#like I said I've been here nearly 11 years but didn't start using the full features of this place til the past couple of years

[tittyinfinity]

damn I put something in the tags of nearly everything I reblog, but when I look in my notifications, almost no one puts things in the tags so I'm kinda starting to wonder if maybe I just have a problem with not being able to shut up 🤐

[rosanna-writer]

we said hello and your eyes look like coming home (23/?)

Summary: A canon-divergent AU where the bond snaps for Rhys on Calanmai, Feyre unwittingly accepts it, and Fire Night magic proves to be more transformative than anyone bargained for. Feyre drags a mate she hardly knows out from Under the Mountain, then puts him back together as war with Hybern approaches. Warnings: dubious consent, canon-typical sexual violence, canon-typical violence Rating: Explicit Chapter Word Count: ~4k

ch. 1 - 10 | ch. 11-20 | ch. 21 - i wouldn't marry me either | ch. 22 - burn all the files, desert all your past lives | ch. 23 - i've still got love for you

Some text in this chapter is lifted directly from ACOTAR book one.

I am also over the moon and insanely honored to share that there is now ART OF THE FIRST CHAPTER OF THIS FIC!!!!! It's by the love of my life Amnevitah, and you can go make heart eyes at it and tell her she's wonderful over here on her tumblr (warning that it's mildly NSFW).

Read on AO3 or you can find the twenty-third chapter below the readmore.

It was nearly midnight when I made my way to Nesta's bedroom in a borrowed nightgown, late enough that the servants were gone and Elain was sound asleep. I knocked on the door once, and she ushered me inside without a word.

Like the rest of the manor, Nesta's bedroom was full of furniture fit for a palace and utterly devoid of personal touches. It might as well have been a guest room.

I hovered near the door and watched Nesta open a hidden compartment in the writing desk near the window. She pulled something out and placed it on a side table. I stepped closer to get a better look.

A chunk of wood. The edges were rough, as if it had been ripped from something. I started to ask her where it had come from, but when I spotted the tangle of vines I'd painted on it, I understood.

"I had to watch as Father and Elain went from sobbing hysterics into nothing. I had to listen to them talk about how lucky it was for you to be taken to some made-up aunt’s house, how some winter wind had shattered our door. And I thought I’d gone mad—but every time I did, I would look at that painted part of the table, then at the claw marks farther down, and know it wasn’t in my head. So tell me everything and leave none of it out," Nesta said quietly, sinking down into the chair by the desk.

My heart broke to think what she'd gone through—what Tamlin had put her through. His lies to me might have been in service of saving his people, but there was no reason for my sister's sanity to be collateral damage. Tamlin had paid my father off, then washed his hands of the matter without bothering to ensure that his glamour had worked.

It was sloppy and thoughtless, and not for the first time, I wondered how many people ultimately would have died if I'd stayed in the Spring Court a moment longer.

I sat on the bed, tucking my feet under me, and started at the beginning. The very beginning, fifty years ago when Rhys had gone to that damned party and Amarantha had taken over.

I'd barely gotten a few words out when Nesta was already interrupting. "Is your High Lord too stupid to employ poison-testers?"

"I…I don't think any of them do, actually."

"It seems Prythian is ruled by idiots, then. Perhaps that explains why this Rhysand married you."

"You know nothing about what Rhys has been though," I hissed, clenching my teeth so I didn't yell the words and wake up Elain.

Nesta waved a hand, an elegant, dismissive gesture. "Then continue."

So I did. And to Nesta's credit, she listened intently, her lips pressed together in a thin line, as I described the curse, my arrival in Prythian, and those early days in the Spring Court.

Somehow, it calmed something within me to tell the whole tale again now that I knew everything. I wasn't used to having a confidant, and I couldn't remember a time before this that speaking to Nesta had felt like a lightening a burden.

It was strange, but not unwelcome.

I braced myself when I started to describe my first meeting with Rhys on Calanmai. Nesta had once sneered at me for rutting in the barn with Isaac Hale—I was sure she'd have some choice words about a mating frenzy that had taken place in a cave.

But she merely furrowed her brow and said, "Your marriage was….arranged, then? By the stag?"

I nearly snapped and told her no—I'd specifically told Rhys not to marry me, after all. And Nesta knew he wasn't my husband. But…she'd never feel the pull of a mating bond for herself, and the concept was completely foreign to her. Perhaps this was the way to make her understand.

"By the Mother herself. The stag merely…cleared our path to each other. I'm not sure what would have happened if it didn't, but I think it probably saved us quite a lot of heartbreak, in the end."

"That's such an odd way to speak about a man you've been shackled to against your will," she said, shaking her head.

The Inner Circle had also been horrified when they'd realized I'd accepted the bond without knowing what I was doing. If even Nesta was worried about it…perhaps there was something wrong with me for not being more distressed. But even though I'd had to go Under the Mountain for Rhys, I still felt profoundly lucky that everything I could possibly want had just been dropped into my lap on Calanmai.

I shrugged. "There's no reason to be upset when I would have chosen him for myself anyway." That was the truth at the center of everything.

There was a flicker of understanding, and—if I wasn't mistaken—relief in Nesta's eyes. "And I take it he feels the same?"

"Yes."

"Good." There was an edge to her voice, and I wondered what she would have said if my answer had been no.

There was still so much to tell her, so I continued, describing my arrival at the Night Court—though I didn't mention Velaris, merely said that Rhys had directed me to a warded home. Nesta didn't ask about the tattoo the magic had given me, just scowled at my left hand. She said nothing about my immortality either, instead interrogating me about the Inner Circle and their ranks and roles and relations to Rhys.

They were, perhaps, the sort of questions I should have asked on that first day. But unlike me, Nesta knew how to get the lay of a land in a noble court and assess her place in it.

If my eldest sister were dropped in the Court of Nightmares, I had no doubt she'd be running it within a day.

I hadn't spoken about Under the Mountain at length with anyone but Rhys before that night, and getting the words out under Nesta's uncompromising steel glare was difficult. My sister and I weren't linked through mating bond and shared experience. My voice shook, and at points I felt faintly sick, but I managed to tell her everything.

Even with Rhys…I'd needed to hold back. My own few weeks Under the Mountain paled in comparison to his decades there alone, and I knew on some level, even though I'd never voiced it aloud, that he'd had it worse than me. Without even realizing it, I'd been carrying around a prickly sort of guilt over that.

Once, I would have spent several days with a paintbrush in hand until I'd gotten those feelings out, but since I could barely stand to look at a canvas anymore, it all had been festering inside of me.

So to my immense embarrassment, I cried in front of Nesta.

For once, she didn't say anything harsh, just wordlessly handed me a handkerchief. I didn't mind—it would be strange for her to coddle me. Instead, she pretended nothing was amiss as I wiped at my eyes and finished the rest of the story, all the way through my trip to Illyria and the Weaver's cottage and the attacks on the temples.

At the end of it, Nesta merely said, "This is all the more reason you shouldn't come back here again."

I could see her logic, but that didn't make it any less a kick in the teeth. "Elain and Father deserve proper goodbyes."

"It's too much of a risk," she said, eyes flashing dangerously. It would be ugly if I tried to fight her on this; Nesta, who had once put herself in front of Elain and left me to the beast that broke into our cabin, would always protect our middle sister, even if that meant casting me aside.

I should have been used to that by now, but it still hurt.

"Then at least allow the sentries around the manor to stay. There are far too many fae who would wish us harm, and their numbers will only increase if war breaks out like we fear."

"As long as the sentries keep their distance."

They would, but of course Nesta had no reason to be sure of that. A thought struck me. "They answer to Cassian, Rhys's general. I could send him to meet with you and discuss the specifics, if that would ease your mind."

I expected Nesta to balk at interacting with any more faeries, but she asked, "Does he listen to orders?"

"He will if you give them. My position as Lady of Night makes you and Elain something akin to princesses in Prythian." Mor had explained it to me once, though I wasn't interested enough to remember the details about ranks and noble titles. It would matter to Nesta, though.

She nodded once, then stared down at her hands, which were folded in her lap. "Thank you," she said, a bit more softly, "and for what it's worth, this is easier, knowing you've gotten everything you deserve. After that beast took you away, it's a relief, truly, to know that Rhysand loves you and is keeping you safe."

I stilled. It was beyond a doubt the kindest thing Nesta had ever said to me. I hadn't thought she'd cared at all what had become of me in Prythian.

"Elain said—said that you tried to visit me," I said, my throat so tight I barely got the words out.

"I got to the Wall. I couldn't find a way through."

“You trekked two days there and two days back—through the winter woods?”

“I hired that mercenary from town to bring me a week after you were taken. With the money from your pelt. She was the only one who seemed like she would believe me.”

“You did that—for me?” Rhys was the only person in the world that I'd truly believed would bother, and no matter how much he loved me, a mating bond made everything different. Mor had tried to soften the truth on my first day in the Night Court, but even she had admitted the Inner Circle was duty-bound to protect their High Lord's mate, and I'd only become their friend later.

"What Tamlin did to you—it wasn't right. None of it was right."

Nesta finally met my gaze, and for once, the fire in her blue-grey eyes wasn't intended to burn me. We weren't drowning anymore—the lifeline of her anger was unnecessary now, and she knew it. In her darkened bedroom in a too-clean manor, we'd found just enough safety that she'd let me know she cared.

Underneath it all, Nesta cared, more deeply and loyally than I'd been able to comprehend.

There were no words for that. I launched myself at her, and Nesta went stiff in my arms as I embraced her. She didn't hug me back, just…patted my upper back awkwardly after a moment. I didn't mind—that was downright affectionate from her.

I pulled away and said, "If I'm unable to return here, will— will I at least be able to write?"

"Is there a way to ensure your correspondence stays private?"

I caught the meaning behind that—Nesta was confident in her own ability to keep a secret, but she knew too little about my own situation to be sure I could do the same. It wouldn't have crossed my mind—after all, I hadn't even learned to read until Rhys ensured I was taught—but my sister had been expected to marry a prince one day. She'd been trained for a life where sensitive letters falling into the wrong hands could cause a reputation-ruining scandal.

She was right to ask, though, so I explained how paper spelled to vanish was used to pass messages across Prythian. And by some miracle…she agreed to let me leave some with her.

"Rhys can deliver it tonight, if that's alright," I said; I'd feel better knowing it was in her hands when I left. Nesta nodded her assent. "Give me a moment to ask him, then."

Ignoring the grimace Nesta made as my gaze went distant, I gave the gentlest tug on the bond I could. I was still met with a wave of blind protectbitemaimkill panic the moment Rhys's shields dropped. He hadn't expected to hear from me until morning.

All is well, I said, reaching for the beast. I could feel its hackles rising in the back of my mind.

With a mental hand, I scratched a sensitive spot on its chin, right under the maw with its rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth, the thing that threatened to gobble up sleeping fae in their nightmares. Its eyes closed at my touch, and it purred like an affectionate cat.

Nothing's amiss. I just have a favor to ask, I added.

Anything. You know that, he said. I was dimly aware of a spiral of anxiety—some sort of fear that I didn't know that. Stroking the beast's flank like it was a nervous horse, I kicked the worry away.

If it's not too much trouble, could you please bring us some of the enchanted paper you use for correspondence? I'd like to make sure Nesta has a way to contact me directly.

Talons shifted into fingers that gently tucked an errant strand of my hair behind my ear. There's no such thing as too much trouble where you're concerned. Call for me again when you want me there.

Thank you. Just as I'd kicked away his concern, I felt his claw shred my lingering discomfort at asking him to do something on my behalf.

His mind began to pull away from mine, but he stopped halfway. Are you sure you're alright? The emotions on your side of the bond seem to be…churning.

I hesitated. There was no point in lying, but I was tempted to say we'd talk about it later. I didn't want him to worry any further, either. For now, I could give Rhys the bare minimum. I learned that Nesta tried to go to the Wall and bring me back after I was taken. She wasn't able to get through, though.

An image flashed across the bond before Rhys could stop it—a female with his pointed ears, violet eyes, and massive wingspan. She was standing on one of the footbridges that spanned the Sidra, her head thrown back in raucous laughter and the lights of the Rainbow sparkling behind her. A happy memory, but at the same time, it felt like looking at a painful, howling void.

Another younger sister whose elder sibling hadn't been able to save her. But unlike me, she didn't have a mate who'd eventually swooped in and brought her to safety.

I'll see you soon, Rhys said, then dropped his shields before I had a chance to respond.

Nesta quickly pinned her hair up and changed into a gown, but I didn't bother. Regardless, it gave Rhys time to pass through the Wall again. When she assured me she was ready, I gave another light tug on the bond.

Rhys appeared with nothing more than a gust of night-kissed wind so gentle it barely made the curtains flutter. He held a small, black-and-silver box in one hand, identical to one I'd seen holding blank paper on his desk in the House of Wind. He'd had the good sense to hide his wings, and the leash on his power was tighter than I'd ever felt it.

Even when he subdued himself, Rhys still felt too enormous and otherworldly for this side of the Wall. Between the night still clinging to him and the width of his obnoxiously broad shoulders, he seemed to take up the whole room.

And yet, as if he were an entirely normal person and none of the current circumstances were bizarre, he pressed a chaste kiss to my cheek and said, "Hello, Feyre darling."

To her credit, Nesta didn't flinch. Or hiss at him. Which already meant this was going better than I'd anticipated.

Before either of them could make this worse, I said, "This is my sister, Nesta Archeron. Nesta, this is my mate, Rhysand."

To my shock Rhys bent at the waist and bowed—actually bowed—to my sister. Polite and graceful, his upbringing as a crown prince on full display and all signs of the Illyrian warrior hidden.

Nesta's face was frozen in a mask of cold indifference. "No surname?" she said, and those two words were enough to let a nasty implication hang in the air—that Rhys wasn't pedigreed, despite being a High Lord.

His mother had been a seamstress, after all. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Nesta could smell that on him.

Rhys didn't blink. "Archeron. Or at least, it will be when we're ready to make the mating bond public knowledge."

It was a small miracle I caught myself before my mouth gaped open in surprise; he hadn't told me he'd intended to take my name. A glimmer of wicked amusement and a twinge of pride floated down the bond towards me.

Nesta, however, just cocked her head like she was sizing up an opponent, almost exactly the way Cassian did in the training ring. "I won't be mocked in my own home. You can leave."

"I'd rather be known as Feyre's mate than my father's son," Rhys said, picking invisible lint off his tunic in a gesture that was clearly calculated to look as nonchalant as possible. "I'm not mocking you. Feyre is an infinitely better person than he ever was."

Nesta went quiet. I wondered if it was as strange for her as it was for me to hear someone call me good and mean it. Rhys glanced at me, his expression melting into something soft for a moment, and Nesta tracked his movement like a hawk.

Before the silence stretched long enough to become awkward, Rhys held the box of stationery out to her and added, "This is for you."

Nesta flicked her hand towards the writing desk, an imperiousness gesture of a queen directing a servant. "Top drawer on the left," she said. An order, not a request.

She was testing him, I realized. Or had thrown down a gauntlet. Maybe both. Whatever was happening between Nesta and Rhys was some sort of courtier bullshit I was too feral to understand. Rhys did as she said, and I wasn't sure if that meant he'd lost or conceded something.

Regardless, there was no reason for Rhys to linger—and I suspected my sister would bite his head off if he tried. He said something blandly polite to Nesta about it being a pleasure to finally meet her, kissed my cheek again, and winnowed away.

When he was gone, I looked at Nesta expectantly and braced myself for whatever cutting remark was coming. She was already grimacing as if he'd tracked mud all over the floor.

My chest squeezed. Not that I needed anyone's approval, but as mates, Rhys's and my coupling had been had been quite literally blessed by the Mother herself. And I'd spent years shrugging off Nesta's scornful comments about damn near every choice I made.

I shouldn't have cared what she thought. But…for whatever reason, in this matter, I did.

"You two are so besotted with each other, it's disgusting," Nesta spat. It was congratulations enough.

I smiled. "You aren't the first person to say that about us."

There wasn't much else to discuss after that. Nesta and I sat in silence together as we burned the chunk of wood from the table in the fireplace in her bedroom. I felt something settle between us as the last piece of the cabin that she'd been holding onto was reduced to ash.

I returned to my room and managed a few hours of sleep before slipping out of the manor before dawn without saying goodbye. Before bed, Elain had said to bring the paints that she'd bought for me back to Aunt Ripleigh's, so I took them with and left her the first thank you note I'd ever managed to write by myself.

It was easier to go without facing either of my sisters again.

When I met Rhys in the woods, I threw myself at him so forcefully that he stumbled back a few steps and nearly hit a tree. "I missed you too," he said, hooking an arm under my knees as he scooped me up to fly.

Something about being in the mortal lands again—or if I was truly honest, being around my family again—had reawakened that stupid, childish part of me that wanted to cry out until I was fussed over. A bit embarrassed, I pressed my face to his chest and wished I could scent him like a faerie. But instead, all I could smell was the laundry soap we both used. Maybe that was better than nothing.

"It was a long night," I said, and he pressed a kiss to my temple.

The world faded to smoke and shadow, and then I felt that peculiar sense of being torn in two for the space of a heartbeat as we passed through the Wall. Rhys could have winnowed us again, but he continued flying above the sea for a while, probably to get the practice in to strengthen his wings.

Being cradled, his warmth and nearness, the rhythm of wingbeats, the salt air…it soothed me. Dawn was breaking, turning the sky and the sea golden. Rhys, painfully beautiful as always, was positively glowing in the light; his skin was returning to a healthy brown, the unnatural paleness from years underground almost gone. I wanted to paint it.

"With Nesta, why were you so…" I said, then trailed off, unsure of the right word. Rhys's whole demeanor had been subdued, but there had been more to it than just that. Now that I thought about it… "You didn't smirk once. That's not like you."

His face was solemn. "If my sister had inadvertently accepted a mating bond, I'd expect her mate to have his tail between his legs when she brought him home to meet me."

Once, I would have scoffed at the idea Nesta cared at all about how a man or male treated me. But she'd tried to save me. If Rhys had seemed at all like a threat, then…Nesta would have faced down the Lord of Nightmares to get me back.

I still didn't quite know what to make of that.

"Would you have tried to get my father's blessing if he'd been there?"

"Cauldron, no. You're your own person and make your own choices." He sounded affronted I'd even suggest it.

"Then why be so restrained around Nesta?"

"I don't like being thought of as an ill-mannered brute."

I could imagine how often insults like that had been flung at him for being Illyrian, probably from people just as adept as sneering down their noses as Nesta was. And yet, even though I knew Rhys well, it was still a bit strange to hear from a faerie when so many of his kind considered humans to be half-wild beasts below their notice.

Strange, but…not unwelcome.

"For what it's worth, you're not all ill-mannered brute at all," I said, smiling, "but you are a prick, though."

Rhys's wicked grin was the only warning before he gripped me tighter and tilted us into a barrel roll so swift and dizzying that I would have emptied the contents of my stomach if I'd eaten. I screamed, but the wind tore the words away.

He laughed, and it was impossible to snap an irritated response when the joy was so plain on his face. We settled into a smooth glide.

"We need to winnow the rest of the way back soon," he said once the roaring wind died down. "Cassian wants to spar, and if you're late for training, Az will ensure you pay for it."

I wouldn't expect anything less. We faded into the morning mist, and when the Night Court materialized around us, I'd never been happier to be home again.

[davisexplainableart]

LADIES AND GENTLEMAN! (SETLIST)

Make way for (a band who is not) THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS!!!!!

Thank you to everyone who came out to last night's show. I didn't realize until we finished that the show went on for so long.

But it's probably because of how many songs we played.

Before we begin, here is a sort of key to explain certain things in the text below...

This means that I sang a song and no one else.

This means that I sang a song, with Chao on backing vocals.

This means that Magnifo sang a song, with me on backing vocals.

This means that I sang a song, with Magnifo and Chao on backing vocals.

This means that Magnifo sang a song, with Chao and I on backing vocals.

When "->" is shown right before a song's name, it means that we went right into that song, with little to no banter.

Alright, here's the setlist for last night's show (with fun facts for some of them):

Act I - Tape Recorder Set:

(began with Countdown Intro over the PA)

1. Put Your Head Inside The Puppet Head

Played in the original key.

During the bridge, I yelled "AWESOME GUITAR SOLO" a bunch, similar to how John Flansburgh did that once when playing this song back in 1987.

2. Cowtown

Due to people being asked to stay seated, we asked the audience to pretend that they were doing a square dance.

3. Whistling In The Dark

W/ Magnifo playing the chest-mounted bass drum.

Played in B Major, like how the Johns played it before the backing band (rather than C Major like how it's played nowadays).

Before the song started, we stated that the bass drum's only purpose was for this song.

4. Kiss Me, Son Of God

Before the song started, I made a passing reference to the time that TMBG played this song on TV, but then the broadcast stopped once they sang a certain part of the song.

5. Birdhouse In Your Soul

Played in the original key, just like how it was played back in 1989.

Before the song started, I jokingly stated that because of the different key, the song hadn't been played in nearly 35 years.

6. Particle Man

Before the song started, I mentioned that one of the characters in the song (Triangle Man) was the main character in Kiss Me, Son Of God (referencing a Linnell interview from 1990).

7. Nothing's Gonna Change My Clothes

Before the song started, Magnifo joked about how this song only applied to him and I, since we were the only Mixels wearing clothes that night.

8. The Statue Got Me High

9. I've Got A Match

Before the song started, I apologized for stating that Birdhouse hadn't been played in decades, and that I got my notes mixed up.

For some reason, the audience was booing me for this (at least until I revealed that the next song was "I've Got A Match").

10. Sapphire Bullets Of Pure Love

Introduced as '"stelluB" in reverse'.

11. Dig My Grave

Right before the song started, I stated that when you first played the album Apollo 18, you would hear this song.

12. 32 Footsteps

W/ Magnifo playing the "Special 20" harmonica.

Similar to Whistling In The Dark, I stated that the only reason this particular harmonica was created was for this song.

13. Ana Ng

W/ Chao singing the "I don't the world" part.

14. Shoehorn With Teeth

W/ Chao playing the glockenspiel.

Magnifo and Chao wore long, rolled-up carpets for hats. When asked why I didn't wear one, I said "Does this look like a head that you could fit a hat like that on?"

15. Your Racist Friend

16. -> Lucky Ball & Chain

17. Lie Still, Little Bottle

W/ Chao on the saxophone, and me using my tail as the percussion in place of "The Stick", since Gobba (the one in charge of keeping an eye on The Stick) wasn't feeling well.

18. Rhythm Section Want Ad

At least twice, I impulsively replaced "dollar signs" with "dollop signs" (dollops are the currency in the Chowder universe btw).

In the 2nd run-through of the "Olive Oil on purpose" part, I sang "You guys must be into Oasis!" instead of "Eurythmics", for some reason.

Act II - Full Band Set (began after a 10-minute intermission):

(Began with "They Might Be Giants (Alt. Version)" over the PA)

19. She's An Angel

After the song, we stated that we weren't done with the older song just yet, and that some would be played during this set.

20. Experimental Film

I introduced the song my mentioning the music video made by the Brothers Chaps from Homestar Runner.

Speaking of the Brothers Chaps, yes, I have seen the new music video for Limozeen's "Zeenin' Into The Night". In fact, I've seen it quite a few times already.

21. Why Does The Sun Shine?

No, I didn't say anything weird for the "nuclear reaction between..." part. That's Footi's thing, not mine.

22. -> Twisting

23. Older

During the "And time... is still marching on" part, I briefly made it seem like we were gonna do the long pause that TMBG does when they play Older live, but then I said that I was just kidding only a few seconds later.

24. Brontosaurus

Featuring our horn section on this and the next song (now if only I could remember all the members of the horn section. Was Burnard one of the members?).

25. Doctor Worm

W/ I Enjoy Being A Boy during the bridge.

I dedicated this song to Parnell from the Mighty Bug 5, since he also plays the drums, just like the titular Doctor Worm.

26. Absolutely Bill's Mood

Yes, I did the "thank you" bit. Why would I not?

27. -> You're On Fire

We replaced "Oh d**n" with "Oh man". I don't think anyone in the audience noticed.

28. Stuff Is Way

29. T-Shirt

Since the sound of the song is very clearly inspired by it, we did a bit of interpolating with Led Zeppelin's Moby Dick at the end.

30. -> (She Was A) Hotel Detective

Featuring the horn section again.

31. Prevenge

The "calling Mr. Pupkin" part was played over the PA, just like TMBG did when they played this song live.

32. Unforgotten

33. They Got Lost

We specifically played what I called the "medium version that was played in September 1997", rather than the slow or fast versions.

In the 3rd verse, I sang "Tony said to Brian" as a reference to some of TMBG's backing band members from the 90s.

34. Lazy

35. Sleeping in the Flowers

Played for John Henry's 30th anniversary.

While I took on Linnell's vocals in the chorus, I also did the "I've got a..." part, due to Magnifo's limited vocal range.

36. Fingertips:

Everything Is Catching On Fire

Fingertips (#1)

I Hear The Wind Blow

Hey Now Everybody

Who Is That Standing Out The Window

I Found A New Friend Underneath My Pillow

Come On And Wreck My Car

Aren't You The Guy Who Hit Me In The Eye?

Please Pass The Milk

Leave Me Alone

Who's Knocking On The Wall?

All Alone, All By Myself

What's That Blue Thing Doing Here?

Something Grabbed Ahold Of My Hand

I Don't Understand You

I Heard A Sound

Mysterious Whisper (we asked the crowd to sway their arms around during this part)

The Day That Love Came To Play

I'm Having A Heart Attack

Fingertips (#2)

I Walk Along Darkened Corridors (complete with the rocking outro)

Encore (tape-recorder returns):

37. Thinking Machine

All lights were turned off for this, since all we needed to do was sing.

This was the hardest song I tried to sing last night... mainly because I could barely keep a straight face from how stupid and silly some of Magnifo's lyrics were.

38. Mr. Me

39. Don't Let's Start

Alright, that's everything. See you again tomorrow for another Fridays picture!

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 10

The Darkling x Reader

*I’ve changed this part like 5 times so if there’s any inconsistencies I do apologize 😝

In a perfect world, you and Aleksander would have spent the day in his luxurious bed surrounded by his soft silk sheets. You felt an overwhelming feeling to open up to him, to tell him everything that happened to you since you saw him last, nearly a century ago, but life has a way to ruin perfect opportunities.

Wars didn't take breaks or vacations, they got more deadly as time went on and each side got more nervous as more people gave their lives to the cause. A solution was necessary and from your understanding, Aleksander still had the same plan as he did all those years ago he just had a different way to go about them. No doubt Alina was at the center of them.

You had business to attend to too. The first on the list was a meeting with the council. The King and his advisors were to be there to 'greet' you with open arms, but you were sure you'd have to put on a quick performance of your abilities to satisfy their curious minds.

Maybe that's why he gave me the shadows, to ensure my position. You quickly brushed off the thought. It didn't really matter to you why he did what he did. You had your shadows back. He claimed protection, but you knew there was a different reason behind it as well. It seemed too quick and too easy in your opinion but who were you to judge what kind of trust he truly had in you. You felt comfort that you always had piece of him wherever you went.

On a lighter note, you could finally wear a black kefta. The thought itself had you quickly leaping out of his bed and skipping to your chambers in a mere robe through the secret passages of the Palace. You didn't want anybody to see you leaving his quarters, not in the state you were in. You needed to grab a Healer and get rid of those very visible marks on your neck that Aleksander took his time creating. He intended to mark you as his own but jokes on him, you never wanted to belong to anybody but yourself.

Time passed and servents scurried in and out of your chambers, carrying information from here there and everywhere. You were already overwhelmed with tasks and your position wasn't even announced to the Palace yet. You were still the mysterious Grisha that served with the Darkling, not for.

Your vanity was covered in papers and reports in handwriting you had trouble reading and your bed had maps strung across it. Aleksander truly meant it when he said he would get you started right away and share his responsibilities as soon as he got the chance.

When the time finally came, you were escorted to the Grand Palace with Aleksander walking right next to you. The conversation was devoted to work and nothing else, Fjerdan intel, rumors of West Ravka and Zlatan, and upcoming skiff journeys but you didn't mind. You were damn good at your job, having started out in the First Army and then joining the Second Army had given you experience not even the General had, it's what made you the first pick when dealing with plans involving otkazat'sya soldiers, they respected you. I wonder if they will now.

You had spent 3 years in the First Army once upon a time. You came from a wealthy merchant family, a family full of drunks and abusers and cowards. You gave up the feeling of a full stomach and duck-feathered beds for the rations of the army once your mother admitted to you being a bastard and not worthy of the family name. What a shame. Look at me now.

You never knew what you could do, but a slip-up with a Tidemaker had you served to the Darkling on a silver platter. He was meaner then, more unforgiving. Your years spent with him after that had changed him, made him better in your eyes. You fell for him, hard, even though there was so much death and destruction in his wake. When you love somebody, it’s easy to see past all of the nasty stuff and focus on whatever is left of the good and Aleksander still had an abundance of if.

You could still remember his cold stare as he asked you what the hell you were. After pleading with him that you didn't know and his Heartrenderer confirming it, he whisked you away to the Little Palace where soon enough you had become his equal, if not his superior.

'I actually wanted to ask you something about one of the Grisha in the Palace. I seen her with Alina, red-hair, big blue eyes... she wore a white kefta?' You said as you wlaked down a mirrored hallway in the Royal building.

'Oh, that's Genya Saffin. She works for the King and Queen.' He said with an underlying tone of irritation.

'What does she do? She wears a white kefta so I'm just curious'

'She's a tailor. Member of the Corporalki. She should be wearing red, I know. But trust me the time will come' He ushered us both into a guarded room of glitering gold and pearly white walls. So tacky. I could make out the king slumped in an overdone throne-like chair.

'Moi tsar' you and Aleksander bowed much to your distastes. You hoped nobody had seen the brief look of disgust wash over your face as the Lanstov King rose and gave his advisors a raised eyebrow, signalling to you. A man wearing a navy uniform looked at you like a piece of meat ready to be devoured. I'm gonna throw up.

'Deputy General Y/L/N is it?' He took your hand in his own sweaty one gave it a wet kiss. 'You Grisha are always easy on the eyes aren't you?'

You took a step back and cleared your throat. 'Yes, Moi Tsar, it is an honour to make your acquantance' You tried so hard to keep your fists at your sides.

'And what can you bring to the war table, apart from the newest fashion' He let out an obnoxious laugh and his advisors followed. They all looked smug and spoiled. None of them had any idea what the real world looked like and yet had the audacity to sit this council. I'll show them what it means to be powerful.

Aleksander stepped away to the side and gave you a nod. You slowly unravlled your fist and plunged the room into darkness while simultanseoly blowing a strong wind throughout the space, letting papers fly in all directions and the fire go out. You relit it, and every candle in the room. The man in the navy unifrom got the runt of your powers, as you slowly medled with his heart until he breathed a worried laugh 'Stop it Girl'.

But you didn't stop, you carefully stared at the chair the man sat in and pushed it just enough for him to let out a yell. You accidently let out a chuckle that was meant to be in your head. You felt Aleksander move toward you 'All right, that should be enough' He said visibly amused too. You let it all drop.

'It's Deputy General to you' You looked at his fearful face that tried to cover by fixing his jacket and whiping away invisible dust off of his shoulder.

'I must say I am impressed. With the Sun-Summoner and... you, we will have West Ravka and the surroundings begging for our alliances.' He sat down on his chair once again and pointed to an empty one across from him and to the right of Aleksander, who unbeknownst to you had already seated himself.

'Please, Deputy General, do take a seat, we have business to tend to'

****

A painful 2 hours later you and Aleksander walked out of the Grand Palace. You had a headache and your hands hurt from clentching them so hard.

'I'm assuming you sitting the King's meetings for me is off the table now?' Aleksander mused and all you could do was give him a side-eye.

'I think I want to kill him'

'In due time'

You weren't even surprised. If he didn't do it himself you definitely would have taken one for the team. That man is unbearable; like a child in a grown man's body.

As you wallked into your home, Aleksander gently took hold of your wrist and pulled you in the direction of his quarters.

'Come'

Your head was pounding too much to say no so you obliged. The hallways were bare of people, not a Grisha in sight.

You reached his war room doors and walked in after him. He pulled out a map and laid it down.

'I've sent out a First-Army search for the Stag.'

You paused. The headache suddenly gone. Morozova’s Stag. He had tried once before and failed. The weeks following his failure sent him into a frenzy, he questioned Morazovas journals and almost burned them all, but you had gotten to him last-minute. You never doubted the stag to be real. You just never believed he would use it. He's powerful on his own unless- it's for Alina.

You audibly sighed and leaned your back against the table. Alina.

'Does she want it?'

'Does that matter?'

‘Of course it matters!’ You scorned but he stayed silent.

You turned to look at him and whispered 'What are you planning this time?' He had been dropping hints here and there, but so far there was no plan you knew of. 'I can't help you if I don't know the plan'

'No. You're better of not knowing anything. I can't lose you again' you turned you head and looked at his side profile.

'But you need me. I'm powerful, I can lead an army'

'If anything happens you can take over for me then, Deputy.' He cocked a sad smile and left a lingering kiss on your forhead before he left you standing in the war room alone and confused.

Part 11

Taglist

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal

[evafrechette]

It’s a Match

↠ yoongi x jimin | smut | hookup au | 18+ | 3.4K

↠ Summary: Loneliness can make you do questionable things. Like signing up to a dating app to suck the cock of a stranger.

↠ Warnings: deep throating, public blowjobs, cum sharing, kind of a social media au - but not, drunk Yoongi, flirting, masturbation, gagging.

Yoongi never thought he'd be desperate enough to download the app on his phone, but here he was at 11:37 on a Friday night, finger hovering over the install button.

"Ahhh fuck it.."

He clicked and watched as the app downloaded and installed on his phone. He never thought it would get to this point. He'd been single for years. Preferring his own company, he never found it necessary to date. People annoyed him, too loud, too intrusive, too manipulative. So he remained alone. But 4 years is a long time to be on your own and he was starting to grow tired of his own hand. Plus he'd watched evey fucking video there was on his favourite porn site a year ago. That should have been the sign he needed to get laid, but his dumb ass wallowed in misery for another 12 months and that's why he's here now, creating a profile in the hopes of getting fucked this weekend.

A frown formed on Yoongi's face, he had been scrolling through profiles for the last 30 minutes and hadn't matched with anyone. He knew it was because he was being incredibly picky, swiping left on nearly every single profile he'd come across. He wasn't gonna get his dick sucked carrying on like this. He swiped left on a profile of a man in his 40s - already starting to bald, arms wrapped around a girl half his age - when his eyes landed upon the profile of a young man.

Yoongi was intrigued. The man had the prettiest face Yoongi had ever seen, beautiful plush lips pulled into a seductive smile, with his blond bangs hanging over his eyes. Yoongi clicked to view the profile in full, Jimin - the beautiful man's name was Jimin. He used emojis in his profile, which made Yoongi let out a frustrated groan. He hated emojis, too childish. He continued to read the profile and decided that the two of them were too different and even though the man was beautiful he would swipe left, like he had been all night. Maybe it was an accident or maybe Yoongi's subconscious wanted those plush lips around his cock, because instead of swiping left he swiped right.

He put the phone down and got up to make a drink. He shouldn't have a coffee this late, but apparently he was living recklessly tonight. With the steaming hot drink in his hand he climbed back onto his bed. He took a sip of the dark hot liquid when he heard the ding of a notification. He cautiously leaned over and grabbed the phone, swiping away his lock screen. He could see that he had been notified of a match, so he quickly opened the app, curious as to which one of the very small pool of men he'd swiped right on that would like him back. Yoongi could feel his cheeks starting to heat up. He didn't expect to match with the blond with the lips to die for. Not only that, but the man had messaged him too.

Yoongi couldn't tell him the truth, he WAS going to swipe left, what the fuck happened with that anyway.

Yoongi choked on his coffee, Jimin looked like an angel, but an angel wouldn't talk that way. How the hell does he respond to that? Does he even want to respond to that? He placed his coffee on the side table and dragged his hand through his hair. If he didn't take this opportunity his blue balls would actually kill him. Well fuck, his response just made him sound like the world's most pathetic asshole.

Yoongi checked the time, it was quite early in the morning now. The coffee had helped wake him up, but the prospect of meeting with the cute man had him feeling even more awake than what was humanly possible. The two of them talked for the next few hours. Sharing stories of their worst dates, childhood pets, who was more powerful Superman or Ironman and their favourite songs. Yoongi finally said goodnight and put his phone on the charger. They had agreed to met at Jimin's favourite bar the 'Hit List' at 8pm that night. Seventeen hours for Yoongi to work himself up into a worried hot ass mess. Fucking great. And yet as he stared up at the ceiling a small smile broke out on his face.

Yoongi spent his Saturday doing everything he possibly could to distract himself from his date that evening. Was it a date? Do you call meeting some random off the internet to possibly fuck a date? He was too old for this shit. He rearranged his vinyl collection, read a decent chunk of his new book and practiced a few new songs on his guitar. Once the sky had turned a beautiful shade of orange and pink Yoongi knew he had to stop stalling and get his ass ready. He took an extra long shower, debating on whether to do some manscaping (since all the young kids do it these days) before deciding not to. He liked his bush, and if pretty boy wasn't a fan well tough shit for him.

He teamed his black and white shirt with a pair of black jeans ripped at the knee, a leather jacket and finished it off with a few pieces of jewellery. With one last look in the mirror Yoongi slid his phone and wallet into the pocket of his jeans and left his apartment. Just as he stepped into the lift his phone pinged. It was a message from Jimin.

*******************

Jimin is sitting at the bar when Yoongi arrives. He's deep in conversation with the bartender, so Yoongi stands by the entrance awkwardly looking around. It's a nice place, very quiet and intimate. It's dark, a few low hanging lights scattered around and tealight candles sitting in a whisky glass on each table. To his right is a large floor to ceiling window, surrounded by a mix match of old leather chairs. There is a faint smell of smoke in the air. Oddly this smell starts to calm Yoongi down, it reminds him of his grandfather. Okay, now he's nervous again. Thinking of his grandfather at a time like this?

"I'm a fucking mess." he mutters to himself as he walks over to the bar.

"Uhh sorry to interrupt, Jimin right?"

The blond turns his head and smiles, he is really more beautiful in real life Yoongi thinks to himself. He's wearing a black shirt with one too many buttons undone, his hair parted in the middle falling gracefully to each side framing his angelic looking face.

"Mmm that's right and you are?"

Um what?! Fuck, Yoongi knew he made a mistake by coming here. Ahh fuck, why did he have to make that stupid profile? He loved Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2, he could have easily watched it 100 more times.

"Relax cutie, I'm just playing, you should have seen your face," a giggle escaped from Jimin's lips. "Nice to meet you Yoongi." he stood up and extended his hand out to shake. Yoongi quickly wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans and returned the handshake. Jimin's hand was engulfed in Yoongi's. He looked down and couldn't help but smile at the scene. Jimin's hands were so petite compared to his. It was a rather lovely sight.

"Order yourself a drink and we'll go sit over there." he pointed to the leather chairs Yoongi has been eyeing up earlier. He ordered an Irish Mule for himself and a Negroni for Jimin. He carried the drinks to the table, while Jimin followed closely behind. A little too close Yoongi thought. He could smell his perfume starting to mix with the smoke smell. It was a delicious combination.

The first half an hour was straight up torture for Yoongi. Even though the two of them had spent the night messaging each other it was different once he was sitting face to face with the most stunning man in all of Seoul. Yoongi avoided eye contact, mumbled and laughed dryly at Jimin's jokes. He was well and truly fucking this entire thing up.

Jimin huffed "You don't have to stick around you know, you can leave whenever you want."

Yep. He had fucked this up.

"Uhh it's not that," Yoongi starts to bite at his thumb nail "Jimin, I'm terrible at this. People stress me the fuck out, I haven't been laid in four years, I don't like leaving my apartment, you are lovely, fantastic even and that's making me even more nervous."

Jimin played with the hoop in his ear while looking directly at Yoongi, he tilted his head to the side "How can I help you relax? I thought we clicked last night?"

They did

"I'm sorry I make you nervous, I can't help it that I'm so cute." Yoongi finally looked into Jimin's eyes and they burst into laughter.

"It's not your fault. Fuck it, I need another drink . . or five that will help." he rolled his eyes before waking back to the bar.

With a few more drinks in him Yoongi was relaxed, he could feel the whiskey warming up his body. The heat in his stomach though, he was sure that was because of the attractive man sitting in front of him. The discomfort had finally vanished and instead a mellowness had fallen over the two.

"I've always liked older men." Jimin purred, his delicate small fingers, adorned with multiple silver rings, brushing against the now half empty glass.

"Aiisshh I'm only two years older than you!" Yoongi huffed, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yeah, but you act like you're nearly 60.” Jimin let out a hearty laugh, his eyes turning into crescents, cheeks plump and slightly pink. He slapped the table causing their glasses to shake. Yoongi quickly grabbed his to prevent it from spilling.

"It's not that funny." he didn't want to admit it, but the blond's laugh was hypnotic, he could watch Jimin laugh for hours and never tire of it.

Jimin straightened up, fingers now tracing the rim of the glass "I bet you don't fuck like an old man though."

Yoongi gulped and looked directly into Jimin's brown eyes, gone was the playful light, it was now replaced with desperate firey lust. He knew what the outcome of this date could be, and yet he was still nervous. He could feel his heart starting to race, his breath becoming faster. "Aaahh shit" Yoongi thought to himself as his left hand started to twitch, the blond's smell - a mix of orange blossom and patchouli was becoming overwhelming, he needed to calm down, he'd cum within seconds if he didn't get his shit under control.

"Heh, well I guess you'll find out later huh?"

Jimin reached over and ran his soft fingers over Yoongi's hand, playing with the bracelets that sat around his wrist.

"Why don't I find out now?"

Yoongi's friends love roasting him for his personality change when drunk. All of a sudden the quiet reserved man becomes giggly and loud. Cracking terrible jokes and singing at the top of his lungs. Sober Yoongi would never dare dream of taking a stranger to the bathroom to jerk off. Drunk Yoongi though? Try to stop him.

"Mmm Jiminshi are you sure?”

Jimin giggled at this "You are SO cute" he continued to draw his fingers over Yoongis hands "Of course I'm sure, do you wanna go back to mine? Or we could go to yours if you're more comfortable with that..."

Without thinking Yoongi stood, grabbed the blonds arm and pulled him up. They walked towards the exit, but before descending the stairs they took a left and made their way into the restroom. Once inside Yoongi pushed Jimin against the door and started kissing at his neck. "Fuck! Jimin, there is no way in hell I can wait to get back to my place, I need to feel you now." Yoongi whispered between kisses.

Yoongi leaned down and kissed his exposed chest, thank fuck Jimin had left those top buttons open. They had been torturing Yoongi all night long, but now he was thankful for it. Jimin's skin was so soft and it faintly smelled like cherry blossom lotion but he wanted more. He was desperate for more. Jimin ran his hands through Yoongi's hair and grabbed hard. Small moans escaped his lips, which drew Yoongi even crazier. He undid the buttons on his shirt and stood back. Jimin had the body of a god. Perfectly sculptured, with beautiful brown nipples begging to be sucked on. Who was Yoongi to deny god his wish?

Jimin let out a squeak when Yoongi ran his tongue over his nipples, hungrily licking and sucking at them. His right hand found it's way to the bulge in Jimin's pants and he pressed his palm down onto it. Jimin was now starting to get louder which made Yoongi smirk, he lightly nipped on Jimin's nipple before standing up and leaning in to sloppily kiss Jimin on those perfect, perfect lips, the taste of spice and bitterness still lingering.

"Uuuhhh Hyung, please touch me."

"That's what I'm doing Jimin."

"No you asshole, I want to feel you properly, get my fucking dick out." Yoongi stopped and looked at Jimin, slightly taken back by the tone of his voice. But he just smiled back - a wicked smile.

Yoongi got onto his knees and began undoing the zip of Jimin's pants. He pulled them down to his ankles, he then drew his hands up Jimin's legs, enjoying how smooth they were. He palmed Jimin's cock through his underwear eliciting a moan from the man above him. Yoongi pressed his face into Jimin's clothed cock. He took a deep breath, Jimin smelled wicked, his arousal mixed with body lotion was rousing. He alternated between sucking and licking on the cock trapped behind Calvin Klein underwear. He repeated this action a few more times before finally removing the now very damp briefs.

Jimin wasn't the biggest cock Yoongi had ever seen, but he was thick and absolutely smooth. He stroked his long fingers over his chiseled abs, along Jimin's length and then down to his balls which he cupped in his hand, massaging back and forth. He let go and brought his hand to his mouth, running his tongue over his entire palm. It was so fucking dirty and Jimin shuddered at the sight. He reached back up and gripped Jimin's cock in his now saliva covered hand. He drew his hand up and down at a frantic pace. He was too worked up to go any slower, but Jimin didn't seem to mind by the noises he was making. Oh shit, he was being too loud now. They'd get caught and thrown out or even worse the cops called.

"Shit Jimin, you need to be quiet or someone will hear us.”

“Mmm Yoongi I don't think I can cutie, why do you think I said we should get out of here."

Yoongi huffed and slowed his hand down. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Jimin's briefs, so he picked them up, stood and shoved them in Jimin's mouth.

"That should shut you up.... Is that okay? I can take them out if you don't like it.”

Jimin shook his head and moaned around the underwear. His mouth was stretched open and drool already starting to pool at the corners. What a fucking beautiful thing to witness. Pleased with himself Yoongi got back on his knees and kissed the tip of Jimin's cock. His tongue played with the slit, circling it before he slowly kissed down each side of his shaft. He then licked the base to tip, never taking his eyes off Jimin's. They both looked so fucked already, pupils blown out, flushed cheeks and lips swollen from the rough kissing earlier.

He started pumping slowly, wanting to tease Jimin a little, the blond was impatient though and bucked his hips into Yoongi's fist, letting him know he wanted and desperately needed it faster. Yoongi let out a small chuckle and started to move his hand at a pace the gorgeous man would enjoy. Muffled moans of pleasure let Yoongi know he had found the magic speed. He continued like this for a few minutes before letting go and taking Jimin's cock in his mouth. Oh he tasted good - of course he did he was perfect in every way why would this be any different? Yoongi hollowed his cheeks as he bobbed up and down on Jimin's length, taking it deep before pulling up and letting go with a 'pop'.

He took hold of Jimin's cock and rubbed his lips all over the head, spreading precum all over his lips and chin. He felt like such a slut, but he was loving every moment of it. Yoongi closed his eyes and slowly buried Jimin's entire cock in his mouth until it hit the back of his throat. He moaned around the feeling, this was what he had needed. To feel stuffed by a pretty cock attached to a pretty man. Jimin was squirming above him, his panting and moans muffled by the briefs in his mouth, but there was no doubt he was in ecstasy just like the cock starved brunette. Yoongi felt petite hands fist into his hair and start pulling and pushing trying to take some control of the situation, Yoongi slowed down and allowed Jimin to start fucking into his mouth.

With each of Jimin's thrusts his grunts became louder as he was getting closer to his orgasm. Jimin wasn't the only one getting close, after having practically become a born again virgin, Yoongi's head was dizzy with arousal and he wasn't sure how much longer he would last, his grip on Jimin's thighs tightening, bound to leave light marks the next morning. He closed his eyes and could feel the heat from his stomach rise throughout his body, his muscles tensing as he felt his release. The wet patch in Yoongi's pants made him feel absolutely filthy. He came just from sucking someone's cock? Before he had too much time to start mulling over how much of a slut he is, Jimin spills his load inside Yoongi's hot mouth. He thrusts hard a few times causing the cum to spill out of Yoongi's mouth and dribble down his chin, landing on the floor.

Jimin hisses as he slowly removes himself from Yoongi's mouth, he leans down and Yoongi yanks the underwear out of his mouth before smashing his lips against the blonds. He doesn't care that his mouth is still full of Jimin's cum, he tastes so good he wants him to experience the intoxicating taste too. When their lips part Jimin stands to put his softening cock away. Yoongi stands with him and looks around the room, avoiding eye contact.

"Umm thanks for that, that was .. uhh really good."

Jimin's bewitching smile returns "Yeah, that was amazing cutie can't say I've ever had my underwear shoved into my mouth though, but there is a first time for everything. Come here and I'll treat you good too."

"Well um, no it's okay. Honestly. I may have cum already." he sheepishly replies, still avoiding any damn eye contact.

A small "oh" left his pouty lips "well I'm glad I could have been of assistance."

The two stood awkwardly for a while before Jimin held Yoongi's hand and walked him over to the sink. He made the older man sit on the bench while he cleaned up all the mess he had made. Yoongi's heart couldn't stop beating. There was no need for Jimin to be so nice after what they had just done, but here he was doing something Yoongi actually felt was more intimate than painting the walls of his throat with his cum.

"Ah there ya go, now you can go back into the real world without anyone suspecting a thing.”

They walked outside together in silence, Yoongi had never had a hook up before. Do you crack jokes? Profess your love? Or just act like what happened never did? His mind was a million miles away when soft fingers were suddenly stroking his cheek.

"Please message me anytime you want to see each other again, and I'll be the one doing all the dirty work okay?"

This made Yoongi blush "Yeah okay. Thank you Jimin, truly I had a great night."

And it was the truth, he had so much fun he could relive the moment in his head for the next four years. Amateur Bareback 3-Way #2 wouldn't be needed when the memory of small hands, captivating moans and cum drizzling down his chin was enough to get him hard again. It had been less than 20 minutes. God dammit!

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

..."STAR-CROSSED LOVERS"??? YES.

Thank you so much @cheri-translates for translating Victor's SAND AND SEA DATE. You're an angel. 🥺🥺🥺

Now I'm gonna start blabbering since I've many feels about this date LOL~ 🙃

⚠️Warning: There are some spoilers regarding Victor storyline from the main story chapters that haven't been released in EN yet.

🌹

From "I won't save you a second time" [CH 1] to "I don’t need you to save me a second time." [The date in discussion]-- LOL as hilarious as this is, the irony.💯

Ngl this date felt like, the writers thinking since, under the context of the theme, the physical pain of time travel & crossing countless of dimensions & timelines is not possible-- let's just nearly kill him by spilling blood & dehydration but still we gotta nearly kill this man cause he wants to be in love.🙃

Idk why I'm getting so emotional LOL but there are so many call-backs I can remember on top of my head right now--

[The lines & moments from the date are indented & in bold letters.]

MC: "Victor, I’m helping you look for a water source. Let go!"

🌹 The sad broken cup scene from [CH 18-16], MC urging Victor to let go & him stubbornly refusing, until she gives in.

MC sacrificing herself to revive the river, part of it is to save Victor- other part of it is also for the greater good of the people in the city.

🌹 [CH 18-18] MC's monologue- "This time, put everything on my shoulder & let me be your hero one last time."

& sacrificing herself for the peace of the world even though it only made more chaos.

Victor releasing the hand that supported him at the edge & deciding to sacrifice himself with her. & the vow- "No matter what awaits you, I’ll be with you."

MC's monologue: "It turns out that no matter what the ending is, he’s willing to be with me."

[CH 18-28] Victor deciding to use the sundial watch one last time despite knowing that'd kill him for sure & might lead the world to perish as well. Dummy & Selfish in that moment. His final vow before MC disappeared, "No matter where you are, I'll always find you."

[CH 19-6 Dream World Victor route]

MC: "What if this really is a dream. Then what?"

Victor: "Then I'll turn it into reality."

[CH 25 phone call- In the Hospital]

"No matter what you are facing in other space-times...Wait for me."

[CH 36-10, after Victor returns from his 10K years time travel]

Victor: I thought you are never going to be afraid again?

His warm breath moistens my eyes. I inhale through my sore nose. Resisting the urge to bury my face in his chest, I look up, staring straight into his eyes-

MC: I will never be afraid again. Because you really came back. Victor is standing here before me like a treasure once lost and now found. What do I have to be afraid of?

Victor is stunned for a moment. The corners of his lips loosens a bit, while the contours of his face softened a lot. He raises his hand to wipe the wetness from the corner of my eyes.

Victor: It seems that this dummy has grown up a lot during this period. Listen carefully, I will never return to a world where you are not.

[CH 37 PV line]

"Whatever choice you make, I'll always be here."

[CH 37 karma by-line]

"I will accompany you on the road leading to the future."--

Basically the eternal insistence of him having an internal MC GPS tracker LOL ALWAYS being by her side.

Kidnapping incident.

🌹...[CH 30-7 to 30-10] Agio Street underground gambling den mission- wants to say a hello.🙋‍♀️

Abandoning the honor & glory of leading a comfortable life as a feudal lord to restore the river & to find the fateful couple, probably hoping to find his love too, but won't admit cause even if it's AU, he be like- "I'm still Victor" LOL

[CH 11 karma by-line]

"I won't let go of you & the world."

The physically-mentally painful exhausting wait & time travelling of 10K years, walking through endless dimensions & timelines, only to start from the very beginning every single time- hoping to find a way to save the world & protect the girl-- wants to say a hello too 🙋‍♀️

MC's monologue: Still, I want to have one more look at Victor… before leaving.

🌹 This specifically reminded me of a [CH 37-5 Victor split route] monologue from MC--

"It didn't matter what was waiting for me. I would face it with my head held high. Even so, I still wanted one last second...just one second. Let me call his name one more time...let me take a good look at him...just one last time..."

Victor: In that case, stay here. Stay by my side.

🌹 He has said the same sentence in different ways under various circumstances but one I can remember right now,

[CH 24-12 Black Cabin reunion]-- "But right now...Just stay by my side."

MC noting down how she always finds herself in his arms whenever she's fainting or getting in trouble. How Victor has been quietly taking care of her & protecting her. How the person before her walks in steady steps with forceful heartbeats.

When she was in her most depressing state [CH 18], he was there like the steady pillar of support, helping her in every way he could. He was pretty much the glue that kept her in one piece.

Again, in winter world, he stood by her side even as a stranger.

Not just these two incident, throughout the entire game, especially in the latter part of the story, they work together like partners, she learns to trust him with pretty much everything & they work through everything they can together.

Those few mentions in the date-- could be referred to how Victor has always been the constant source of warmth, encouragement, strength, support, protection in her life. No matter what world or when, he never really changes. He is still the same man. & His constant state IS choosing MC every single time.

Victor lies on the sand quietly, and it’s as though everything has returned to the beginning when we first met.

🌹 Indication towards how their storyline ALWAYS goes back to square one or comes in a full circle-- from Victor saving her from the car crash as a kid [& this being repeated many times afterwards, even in winter world], to the lightning incident [MC jumping in front of Victor both as a child & an adult], to both being in coma for week, staying in the hospital & taking care the entire time [MC in CH 11, Victor in CH 32], to stabbing each other countless times. [CH 18, CH 36-- & every other times Victor has seen those incidents happening before his eyes while time traveling.] *que tears*

🌹▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️▪️🌹

I could possibly make a full blown essay which I already kinda have out of some other specific call-backs I can remember right now. Specifically the theme of the date being star-crossed lovers-

Legend tells of two lovers. Because of the pressures of their nations, they could not be together, and decided to drown themselves in a river for love.

Because of this, the River Goddess was enraged, and she cursed the land nourished by the river which was under her control. Since that day, the Socya River gradually dried up.

The Goddess left an exhortation-when the fateful couple reappears on this land, the river will be surge once again...

& This perfectly echoes the canon theme of Victor x MC storyline--

🌹 As in, Victor being someone who, objectively speaking, seemingly has everything & yet sacrificing practically everything--

[giving up over-seas university offers, staying in the city instead of moving abroad even though his business could be expanded more, relentless search of 17 years, appointing private detective for 6 years, building up Souvenir etc.]

--- to find MC & then in the mission of keeping her safe, even at the cost of his own existence. Trying everything beyond his limits to prevent the destined deaths of MC he has foreseen- from happening & it being doomed to no end every single time.

🌹 Every single time he had to give up the ONE thing he wanted to protect the most or wanted the most.

🌹 Both of them being so willing to put each other in the front line just to give each other happiness.

🌹 Another running theme of their storyline-- both of them keep losing each other countless times & then find each other again.

• Victor losing MC as a kid, finding her as an adult. Victor nearly losing her in CH 10.

• MC losing Victor due to the time rift in CH 14 & finding a way to contact each other through the sundial watch.

• Victor losing MC in CH 18 first-hand. MC leaving Victor behind in CH 19- dream world.

• CH 24 Black Cabin reunion & CH 27 OG timeline reunion

• MC nearly losing Victor in CH 32, due to him going to coma

• MC losing Victor in CH 34 due to Victor going on the time-travel journey of 10K years

• Final reunion in CH 36 [Then we have the journey to S2. But that's a whole new discussion.]

🌹So...both of them being able to truly be with each other is actually-- defying fate & writing their own destiny. *SOBS*

🌹I wanna end my blabbering with two precious moments from [CH 36- Victor split route] that echoes this theme even more.

MC: "I've always chased after your silhouette and I was never afraid. Because I know you'll always be there waiting for me. Victor, if you really disappear... I will be with you, and we will both be forgotten by the world."

MC's monologue: "Victor, once we have crossed countless dimensions and futures, and returned to each other’s embrace. If everything has to disappear with time, as dust into the wind... Then, I'm glad that we have our final promise."

[She's referring to the promise she made of being forgotten by the world to be with him & the promise Victor made earlier to never leave her again.]

[mantra4ia]

Trixstar Imagine Fanfiction: "Three Times The Charm"

By mantra4ia. August 1st 2020. Cross posted to AO3.

One of the most aggravating things about hell was that Lucifer could still hear prayers. Like a soundproof room with a squeaky fan. Like a 'no smoking' sign on your cigarette break. Like listening to Alanis Morissette unironically. God's final joke, Lucifer lamented, was that deep in the bowels of exile was just enough awful celestial Wi-Fi to get the spam — prayers to other celestials of which he only caught the static, or pleas to the big man himself — like the bleed-over on an AM/FM radio. Which was why, when Lucifer finally heard a prayer loud and clear with the volume turned up to 11, it nearly knocked him off his thrown. It had been so long since anyone had prayed directly to him, not in jest, or begging for a favor, but earnestly and with fervor that at first it gave him a migraine. He could hardly hear the words let alone distinguish the voice behind them, until at last he was able to tune in to someone achingly familiar.

"Hey Lucifer, it's me."

Trixie, you little hellion, is it really you?!

"it's Trixie. I'm not sure whether you'll remember me. It's been a while."

You have no idea...but of course I remember you mini-Decker, don't be silly.

"Maybe you think I'm still pet sized. Well I'm not anymore."

I promise you, those remarks had nothing to do with your stature and everything to do with your intelligence, and possibly also your penchant to devour snack cakes, small human. But I admit I was wrong Trixie, you're smart and clever. It was then that the epiphany struck Lucifer: why and how was she praying to him at all?

"I bet you're wondering why I called you on the long distance prayer line. At first I thought maybe I would hear your voice answer me back, but I guess this will have to do. You see Lucifer, I may have lied to you, and I know you are not going to like that, but I hope it doesn't keep you away forever."

What? He took flight from his throne and down to lowest depth of hell scape, trying without success to fully find his footing among the chasms, his knees imperceptibly shaking —though he knew not why — while his feet took hold of him though he knew not where to. As if beckoned by the siren sound of her voice, he made his way through the winding onyx labrynth, turning where her voice waned and proceeding again where it renewed in strength.

"Because I didn't lie-outright-lie. I just didn't tell the whole truth. I've always known you were an angel, like your brother Amenadiel. Just that you live in different places. I wrote a whole bunch of letters over the years, but the post office told me Hell wasn't a valid address, and eventually they started making fun of me behind my back for not having enough postage."

Well you should have tried sending it via the DMV. Honestly, Beatrice, I have any number of portals there. A whole network really.

"Anyway, I figure where you are it might be lonely, so I guess this is as good a time as any to catch up."

Out with it then, what's the sitch child?

"I just started driving lessons, although they're not as good as yours." That's my girl. "And Charlie's doing great, he started playing soccer." Please don't tell me Linda had him play keeper to keep an eye out for infant angel powers. "He's the goalie." Christ, I bet she put him in a helmet too. "I was mad at him for a long time, I know he's only little, but I was angry that he couldn't remember you like I remember you. He even asked me if you were my imaginary friend." Does he really not remember his Uncle Lucifer? "I know, kids are dumb. But I'm not mad anymore. I drew him a picture of you in my art class...and my detention after I didn't do the actual assignment in art class, but still-lifes of fruit are boring. It doesn't look like my old drawings on the refrigerator from the last time you were here, if that's what you're worried about. And it's better than Amenadiel's stick figure drawings. If I'm being honest, I wanted to make sure I remembered you too. Maybe one day you can tell me what you think. My teacher Mrs. Fissner says it's very good. Disturbing but good. She may have sent me to see the social worker. Mom misses you. I miss you too. Listen Lucifer, I'm sorry I didn't reach out sooner but...never mind, I guess that's all for now...."

No, Trixie. You're the first human voice I've heard in a thousand years who isn't begging for mercy. Don't, please, Lucifer pleaded.

"It's just that I don't really believe in prayers. I mean, I think they're kind of stupid..."

You're preaching to the choir Trix. I couldn't agree more, this rare instance being a timely exception.

"...because people somehow find a way to make it all about them, and what they want, when they should really be listening."

Oh damnation, don't tell me you've turned into a theological scholar, or did Amenadiel put you up to this? Fess up. Could you sound anymore like your mum, you're the second oldest young person I know. Where is the Beatrice who could extort people for cash, lay waste to my flat in a single pirouette, and inhale chocolate like I inhale controlled substances? A haunting thought ghosted over Lucifer's nostalgia. Did I miss all your formative years?

"And I don't want to do that, because I don't want to torture you."

Lucifer's step faltered as he slid to the ground against the ravine walls, at last overwhelmed by the whole absurd, miraculous encounter. All the days upon days he'd spent torturing souls without missing a beat, and Trixie was worried about torturing him? About how her struggles might affect him? His chin sank to his chest, and Lucifer cried.

"Mom didn't tell me you went back to hell, because she doesn't know that I believe you when you said you're the devil, but she did tell me that it's important and that in your new job a lot depends on you. I didn't want to hurt you by asking you to come back when I know that you can't. But this life is really important too Lucifer, and...it's mom. She's got a new friend."

So that's it, Lucifer thought in resignation, that's why she's praying.

"I feel lost between them. So I asked God to send me an angel, the nicest angel he had."

You've got to be kidding me? Is that what I am now sloppy seconds, I'm not even first on the prayer chain!

"Except I'm pretty sure I already used up that prayer when he sent me you."

Lucifer's din of thoughts fell into silence as he hauled himself up to full stature, trying to pull himself together. I can't help you Trixie, your mom deserves to be happy. Chloe deserves to share her life with someone who makes her feel as special as she really is. And God help me, I can't believe I'm saying this, but it would help if you showed her a little grace.

"So I was hoping Lucifer, that you could please come back and show my mom this isn't the right guy for her. I know you're the only one who can."

Not if it puts you both in harm's way, Lucifer said, knowing that his words would never reach her, and that her prayer like a billion others before would float away unrequited.

"If you can't help me, please help her."

Lucifer stopped cold. Why would the detective need my help?

"I told you, Lucifer. I need you to understand that I've always known what you look like. More than that, I need you to know I've always understood who you are. So that you'll believe me when I say I know that my mom's friend, the one that looks like you, isn't really you."

It was only then that Lucifer realized the wall he'd braced against was not a stone cliff, but a gate. He did not waste a moment eviscerating the lock.

Trixie had searched for Lucifer once, in his mortal abode at Lux.

She'd found him again within his personal den of iniquity without batting an eye.

Little did she realize that even in the lowest depths of hell she could reach him. Dad's blessings, it seems, run in the family.

Third time's the Trix. You're right urchin. It's time to go home.

***21 days of Lucifer Countdown: 21 days until season five. New content daily***

[elusive---ivory]

Circus Act - 15

Y'all ALREADY KNOW!!!!! PART 15!!!

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15

Sandy couldn't help but feel a slight pain in her chest. Perhaps, second-guessing herself and her relationship with Arthur. The fact that see could see a different person in Arthur's eyes gave her chills. Of course, she adored him. Arthur was all she had.

She bit her lip, unlocking her apartment door. To her surprise, Des was already in the apartment, sitting on the couch.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Sandy sneered. She see a reason for Des to even be here.

"Sandy. I was wondering where you were. I've been expecting your apology for quite some time now." Des's smile was so smug, it was unbelievable.

"I don't have shit to say to you." Sandy hissed, throwing her car keys on the kitchen counter.

"Come on. It was one time, besides you've obviously moved on. Kinda, geez, you've downgraded." Des commented, looking at a picture of Sandy and Arthur. She continued, "I understand that the gala was a disaster. I mean, how else would I expect you to act. You're insane, Sandy."

Sandy couldn't stand more of this. Des was so snarky, so fucking rude. She grabbed a small knife and hid it behind her back.

"I had to protect him, Sandy. I was sure that you of all people would understand, but clearly you don't." Des huffed. "But, I tried. I tried to be apart of your life. Dennis was way out of your league anyway. I don't get it."

"You're right." Sandy said, blankly. "I didn't need Dennis."

"That's right. See? You're getting it." Des smiled, walking into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I am. You were right all along, Des. I can't believe I didn't see it sooner." Sandy smiled, pulling Des into a tight hug.

Des smiled nervously, trying to push Sandy away. "Yeah? So you forgive me?"

"Yeah, I forgive you, Des." Sandy proceeded to stab Des in the back with the knife. Des slowly felt to the ground with an emotionless shock on her face. Sandy continued stabbing the already deceased woman that laid there on her kitchen floor.

The blood stained her dress as Sandy looked at herself in the mirror. Her glasses laid in front of her, broken. She had accidentally threw them off her face.

Sandy started to laugh. Why was she laughing? She had just murdered someone that had been so close to her for years. Sandy didn't know either.

But, she felt happy. Like a weight was lifted off her shoulders.

She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. 'Who am I?' Sandy thought to herself. She smiled to herself. She knew exactly who she was.

She stepped into the shower, feeling all the blood drip down her skin.

She then remembered. The Murray Franklin show. Sandy raced to her bedroom and turned on the television.

Arthur sat in the backstage dressing in full suit and makeup, chuckling to himself of the chaos that was displayed on the news.

He knew he caused it. He caused all of it. Arthur inhaled the smoke from his cigarette, as a gentle tear fell, dripping from the blue triangle that was painted just below his eye.

'You look ravishing.' Sandy told him in his head. He imagined her right next to him, and knowing she'd be watching him on television made him feel proud. This made him smile.

He imagined Sandy's hands on his suit, gazing up at him with her big eyes. He sat in a red chair next to a mirror, with writing in lipstick, saying "PUT ON A HAPPY FACE".

Murray Franklin then walked onto Arthur's dressing room.

"Murray." Arthur gasped. It was all unreal to him.

"Hey, it's Mr. Franklin to you, pal." Murray's manager said, rudely.

"Come on, Gene. That's all bullshit." Murray said, brushing him off.

"Thank you, Murray. I feel like I know you. I've been watching your show forever." Arthur said, remaining his composure.

"Thank you," Murray said, "So, what's with the make up? Are you part of the protest?"

"Oh no, Murray," Arthur shook his head, "I don't believe in that. I don't believe in anything."

"I just thought it would be good for my act." Arthur smiled.

"For your act? Didn't you hear? Some clown got killed-" Gene was cut off by Murray, brushing him off again.

"He's heard." Murray said.

"No, I haven't heard." Arthur intervened.

Gene sighed, frustrated. "This is what I'm telling you. The audience is gonna go crazy if you put this guy onstage. This good for a bit, but not a whole segment."

"Gene, it's gonna work. It's gonna work." Murray reassured.

Arthur started feeling gitty. "Thank you, Murray." He said, chuckling a bit.

"Got a few rules though. No cursing, no off-color material." Murray said, just before leaving the room. "Good luck."

"Wait, Murray. One small thing?" Arthur stopped him. "When you bring me out, could you introduce me as Joker?"

"Why not just use your real name?" Gene commented.

"That's what you called me on the show. A joker." Arthur said, ignoring Gene. "You remember?"

Murray looked confused for a second, turning towards Gene. "Did I?"

Gene shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, if you say so, kid. Joker it is. I like it. It's good." Murray said, walking out the dressing room door.

Arthur smiled. "Thanks, Murray."

Once everyone left, Arthur was alone with himself. The excitement and build up in him grew. He took out a small box from out of his pocket.

A small ring sat in the velvet cushion. He smirked at it. Arthur put the small box away. He leaned back in the chair, taking out his pistol. The tip touched the bottom of his chin. Arthur felt at peace for just one moment.

It was time for Arthur to go onstage. He stood just behind the curtains, hearing the audience laugh at him. Arthur stared intently at the small crease of light, peering through the blue and gold curtains. Time seemed frozen. Everything seemed still. There seemed to be no one besides him and his cigarette.

Then, the music began to start.

Back in her apartment, Sandy was growing impatient for Arthur to show. She sat through each commercial, waiting for his segment.

Sandy sat on her bed intently staring at the television, with a cigarette lit in her shaking hand. Blood was trailed down the hall and into her bedroom. She had to get rid of Des somehow. Why not stuff her in the closet? That's where she belonged, right? Sandy's little joke made her giggle.

Beside her was one of the many clown masks the protesters were handing out. She took a drag of the cigarette.

Arthur's segment began. Sandy glared at the people who laughed at him.

It made her furious. She held onto the cigarette tightly, nearly breaking it.

"So, you might've seen that clip of our next guest. Now, before he comes out, I just wanted to say that we're all heartbroken about what's going on in the city tonight, but this is how he wanted to come out. I honestly believe we could all use a good laugh. So, please welcome Joker." Murray announced.

Sandy's eyes brighten as Arthur was introduced onstage. She smiled widely, seeing him twirl around onstage. She was greatly shocked, when Arthur kissed Dr. Sally. Sandy smirked. 'That son of a bitch.' She thought.

She burned out her cigarette, and continued to pay attention to the show.

"Are you alright, Doctor?" Murray said, on the television.

Arthur was mesmerized by the florescent lights, the audience and the stage. It was almost exactly perfect.

Murray raised an eyebrow. "Are you ok?"

"Yeah", Arthur nodded, "this is exactly how I imagined it."

"Well, that makes one of us." Murray shrugged.

The audience roared and applauded.

"So, can you tell us about this look?" Murray asked. "When we talked earlier, you mentioned that this look was not a political statement."

"That's right, Murray. I'm not political." Arthur chuckled. "I'm just trying to make people laugh." He said, in somewhat funny voice.

The audience stayed silent.

"And how that going for ya?" Murray commented.

And, of course, the audience laughed.

Arthur laughed, mocking the audience.

"So, do you got anyone watching here tonight? Any family members?" Murray asked.

Arthur stated quit for a second, still smiling. "I don't have anyone. Just my Sandy. Hi, honey." Arthur waved at the camera.

The audience awed, slightly.

"How do does Sandy feel about your career in comedy?" Murray asked.

"She loves it. She says I'm the funniest guy in Gotham." Arthur flaunted.

Murray laughed. "Okay."

The audience began to roar again.

Arthur began to look fed up.

"Well, surely, you have a joke for us tonight." Murray suggested.

The audience began applauding.

"Yeah?" Arthur chuckled. "Okay." He got out his journal.

Murray began to laugh at it. "He's got a book. A book of jokes."

Arthur stared at the page silently. The air seemed still.

While Sandy was watching, she could feel his discomfort. She wanted to hold Arthur in her arms, but he was all the way in downtown Gotham.

She grew furious.

"Take your time, you've got all night." Murray commented.

Arthur smirked. "Okay, I've got one. Knock, knock."

"And you had to look that up." Murray laughed.

The audience continued to laugh and praise Murray for his jokes.

"I wanna get it right." Arthur said, softly. "Knock, knock." He repeated.

"Who's there?" Murray replied.

Arthur began chuckling, slightly. "It's the police, ma'am. Your son's been hit by a drunk driver. He's dead."

The audience booed him.

"No, no, no. We don't joke about that." Dr. Sally scolded.

Sandy glared at the television, gritting her teeth. Her hands were balled into fists.

"Yeah, that's not funny, Arthur. That's not the kind of humor we do on this show." Murray said.

Arthur giggled nervously. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It just. It's been a rough couple of weeks, Murray."

"Ever since I," Arthur paused for a second, staring at the camera, "ever since I killed those three Wallstreet guys."

The audience gasped, and whispers scattered across the floor.

"Okay, I'm waiting for the punchline." Murray said.

"There is no punchline. It's not a joke." Arthur confessed.

The audience gasps grew louder, along with a few people telling him to get off the stage.

Sandy's anger shifted. 'What the hell is he doing?' Sandy thought to herself.

"You're serious aren't you? You're saying you killed those three young men?" Murray asked.

"Mmhmm." Arthur mumbled, confirming it to be true.

"And why should we believe you?" Murray asked, again.

"I've got nothing left to lose. Nothing can hurt me anymore." Arthur said, blankly.

'Nothing?' Sandy thought. She felt the anxiety build up in her chest.

Arthur began to chuckle. "My life is nothing, but a comedy."

The audience booed some more.

"So let me get this straight. You think that killing those guys is funny?" Murray asked, in shock.

"I do, and I'm tired of pretending it's not. Comedy is subjective, Murray, isn't that what they say? All of you, the system that knows so much, you decide what's right or wrong. Just like how you decide what's funny, or not." Arthur said.

Murray looked at him confused. "I think I might understand that you did this to start a movement. To become a symbol?"

"Come on, Murray. Do I look like the kind of clown to start a movement?" Arthur turned towards the audience. "I killed those guys because they were awful. Dennis was awful. Everybody is awful these days. It's enough to make anyone crazy." Arthur said, glaring at the audience.

"So, your crazy? That's your excuse for killing three young men?" Murray began getting upset.

"No. They couldn't carry a tune to save their lives." Arthur laughed.

Sandy couldn't see Arthur, anymore. The man onstage was someone new. Someone she had met. A charming devil in a red suit. She had to do something.

The audience booed Arthur some more.

He groaned. "Ugh, why is everybody so upset about these guys? If it was me dying on the sidewalk, you'd walk all over me. I pass you every day, and you don't notice me, but these guys, because Thomas Wayne, cried about them on tv."

"So, you have a problem with Thomas Wayne?" Murray questioned.

"Yes, I do. Have you seen what it's like out there, Murray? Do you ever leave the studio? Everybody just YELLS and SCREAMS at each other. Nobody's CIVIL ANYMORE. Nobody thinks what it's like to be the other guy. You think men like Thomas Wayne, ever think about what it's like to be a guy like me? To be somebody, but themselves. They DON'T. They think that we'll just sit HERE and TAKE IT, like good little boys, and we WON'T WEREWOLF, and GO WILD."

Through the television screen Sandy could feel Arthur choking back tears. She placed her hand over her mouth. She bit it, just slightly, so that she couldn't cry.

"Are you finished?" Murray cut Arthur off. "There's so much self pity, Arthur. Not everyone, and I'll say this, not everyone is awful. This Sandy, you were saying earlier. Surely, she's not awful."

Arthur glared at Murray. "You're awful, Murray."

"Me, I'm awful? How am I awful?" Murray said, defensive.

"Playing my video. Inviting me on the show. You just wanted to make fun of me." Arthur said. His voice was low, like the rage seeping in his eyes.

"You're just like the rest of them." Arthur continued.

"You don't know the first thing about me, pal. Look at what you did. What it lead to. There are riots out there. Two policemen are in critical condition because of what you did. And you're laughing." Murray said.

Arthur began laughing. "I know. How about another joke, Murray?"

"No, I think we've had enough of your jokes." Murray turned over to his manager, Gene, telling him to call the police.

"What do you get when you cross a mental ill loner with a society that ABANDONS him and treats him like TRASH? I'LL TELL YOU WHAT YOU GET. YOU GET WHAT YOU FUCKING DESERVE." Arthur blinked as he shot Murray Franklin in the head.

The audience began screaming, and running out of the studio.

Sandy gasped, collapsing to the ground. What she had witnessed was the beginning of something much larger than her and Arthur.

Taglist: @princessgeekface, @jokerflecker, @gloomyladyy, @memory-mortis, @joker-flecked-me, @mr--clown

[sureofshrines]

just being chatty: Clip Studio, My Art Style, and other rambles

11:04:21

Yo, back in April I stopped using Krita (because I was so discouraged and fed up w/ it.) and switched back to Paint Tool Sai2 and honestly, I liked it so much better. I felt like I was fighting with the program the entire time. Don't get me wrong, it's not a bad program at all, it just didn't flow for me the same way Sai did.

I said all of that to say this; early last month (October), I wanted to try something else just to play around in and explore what's out there. And that's when I got my baby deer hands on Clip Studio Paint.

Um...

So why didn't anyone tell me that CSP is the most amazing thing ever? Granted, it took me a nearly month to get my bearings, but it has so many features I wish Sai had! Woah.

I don't want to say my art style has changed yet again****but I feel like I improved? (I'm such a struggle child).

I've been practicing art consistently since last December [2020] and when I look back, I'm glad I kept it up. :3 I began posting my time-lapses on YouTube. I started doing portraits again and I like it (because drawing full body ain't it chief...). Hopefully I can post a year wrap up or something or a '2021 Art in Review'. Idk don't @ me.

I managed to eek out a couple of finished pieces [last] month, but didn't share them anywhere. I'll probably post them all at once here. It's like I'm signalling to myself: "hey you posted it, nothing you can do now, you finished it. Now draw something else."

[vivavinni]

March 17th, 2018 KC - Mental Me.

Today I don't have anything inspirational to say. I am not in love. I am not politically charged (though I should be.) I'm not even sure I can successfully organize what's been going through my mind, but I need to give it a try.

I saw and shared this post on Facebook today:

This post is so closely relatable. I was the kid who survived multiple suicide attempts; I vacationed in multiple hospitals. I am now the adult who feels ill equipped, unprepared and lost.

My dad died when he was 26 years old, I was 6. Growing up, for me, was much different than most of my friends. My mother was a single parent my entire life. We were always moving, paycheck to paycheck. She did everything she could to keep a roof over my head and keep me alive. We are lucky enough to have a supportive foundation. Our family is a good size, very loving and strong. (This is something I never let go of.)

During years 6-10 I dealt with a good amount of anger and sadness. A great deal of my young childhood is a blur, however, I know for certain I was difficult. I remember I needed certain things to go certain ways to feel mostly comfortable in my skin. (Example- my socks had to be folded over perfectly and fit inside my shoes just right, before I left for school. If they were crooked or slightly uneven I would have a meltdown.) I was and always will be chubby. Even then, I had a lot of small and large insecurities that worried me constantly.

Anxiety, what a friend. He sits right next to Depression, she's always crying about something and obsessing over death.

After years spent fighting my mom about going to counseling meetings and follow ups for learning how to grieve after your best friend and father dies, we thought, "maybe the worst is over..." That was not the case.

A few years passed, maybe age 10-12, and I refused to continue counseling because I didn't understand why I had to do it when none, or most of my friends didn't. I didn't want to be so different, but I was and always will be (and that's okay now). Life seemed relatively normal, I had to adjust to having a new baby sister (which was difficult at first, life moves on). I established a few good friendships and mostly excelled in school. Family gatherings were always a highlight. I was fortunate enough to go on a few very cool vacations to new places which is great fun!

Now, at this point it seems light, happy and chipper, however, I grew up with an obsession with death and all things strange and dark. Keep this in mind. I was weird but hey, I made a couple weird friends so it wasn't too terrible. My favorite shows at this time were CSI: Las Vegas and Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. I also loved gory horror films, thrillers and weird anime. Neat!

Let's fast forward to year 2005, September (already a stressful and emotional month after 9/11/01, my uncle Marc lived only ten blocks away when that occurred but survived well and helped with clean up,) I was a month away from age 14, I believe, I was emotional. I was becoming; I was confused, awkward, angsty, dramatic and a little crazy. Found my way to cope with my friends Anxiety, Depression and new friend Hypermania by way of experimenting with different forms of self harm. You guessed it, I was a cutter and I dabbled in an assortment of substances.

I digress, it's September in 2005, my baby cousin is turning 3 years old, he's gonna have a party! I had the option of staying the night with family or staying with a friend, I chose my friends. The night before my baby cousins birthday party, my uncle Steve (baby cousins father and also my father figure), went to have a beer with someone he thought to be his good friend in need. He, tragically, was wrong. This man shot my uncle twice in the back, as well as committing other atrocious acts before attempting to flea the state.

This event spiked a long downward spiral which eventually led to an uphill battle and this very moment.

I was devastated. My whole family outraged, distraught, grieving, but together. Mental me, lost sight of 'together'. I was lost. I felt alone, hopeless, a nervous wreck, and guilty for choosing to stay with friends instead of family. This turned into depression and suicidal ideation, attempt. I was done, loss of purpose, "what's the point?" Extinction.

My first full hospitalization came after months of self-destruction. It was a very unpleasant experience for me. I was admitted to Research Hospital in their youth psychiatric care unit. They cut my favorite shoelaces off my favorite pair of shoes, striped me down to nothing, heavily medicated me, and told me not to worry. Most of my experience is veiled and distorted by medicine haze. However, I distinctly remember the nurse who was in charge of pm phone calls to home tell me, "I've seen a lot of kids like you, you'll be back again," or something to that effect. After my interaction with her all I remember was turning autopilot on to get myself out of that hospital as quickly and smoothly as possible. I said I felt better, "The meds must be working, I'm working on my steps to release, I'm ready to go home." I lied. I lied my face off. I wasn't ready, the meds weren't right; fake it til you make it out, right?

I stayed in out-patient for a little while with different doctors, different medicines. Faking it to make it. I eventually stopped going and stopped medication. I went through counseling on and off. And continued to self-harm and experiment with different substances. School, to me, was pointless. I stopped showing up, I skipped, got into trouble and eventually made the decision to drop out. For me, school was useless anxiety on top of my generalized anxiety, depression and hypermanic episodes. I was trouble, I was troubled. (Mom, I am so sorry for putting you through so much on top of everything we went through together.)

My mom and I had always had a rocky relationship. It was difficult to relate and be open with her. I'm not entirely sure why it took me so long to figure out she was always on my side and wanted what was best for me. I have some ideas why, but at this point in time they aren't pertinent because now I do have a very strong bond and great deal of respect for her. She loves me unconditionally, as I do her. Through ups and downs and hospital visits we became best friends. I am so grateful for it.

Since the loss of my uncle, I began the journey of my diagnosis and treatment but, not before finding out that my father died of a genetic heart condition called A.R.V.D. My grandma was diagnosed with it as well and has been treated and monitored. I decide, with my mom, that testing for this heart condition was important. In and out of hospitals I went! I was put under multiple stress tests in different variations (one of them I was put under anesthesia for.) Eventually, a temporary heart monitor was placed in my chest for further testing and then I lost insurance.

Here I am! Mental me, years later, without insurance and a dead heart monitor in my chest that should probably be removed soon.

Years have passed. I was hospitalized again after several years of self-harm, destruction, medicine and indulgence. Somehow, I met a few good friends and partners along the way that stayed by my side and helped me after this much brighter stint in the KU Med psychiatric ward.

My KU experience was much more helpful. I took it seriously and learned a great deal about myself, my issues, coping techniques; I learned and accepted that sometimes, hospital visits are necessary and beneficial to mental health and well-being. I knew after that visit that when I am at the point of severe or suicidal ideation there is a safe place to regroup, learn and get better.

Friends, it has taken years and years on this journey to get to this exact moment- Where I am the adult who may be a bit behind because I never planned to make it this far. Here I am! Mental me!

I have been off medications and out of hospitals for nearly four years. I've been through therapy and could always use more of it. It can be helpful. Reach out! Seek the help. Sometimes it will be easier than others to take that step, I know, but keep reaching. Find health coping that works for you. We are not alone even in our most isolated darkness.

When I started writing this I said I didn't have anything inspirational to say because this is all just a piece of my story. I think it's time for me to start sharing it. This is not finished because my story isn't over. And it's true, I never thought I would make it this far, but here I am, MENTAL ME! Let's keep going.

The darkness is temporary, the struggle is constant and the fight is forever. Please, keep fighting, help me fight.

With all my love,

-V

#stayherewithme #stayherewithus #suicideawareness #believeinstayinggold #artsaves #evenifitkillsme #keepreaching #seekhelp #TWLOHA #love #life #selfcare #selflove #beyou #getweird