features, his parted lips and hooded gaze. The desire etched into his face as he stares at you, looking mystified in a way you’ve never seen before. Heat percolates beneath your skin, sending your heartbeat racing. 

His hips arch into you just so, then he pulls you in and pushes you back, rubbing your body against his, “Do you wanna come? Come for me just like this?” 

“Please—please,” you whine, feeling pleasure branch out from your middle as he slides you back and forth, “Please I wanna come for you it’s been so long—” 

“Will you be quiet?” 

Swallowing a moan, you nod frantically. 

His eyes flicker around your face and he breathes, “Go ahead.”

You’re not sure if it’s the flames in his eyes or the fact that you haven’t had an orgasm in almost two months, but the second he gives you permission, the ecstasy you tried so hard to contain spills over the edges and floods your body. It pulses through you hot and hard and makes your mind go white. You have to clasp your hand over your mouth to muffle the guttural noises that try to escape. 

“That’s it,” he coos from far away, still grinding your twitching body against him, “There we go. That’s my good girl, hmm?” 

“Oh my god—” you whimper at the sharp aftershocks that shoot through you, “It feels so good, Joel, fuck—” 

“Do you wanna come again?” 

Nodding, you link your hands behind his neck and set yourself in motion, rubbing against him a little faster than his set rhythm. His eyelids flutter as he throws his head back, the muscles under his shirt going taught. Beneath the thin fabric of his boxers, he’s hard as a fucking rock. 

Releasing the tight grasp on your hips, he roams up your sensitive skin to your breasts and tests their weight before squeezing. It shoots through you, the pleasure and pain indistinguishable, just a throbbing rush of need. Your breathing comes in heaving gasps and you pinch your eyes shut again, tilting your head towards the ceiling as you once again find yourself struggling to keep quiet. 

“Eyes on me,” he reminds you. 

You snap them open and meet his. 

“Good girl.” 

And—god, the way he looks at you, his gaze hungry and wild. Fucking maddening. Simultaneously, you wish he would stop—the contact too intense, too intimate—and pray that it never fucking ends. 

Heat bubbles up inside you. You bury your fists in his hair and roll your hips faster, chasing the scorching need for more. 

He hisses and pushes back against your thrusts, murmuring, “That’s it, grind that pussy on me, make yourself feel good.” 

“Fuck—fuck yes, it feels so fucking good—” 

“I can feel how fucking wet you are, leakin’ all over me. You do love it, don’t you, baby?”

You start to tremble and nod, trying your hardest to whisper when you tell him, “Yes yes yes I do I fucking love it—I wanna come again, can I please come again, please please—” 

“Listen to you. So good, askin’ for permission.” He brings a hand to your face and brushes his knuckles against your cheek, “Such a quick learner.” 

“Joel—” 

“Do it. Make yourself come again.”

Something untethers inside you. Heartbeat pounding behind your ears, you work your body against him in jerky movements, each one more delicious than the last. His eyes burn into yours, all heavy-lidded and lust-blown in the darkness, watching your face twist up with pleasure as the hot gooey feeling between your legs stretches wider and wider, then overtakes you completely. 

You give in to it with a shattered breath, burying your face against his shoulder to muffle your moans. He holds you down, making sure you smother your cries in the damp cotton of his t-shirt as wave after electric wave washes over you. 

When your spasms start to peter out, and your rolling hips come to a stop, he releases his stronghold to pet your hair. Your heaving chests meld together, breath syncing up into a steady ebb and flow as he smooths his palm up and down your spine. 

For a moment, it’s just this. Just the soothing motion of him rubbing your back, calming your boneless body. Soft and quiet with everything else stripped away. 

Emotion swells in your chest and tingles up your throat, behind your eyes. You try to hide it, the fact that you’re crying, but it becomes obvious when a sob escapes you. 

Joel shifts a little, then tilts your chin up to meet his eyes. He searches your face and frowns, furrowing his brow. 

“I’m sorry,” you wipe your tears and cast your eyes downward, “I—I don’t know why this is happening, I’m sorry. I’m stupid.” 

“No—hey, no,” he assures you, “It’s fine.” 

You shake your head. 

“Look at me,” he commands, and when you do, he cups your cheek and holds your gaze, “It-it’s normal to feel… emotional. Really, it’s ok.” 

The warmth and sincerity of this—his touch, his eyes, his words—makes your heart stutter. It curls up inside you and sedates your jumpy nerves. 

You sniffle and nod, “Ok.” 

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he studies you, bringing his hands to your waist. The longer you stare at each other, the more all the subtle signs of his lust come back into focus. How his tongue peaks out to wet his lips when he looks at your mouth. The heavy thudding of his heart. His strained breath and throbbing cock. 

Your gaze drifts to his lips. A needy, aching desire simmers at the base of your spine. It seems wrong to kiss him. More sensual than sexual, rooted in something he will never have for you. But still, you wonder. 

You wonder how soft his plush lips would feel against yours. How he would taste. Whether or not he would use tongue, or teeth, or both. 

Your fingertips twitch hesitantly towards his mouth. He doesn’t pull away or admonish you, even though you give him ample time to protest. When you make contact, smoothing your touch over the pillow of his bottom lip, he murmurs against your fingers, “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m never gonna be, either, I wanna make that clear. That’s not what this is.”  

“I know you’re not my fucking boyfriend, Joel.” You scoff at the thought, “Boyfriend. I don’t want that. I don’t need a boyfriend. What I need…” you watch your touch drift from his mouth to his jawline, where you scrape your nails through his scruff, “What I need is someone to fuck the thoughts out of my head.” 

“Fuck the thoughts outta your head,” he repeats, almost a chuckle, “That’s what you need, huh?”

“That’s what you need, too. Isn’t it?” 

Something smolders behind his gaze as he searches your face. 

“You can use me, you know. Take whatever you need from me. Use me like a fuck toy, Joel, I fucking need it.” 

His whole body reacts to your request, muscles flexing taught as he clenches his jaw.

You bat your lashes at him and pull yourself close enough to feel his breath on yours when you ask, “Don’t you need a little fuck toy like me, daddy?” 

“You’re a sick girl, you know that?” 

“You like it.” 

Neither of you can deny the other’s accusation, resulting in a stand-off that tingles beneath your skin and makes your heart pound in your throat. 

Subconsciously, you rock your hips forward and suck in breath when his cock throbs against your clit. He pushes back, flooding your veins with fire, “Are you gonna keep quiet if I fuck you?” 

“Are you gonna shut me up if I can’t?” 

He lets out one single amused chuckle, then asks, “Are you really tryna test me right now?” 

Suppressing a smile, you shake your head. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Something in the way he says it blooms heat in your chest. His tone teasing, almost playful. 

He gives your ass a light smack, then tugs at your underwear, “Take these off.” 

You roll off him onto the mattress and slide them down your legs while he stands to strip naked. Seeing his cock makes your body hum. It stands at attention, bobbing a little when Joel catches you staring. 

Sidling up to the bed, he beckons you closer, so you follow his silent guidance and crawl over to him, wrapping your hand around his thick length. You glance up at him, licking your lips as you await further instructions. 

“Get it nice ‘n’ wet for me.”

Nodding, you bring your mouth to the head of his cock, exploring first with your tongue, licking up the salty dribbles of lust. You taste a hint of yourself on him too, arousal that soaked through his boxers and marked him yours. Temporarily, at least. At least for tonight, or at least for right now. 

A pleased rumble erupts from his chest when you wrap your lips around him and start to slide up and down his shaft. He feels solid and warm and fills your mouth completely. The first time he hits the back of your throat, you gag and pull off him, working him with your hands as you catch your breath. 

“Do it again.” 

You take him in your mouth, rutting up and down a few times before sitting up taller to drive him down your throat. He buries his fists in your hair and thrusts his hips forward, “There we go, that’s it—fuck, you’re so fucking good at that.” 

His praise sparks at your core. You whine around his cock and bob against his thrusts. It doesn’t matter that you can’t breathe. You don’t need oxygen, you just need this. The sting of his grip prodding your movements, the raw stretch of him fucking your airway, the wet squelch that fills the room. 

When he yanks your head back and unclogs your throat, you gasp for breath and stroke him with both hands, churning his slick length. Fire roars in his eyes when you look up at him. 

He grabs your chin and husks, “Say thank you.” 

“Thank you.”

He smacks your cheek and grabs your chin again, “Say thank you for fucking my face.” 

“Thank you for fucking my face, I fucking love it—”

“Say please can I have some more.” 

“Please can I have some more, daddy?” 

Stifling a groan, he crams it back in your drooling mouth, down your throat, snapping his hips in sharp, quick thrusts that make you gurgle with pleasure around him. Far away, you hear him panting, “Take it take it take it—”

The chorus makes your body tingle. You think about your mom sleeping in the other room, how there’s just a wall between her and this. How she could wake up at any moment and follow the muffled, hedonistic noises. How she would find Joel balls deep in your mouth and you giving him something she never could: control. 

This time when he pulls you off his cock, he uses his white-knuckle grip on your hair to make you flip over and turn around, ass in the air towards him. 

The head of him nudges up against the tight ring of your asshole. You hear a wet splat, then feel the heat of his spit trickling down between your cheeks. Your body clenches with anticipation as he smears it around. 

“Remember, you gotta relax,” he murmurs, releasing your hair to smooth a palm against your spine. 

You inhale a deep breath and exhale the tension from your muscles, letting your heart melt into the mattress. 

“Good girl,” he arches forward, breaching your entrance. 

The sharp sensation splits you open. It pulls a wanton moan from your lips that rings through the silent apartment like a siren. 

Yanking you up by your hair, Joel secures your back to his humid chest and clasps a hand over your mouth. Stars invade your field of vision as he drives his cock deeper and deeper, only stopping when he can’t go any further. You sob against his palm, so he pulls it down harder, muffling the noise until you stop. 

Everything goes silent and still, but you can’t even bring yourself to worry that you woke her. Not when all you can hear is your thudding heart and his ragged breath, coarse with what you assume is rage or lust or both. Not with his lightning rod cock vibrating hot up your middle. 

It doesn’t matter that she could walk in to find her common-law husband fucking your ass, or that this discovery would burn all your lives to the ground. All you care about is more. More stimulation, more attention, more Joel—more more more—

You try to move your hips in an attempt to create friction, but his vice grip renders you immobile. So you stay in place and try not to make noise as the flames lick at your insides. You squirm and ache and claw at his arms while he muffles your whimpers. 

Then your mom snores in the other room. 

He pulls his hand from your mouth and you gasp for air. 

Thinking you can get ahead of the inevitable scolding, you plead, “I’m sorry—” 

He drags his cock out of your body, then plunges it back inside, all the while hissing, “If you’re gonna be my little fuck toy—” 

“Holy fuck—”

“—You have to be fucking quiet. Do you understand?” 

Nodding, you gasp, “I understand, I’ll do better, I promise—please just fuck me, please please—”

You strangle a moan in your throat when he slips a hand between your legs and draws tedious circles on your clit. 

“Try ‘n’ breathe through it,” he coaches, “I’ll go slow for you this time, ok? Just remember, shut the fuck up and take deep breaths.” 

You suck in air until your chest is full, then release it, restricting its flow through a narrow space between your lips. You do it again. Tension begins to melt from your bones. It has a clarifying effect, allowing you to relish in the heat of his touch. You take another deep breath, only hitting a snag when Joel starts to rock his hips. 

It feels fucking unreal. Rough and raw, the steady drag of his cock fills you with static electricity over and over. 

“Oh fuck—”

“Shhh…”

Your inhale stutters, but you regain control on the exhale. Everything disappears except him. His heated skin sticking to yours. How fucking full he makes you feel with each thrust. The thick swell of pleasure that accumulates every time he flicks his wrist. You surrender to all of it, to Joel, entrusting him with everything except your breath. 

“That’s it, baby, let go.” 

“It feels ssso gooood,” you whisper, head rolling back onto his shoulder, “Nothing’s ever felt this good, holy shit—”

His lips tickle your ear as he purrs, “Such a good little fuck toy, aren’t you, baby?”

You gasp a little when the velvet of his tongue rolls against your pulse. Nodding, you reach back behind his neck to scrape your fingernails through his curls. He does it again, this time sealing his lips to suck on the sensitive skin. Your heart pounds thick and hot through your body. The edges peel back at the corner of your mind. You push back against his thrusts, panting out subdued whimpers as the fire in your belly begins to spread. 

“Do you wanna come?”

“I do, I wanna come—oh my god I wanna come, please make me come, daddy—”

His hand covers your mouth and holds you down so he can fuck you harder, stretching you out wide and filling you deep. He works your clit faster. The bed frame thumps against the wall in a frantic rhythm that matches the wet slap of his thrusts. Tears prick your eyes and heat swells beneath your skin, pressure building more and more until you think you can’t fucking take it anymore—

His palm smothers your moans as you fall apart, breaking into a million pieces and coming back together again with a choked sob. Joel buries his face in the crook of your neck and groans as his hips snap forward, then stutter to a stop. 

The two of you go slack propping each other up, too loose-limbed and lethargic to peel yourselves away at first. He makes the first move to separate, though, uncovering your mouth to brush the damp hair from your forehead, “You ok?” 

“Yeah,” you tell him instinctively, then second-guess yourself and look up to meet his eyes, “I mean, I don’t know. I think so.” 

He studies you, nodding. 

Hesitation buzzes in your chest when you contemplate whether or not to return his question. It seems unlikely he’d cooperate even if you wanted to know the answer.  So instead, you give him his out. 

“Is this goodnight, then?” 

“Suppose it is.” 

A flicker of something passes between your bodies as you stare at each other. It feels so hot to the touch that you chicken out, glancing away as you whisper, “Will you do something for me before you go?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Tuck me in?” 

The noise that comes out of him is half-grunt, half-chuckle. Joel for, ‘You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.’ But he obliges, pulling his soft cock from your body at a mercifully slow speed before allowing you to make yourself comfortable. He sorts out your blanket and drapes it over your body, then starts fishing his clothes off the floor. 

Tugging his shirt over his head, he asks, “Need anything else, princess?” 

You’re sure it’s a dig, but choose to ignore it as you snuggle into the covers and hint, “Don’t make me wait so long next time.” 

He sits down at the edge of your mattress and threads his legs through the boxers, “I’ll make you wait as long as you need to. What else?”

“Mmm. Goodnight kiss?”

“Goodnight kiss,” he scoffs to himself, then looks back over his shoulder at you, “Fine, then I’m goin’ to bed.” 

He turns to face you more directly, folding a knee onto the bed as he leans in and tilts your head to the side, pressing a gentle kiss into your cheek. Even though you wish he had kissed your lips, you close your eyes and savor the affection while you can. 

After murmuring goodnight, Joel leaves. He crawls back into bed with your mother while you memorize the sound of his retreating footsteps.

[henneseyhoe]

Devotion.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: DARK THEMES, cult behavior, cult leader!Lewis, Idolizing, blasphemy(kinda?? idk girl), mentions of religion(no specifics), SMUT, unprotected (wrap it before ya smack it), mind broken reader, stockholm syndrome (not written in but kinda implied), breeding k*nk, short.

SUMMARY: Lewis chooses you.

✮✮✮✮

Was he really as sadistic as the papers said? How could he be when he was so sweet to me?

He nursed me back to health when iIl, when I was at my lowest, he lifted me in spirit. He gave me hope when I had none. He gave me something to believe in. He would never hurt me, he wouldn’t violently touch a hair on my head. He was consistently perfect. He was what all men should have been.

Dressed in black gowns, all of my sisters stood around with roses propped in their hands, veils on their heads and envy in their eyes. I’ve been there before. Envious of any woman that was next to him. Now I no longer remember what that felt like.

“You may kiss the bride”

I heard from beside me. My heart instantly swoll ten times it’s size. He took me by the hand and brought me closer to him before lifting the white veil over my head. His hand grazed my cheek and his lips hovered over mine. I could physically feel his breath over me. It confirmed that he was indeed real. He wasn’t just a vessel or embodiment of the purest form of a prophet, he was now also my partner. I was one step closer to heaven.

Hours later after dragged out sessions of meditation and eating food served on fine china, I found myself finally feeling solace.

I use to deeply craved to be with him at all times, not just to be in the same room to read or pray. Now he was touching me. Breathing the same air as me, taking my breath away with each stroke of his fingers. He told me he was getting me ready, his lips hovering above mine. He breathed in every sigh I made and the thought of my oxygen entering his lungs made me grateful.

He told me he would break me before making me whole again. He reminded me the entire time that this was just the beginning before I truly became the woman I was always supposed to be. His.

Yes, I was one of the many women, but I was the one. He told me.

“My beautiful, beautiful girl”

I kneeled before him, him only on one knee like when he proposed. A puddle of my own release was beneath me with his fingers still deep inside, pressing against the spongy part of my walls until I came again, my body slumping against his. My mouth had been wide open, unable to close for longer than a few seconds before another moan was exiting. Drool dripped from the sides of my mouth and he easily wiped it clean with his tongue like nothing, tasting the wine he offered earlier on me.

I was like that for what felt like hours until he allowed me to taste him. My mouth had never been on him like this before, before I couldn’t remember if he had ever touched me at all.

My jaw ached and my throat was sore, but he kept pushing and I took it just for the approval. I hear quiet sighs, moans that were almost whimpers above me, him looking down at the sight. His eyes were darker than before, pink lips parted to whisper out my name every time i’d take him completely, not coming up until I physically gagged and was forced to pull back.

When I disconnected from him there were strings of my spit still attached to him and he took the liberty to tap the tip of himself against my swollen lips, watching me flinch with the first few pops.

We transitioned for the third time that night and I began to wonder if the other women got the same treatment. He couldn’t be this great for all of them, I had to be special.

“You’re doing so good”

He breathed into my neck, arms wrapped around the front of my body as he rutted his hips into me. It felt as if I was on my knees all night, and I was tired, but he told me if I prayed with him on my knees, then everything else sacred needed to be done that way too.

His hand squeezed at the front of my throat and his other caressed up and down the side of my ribcage, tracing the tattoo of his name written into my skin with his fingers. I had his name symbols of him on multiple parts of my body, each place he had kissed tonight.

“You listen so much better than any of the other ones. That’s why I picked you. That’s why you’re my favorite”

He confessed into my ear, sharp teeth grazing the shell of it before they pressed onto the skin of my neck, his thrusts becoming more erratic.

I could feel the knocking of his tip inside of my stomach somehow, the spasms of my walls supplying him with just the amount of grip he needed to finish, the grip he claimed to have been thinking of since laying eyes on me.

My breathing hitched, then sped up and synched to each pound, pathetic whines leaving my mouth on impact. Every sensation felt so much more real now, I could feel everything. The wet skin of his chest pressed firmly against my back, the slapping of his hips against my ass which I was sure was slightly bruised by now, the scratching of his low cut nails against my curves.

Even if he broke skin, I knew not to fret. He’d lick me up again if I asked.

He lets me go and allows my weak body to fall flat on his bed, his hips still never stuttering as he follows after me, dipping his hips low while simultaneously lifting mine to meet him pound for pound.

My time was now. Now was the moment for me to prove that I was truly his, that I was ready to be saved for the rest of my mortal life, that I was in fact the best partner and the most devoted. That’s what he needed, what he deserved. Devotion.

With each question he managed to ask while somehow keeping his pace, I nod with no hesitation whatsoever as his hand slips down under and in between my wet thighs to rub at my sensitive bud, my body jerking so intensely that he slipped out of me mid stroke and his free hand wasted no time to help put himself back in and build up his momentum again.

“Would you give me a child, darling? Would you like to play a part in what greatness is to come?”

He already had babies. 10 of them and counting. But he asked me to carry the one he chose, and I was no one to tell him no and starve his desire.

✮✮✮✮

💌~ did yall like it? yes, no? 🥴 also i know yall TIRED of the short fics 😭 sorryyy lmfao

[itgirl-111]

THEY ARE OBSESSED...

I am the blueprint. I am an ICON. I am perfect girlfriend/wife material and they know it. I am THE high value woman that's why they offer so much proposals to me. I get compliments on a daily basis. My face is perfection. My body is perfection. My skin is perfection. My personality is fucking amazing and unique. My vibe is one of a kind, they can never find a second me. One look at me and they are obsessed. I am naturally seductive, i embody love and seduction. I am the nation's dream girl. I have Aishwarya Rai's, Alexa demie, jung hoyeon, Zendaya, Madhuri Dixit's, Rihanna, Beyoncé, irene, wonyoung, Kim Jennie, Megan Fox, Gigi Hadid, Bella Hadid, Marilyn Monroe, jhene Aiko, Audrey Hepburn's charm combined( thanks itkuzome on yt for this) I am more than beautiful.

Anyone can be obsessed with me, they'd travel and cross mountains and oceans just to be with me that's how powerful My charm is. I just naturally give people butterflies, charming runs in my dna. Everywhere I go, i get all the attention. I attract them simps. My charm goes beyond any k-pop idol, anime character or kdrama, movie character. I am something they have never seen before, i am once in a fucking lifetime. Being with me is a fucking blessing so anyone would be lucky to have me it's natural. I embody the vibe of the weekend, chase atlantic, the nbhd, artic monkeys and all the slowed reverb aesthetic songs. Being with me is itself a high, nobody can ever get enough of me. I mean how can they? When I'm nothing like they've ever seen before, I'm out of this world. I am unforgettable, nothing like they've ever experienced before. I hold a special place in their hearts. I am a DREAM. I am the standard. They worship the ground i walk on, the respect and love everyone has for me is JUST perfect. They respect me , my culture, my religion, my ethnicity, my family, my gender, my sexuality and everything about me. I am treated like royalty, i get princess treatment all the time. Talking to me is a flex, standing next to me is a flex. Everyday is like a movie for me. I am better than y/n, I am literally living in a movie. Whenever i go out i get a hundred compliments and the pretty privelege i have is immense. I deserve nothing but the absolute best. I deserve unconditional love and happiness. I recieve a lot of positive attention from everyone as i am hot (obviously) and also bring good and positive vibes to everyone around me.

[gracefully33]

📞Mercury In Houses/Signs

* BASED OFF MY INTERPRETATION

———————————————————————————

📲 Mercury represents our way of thinking, communication, k-12 education, social media, etc.

Mercury 1H/Aries: You could be an aggressive communicator like people could easily take offensive to your words because they feel like you’re being disrespectful. People could see you as someone who is very intellectual and intelligent, you could post yourself on social media a lot, you could over think a lot, etc.

Mercury 2H/Taurus: You could sing a lot, you could be soft spoken, you could’ve been very talkative in school, you could post singing covers on social media, etc.

Mercury 3H/Gemini: You could talk about your unpopular opinions on social media, you’ve could been known as the smartest person in your class or school, you could be very talkative, you could’ve been well known in your school, etc.

Mercury 4H/Cancer: You could be someone who comforts people with your words, your voice could remind someone of their parent, you could post videos with your family on social media, you could talk/think about your family a lot, etc.

Mercury 5H/Leo: You could talk about pop culture a lot, you could’ve went to a performing arts school, you could think only about yourself a lot/self centered, you could post acting skits on social media, etc.

Mercury 6H/Virgo: You could be very analytical & judgmental when you’re speaking, you could’ve been the kid always answering the questions in class, you could be consistent on social media, you could post daily vlogs on social media, etc.

Mercury 7H/Libra: You could probably come off as flirtatious when speaking, your partner could be very talkative, you could talk about makeup products on social media, in school you could’ve had a tight relationship w/ your teacher or classmates, you could play devils advocate a lot, etc.

Mercury 8H/Scorpio: You could have dark thoughts, you could talk about magic or 8H themes a lot, you could give financial advice a lot of social media, etc.

Mercury 9H/Sagittarius: You could’ve been an over achiever in school, you could talk about religion/beliefs a lot, you could post college advice on social media, etc.

Mercury 10H/Capricorn: You could be very business minded, you could talk about your career a lot, you could talk about your achievements 24/7, you could make business videos and post them, I have a feeling you could start random conversations with every stranger you come across😂, etc.

Mercury 11H/Aquarius: Your friends could be very talkative, you could talk about your dreams, you could think about your manifestation or 11H related topics, etc.

Mercury 12H/Pisces: In school you’ve been very shy or quiet, you could talk about your spiritual beliefs or conspiracy theories, you could post spiritual videos online, etc.

[chiskz]

[ 💿💽 ] CHICHI 2nd Birthday Album (Physical) "moirai"

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♡ teaser/concept photos

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♡ tracklist

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♡ meaning

In ancient Greek religion and mythology, the Moirai (often known in English as the Fates) were the personifications of destiny (via Wikipedia).

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moirai by CHICHI (Stray Kids)

Studio: JYPE (Seoul), Channie's Room (Seoul)

Length: ~ 33 minutes

Released: 12 January 2024

Language: Korean, English, Japanese

Previous solo album (1st Birthday Album [Digital]): Member Branding

Tracklist:

spotify & youtube links are provided. you can also listen whole album here .

1. TITLE Crazy Fate (feat. Park Junhee of A.C.E.)

2. The Footsteps of My Dear Love

3. LAW (feat. Jurin of XG)

4. Loner

5. Villain

6. Devil by the Window

7. Run Away (feat. Seungmin & I.N)

8. YAMAZAKI (feat. SUGA of BTS)

9. IDOL

10. I Don't Wanna Know

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♡ trivia

➥ IDOL was presented during a performance with Avantgardey at MAMA 2023

➥ YAMAZAKI was previously released as a single and won "The Best Collaboration Award" at MAMA 2023

➥ Run Away with Seungmin and I.N was originally intended to be released as SKZ-PLAYER - the song was written in Paris during Stray Kids' visit to Music Bank Paris

➥ I Don't Wanna Know was created by HAN with lyrics by CHICHI - it debuted as SKZ-PLAYER

➥ with Crazy Fate and Loner CHICHI becomes:

* the fastest rapping idol considering each generation

* the fastest rapping idol whose first language is not Korean

* the fastest rapping artist in general using Korean

➥ Junhee's part for Crazy Fate was recorded right after he got out of the army (he got out of the army on 6th August 2023, and recording was already done in September 2023)

➥ The Footsteps of My Dear Love was written by CHICHI as early as two years ago - however, she did not feel vocally ready to perform it earlier

➥ critics assess the album as "an emotional rollercoaster leading to the discovery of one's own identity by a person lost in their own self"

➥ with the album's release, Twitter is trending #CHICHIselfmaderapper , a hashtag under which STAY and CHICHI solo stans express their pride and admiration caused by CHICHI becoming the fastest rapping k-pop rapper, when until recently she was not comfortable with the Korean language (because of which she was a victim of derision)

➥ CHICHI describes moirai as the most important musical release of her life

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♡ quotes from moirai songs describing the whole album

" No matter how pretty the memories are, everyone will forget it. "

" Let's dream a happy dream, just like long ago. "

" It's love and war. "

" I fight with another me, hiding inside of myself. "

" The villain you failed to notice breathes within you. "

" No, I can't tell what is fake in my reality. "

" When the night is nearly ending rewind the clock, rewind now. "

" If you fall back, you're dead. "

" I cannot accept any version of you other than the one stronger than everyone else. "

" Don't stop me now. "

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coming soon: Crazy Fate M/V & Behind The Scenes

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moirai album cover by my amazing fiancee @moondust-kitten ♡

♡𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @amyysfics , @smh-anon , @neohyxn , @stealanity , @alixnsuperstxr , @juliawritingblog , @rizzshimura , @elizalabs3

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[intothestacks]

So, the escape room I made for the Grade 4s & 5s works like this (1/2):

Firstly, I made it cooperative instead of competitive, in honour of the book I’ve read for the past 2 years to the Grade 4s (Escape from Mr. Lemoncello’s Library by Chris Grabenstein), which is kind of like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory but set in a library with an escape-the-room game that turns out to be cooperative.

The story for the game is that, one day during library time, the lights go out, and when they come back on, the grownups are gone and they’re locked in the library. The landline doesn’t work, and neither does the computer, so they can’t call for help. But an unknown voice speaks from the intercom telling them that they must figure out who’s behind this if they want the grownups to return and the library to unlock.

There are 4 teams, each of which must follow clues that culminate in a clue that must be used with the final clues of the other teams to solve the final riddle, which is the name of who’s behind the library lock-in (the final clues are the letters L-O-K-I).

Each team has envelopes with a different symbol on it which in itself are technically clues to who’s behind what’s going on: 

a green sugar skull (to represent Loki’s daughter Hella, goddess of death)

a green snake eating its own tail (to represent Loki’s Monstrous Child Jörmungandr)

a blue wolf (to represent Loki’s Monstrous Child Fenrir the Great Wolf)

a brown symbol of an eight-legged horse (representing Loki’s horse-child Sleipnir).

Each envelope also has a number so they know the order to open the envelopes in.

The clues are all Viking-themed and lead them to different areas of the library. The first clue for each theme is centered around an object (a Mjollnir necklace, a pop-up card of a Viking ship, my cellphone, and a box that looks like a fake book).

Every team has one activity where they have to decipher something and the other clues are more like a scavenger hunt style. 

For example, the clue leading to the religion section requires them to put magnets that I printed pics of gems on them in the correct order in order to place the corresponding coloured letter magnets to spell out RELIGION.

The order of the gems is based on a list I provide them of the Nine Worlds of Norse mythology, with each world name shaded as the corresponding colour of a gem.

Two of the other interactive clues are rebuses, and the final interactive clue is the word “languages” written in Norse Runes (I provide them with a list of the Norse alphabet).

[nso-csi]

230818 KCONLA

I thought the cheers for Taeyong were but then Taemin came on… that was not kcon. that was a TAEMIN CONCERT cr.

This wasn't Kcon because Taemin turned it into his concert. The whole arena plus the other idols were amazing by this man. Taemin is the God of kpop cr.

I wish you could’ve heard the screams. Truly thunder loud. They started and never ended - everything Taemin did commanded that lovestruck cheering and respect. The king was in the house truly. Good god. IM SO!!! cr.

listen. there are artists and then there are Artists and i am blessed to have seen taemin live, what an absolutely stunning performer on every level holy shit i am changed cr.

Like I cannot describe to you. The way my body feels. The way my heart feels. The way my soul feels. He is magic. As soon as he started Advice, it was over. The arena was HIS. Never heard such screams in my life. He deserves it all and more. I’m sitting here just. In awe. cr.

had a pseudo-religious experience watching taemin and apparently the crowd did too bc I hadn’t heard it so deafeningly loud until he came out cr.

The crowd was the loudest for Taemin like oh my god i’ve literally never heard it that loud in my life that was insane cr.

Taemin was unbelievably incredible. Honestly if I were to ask you who is K-pop’s best dancer is and your answer isn’t Taemin then don’t bother opening your mouth to respond. cr.

Like I can’t explain the energy in the stadium when Taemin came on. The screams, all light sticks turned on. It was electrifying cr.

My sister before KCON: Who even is Taemin My sister after KCON: Taemin is my new religion. Taemin invented dancing. I’m going to spend 20 cents to go to the library and print out a picture of Taemin and pray to it every day 🧎🏻‍♀️🙏😂 cr.

(230818 KCON TAEMIN - Advice + 멘트 + Criminal + MOVE)

[outsidereveries]

jungwon's personality

what he was like in his childhood: very hardworking and oveeeeremotional (with good intentions). jungwon could be also very intuitive but also passive/calm child. basically the best of the 2 worlds i'd say.

which qualities has changed during puberty: he got more distracted and lacked discipline more than when he was a kid. basically he explored himself in one way or another, so it's no suprise jungwon was more forgetful at that time. possibly his time in school and not only (he also was a trainee around his teenage days, right?) is the main reason why because nonetheless, jungwon was happy and thankful for these times.

what he's faking: jungwon might not be that risky in real life (compared to his public persona). i am unaware where jungwon is adventurous in the engene's eyes (and not only) but in reality, jungwon is more thoughtful and thinks before acting. if you felt he's impulsive, he's not.

what's also fake but tries not to be: actually, to be realistic. sometimes jungwoon seems to be over the moon for certain things or even delusional. that's happening because of his "overemotional" side. it seems that with the years coming by, jungwon balanced the way he's feeling his emotions which is great however he's just really, really naive. this seems to be about everyday things (even personal ones) and as i really try to not go further, jungwon's just trying to not overthink everything.

what we don't see: jungwon has more individual offers than we see. he refuses them for some reason (i personally don't see belift) because everything won't work when he tries. he would like to try again and again but at this point, jungwon gave up. belift is just other breed (i mean, a (curse word).

political views: as their elections are coming, jungwon is feeling conflicted and doesn't believe in anyone. he lost hope for who to vote and hopes for an alternative party/person who will be worth it in the end. therefore, jungwon might not vote in the near future's elections but not because he's not interested. he actually cares. he lost hope. jungwon might be one of the only people around his age who is interested in politics and all that stuff around korea and possibly outside of it. if he watches other countries (specifically europe and to be more exact, germany, poland, bulgaria..), that's reasonable why he feels hopeless.

what's mixing between his morals and the fame: his intentions. jungwon overthinks how he'll influence engenes and the world and he wants to be actually useful for that purpose. he doesn't want to be just a k-pop idol, but he feels restricted as of now. not only that, he doesn't know from where to start.

would he choose the fame over his standarts: in this circumstances, no. he'll try to make the fame work in a way for him despite what the challenges will be.

religious/spiritual views: deep inside, jungwon is more spiritual than believing in a specific religion. however, this seems to be very hidden as jungwon clearly ignores his intuition.

controversial things he agrees with: to take rest if you don't feel inspired, to communicate when it's needed and to take care of yourself in the best way possible. this doesn't seem to be controversial but if there's instability, just rest. jungwon seems to have had conflicts regarding to that in the past.

addictions (either more prone to has them or might have them): being daring and risky. jungwon should be careful around people since like sunoo, he can be more prone to be manipulated.

destruction traits: jungwon can be impulsive and/or overemotional if he gets angry enough, if he doesn't understand anything that's happening.

qualities he's proud to have: this might be a bad thing, but to focus on enhypen. similar to what we don't see, he received more solo gigs but refused to do them so.

intentions for the future: i am sorry but this might be alarming for his group. if enhypen is likely to disband or reform behind the scenes, jungwon will make everything he can for enhypen to stay as a group untul the end of their contract. as much as jungwon wants the same thing (for enhypen to reform), he is more aware that this might end worse, so he will try to make the rest of enhypen to do their contract as much as possible and is in his power until 2027.

[ghostradiodylan]

What type of music would the counselors listen to?

I know some of my mutuals have answered this question before and I'm sure my headcanons will be influenced by theirs, AND I'm also significantly older than the counselors so they're probably listening to gen z stuff my late millennial ass doesn't even know about but here goes nothing!

Laura So much SIØBHAN! Just kidding. Laura feels like two completely different characters in the game so I have a hard time deciding what I think spunky but straight-laced, ‘this is my first cop,’ over-achieving pre-vet student Laura Kearney would listen to vs badass avenging murder spree Laura Kearney (but maybe she always had that inside her). Part of me wants to say, like, 80’s pop (Prince, Blondie, Tiffany, Michael Jackson, Pat Benetar, etc.) and part of me wants to put her in the hard rock/metal zone with Ryan. Maybe she’s a bit of both.

Max I believe it was Addie (@insertlovelyperson) who said Max would listen to country music where women murder their cheating or abusive husbands. That tracks to me. Maybe it's the use of Alma Cogan's version of 'Fly Me to the Moon' in the game, but I also tend to associate him with crooner type singers of the 40's and 50's (Frank Sinatra, Perry Como, Dean Martin, etc), which is what I said he'd choose for karaoke. And because of this fanart I have no choice but to HC him as a major Ariana Grande fan, he's probably the one who chose the music for the drive to camp. So. Max has range.

Abi is the K-Pop/J-Pop stan to me but I know so little about that music beyond the crossover bands like BTS that I can't speak to it a whole lot. I think she'd also like some emo, pop-punk and moodier alt/pop. Avril Lavigne, Paramore, Melanie Martinez, Florence and the Machine, Metric, Lorde, Halsey, Yeah Yeah Yeahs, Billie Eilish, Phoebe Bridgers/boygenius, etc. I feel like she's really into female fronted bands for some reason.

Jacob likes pretty much whatever is on the radio. He's a top 40 guy and has no shame about his enjoyment of Ed Sheeran and Justin Beiber, or about ugly crying to Taylor Swift and Coldplay. He rarely listens closely to the actual lyrics (and often gets them humorously wrong), he just goes on vibes. He discovers half the music he listens to via TikTok (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Emma is a theater kid through and through and loves broadway musicals. She goes through phases with each popular one. She's had a Waitress phase, a Mamma Mia phase, a Wicked phase, and a Hamilton phase, of course, and now she's into Mean Girls, Heathers, and Hadestown. Beyond that, I think she'd be a dedicated Swiftie, big Adele fan, and a lover of Britney Spears's entire body of work from the 90's through today.

Nick probably listens to stoner bro music. Like jam bands and psychedelic rock and stuff. He probably likes Dave Matthews Band and the Grateful Dead/Dark Star Orchestra, Sublime, Widespread Panic, Tame Impala, and O.A.R. Googling jam bands to remind myself which ones exist led me to the knowledge that there's an Australian psychedelic rock band called King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard and that name is so bonkers that I've decided without listening to more than a few bars that it has to be Nick's favorite band.

Ryan is a little bit emo and a little bit goth and a little bit old school punk. He needs music that's loud and moody to help sort out his feelings about life and drown out all the excess noise inside his head. He's into metal, the harder side of emo/screamo, goth rock, hard rock, punk, and post-punk. He definitely listens to Nightwish, GOJIRA, Mastodon, Lacuna Coil, Linkin Park, Rage Against the Machine, Bauhaus, Joy Division, Nine Inch Nails, Deftones, Thursday, Alkaline Trio, My Chemical Romance, AFI, Bad Religion, Black Flag, Minor Threat, The Misfits, Ramones, etc. He doesn't hate more accessible pop and rock music, but the closest he gets to choosing it for himself is probably something like The Cure or The Smashing Pumpkins or Depeche Mode, maybe some of the creepier Weeknd songs and Muse tracks too heavy to go on the Twilight soundtracks. He and Abi listen to Babymetal together.

Kaitlyn classic rock and 90's alternative. This girl likes the Stones more than the Beatles, though she'll listen to both. Led Zeppelin, Joan Jett, Pink Floyd, The Doors, Black Sabbath, the occasional hair band. She especially loves the 90's girl rockers like Alanis Morisette, Garbage, Hole, Veruca Salt, and No Doubt (Kaitlyn can't believe Gwen Stefani is married to pop-country dork Blake Shelton who sings that song about being your honey bee, because Gwen used to be so cool [I'm definitely not projecting]). I feel like she'd also love Bikini Kill and Sleater Kinney, Le Tigre, and The Donnas.

Dylan is the Music Guy ™ (and my personal bias/url namesake), so I've admittedly thought about his musical tastes more than most of the others'. The official Quarry website mentions his 'deep musical knowledge' and I imagine he has pretty broad views on what constitutes good music. He's got kind of a vintage vibe to him, maybe it's the reproduction band shirt from 1988, or the fact that he's into analog technology, or both, but I've noticed he's often depicted playing Queen or Bowie or something of that era in fics, which I think is realistic. This kid goes to the used record store and just buys whatever looks cool.

Fun Fact: According to the datamine, the chapters originally had literary or musical quotes at the beginning of each, and Chapter 5: White Noise (the radio hut chapter) was originally headed by the opening lyrics from Queen's 'Radio Ga Ga':

He's also the only character we see play music in canon, so we know he likes... songs from random compilation albums with inexpensive royalties. XD Just kidding, but these are the diegetic (in-universe) songs we get to hear from Dylan's playlist at the bonfire party:

All pop music of varying subtypes, so we know he appreciates a well-crafted pop song. I honestly am a fan of all of these. I think Dylan genuinely listens to everything but he seems like the type to especially like alt and indie pop, classic rock, garage rock, a bit of the more melodic side of punk, emo, and pop-punk, new wave, synth pop, electronic, and a little bit of hip hop that’s sufficiently nerdy white boy friendly (probably Beastie Boys, Run the Jewels, Post Malone, emo rap like Blackbear, etc). I also tend to gravitate towards early-mid aughts indie for him, like MGMT, Arctic Monkeys, The Strokes, OK Go, LCD Soundsystem, etc. Just seems to match his vibe. I think he'd really like BØRNS, Hozier, COIN, Mitski, and K.Flay and probably have a fair amount of overlap with Ryan's more melodic picks (MCR, Muse, The Cure, etc). Dylan probably hates Morrissey but begrudgingly loves The Smiths and definitely cranks up The Killers in his car. He’s also listening to bands right now that you’ve never heard of but will be huge in a couple years. He can probably tell you the difference between subgenres like chillwave, dream pop, and shoegaze but don’t ask me about it because I have no fucking clue.

Since we’re on the subject, here’s my absurdly long and ever-growing Rylan/Radioheads playlist because I have a problem.

And my Sweet Summer Jams playlist, that’s just a bunch of random songs I think would be clean enough to play at a summer camp as long as the kids/your boss don’t ask too many questions.