#not a fan of how poor i am but i AM a fan of blurring cultural music gaps and digital archiving of worldwide music through the decades

[weeee]

Actually am using radiooooo.org from that post I just reblogged and its fr so cool. Wish the paid version wasn't leagues better than the free version, but it is what it is and honestly a website as cool unique as this should be making good money

[norrisjpg]

cool about it

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summary: in which, what lando thinks was a bad race and a bad weekend, couldn't be more different in the eyes of his favourite person.

content: the fluffiest fluff ever, negative thoughts, self-doubt, crying, insecure!lando, poor mental health, mclaren slander, cuddling, shared showers (non-sexual), lando 'heart-eyes' norris!

pairing: lando norris x fem!oc

rora's thoughts: i am actually distraught after the saudi arabian grand prix weekend because what do you mean lando was crying in the car after qualifying? what do you mean he thinks that he's the problem? i can't keep seeing mclaren fuck him over because i am going to crash out harder than max when esteban took him out that one time. and to clarify, i am not an oscar fan - yes he's unproblematic, and i used to like him - but after hungary, monza and australia, i cannot bring myself to support a driver who's so willing to fuck up his teammate's race with no care for the result, especially when mclaren claim to be such a well-organised team with great relationships within it.

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SHE KNEW HE WASN'T going to be happy.

the way he looked at oscar with subtle resentment as he patted him on the back, the way his smile didn't quite reach his eyes in his sky sports interview, the way his shoulders slumped when he was asked what happened in the fifty laps of jeddah - they were all tell-tale signs, easily picked up his best friend.

lando breathed a quiet sigh of relief when he stepped into the mclaren motorhome, the team debrief having drained him. he wasn't jealous, he wasn't angry, he was just longing.

longing. longing for self-validation, longing to be appreciated by the team, longing not emotionally manipulated when he was at risk of death from crashing. it took his mind back to hungary last season, will's words that still frequently echoed around his head, and how sick he'd felt when those sentences crackled into his ears.

"the way to win a championship is not on your own," will had told him. "you're going to need the team, you're going to need oscar."

he knew he was spiralling, thoughts swirling into one big pathetic mess. the tears were creeping up on him, like a slow and agonising death - he couldn't cry, he did well right?

the world was static around him, all the noise and bustle of saudi arabia blending into a mushy blur as his breathing picked up a little. his lower lip was squat between his teeth in a desperate attempt to stop it from trembling and the reality of the situation sinking in.

they just seemed to look past the previous years lando had spent with the team, the four gruelling years of finishing out of the points, watching teammates come and go, not being the number one driver, lando was there through it all, loyal to the papaya team when they directed their energy into other parties, just as was happening now - the only exception being when it was mathematically impossible for oscar to win the twenty-four drivers' championship.

"lando?" a soft voice called, after a knock on the door the driver had failed to notice. "please, let me in."

he tried to hum, but the words caught in his throat, dying along the redness of his neck. so instead, he stood up a little too quickly, mind reeling from the change in altitude and the thoughts torpedoing through it - and he opened the door.

lily stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his torso and squeezing him tight, while kicking the door shut behind her. he was sweaty, dripping with the liquid that he believed should have been champagne - instead replaced with fatigue and frustration.

"i'm sorry."

could he sound any more pathetic? he was a grown man for god's sake, practically sobbing into lily's shoulder as his hands rested on her lower back. this wasn't the mentality of a world championship - the critics had said - he needed to have a 'fuck you' attitude - as will buxton had claimed in a recent podcast - lando was never going to be world champion - that's what social media had told him.

"don't be," she said, voice laced with sorrowful affection. "you have nothing you could possibly be sorry for, you drove incredibly today, lan."

"no i didn't, i didn't get a podium, and i've lost the championship lead," lando began, sighing into her skin. "and i'm so fucking tired of the team telling me to wait it out, when their letting oscar win and overtake me and all this stupid fucking papaya rules—"

"—lando." lily said firmly. "you're spiralling, take a breath."

"i want to go home." he murmured, a singular tear dropping from his eye and onto her shoulder.

"i know, but our flight isn't until tomorrow," she told him quietly, placing a hand on the back of his neck. "is the hotel okay?"

a broken hum left his lips, and she cupped his jaw, lifting his head from the crook of her neck and making him look at him.

"i hate seeing you like this, you know?" the model whispered. "you are so incredible, and it kills me that you can't see yourself in the same way i do."

lando just sighed, breath crackling in his throat as he stared down at his lifeline, holding him so affectionately and telling him everything he needed to hear.

"i love you so much," a small smile broke onto his face as more tears dropped from his eyes, to which she responded to by wiping them away with her thumb.

"i love you too, lan." she replied, nodding her head as she internally relaxed upon seeing the crease at the corner of his eyes matching the display of genuine joy on his lips.

• • • •

THE DRIVE BACK was quiet, filled with the hum of the engine and the rolling of tyres on tarmac. the windows were sealed up, air-conditioning on full blast — in an attempt to gradually bring lando's body temperature back to a normal after the ice bath he'd had around thirty minutes ago.

his head rested lazily on her shoulder, lulling a little as they encountered speedbumps in the black suv — driven by the chauffer mclaren had hired for the british driver.

lando's curls were damp and a few were sticking to his forehead, his eyes were half-lidded and tired, and he still smelt of burnt rubber and sweat, coated in the aroma from the time he'd spent in his black fireproofs. he felt pliant, out of control in the softest way possible, gentle and affectionate and sleepy.

she'd swiped the key card across the pad on the door, a quiet, positive-sounding beep coming from the device. before he knew it, he was inside the cool room, eyes almost shutting as the perfect temperature of the area enveloped him.

"shower?" lily tilted her head, walking toward the bathroom and flicking the light on.

"too tired." lando groaned, stumbling toward the bed.

"you smell like barbequed human, shower."

he sighed, padding over to the en-suite slowly, steps heavy and long.

"shower with me?" the words slipped from his mouth with no afterthought, too tired and achy to realise what he'd just asked.

and for the first time, her words faltered, snagged in her throat as the weight of his words settled in her chest. so, instead of verbally replying, she simply grabbed his swim shorts from her suitcase and handed them to the man, gesturing for him to go and get changed in the bathroom.

a subtle smile graced his expression, and he walked into the bathroom, closing the door and stripping off at his own pace.

lily changed into the bikini she'd accidentally left in her suitcase from their bahrain trip the previous week — quickly wiping her makeup off with a wipe and taking down her hair from the half-up-half-down style she'd previously donned.

"lan, can i come in?" the girl called through the door softly.

"yeah," he replied, stepping into the shower, basking under the hot water that poured over his skin.

she opened the door, walked in, and left it open, hoping the steam would drain out of the bathroom once they'd finished together.

after picking up the washbag from the countertop, lily slid the glass shower screen across and joined him, placing the bag down once again and letting the water wash through her hair and over her body.

"i love you," lando sighed, puffing his lips out a little as he gazed down at her. "so, so much."

"i love you too," the model smiled, the corner of her eyes creasing as she looked up at him. "more than you know."

it was intimate, her hands were all over him in the most wholesome way possible. her slender fingers massaged the hair food into his scalp, paying attention to the curls poking out at the nape of his neck, taming them with her skilled digits. her palms flatly rubbed circular motions over his shoulder blades and spine, the smell of vanilla filling the shower along with the steam around them.

she'd even gotten lando his usual sleepwear, an old pair of black quadrant shorts that had now been discontinued, and a clean pair of boxers, of course.

lily had gotten ready for bed in the bathroom, dressed in her black silk pyjama set, skin a little red from the products she'd scrubbed into her pores.

lando was sat on the bed, zoned out and looking sleepy. she walked over to him, standing directly between his legs, causing him to look up at her. their height difference meant that his chin rested directly on her sternum, just above her boobs, when he made eye contact with her.

the girl had started affectionately rearranging his unruly curls, tucking in soft strands of hair here and there, pulling some others more outward from his scalp.

meanwhile, he was blatantly staring at her like a lost puppy — pupils dilated, eyebrows slightly arched, lower lip caught between his teeth. he was the definition of heart-eyes, a man who only had eyes for one woman and one woman only.

his arms wrapped snugly around her waist, keeping her against him as she fiddled with his mullet — which had been her idea in the first place, claiming it was a birthday treat for her last june. lando admired the way her hair was back in a tight, low bun, not tight enough to be described as sleek though, as there were a few stray strands — or 'duck strands' as she liked to call them — at the sides of her face and by her ears. the way her skin looked a little pinker than usual because of her meticulous skincare routine, the way her skin smelt like shea butter and papaya fruit — which was the scent of the body lotion she was currently using.

it was when they were in bed together around ten minutes later, lights off, room lit by the moonlight, that he knew.

he knew because of how relaxed he felt in her grasp. he knew because of how her arms felt like home. he knew because of how soft her lips felt against his temple when she mumbled goodnight.

lando knew he was going to be okay.

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i do not give permission for my works to be re-written, re-published, or published on any other platform.

© norrisjpg 2025

[diebischesther]

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐀𝐈𝐍 ⸺ 𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑶𝑼 ❛ 𝑴𝑬𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑶𝑬̈ ❜ 𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑨𝑻𝑬

quick meta yap before i start yapping about milou as the mc for @childrenofcain-if. i need everyone to know how absolutely insane i am about the themes here. milou in her original lore already has close ties to death as she's essentially its embodiment. needless to say, i absolutely adore axel's writing & will be following this project closely !! ૮꒰˶> ᴗ <˶꒱ა ♡ image sources found at the end .

NAME. ⠀ Milou  'Melinoë'  Mingate

𝒐' 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝒐𝒇 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉;  today i weep for you  as i spill my kin's blood,  in hope you grant me succor for when my soul departs this  [ mortal realm . ]

NICKNAME. ⠀ Mai GENDER. ⠀ Cisgender Female ( she/her ) MAJOR. ⠀Biomedical Engineering¹ HAMARTIA. ⠀Paranoia¹

who can you trust,  if not even yourself?  you walk this earth as though you are naught but the empty shell of a woman  ⸺  you are a ghost,  a fever dream.  the lines between reality & the figments of your imagination blur with each passing day.  your senses betraying you,  as though you are your own greatest adversary.  would you notice if you'd be living in a dream?  it matters not,  for you do not know if your nightmares aren't the ones bringing you comfort,  as opposed to waking in this dying world.

EXTRACURRICULARS³. ⠀ Ice Skating, Engineering, Manners and Protocol, Public Speaking, Debate Society LANGUAGES⁴. ⠀ Latin, Dutch, French, German, Mandarin², Spanish PLANNED RO. ⠀ Dumitru Constantin Diaconu

[ 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ] ⠀ ⸺ ⠀ ethereal beauty   […]   you tread with the macabre once more .

Milou is blessed with hair that many would kill for  ⸺  thick,  jetblack strands that reach down to her waist in gentle waves. She prefers to wear them loose,  sometimes curled,  though also in a haphazard low bun if need be. She doesn't fret much over her appearance,  the beauty of her stemming from effortless confidence. How could she not? Tall, hourglass-shaped body & a face that makes you lose your breath. Amethyst eyes that you could spend hours getting lost in & an warm olive complexion,  as though kissed by the sun. As far as aesthetics go,  Mingate's choices are as flippant as her character. She's a big fan of jewelry, her ear piercings and tattoos⁵ being the only constant in her daily fashion choices. Her predominant styles lie with biker & dark academia⁶.

[ 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 ] ⠀ ⸺ ⠀ fortune favours the bold .

As a woman of many names & faces,  trying to figure out what goes on in that pretty little head of hers is a futile task. For those not familiar with her,  it's quite the challenge to discern whether she likes you,  hates you or simply tolerates you. Her demeanour is a constant pull between being friendly & seeming as though she couldn't care less about you. At first glance,  Milou Mingate is the picturesque cliché of an arrogant rich kid  ⸺  a brat too spoiled for her own good. Her pragmatic words are often laced with a heavy dose of sarcasm,  the woman's lack of genuine consideration acting as a deterrant for those around her. Truth be told,  Milou is scared.  Terrified of what lay beyond,  how could she let another know her when she barely knows herself?  Alas,  those who dare to take a leap of faith will be greatly rewarded. Behind the pessimistic extrovert's mask lay a woman full of love for those around her. Passionate. Impusilve. Unfettered.  Despite what she presents herself as,  Mingate sustains herself on the thrills of life. Unapologetic in her way of living  ⸺  hard & fast,  calculated risks taken in the heat of the moment.  Don't tie her down or put a leash around her neck;  for then she'll go to unperceived lengths to steal the moon & stars out of the night sky for you.  But the matters of a heart are a fickle thing,  better hope you discern her elusive nature before she slips out of your grasp for good.

CÉDRIC ARMAND LACROIX. ⠀ thoughts and prayers for poor ceddy bear, everyone !  when he says she is the bane of his existence,  he has every right to say so and i will defend him in a court of law on this. for any true rivalry going on between them,  it's rather one-sided on c's side. milou doesn't truly hate them,  not even really dislike them. however,  she's getting an absolute piss out of getting them riled up and has so for years now. truly surprised they haven't suffered an aneurysm yet.  they're also taking second place as far as ROs go. who would have thought!

VANCE KASPER NÆSHOLM. ⠀ bro truly pissed off the wrong woman on their first day at yale...  of course,  milou is pretty pissed following their attempted murder,  but that is not why V is gonna be in for one hell of a ride. oh no.  she's rather quick to  'forgive'  them. milou does hold a slight grudge for a few days,  but that dissipates rather quickly.  she's also a little shit though,  taking advantage of the fact that V is still rather skittish around her at first. playing the hot & cold game,  though milou isn't overtly mean. it's more about the anticipation,  leaving them hanging & wondering whether she hates them or not. however,  given they haven't decided they're better off without milou  (V babe you absolutely would be please save urself before its too late),  they'll eventually reach a point at which milou will assure them that no. she does not hate them. yes. they are friends. yes. they are now legally obliged to be her partner in crime and get dragged into her bullshit.

WILHELMINE JOHANNA OSTENDORF. ⠀ angsty unrequited love my beloved. yearning and pining for what you know can never be yours my beloved. please dear author i need my angst pleasepleasepleaspelapselapsle  (im so normal about their potential dynamics here but need more time with them to figure out the details)

DUMITRU CONSTANTIN DIACONU. ⠀ hold my glass of fruit juice for a moment everyone because im gonna be soooo fucking normal here in a second. i will never. NEVER. shut up about fwb dynamics that turn into "oh shit i have actually fallen in love with you and i'm sorry but now i can't help but love you like a dog until the end of time". it's about the devotion. it's about the yearning. it's about coming to terms that you have found yourself in a love that transcends the capacity of words & yet you don't have to speak a single word because you know your lover understands all of it. it's about bearing the responsibility of a love you never thought could be possible. one you never thought you deserved and yet ...  yet it is here. it is yours. and good fucking lord you will do everything to keep it,  desperately clining to it like your life depends on it because it does. it's something that you know could reach much greater places beyond your horizon,  but you're too selfish to let it go. and i need you to know that this shit goes BOTH WAYS btw. i'm extremely normal about two fucked up people that have endured too much trauma than they should be capable of withstanding, finding each other and becoming their safe haven. goodnight.

MAXINE EDYTHE WHITLOCK-SINGH. ⠀do you know what i love more than women?  women who can actually just kill me. idk but that is the vibe these two give me together. i feel as though they'd become unlikely best friends,  bringing the untouchable down to their knees,  forcing them to walk the mortal realms alongside the other. in a totally normal, platonic and non-sapphic way btw. totally.

✱ ⠀ [ 01 ] ⠀ as far as milou's biggest flaw goes, there are a lot of good options that fit with her character. girl has a lot more vices than she has virtues (D and her are gonna be an absolute mess istg). same goes for majors, although i was more torn between whether she'd go for smth more in pre-med or sciences — so i settled with something in between. simply can't help it as a woman in stem myself .... i love me my women in stem !!

✱ ⠀ [ 02 ] ⠀ my headcanons lean toward milou being partially thai, likely stemming from her mom? although i won't go into this in depth yet bc i want to see the stuff axel has in store for us regarding mc's parents and their heritage 🤭 i'm trying to stick as close to canon as i can though, so mandarin will have to do for now.

✱ ⠀ [ 03 ] ⠀ milou is a YAPPER, which is why so many of her extracurriculars fall into the social category. she knows how to navigate social situations with an effortless ease, though she's definitely got the dramatics to show for it too. dumitru & milou being the drama king / queen of yale anyone ??? i can def see it 😭

✱ ⠀ [ 04 ] ⠀ being a dramatic nihilistic queen struggling with apathy and her place in the world, a lot of her coping mechanisms involve keeping busy all the time, which is why she's taken up trying to learn as many languages as possible (+ in the same vein, take as many extracurriculars as she can). her proficiency is latin > thai mandarin >= german >> french = spanish > dutch.

✱ ⠀ [ 05 ] ⠀ tattoos + jewelry references tba

✱ ⠀ [ 06 ] ⠀ clothing references tba (i got lazy here ok)

✱ ⠀ [ CREDITS ] ⠀ 𝒊.  kuroe16370547, via former bird app . ⠀ 𝒊𝒊.  louise glück,  penelope's song . ⠀ 𝒊𝒊𝒊.  meg_mumu,  commissioned by me . ⠀ 𝒊𝒗.  lu__liu,  commissioned by me . ⠀ 𝒗.  luca guadagnino,  suspiria  ( 2018 ) . ⠀ 𝒗𝒊.  euripides  ( tr. anne carson ),   an oresteia;  “orestes” .

as a last footnote : canon milou has major daddy / mommy issues and would burn the whole city down before getting within a 10 ft radius of them ..... unless her goal is to drive a knife into their back. so it's nice seeing her have a good relationship with her parents FOR ONCE. don't tell me i'm jinxing myself.

[bitethedevil]

Am i delulu or does raphael admire tav/durge? I know its him performing, but as gale says "inviting to dine with devil is devils equivilant of serenade and roses" and first scene where we meet him he does eye tav/durge througly from bottom to top. Also he says "im fan of your work" to durge. So idk?? It lowey feels like raphael is fond of us in game but i need proof/ professional analysis. [Ahem you are the professional mouse afterall heehee~]

He Loves Us, He Loves Us Not: What is Raphael’s Relationship with Tav/Durge?

*Puts on my little mouse glasses* I’m glad you asked. I’m summing up a few points that I have also written about in another analysis called ‘Raphael and weaponized mortality’, so if that sounds interesting, you can find it in my reading list.

Everything about Raphael screams wolf in sheep’s clothing (or a cambion in man’s clothing if you will). Here are a few points illustrating this:

Cambions naturally have a really predatory kind of stench to them because they are entirely carnivorous. Yet, he is described as a perfumed trickster who smells of cherries and sulphur, most likely because he is trying to cover up that smell.

Poetry, an art that is very dependent on nasty mortal concepts such as ‘feelings’, is something we know he uses a lot. He’s not really good at it and he even says it’s not his ‘main interest’ to Karlach in the second act. His theatrical nature and use of poetry humanizes him, and I think he is well-aware of this.

When you call him out as a devil in front of Mol, he says something about how she wouldn’t believe them anyway, ‘not with his angelic complexion’. We also know that Gortash’s parents sold him to a ‘warlock’ and that’s how he ended up with Raphael. I’ve seen multiple places that that warlock is supposed to be Raphael himself.

Now this all makes me believe that he usually does not reveal his true nature to his clients unless: 1) they’ve already signed, or 2) they are so utterly fucked that they have already reached the point of no return with him and are forced to take his deal no matter what.

Yet, he reveals his true nature to us from the get-go. Yes, one could argue that the tadpole-gang does fulfill option 2) according to him and that’s why he does it, but I think it could also be something else. I think he knows from early on that we are his best bet, so he chooses to lay out all his cards on the table and tries to build as much trust as he can from the beginning.

This is also the function of helping us with Astarion’s scars. Dealing with a devil when you’ve never dealt with one before? Scary. Dealing with a devil when he has proven once before to keep his word? Much less scary. He’s ‘grooming’ us for trusting him to keep his word with THE deal (and he gets to fuck over Daddy Meph by potentially robbing him of a lot of souls. Win-win.)

I think Gale is right on the money when he says that it’s ‘a devil’s equivalent to serenades and roses’. Raphael is like a bird or something. He’s showing off, charming us, but also reminding us that he is big and scary. Although despite the fact that he is big and scary ‘he simply wants to help us’.

He’s done his research and already knows everything about us, so he knows exactly how to play us. This is demonstrated in the comment to Durge in the beginning and the thing he says in Last Light if you tell him he knows nothing about you: “Don’t I indeed?.

I really think that we turn into an obsession for him at some point and that the lines between the obsession about the Crown and his obsession about us blurs. This seems definitely to be the case in his journals. I mean the poor guy has nightmares about us…

I also am so sure that he is not even trying to trick us into anything with the Orphic Hammer. He truly does believe that the Emperor is a threat to us. See this:

I DO think he admires us or at the very least is heavily rooting for us. I don’t remember the exact quotes, but Korrilla tells us in Sharess’s that her and Raphael made a bet about if we would make it to the Gate, and Raphael won that bet because we had. He really believes in our merry little band of idiots.

His reaction if we betray him is also very telling I feel like. Notice how his eyes widen for a moment before they narrow and say the ‘You’ line. He seems surprised. In that whole sequence he is obviously pissed, but most of all I also just get the feeling of a man that has been humiliated and who is angry that he had put so much time, work, and trust into us.

He says that ‘he is fond of us, in his way’ and that I completely believe. It might not be out of love or affection or anything like that, but he is as fond of us as a cambion can be of someone. We’ve grown on him, and he sees potential and use in us. We fascinate him and I’d even go as far to say that he respects us. I feel like even if you give him the Crown of Karsus and he gets to rule the Hells, he will not forget the people who brought him there. He would not flaunt the fact that he had mortals help him get the Crown, but I think that when he goes on his spree to fuck up the realms outside the Hells, Tav and gang would at the very least be spared or even given privileges in that new world order. Is that a bit fucked up? Yeah…But we have to remember what he is: a devil.

(Thank you so much for the ask <3 That became a long answer. I love to yap lol)

[saerins]

HeyYy I’m a little slow but how did eita and yn realize that they were into each other in that way or desired each other like that? (IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN 😜) Like did eita just hit yn with “dtf? 😈” on a random Thursday orrrr 😭

extra chapter: blurred

꒰ঌꨄ︎໒꒱ — part of priceless. eita doesn’t understand why it irks him seeing other guys hit on you. after one night together with you, he at least knows he’s fucked.

content: otoya eita x female reader. smut. takes place in university, before “friendship”. eita calls reader princess, alcohol, profanity, mentions of death, penetration, spanking, cunnilingus, virgin!reader, eita makes reader cum multiple times. word count: 3.3k

༝༚༝༚ hahahaha i am so normal about university!yn & otoya guys … so completely normal </3 side to nonnie: yn and eita have always found each other attractive ! they just never thought they’d go that far at first :)

you’ve always been like this, so why does it bother him more than ever?

two months. that’s how long it’s been since you two talked. for two people who always talk shit all day long everyday, that’s a long time. it’s eita’s fault. he knows. maybe he shouldn’t have been so vocal about how you should act. it’s not his place.

he knows that.

he hasn’t apologised.

it’s a saturday night, and you’re just out having fun with your course mates—it’s not illegal. and eita’s with his bandmates, and a date to top it off—some girl who came up to him after a performance and said she was a fan; in hindsight it was probably just to get into his pants and yet she’s still here, two dates later.

she’s here, and he knows she’s probably beside him wondering why the fuck he’s staring at some other girl when she’s grinding against him but he can’t help himself. no matter how loud the music, no matter how crowded the club, no matter how miss bombshell here rubs her ass against him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you.

you don’t like to club. you barely like those people you’re with. eita knows why you’re acting like this.

so unserious. so smiley. so forced.

“oi, takuya,” eita calls out to one of his bandmates, setting his whiskey, neat on their table. “she’s all yours,” he says, shoving the poor miss bombshell to his bandmate, her cries of objection going unheard because he’s making his way to you.

there’s a guy trying to feel you up, your course mate. what the fuck is his name again?

“yes, shiro?” eita hears you coo once he’s close enough.

right, shiro takanori. notorious playboy, almost as notorious as eita. born rich, heir to one of the most exclusive resort clubs in japan, already in a couple of big modelling gigs thanks to his naturally good looks. silver spoon, trust fund idiot who has his hands on your hips and such lustful eyes and that smirk that says he knows he’s going to get exactly what he wants.

unluckily for him, eita’s here. and like hell is he ever going to be so lucky to bring you back home to his mansion.

with a firm grip around your bare waist—because of course you had to wear something so sexy tonight, that black single shoulder strap crop top of yours—eita cuts in, only shooting shiro a warning glare before pulling you aside, dragging you behind him.

“hey, what the fuck?” you protest once he stops at the empty booth near the side. you sound frustrated, and upset, and somehow eita knows what the fuck is going on inside that little still-twisted mind of yours. “i was talking to him, you know?”

eita scowls, the most judgemental look on his face as he listens to you. “yeah? were you trying to seduce him too or what?”

there’s a defiant look in your eyes. you’re only a little tipsy, so you still have the better part of your common sense with you. “so what if i was? how’s that any of your business?”

what a way to have your first big disagreement since you became friends. this is the part where both of you are thankful that the music’s too loud for anyone else to hear you.

eita scoffs, tongue poking against his inner cheek as he looks at you in disbelief. he’s not an infinitely patient person. especially not when he’s looking at you not behaving like yourself. he takes a step back, leaning against the wall, hands in his pants pocket as he looks from the bigger picture.

your father just died not long ago. you have to deal with your mother and the inhumane way she treats you. you have to make sure you score well for everything lest they take your scholarship away.

you’re losing it.

probably.

so much so that you’re willing to look for someone like shiro takanori to relieve your pain. eita doesn’t get it—he’s right here. is he worse than shiro?

“you know what? forget it,” you sigh, your eyes glazing over, the potential tears betraying your spiteful exterior. you don’t say anything else before you’re storming out of the club, with eita struggling to catch up behind you.

he’s calling out your name but you ignore him. he’s sure. your hearing isn't that bad. and fuck because it’s raining and you’re too stubborn to stop and so is he so he ends up running after you, both of you soaked to the bone because it’s quite heavy and he thinks you find solace in it since it can mask your tears.

the intersection where the both of you meet before school starts because the diner you like is just around the corner—that’s where he catches up to you. eita’s fingers connect around your wrist and you try to yank it away but it’s no use.

“let go of me.”

the rain’s pouring all around you and your voice isn’t even clear but eita can’t let you go. not when he knows he’s guilty of leaving you alone when he shouldn’t have. all because of his stupid pride.

maybe he should’ve listened to you.

is that what you need? distraction?

it’s simple and complicated both at the same time. eita doesn’t care about your small crushes and fleeting flings, but why does he care so much back there, when he saw you with shiro like that?

before he knows it, his hand is pulling you in by the back of your neck, his lips on yours and it’s so much better than he imagined. yeah, he’s imagined what it’d be like to kiss you recently, for some reason. and you must really need the distraction, because you’re kissing him back.

“what was that for?” you ask, breathily, foreheads pressing together as your fingers fist at his shirt.

it takes everything in eita to pull away, not that it’s because he has any form of self control when it comes to these things, but partly because of the rain and partly because of the conscious fact that you’re one of his best friends and that until tonight, he never thought he’d actually ever cross a line with you.

eita ignores your question because it’s too tempting not to. “let’s get out of this rain, it’s all your fucking fault,” eita murmurs, though his strong words are cancelled out by his hands around yours as he walks with you in the direction back to the dorms.

“here.” eita tosses you one of his clean jerseys, the one he wears for the national team. you once told him that’s your favourite one. you always steal his shit. “i need that for my next game though, so don’t stash that away.”

you snort, “didn’t know you realised.”

eita looks at you from over his shoulder, white hair matted against his face, a squinted stare as he deadpans at you. “of course i did, you stole three jerseys and one windbreaker.”

just like you are when you’re around him, eita realises you’re so shameless, your grin lighting up your face. “and you let me.” because you of all people know he always asks for his jerseys back, especially after all his random dates try to wear it and never return it. (he’s already gotten in trouble for that with his coach once.)

do you even know what you’re doing? eita thinks you don’t. it’s just the way you are, it’s how you act—this is all natural to you, not forced.

his gaze falls to your bare skin not concealed by your crop top, to your legs under that pleated skirt. thank fuck he didn’t let you get too carried away with shiro.

“change and then get out,” eita tells you, pulling his shirt over his head. he doesn’t think he can stand another minute with you here looking like that; hair a mess, soaked top to bottom, makeup slightly smudged and yet still looking like a fucking vision.

it’s very annoying, actually.

why’d he have to insist on making friends with you that day?

“mean,” you mumble, and eita ignores you. because you need to get out of here, and fast, before he regresses to fifteen minutes ago when he couldn’t control himself. and you’re like a spoiled brat, purposefully saying shit that you know will get under his skin. “hm, maybe i’ll ask shiro if he’s still at the club.”

shit like that.

“are you—” but the moment eita turns around, you’re suppressing a grin. stupid, just trying to rile him up. but it’s not like you won’t go looking for it—distractions. you will. you’ll look for bad news because that’s what you need right now.

he gives up. he gives up on trying to play the role of a good friend. you’re testing his limits and it turns out they’re not really that high. and lucky for you, he’s always found you pretty. you’re so fucking pretty and you’re interesting, even with the way you’re inching closer to him right now.

“fuck, you’re too much,” eita murmurs under his breath, the last of his will being stripped away. he’s already letting his hands pull you closer.

“i can always find someone else,” you whisper, both of you avoiding each other’s gaze.

“don’t you dare.” no, eita doesn’t want that. fuck, why doesn’t he want to share? he uses his fingers to tip your chin up, searching your eyes for the answers he already knows. “you wanna forget, y/n?”

you nod, the recollection of everything that’s happened within the past few months already threatening to make the tears fall. but eita catches you before they do, because he knows you’re so stubborn that you’d rather hold everything back than let them out, even if it’s him.

“just physical, ‘kay?”

eita nearly scoffs, but his tongue is too busy to let him. “yeah yeah, if you end up falling for real i’ll kill you,” he says, in between kisses, both of you ending up on the bed, eita hovering over your body as he marks your neck.

“don’t worry, you won’t have to.”

maybe it’s the fact that he never thought that he’d ever touch you like this, make out with you in his room, that he’s already hard as a rock even without doing anything yet. his mouth travels downward—neck, collarbone, chest—and your moans only get louder.

there’s a way that your voice makes him excited more than he usually is, the way your chest is heaving that urges him to devour you right then and there. his hands travel down to your thighs, pulling them apart, and the way your head pops up to look at him when his lips press kisses on your thigh—those sweet, innocent eyes—makes him pause.

“you’ve never done it before?” eita asks, softer in comparison to the loudness of the rainstorm outside.

and the moment you hesitantly shake your head, eita feels his heart beating faster in his chest. yeah, definitely a good idea to have taken you away from shiro. he swallows the lump in his throat, the idea that he’ll be your first seems strangely enticing.

it’s not surprising to him though, considering you’ve never had a boyfriend since he’s known you, and with the way you’re so stiff, anyone can tell.

eita’s hands smoothly caress your skin as he gets up, looking over your body once. “tell me if you ever want me to stop,” he tells you, hands travelling underneath your top, slowly lifting it up and off of you, your face tilted to the side, too awkward to look at him. you know he’s been with multiple girls—most of which you know are models and the like. it makes you a little self conscious of your own body, but eita doesn’t care. “look at me.”

you do, your eyes travelling to his face first, looking at the barely contained lust from behind his green irises. he’s already half naked, so you can see again now, just how toned he is, eyes shamelessly dragging over his form. but so is his, his hand now snaking up your thighs, pulling your skirt up over your stomach, the way you wear that bold lace lingerie driving him crazy.

wordlessly, you sit up on the edge of the bed, your boldness taking centre stage, fingers unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, the cunning in your eyes looking so, so attractive to him. you even know to pull a condom out of his pocket.

“i know you, otoya eita,” you whisper, and eita doesn’t doubt it. if anything, you’re probably the only person who knows him as well as you do. nobody else comes close.

he takes the condom from you, opening it with his teeth while you get rid of his boxers before handing it to you, a smirk on his face. “first lesson, innocent girl,” he says, a thumb caressing your cheek. “put it on for me.”

with a sneaky grin, you stick your tongue out, giving his tip a little kitten lick before anything else—what are you trying to do, give him a heart attack? eita can barely contain himself just looking at you like this; slightly wet and looking sexy as hell. fuck, he’s so fucked, he wants to know what it feels like to be inside of you so bad. a muffled groan rumbles in his throat, and you take that as a sign to lick a stripe up his length some more, making him throw his head back, taking the chance to roll the condom over his dick. his hand comes up to your hair and tugs on it, pulling you away.

“be a good girl and lie the fuck down, now,” he tells you, though it doesn’t matter since he pushes you down, immediately pulling your panties aside and relishing in how wet you are. soaking, and not from the rain. “nobody’s ever touched you there before, huh, y/n?” he wraps his arms under your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge of the bed.

eita’s breath is hot against your pussy, partially covered by the lace before he tugs it to the side again, kissing the area around it, watching as you clench around nothing. “e-eita, please—”

he snorts—you don’t even know what you want, do you? you just know that you can’t get rid of the frustration by yourself. no, because no matter how you’ve ever helped yourself in the past, if you ever did, eita’s going to make you feel a lot better. good enough to make you forget everything.

he’ll just give you a taste of your own medicine, giving your clit a quick little lick, watching as you squirm just from that alone. resigning, he pushes a finger inside you—just one, he doesn’t want to break you just yet—watching your face as your back arches, the pleasured moan that rolls off your tongue threatening to make him addicted. you’re so wet and so hot and you’re his best friend but fuck that, he wants you. physically. every. single. part of you.

you’re already wet enough, but his mouth lingers longer on your pussy, licking your folds and tasting every bit of you. he likes the way you moan his name, and the way your fingers grasp at the sheets and his hair. you’re a lot more addictive than any other girl he’s ever met and fuck if he’s going to let this be the one and only time he gets to have you.

eita pulls his finger out of you, lining his dick in front of your entrance, moving the hair away from your face. you’re all hot and bothered and he really wants to know what you look like when you’re getting fucked. probably better than anything he’s ever seen—in person or on video.

he leans down, hands on either side of you, silently begging you to just tell him to stop but you don’t. your hands only trace a trail down his chest and he can’t keep still anymore.

“fuck, can’t take it anymore,” he groans into your ear, body pressed on top of yours as he gently nibs on your lobe. “i’ll try to go slow, okay? but you’re so fucking hot like this i can’t promise it won’t hurt.”

“just do it, i don’t care, i need you,” you tell him, all rushed and muffled because both of you are at your wit’s end.

that’s all the confirmation he needs before he’s slowly pushing himself into you, groaning out your name as he feels your tight, gummy walls through the latex, your nails already digging into his back.

“you okay?” he asks, stilling for a moment.

“i’ll get used to it,” you tell him, feeling the burn from the stretch of your first time. “just fuck me already, please.”

shit-eating smirk on his face, he mocks you, white hair falling all over you, the messiness of it only making him look even more like bad news. he moves his hips achingly slow, watching every minor change in your expression, from the way your brows arch to the way you bite your lip.

“we’re alone in here, princess, don’t hide your sounds,” he tells you, a hint of condescension in his tone.

until tonight, you didn’t think you’d ever let him touch you like this, feel you this intimately. yet here he is, pushing your bra up and putting your nipple in his mouth while he fucks into you, tongue flicking at your perky bud, making you feel all sorts of things you’ve never experienced before.

and you listen to him, his name falling out your mouth more times tonight than it has since the time you’ve known him—his lips moving from your chest to your neck to your lips, hungry as if he absolutely needs to claim his territory on every part of you.

eita shifts so that he can look at all of you, watch as your breasts bounce as he thrusts in and out of you, watch as your slick coats the base of his dick as you beg him not to stop, as if he could. fuck, he could cum just like this but he doesn’t want it to end so soon. you’ve already creamed around him what, twice now? you’re sensitive, oh so sensitive, squirming at every slight movement, mewling uncontrollably as he pinches your clit, threatening to cum again when he turns you around, gets you on your knees, slapping your ass.

how the fuck is he supposed to fuck anybody else now when you’re the most perfect girl he’s ever seen?

you arch your back, propped up on your palms as you look over your shoulder at him, his hips still moving, controlling himself as he makes absolutely sure to savour this moment tonight. 

but, like always, you always find a way to surprise him, mischief behind those eyes as you smirk at him; you smirk at him like you know how much he loves this.

“eita.” the way you say his name is so dangerous—like he’s caught in your web with no way out. “cum inside me?”

and just like that, he obeys, unintentionally, his body toppling on top of you, the weakest, guttural moan coming out of him ever as he feels you cumming at the same time too, his fingers rubbing circles on your clit, riding you through it.

fuck, he thinks as he looks at you under him, both of you wet from the rain or sweating, he can’t even tell, but what he knows is that he’s so, so fucked after what happened tonight.

shit, he wants more of you. 

[bits-and-babs]

✦ 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 7: INCUBUS

maul x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.0k words

summary: a strange creature visits your dreams, promising to satiate a yearning body he heard call to him across the force.

cw: f!reader, incubus! — somnophilia and dub-con by default, p in v sex, size kink, rough sex, choking, use of pet name ‘dove’. not my finest work, but i wanted to play around.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 8: ROLEPLAY ⇾

Karlini silk pools around your body, the thin veil of fabric clinging to your sweat-damp skin. The sensation is what draws your attention from the black chasm of slumber, but the discomfort isn’t enough to wake you. Instead, you lay suspended between absolute unconsciousness and an obscure dream. Brows furrowed, lips parted, you try to focus on the blurred vision at the edge of your cognisance.

The pleasant weightlessness of sleep shifts when you sense the delicate brush of something sharp across the curve of your bare shoulder. It’s not painful– isn’t cold like a blade, but it raises goosebumps across your skin. Still, your presence of mind fails to drag you from your slumber, even when you feel a warm breath fan across your cheekbone.

“I hear your yearning,” a purring voice whispers in your ear, almost goading in its tone. Like urging you to succumb to its alluring timbre. Almost tentatively, a weight begins to settle across your torso, sinking you deeper into the mattress and further into your slumber. “Your fervour. So potent, I could hear it even through the shroud of the force.”

Rumbling sounds of empathy twist slightly, the spectre relishing in your subconscious suffering. As though it had manifested the longing inside you, desire pools between your thighs, desperate for the attention of this apparition. 

Heavy hips settle against your own, spreading your thighs open just beyond their flexibility, the delicious strain evidence of the sheer size of the presence. Blunt flesh slips itself between the lips of your cunt, nudging your feverish clit. 

A gasp tumbles from your lips, and you see. Through the fuzzy darkness, you see the vague vision of sly, scarlet lips exposing force-mottled teeth. 

“I taste it. How receptive you are to my touch,” the hum of the creature's voice skitters down your spine, pooling heavy between your thighs as it begins to roll its hips forwards. A heaving gasp tumbles from your lungs, knuckles bleached with the strength you grasp onto the silk beneath you. Thick and heavy, the throbbing intrusion threatens to pull you from your dreams as your walls strain against the unyielding push of his pelvis. 

Slick leaks from your cunt, drooling down the inside of your thighs to match the wetness of the tears of bliss that weep down the apples of your cheeks. You hear the spectre chuckle to itself, relishing in your body’s bewilderment. Pain or pleasure? Fear or bliss?

“Is it not manifest?” The smooth, raspy tone settles beside the shell of your ear, a feather-light dance of hot breath fanning across your skin, “I am extending charity to you; a poor, neglected dove.” 

The stretch of your slick pussy walls still feels too distant to be real, veiled with a dream-like fogginess that would clear upon waking. Yet–... Your eyelids still felt so heavy, and the gentle push of a velvety head into something blissful inside of you felt so tangible.

“The least you could do–” a heavy drag of his tongue against your throat causes your back to arch from the bed, sighing blissfully as the apparition tasted at your salty skin. It pauses against your pulse, and the creature's lips peel apart in a smirk with his enamel resting over your jugular,  “--is offer yourself in libation.”

The sudden arc of the creature’s hips, pushing the rest of his length into your tight cunt with a sharp thrust rocks you from the dream-world you’d found yourself suspended in. Something akin to a shriek of shock and a wail of bliss dies in your throat when the Zabrak slips his tongue inside of your mouth. You coat his taste buds, sweet and heady – he’d been pleasuring you long before you noticed the creature’s presence. 

The fiery red of the Zabrak’s skin blurs in your tear-laden vision, using the weight of his vast body to pin you into the mattress and fuck into you. Untethered by your consciousness, a brutality unleashes itself from the Dathomirian. Sinking his teeth into your neck, he thrusts deep inside of your clenching cunt, groaning loudly at the slick sounds of protest when he stuffs deep inside you over and over again. 

A strong, thick palm winds itself around your throat, index finger and thumb settling either side in the hollow of your flesh below either earlobe. The webbed, blackened apex of his purlicue settles against your windpipe, and the Zabraki seems to take great pleasure in applying slow, crushing pressure until your breath catches and your brain fizzes. Topaz eyes inlaid with ruby spark with glee to see you struggle, your toes curling in the sheets and hips rising to meet his own. 

“Ah, that’s it,” the creature laughs, heady and rumbling between your ears as your nails bite into the bi-colour flesh of his shoulder. You’re unsure if the warm, sticky wetness you feel beneath your fingers is blood or perspiration. “You feel it, don’t you?”

The shuddering of your body and slackness of your jaw tells the creature what your voice cannot. It’s arcing, flaring white hot like the shimmering edge of a lightsaber blade inside your pelvis. A delightful threat. 

“Come then,” he muses, thrilled with your struggle as you try so desperately to touch the oblivion he’s offering, the complete obliteration. It ebbs at the edges of your being, threatens to swallow you as he stuffs himself deep inside of your abused cunt. “Take it.”

A shudder, a snap. Something falls, then slots into place. A cool breeze seeps into the bedroom from the open window, net curtains drifting slightly as the moonlight leaks across the sweat soaked bed sheets and cools your searing hot skin. 

Deep breaths struggle to ease your heaving chest, eyes frantic as they search around the room for the crimson creature that had buried himself inside of you. The room is unstirring, untouched, and utterly silent. If not for the gnawing twinge at the base of your throat and the thick, seeping seed weeping from between your thighs, you could almost persuade yourself he hadn’t existed at all– an odd vision dancing across the force. 

Part of you didn’t want to.

star wars/kinktober taglist:

@mortallyuniquepeach @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @crybaby-blue-blog1 @heart-atttack @pansa-1-san @saradika @mylifeisactuallyamess

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh @km-ffluv @decaffeinateddinosauronearth @domaniquessidehoe2 @arrozyfrijoles23 @amisouki @sleepysheepsstuff @chunguk @lundenloves @marylovesdilfs @ninahhh-brahh @namelesshumanperson @limegreenbabx @doggydale @wiltedwonderland @justsayk

[elfdragon12]

New issue, new impressions!

This arc continues to set-up and gives the Autobots a little breathing room (though we know it won't last).

"Abomination" has never been more accurate.

Everyone's an art critic, especially Starscream when the subject is himself.

"With the trigger tied to my heartbeat--and our little controller over there, if we stop ticking, so do you."

A smart move, but, let's be honest, this tactic never ends well.

"A being that shares my goals! How fortunate! My name is Starscream and surely I am the greatest Decepticon you could have captured. I myself have been looking for the right fleshling to partner with."

"Oh yeah?"

"Oh yeah."

*looks at the first few issues* ... Yeah, yeah, that's totally what Starscream in this universe has been looking for.

This whole scene... Definitely explains in a nutshell how Starscream went from stopping Ulchtar from squishing little critters to gleefully crushing humans.

This is never a good expression from Starscream.

YEEEAAAAAHHHH!!! THE BAND IS BACK TOGETHER! Poor, poor Brawl!

OOOOOOHHHHHH! So that piece of Cybertron neither burned up in the atmosphere nor sank into the ocean. Hopefully, Cliffjumper is hiding out there somewhere!

"But we must focus on things more important than my own greatness. There is an evil that has grown in our ranks. Soundwave has--"

"You need not say more, Starscream!"

"Onslaught and I heard him plotting against our own fallen Shockwave! He is a traitor!!!"

This is all getting super juicy! 👀👀👀 Remember when Thundercracker was talking to Soundwave about how Shockwave was treating their prisoners of war? (I think it was issue 10.) Onslaught and Brawl certainly do! 👀

And then things hit the fan with the human squad.

Man, the general was really the only one close to Starscream's level, wasn't he? (Also... We don't necessarily need to feel too bad for these humans beyond general sympathy. They worked for Destro, major arms developer and dealer who recently confirmed his alliance with Cobra Commander. Yeah, the underlings were likeable in a sort of incompetent way, but also part of an aggressive paramilitary organization with intent to overthrow governments.)

I think these bits with the flashback reveals a lot regarding Starscream and Megatron's relationship, at least from Starscream's perspective, in this continuity.

Starscream may have willingly joined the Decepticons after Ulchtar was killed in action, but Megatron seemed to have dragged him down over the course of the war and pressed Starscream to do things he didn't want to do. While the lines blurred over time, Starscream's resentment never wavered.

And he gains a cat!

Of course the one human he left alive was the artist!

Oh, a little tidbit from the letters section:

"In regards to Ratchet, I will say 'never say never'."

It's not a promise, so Ratchet fans shouldn't get their hopes up, but DWJ is more loosey-goosey with what the robots can survive. It is possible that Ratchet still has some spark left like Skyfire/Jetfire? Starscream and Skywarp have survived a lot of punishment.

I would say this was a pretty interesting issue! We see, without the pressures of the Autobots or Soundwave, how Starscream can be effective in getting what he wants. He also has so much anger and resentment. Resentment out the wazoo!

[hanuwuie]

Brother

Genre - fiction, fan-made, non idol.

Warning - Sad and angsty ig...

word count - 827... well.

(Getting logged out and got locked out of the account isn't fun.)

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

"If he loved me why'd he leave me in that hell"

"if only he knows why I left"

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

<Part 4>

Jeongin Pov

“Be at it.” 

I was standing at the corner, crying with my hand over my mouth. I still remember how much it hurted, cutting the onions, tomatoes, and lemon was pure torture. Suddenly I felt myself collapse, and pain shot through my body.

The surroundings got blurry as I saw my room again, for a split second. Drenched in sweat I stood up. The room was dark, so, I looked around with my hands as I blinked fast to clear up my vision. Shibal! I hit my foot on the side table.

I drank a whole cup of water and fell back in bed. The sleep still in my eyes, I slowly drift off. Back to dreaming, hoping for a good one this time, but we're not that lucky, are we; –The author loves to traumatize me. 

The black faded, I saw my father standing at the doorstep as I peeked from upstairs, ‘Minho hyung is gone’ was all I could hear at that moment. How can he leave me here? He promised.

I remember he promised to leave with me. We planned but, why? 

“We will go together!”

“Promise!?!”

“Promise.”

I am still here but you are free. Why? Why do you not love me? Why did you leave me here?

My father reached me, pulling me down with him. It hurts. But I don't do anything, I can't do anything. The woman, my mother, had her dress dirty like they ran over the dirt; I knew hyung was planning to leave but I didn't betray him, like he did.

My whole body ached. I don't know how long, I can't move. The rain was drenching me, the bench was cold, the wind made me shiver. The park, once an escape, now felt cold and deserted. It felt lonely and sad.

Author Pov 

An eight year old cold and alone, hurt lying in the park. Why is God so cruel to him, the poor boy didn’t even do anything. The cold kept increasing, tears blurring the vision, he opened his eyes back in his bedroom. 4 P.M?!? It was the morning chill that woke Jeongin up, tearing him from his nightmare cum memory. 

The sky looked rather pale for the morning, quite cold for July. He ruffled the blanket due to the cold. It was too early for him to go to work, His shift was from 10 today. He got some reservations done for today. 

The Cafe occasionally send some staff on bookings or Restaurants. Even though Jeongin doesn't go, he felt he should try so, he got two reservation done for today – 10 Am and 7 Pm – weird right. 

Waking up at 4 wasn't something he planned and it's bad it happened he'll feel sleepy at the shift now, Bad luck. He decided to go for a run, That saying ‘Go for a run in the very morning and now your day can't be any worse’ or something.

Sweaty, he returned at the apartment meeting with a half asleep Hyunjin in pyjamas, a rare sight, with his hair sticking everywhere. In a split second, upon seeing Jeongin, Hyunjin dashed back in his room. 

“Morning Hyung-”

Shrugging, Jeongin drank a glass of water and skipped to his room. He sat on his bed until a knock was heard, opening the door, a well dressed Hyunjin entered scratching his head.

“umm hey jeongina”

“Hi hyung,” Jeongin made some space for him “you need something?” 

“Not really,” Hyunjin sat beside Jeongin “I just wanted to talk to you”

“Sure” 

“When will you be back today?” Hyunjin said straight forwardly “Like from work.”

“Uhmm around like,” Jeongin counted on his fingers “ Either 10 or 11. Why?”

“Uhh nothing, I gotta go for today,” Hyunjin stood up “Will be back tomorrow, maybe.”

“Okay, sure” Hyunjin left after telling Jeongin who sat back, lazily. 

--- 

After the 10 Am shift Jeongin was pretty much drained, thank God he got 5 hours before going to work again. He would never take bookings again. 

He huffed lightly as he walks on the footpath, the road was still damp from the morning rain. The chip-chap sound of his foot mixed with the horns and swooshes of the cars and buses.

“Hey Jeong-” 

Jeongin clasped the mouth of his loud friend, who saw him and just decided to scream. He looked around for any unwanted attention.

“Oh shut up,” Jeongin rolled his eyes, “We're in the middle of road.” 

“So, what!” Han smiled shamelessly.

“What do you want?” Jeongin walked up ahead.

“Umm what time is your booking?” Han caught up.

“At 7,” He frowned, “Why?” 

“Nothing,” Han walked away blowing a kiss, “Happy shift”

“whatever” Jeongin made a ‘disgusting’ face.

---

“Mr. Park, He will be there at around 10.”

“How can you be so sure, Ji?”

“I know, he got to work at 7, should be finished by 10.” 

“This better be right, or else.” 

“Of course Mr. Park”

“Now leave.”

[annerb-fic]

My favorite fan meet-up memories!

Leverage Con-Con (2010)

Going to the Leverage Con-Con in 2010 with @holdouttrout. If I remember, we kind of decided to do it on a bit of a whim, and it ended up being the only Con-con that ever happened and it was so great! We had an amazing time, including one panel where Jonathan Frakes just randomly showed up halfway through and it was hilarious, and watching Gina Bellman be completely overwhelmed by fandom in hopefully a not terrible way, and Christian Kane being totally old hat at it and being like, “look, this is nothing, you should experience other fandoms.” And that one time Trout and I were just trying to take the elevator somewhere and BAM there were Beth Riesgraf, Timothy Hutton, and Aldis Hoge RIGHT THERE, trying to get in the elevator as we were leaving and my brain only had one thought which was: TALL, because holy heck the three of them together is just very tall.

I always keep a little notebook on me, have for years and years, and I also keep them all. This gave me an excuse to dig back through them. I found that I’d written something about the Con-con!

Awesome, small size, new, everyone has never done this before, get really genuine response. In general, fans have been really well behaved. Love the random drive bys. Whatever panel is going on, another actor, producer runs in to ask questions from audience. Like Jonathan Frakes running through Gina and Beth’s panel. Jonathan Frakes doing an impression of Patrick Stewart being asked to do a six-episode arc on Leverage: “Cable?!”

The actors also got asked what the team would do in a zombie apocalypse (which had amused me at the time because I had already written The Chainsaw Job which was a Leverage zombie-apocafic. Poor Trout having to deal with my freak out over it.)

Parker as role model for young girls. Things Not To Do When Asking Panel Questions: Multipart Questions Preface with comment or 10-minute personal story Remind actor of previous stalking/bizarre behavior How much do I love that one of the guest stars, after their panel is sitting down in the crowd and listening to the presentation of “Page to the Screen”. Albert, John, Chris. Copenhagen!

(I have no recollection of what Copenhagen! meant any longer. Trout?)

DragonCon (2007)

Going to DragonCon in, wow I cannot for the life of me remember what year that was (must have been late naughty-aughts). I remember there was a great congregation of SG-1 peeps and @katcorvi and I shared a room despite never having met each other in person before and we shared endless jokes about which one of us was an axe murderer. Turns out neither, and we had a lovely time. We still exchange Christmas cards. I remember going to a Harry Potter panel with Pellucid to see the twins actors and people hissing about a book 7 spoiler despite it having been a long while since the last book came out. I am pretty sure this was also the time that we got to see Chris Judge learn what a furry is live on stage and it was all you can imagine. (Okay, that is what helped me figure out the year, because I found it on youtube! Also, was that shutthef_up who called out about fur suits? I feel like it was.) That was also the con where I came out of a stall in the bathroom and came face to face with Gates McFadden (who is also Very Tall or at least felt that way), which was very unexpected and made me freak out, especially after all those years of watching TNG and dreaming up self-insert fics where I fell in love with her TV son (not that I knew fanfic was a thing yet).

This was my first fangirl meetup and I was wildly nervous and probably very awkward and strange. But it was so great to meet people I had spent so much time with online. And it’s always funny to see how people do and don’t live up to the images you have of them in your head. (Like the most loquacious and thoughtful person who is nearly silence in-person.) I met so many people that it’s kind of a blur who was actually there. I think Abyssinia, Jennghis (Surreallis), Splash (were you there?), so many people.

London (2011)

Fangirl meet up in London (#2). In…oh boy. I am so bad at years. 2010? No, February 2011. I finally figured it out, primarily because I found notes I had taken in a notebook! We had a huge crew. Most of them were there for the Amanda Tapping con (AT5, I believe.) I was, for various reasons, too chicken to go to the con, even though I was literally in the con hotel for the first night of the convention. But Beanpot and I ran around together that night, if I recall. Before the con, we hung out in London. We ran around the British museum (which for Stargate SG-1 fangirls is even funnier that you would think, because we got to run around looking at the Egyptian stuff and make Goa’uld jokes). And someone…Trout? Was that us? We ran out to King’s Cross to find the little HP cart going into the wall thing they have, but the whole terminal was under construction. I remember not being able to sleep at night and it taking me days to realize it was because I was drinking English breakfast tea in the morning (I don’t do caffeine). We had a lot of cool pub hangouts too, and I remember something hilarious happening (of course) and me taking notes in a little notebook about it. Which I finally found by digging through 20 different little notebooks (which was fun. I think I found the first things I ever wrote about the idea of The Changeling in there too). My entry on the London meet up is pretty short. It just says:

Meet up. Hang out in Penn Club dining room. Walk to dinner at Turkish place. Walk to pub. Aspall’s cider. Very cool place Marquis Cornwallis. Good smut has no nouns.

London (2019)

London fangirl meet up #1, incidentally, was in 2008 when I was in London for not-fandom related reasons, and was lucky enough to meet up with @pepperf at the British museum. Again, I was weird and awkward and had never really hung out with a fandom friend in person much, and we had my non-fandom husband trailing around behind us. But it was still lovely, of course, and hanging out with Pepper is always the best. Which is why I am lucky I got London fangirl meet-up #3 in 2019, this time with Pepper and @bethanyactually. We did a lot of lovely things and had a great time, of which our peak fannish experience was running around London to find places BBC’s Strike had been filmed and getting to see Ibsen’s Rosmersholm on the West End, staring Hayley Atwell and Tom Burke. Can’t wait for London fangirl meetup #4.

That’s it, I think. I don’t think I’ve ever been to another Con.

[shiftintochange]

Why do fans hate their favorite celebrities WAGS?

In a world where celebrity worship blurs the lines between reality and fantasy, the allure of a male idol can transform into a battleground of envy and resentment for his female admirers.

Fans tend to idealize and create parasocial relationships with celebrities in general, but it may be worse when it is a female fan-male celebrity relationship. Female fans may deeply identify with the male celebrity, projecting their own desires and wishes onto him, occasionally even to the point where they idolize him and create a version of their token celebrity in their head. Sometimes, we view celebrities as some kind of superior being, but in reality, the male celebrity you idealize is just a man. He is just a regular person like you, and no matter how much media you consume related to said celebrity, you will never truly know the inner workings of this person or how they act when they are in private.

When fans see their favorite male celebrity with another woman, it triggers a response of jealousy as they wish to be in her place. Oftentimes, I see a lot of fans painting the female partner in a negative light, whether that be starting rumors or posting hateful videos on the internet. I strongly believe any negative feelings towards the female partner could stem from projecting their own insecurities onto her. These fans have wished to be in the female's position for probably as long as they have ‘known’ the male celebrity. This makes it easier to project their own insecurities onto the poor woman. Some fans might have even found themselves constructing a fantasy relationship with the celebrity in their minds where they imagine themselves as the ideal partner, so someone else coming in and shattering their fantasy upsets them. This obviously leads to serious jealousy, resentment, and even genuine hatred towards the celebrity's partner.

This was a very very short blog post, but I am hoping to type up a longer one soon and publish it somewhere else. If I do, I'll definitely link it here for you guys, if you enjoyed this of course :)

[dalesramblingsblog]

(Put into its own post because I have a chronic fear of hijacking things with reblog chains. Some Tumblr user I turned out to be... Anyway credit obv to @gen-is-gone)

But yeah this is pretty much where I come down on the matter as well. In writing about the books featuring Sam, and occasionally being critical of how her character has been handled, I have tried to be very careful not to frame it as some kind of objection to the character on a fundamental level, but rather to some egregiously poor decisions made by certain authors.

There are two reasons for this, the first of which is that I am, as critics go, a bit of a quietly staunch anti-Watsonian who has never once invested too much in the idea that art needs to be treated as, to use a possibly apocryphal Gayatri Spivak quotation, "gossip about imaginary people." Sam Jones doesn't need to be real to be meaningful.

But more importantly, as you say, I do want to be mindful of the long and not-so-distinguished tradition of male fans constantly putting Sam down because "unrelatable" or "unlikable" or "too politically correct" or whatever. Dale's Ramblings has always been kind of tacitly influenced by my growing up as a terminally online young autistic white boy of the sort who, if we're being perfectly frank, could have very easily spiralled down exactly that sort of right-wing echo chamber if things had turned out slightly differently.

So again, I do try to be mindful of the optics of my reviews, which I don't say to big myself up because I do think that it really is the bare minimum in a situation like mine. But y'know, point is, whatever my issues with how the overwhelmingly male crop of writers that defined Wilderness Years Doctor Who incorporated Sam into their novels, I never want to take anything away from the people for whom the character really resonated.

Because at a certain point in shitting on a book for having "poorly written female characters" or whatever as a man you're just going to end up in the same position as those male nerds who got huffy when ComicCon did a Twilight panel, where the boundaries between "OK you're making legitimate critiques of an author's decisions" and "Bro you might just hate women a little bit (read: a lot), it's OK we can wean you off of watching Nerdrotic, I know a great rehab program" start to blur and outright dissolve.

Or y'know, again, to quote myself in a TL;DR because sometimes I do actually write things that are halfway decent:

(Oh and also yeah I look forward to Seeing I immensely, if only because it's the only thing keeping me going through the looming spectre of Longest Day and Legacy of the Daleks, god the 1998 crop of EDAs is... not the most promising, with one or two notable exceptions. Of which Seeing I is one.)

[thedevotionaltour]

your posting about brat pack has got me so curious

ohhhh my feelings on bratpack are both So Complex and Extremely Easy. i'm gonna put this under the cut bc it accidentally got long. and then this got long too IM SORRY. this got so damn rambly. anyways. what i deem important i'll keep up here

summary of feelings: underground gritty take on superhero sidekick story contains both well done genuine critiques of the genre and its fans but i think has some contempt in there, too (but then again, who can blame a guy). offers interesting ideas. has some piss poor writing in there where occasionally trying to satirize something just makes it into exactly what it's trying to critique if not handled well. READ THE REVISED TPB INSTEAD OF THE SINGLE ISSUES AS THE REVISIONS MAKE THE STORY MORE IMPACTFUL and reminds us that capitalism is the upholder of evils. and lets itself breathe here and there a bit more and allows for more depth. though if you want to read both for comparison, i wouldn't advise against that-- rereading it in the tpb form as opposed to when i just read it as single issues helped me with some of the meh feelings i had about it.

it is also a comic i will absolutely say right now is NOT one i would recommend to everyone. at all. i'd say if you are not a fan of american underground comix, this may not be to your taste. but if you're willing, or enjoy edgier comics even with no underground experience, and enjoy comics that satirize the cape genre, it's worth giving it a go. and please keep in mind that not only is richard veitch's career from an undergound background, it is also the 90s. so it's good to keep that in mind, too.

also, important to note content warnings on the comic itself include homophobia, sexual abuse, racism, and misogyny. alongside other things, but i think those are the most important to be upfront on. this isn't a here and there thing with it-- they are major points through the whole story and will be carrying it along.

final important statement: i am so sad for all these children and wish the heroes would die.

and here is a link to the comic!

i think a good background context for this is to my understanding, it's was partially written as a response to the jason todd vote to kill hotline and how people acted about it afterwards. well, inspiration at least, not quite sure on the response part at all. im trying to vaguely remember things right now. the comic as a whole is satirical poking and prodding about it. for some further context, jason todd had only died two years ago when this began publication.

the comic is a very gritty, edgy superhero style story, talking about all the dark parts and the "you know, this wouldn't be all the fun in real life, now would it?" stuff. so these kids are going through the fucking ringer of abuse, life as child soldiers who are both idolized and despised by the public, and are seen as icons as opposed to people. and that it's adults who are putting children through this. you get the awesome reminder of it is not as easy to survive being blown up as dc and marvel may have you think just because you're the hero!

as mentioned before, it's a story that is a satirical and critical deconstruction of the superhero genre, sidekick and young hero groups in particular. author richard veitch's career started in underground comix and it shows through and through. i think it has a lot to offer in how it handles its critiques, how it points out the hypocrisy in the fan culture. it also has a lot of blunders with it too. sometimes when trying to satirize misogyny and homophobia within the fan culture and stories, it just winds up as actually misogynist and homophobic writing.

a lot of where my more negative feelings on it definitely lie in the realm of sometimes the line between crit/satire and then just contempt for the genre and its fans feel occasionally blurred. i think a lot of this comes from some parts of the writing i find really mishandled. a lot of my critical feelings also come from the aforementioned homophobia-- i have. many feelings on the character the mink. i think it is absolutely possible to write a gay sexual child abuser. i think it is very much possible to write a character like him, stereotypical flamboyancy and all. but i also think the caricature gets pushed too hard sometimes, and it leaves a very nasty taste in my mouth. i know exactly that this character and his sidekick are meant to be an exaggerated portrayal of the homophobic beliefs and gay interpretations surrounding batman and robin. knowing that fact and what it's meant to be does not make that better and mean it is done well. i think it could have been handled a lot better. maybe if i returned and reread after sitting with this comic for a while, my opinions would change. as of right now though, they remain... less than pleasant.

i am willing to hear someone out if they wanted to say, "eiffel, i think your feelings are truly more discomfort as opposed to veitch having handled this story point poorly, and here's why the writing with the mink is not actually as bad as it feels". but i will also say i dont think every second of it was bad. again, i think there are some interesting approaches here and there with it, and as a function overall in the group of heroes, none of them are any better than him. but it's. hooh. oh boy. oh boy. it's a lot. get ready for every stereotype about the flamboyant gay molester you could imagine.

mink is also not the only caricature here-- all of the heroes are meant to be some caricature taken to the extreme with the heroes they're meant to mock.

THAT BEING SAID I REALIZED I HAVENT ELABORATED ON LIKE. THE BASICS OF THE HEROES AND STUFF AND WHO THEY'RE PARODYING. It's obvious when reading but since I don't know if you'll read it, I'll say it here. Midnight Mink and Chippy are Batman and Robin, Moon Mistress and Luna are Wonder Woman and Wonder Girl, King Rad and Wild Boy are Green Arrow and Speedy, and Judge Jury is a combo of Captain America and Judge Dredd (and one more character?) while Kid Vicious is meant to be Bucky. The last one I couldn't figure out until TvTropes told me bc despite loving heroes my knowledge on many of them is highly limited to a few of them.

anyways, this is also where i really try to remember that veitch's background lies in underground comix, which are the most edgiest and pushing your boundaries comics you can come by. and it's also the 90s. oh god it's the 90s. it's the 90s in the way it's 2008 when the comic kick-ass was published. but i also think i can recognize when it's just me having to sit through some discomfort and when some stuff just becomes distasteful. i think he handles the other characters better, though. or maybe i just choke them down easier. again, i'm willing to hear someone out if they'll talk me through it in a convincing way.

however, my enjoyment of it comes from that i do enjoy a good darker hero story. i do! i will always prefer a hopeful for humanity and that's why it's worth is superhero comic, but that's mostly for actual hero comics in the genre that are not critiques or satires. when a comic lets it be known this is entirely its purpose, then it's better than guy who just hates hero wrote a superhero comic, for some reason. knowing veitch has a background in heroes is what makes some parts of this a bit easier to take in good faith, but like. i wouldn't be surprised if there was absolutely some contempt and bitterness interwoven into it, too.

i think the sidekicks are a really interesting cast, and i like them. my favorites are chippy (cody) and luna. my heart goes out to them sooooo much. everyone talks about how much they want mink to die for sexually abusing chippy but no one talks about how moon mistress was... also sexually abusing luna. 100%. not the same way as mink with chippy, clearly, but luna was absolutely 100% sexually exploited too. so i think moon mistress should die badly too.

with the revised tpb of brat pack, i think it's good how it shows what the actual driving force behind all the insane abuse these children go through; it's capitalism. the heroes sold their imagery to companies for money, and so they have to uphold it to continue their funding. their greed and selfishness is what causes harm.

it also goes into how vigilantes are highly conservative reactionary as a concept politically speaking. politics and superheroes are a long as fuck conversation with a lot to talk about, and im just not totally qualified for it, nor am i gonna go into it here. but it's less exploring the reactionary side of heroes as wooooaaaaah edgy looook at this guys the heroes are actually ~baaaad guuuys~ as too many people in non critical comics like to pull (and then do a piss poor job at it bc they dont understand what actually makes vigilantism bad as a real life thing. bc they arent trying to point out the actual bad politics of superheroes-- they just wanna see a good guy be a bad guy without further thought. but instead of just doing that, they want to think they're being oh so smart about it. so it sucks bad most of the time.), and i think it's honestly a more sincere approach that actually understands what it wants to say about that. because it understands capitalism as a system that upholds abhorrent abuses. and for all the shit i think it does wrong, i will say that veitch understands the phrase "abuse of power comes as no surprise" in this story.

anyways this is getting... really long! apologies! and it's super duper rambly for which i also apologize!! my feelings on brat pack are mixed, but i've come around to this comic way more the longer i've sat with it. it's not perfect, no comic is, but it is. definitely for a certain crowd. and i do, ultimately, consider myself part of that crowd, even if im certainly not envisioned in it most of the time. i'm also sorry if you were looking for way more stuff on the story as opposed to my feelings-- i feel like i can't give a lot on the story, especially bc i sometimes feel unsure how to explain without also spoiling too much and also i just cant remember a lot of what happened outside of some pretty key plot points. i've only read it twice, and it was like, twice in two days! like, in april.

overall brat pack does some things right, i think it does a lot of things wrong, but what makes it a comic i find worth reading is that it does offer some interesting ideas and approaches, and i think it has some neat characters. i think it falls in the realm of "mediocre story with insane potential will stay with you even more than a really fantastically written story you love". for me, at least. again, i don't think this comic. but there's a lot it could do better. and what it does do right (and honestly even what it does wrong) highly compels me.

... and i can't help but enjoy an edgy superhero satire.

[darkrpfinders]

Frankenstein + his “monster”

Basic info ; Howdy, I’m 19, strictly looking for 19+ rp partners for a dark or dead dove mxm rp. I’m literate to advanced literate depending, but 2 paragraphs per message at least is fine! I’m more of a quality over quantity rp reply enjoyer- but I do type a lot when I’m really feeling up to it. My favourite thing about rping though is actually talking ooc about the rp, so I’m okay with slower replies as long as you seem enthusiastic about brain storming or even just sending stuff like songs, Pinterest board things etc etc.

So I recently watched poor things, Lisa Frankenstein and have FINALLY started reading the actual Frankenstein book (despite adoring the story for years, I never read it??) - so sufficed to say I have (primarily) science fuelled resurrection on the mind. I ALSO have mutual destruction and abuse plots on the brain- my idea is more classic Frankenstein than the movies I mentioned but yk-

The plot ; Now this is bare bones but, I’m imagining that the power imbalances between these two are constantly shifting and fluctuating, our mad scientist obviously having most of the power to begin with, but the creature definitely having a physical advantage and maybe we could add some other things to make the playing field more balanced. Again I’m a fan of mutual destruction, and it wouldn’t be super mutual if our scientist has all the power all the time ofc. Maybe he’s a quivering coward- or unstable in other ways, has people he cares about that the creature threatens etc. All I know is that these freaks hate/depend on each other SO much the lines blur. If you’ve seen Hannibal — maybe a teeny teeny tiny bit of those vibes.

Things I’m comfortable with ; For this I’m good with non-con and think it could be interesting to write, or at least something not safe nor sane for both characters involved- I tend to write switches that start out as subs but am good with anything really! I’m also good with body horror and gore- the creature could definitely have inhuman/unrealistic durability too. Also violence in general. How much smut (if any) to plot ratio is v flexible, just let me know what you’d prefer!

Things I’m UNcomfortable with ; I do not want the creature to be child like in any way, despite likely not remembering much of his life before death I want him to be fully developed mentally and understand things as any adult would. I’m also not comfortable with scat, watersports and incest. Also really bizarre one but for some reason nipped piercings/torture in general whigs me out of all things.

Extra info ; I’d prefer this to be OCxOC but they can definitely have heavy similarities to Victor and Adam- I have two oc’s in development both fitting each role ! I’m good with any take on each character you have, any kind of oc’s are good to me but I’d prefer them to be at least 25 years old, along with being fucked up freaks ofc. Face claim wise I’d feel uncomfortable using IRL ones, but don’t mind drawn at all! I’m also interested in designs that aren’t typically conventionally attractive pretty boys— I mean they can be pretty if you’d like but I think ykwim.

Outro ; This was poorly worded I fear, but thanks for reading this far! If any of this interested you, interact with this post and I’ll dm you- we can chat here a little or move straight to discord!

🫀

.

[emotelizardrambling]

Friends in High Places:

Just a drabble based on a piece of fan art that I will edit into this post if I can ever find it again.

As a rule, Josephine Montilyet was a patient woman. However standing at the end of an ally waiting on the inquisitor was hardly a welcome pass time. They had come to Val Royux for the simple task of re-outfitting guest rooms for an upcoming, very picky noble visitor. Kaaras however had clearly gotten rather bored with the excursion, so Josephine had told them they could look at other shops while she finished the necessary preparations. Kaaras had promised to meet her here when they were both done, at high noon. Josephine had been waiting going on twenty minutes, and was now wondering if the Inquisitor had found another cause to get involved in, as they often did. She could not begrudge the influence garnered by their ability to involve themself in even the most petty squabble, but all the same, she rather wished she had agreed to meet at the tea shop instead. At least then she could sip a cup of tea and go over ledgers while she waited. "Hey Lady." a gruff and unfamiliar voice sounded from around a nearby corner. Emerging from behind it was a half armored hooded young man, followed by three others in similar garb. Josephine did her best to cover the irritation in her voice as she asked, "May I help you?"

"Hand over your coins," the lead figure stated with a cocky smile, "and nobody gets hurt." Josephine could not stop the quirk of her eyebrow, these thieves clearly were not regulars about Val Royux, anyone with sense would know not to mess with the ambassador of the Inquisition without far more forces. Josephine was no regular fighter for certain, though she was hardly defenseless on her own, but the Inquisitor had a, well justified, reputation for being protective of their people. "An' don't even think about screaming." The bandit continued, "We don't wanna shed more blood than necessary." At the same time a momentary blur of grey and black passed in the corner of Josephine's eye, from the top of a nearby building. Resisting the urge to shake her head at the inquisitor's flair for dramatic entrances she did her best to defuse the situation. "Monsieur, I am sorry that you find me in such poor condition," Josephine made a shallow bow, "you see, I fear my friend will arrive quite soon." Glancing at one another one of the thieves murmured "friend?", then they all began to laugh. "Look at that boss," one said "Nobles are throwing themselves at us. Two for the trouble of one." the "boss" laughed, "I might stop by the Chantry and start praying once we're done! Thank the maker for today." "Oh," Josephine sought to clarify. "I am afraid my friend is not a noble. At least not by birthright." she brought a hand to her chin wondering how to best broach the subject of who exactly they were messing with, "Does the name Adaar ring any bells?" It was clear by the dumbfounded expressions it did not. She almost pitied them for their ignorance, clearly there was no hope for this lot. "It means weapon, so I have been told." she tried to warn. "Likes to jump from high places." she allowed a twinge of annoyance to enter her words here. The bandits however were unmoved. "3 meters tall..." she attempted, though they only looked to each other in confusion at this, "Grey, does grey make you think of anything?" "No..?" "Carries a large sword, approximately my size..." "Look I don't care who your friend is lady just hand over the money." the man stated impatiently, inching closer with his blade. Josephine pinched the bridge of her nose as the bird's chirp sounded just above her. "Oh dear, now I do wish I had brought paper to write your names." It was at this point Kaaras decided to make themself known scuffing their boot on the roof of the building behind Josephine. "Huh? Who's there?" the thief barely had time to get the words out before Kaaras Adaar landed just behind the ambassador with a graceful crouch, before raising themself to full height, towering over Josephine. "Sorry I'm late." Josephine could hear the smirk in Kaaras' voice. The thieves, for their parts, seemed rather frozen in shock. "Boss....?" one murmured. There wasn't time for anything else before Kaaras broke into action, before any of them could get the good sense to run they were all unconscious on the ground. "You're unharmed, correct, Josie?" "Yes Inquisitor I am quite alright, next time, however, we will definitely meet at the tea shop." "Aw, but Josie they always make me stay for something, and the cups and chairs are so tiny..." Kaaras complained like a child. "Plus, better we catch these idiots then someone get hurt right?" "I suppose, but I would rather not play the bait, perhaps bring Dorian to do so in the future." "Please, Dorian would just fry them himself. It wouldn't be nearly as..." Josephine fixed them with a look. "erm... safe, for the bandits, I just knocked them out, they wouldn't escape Dorian without a few good burns." "An admirable point Inquisitor. Either way, we should see these men to our scouts to be dealt with by the proper authorities."

[amysgiantbees]

Something in My Room

Thoughts as I go, spoilers...

Nut Supanut Lourhaphanich is a really great actor. I'm loving him in this and Pit Babe. He is so good at being sad especially. His crying when he can't get the design right, HEARTBREAKING.

Love the relationship between Phat and his mum. It's really the whole backbone of the show I feel.

*Women* Dream and Chris are so pretty!

Dream is AMAZING! I love her art! Love that she clearly uses her art to process. I was surprised to see that her passion is cartoon work. She said she was dabbling in it again. I wonder if it's easier for her to process the supernatural things she's seen through paintings rather than sketches? Although I'm not sure why that would be the case. She could just be into both. I LOVE her hair! Love that she has magical powers! I was a little confused if the ritual didn't work as well as she wanted because Nuan took some of her hair or for another reason though.

I could have a whole show about Dream. I'd love to get into her Jim Jones sounding father and their relationship. Love to see her have someone positive in her life who could teach her about spirits unlike her dad and Nuan. Plus Luck feels like he's from a whole other show with his aliens. Maybe they could even develop Luck and Dream's relationship so they seem like a proper couple and not, what I initially thought, the local cool girl and her incel stalker.

I feel like the themes are really well thought through in this. Like grief and letting go. Nuan and Chris are two different ends of the spectrum. Nuan can't let go of anything. Stalking the house of a man who she never dated and who isn't even living there any more. Then Chris is the other end of the spectrum, letting go aggressively. Phob is scared to get caught even looking at his father's stuff. She wants his things gone so bad. Then by the end they've all found a bit more balance. Phat especially, being the middle ground. Able to hold on to the memory of Phob while still living his life.

The ghost uncle is a delight.

The spotlight on Phob in the audience at the play! Incredible! It foreshadows the farcical nature of the play and how it's going to put a spotlight on Phob. Love it, it's the whole reason why I made this post.

The way memory, dream and reality all blend together is so interesting. Nothing is either one or the other. When Phat actively dreams he physically moves. The real play blurs to have the same aesthetic as the dream world. Phob even describes Ben's play as (paraphrasing) "his love life mixed with dreams and hopes..." I like how due to the lighting, the script isn't noticeable in Phob's hand when he's playing his part "right." Ben lying and performing in real life, trying to play a part constantly. The NOVA competition branding itself on making dreams into realities but being in reality killing them by being too influenced by tradition and money.

LOVE the interpretive dancing in Ben's play. It's very intense and stops any doubling up of information.

The long pauses between sentences drive me a little nuts. Especially when it's emphasised by an overdrawn out dramatic back and forth of the actor's faces with music. I get that it's just a particular style but it frustrates me personally. It's not just impatience but it gives a false sense of gravitas or importance to the moment. I keep waiting for something dramatic to happen but almost nothing ever does. It also makes the conversation seem a little less natural.

Similarity, I am not a fan of, I don't know if this is a trope, but when people refuse to explain themselves. Characters will say hear me out, hear me out a million times instead of actually just starting to explain. It feels like an off branch of the poor communication trope. I otherwise love getting to see the flashback of Phob with his mother but don't like that she just doesn't properly explain why she cares about the magazines. Especially since baby Phob kept asking why. It's just frustrating to me.

Haunting isn't straightforward in this which I like. Phob isn't just haunting Chris and Phat's house. Nuan is also haunting their house, an ever present eye as she secretly watches them. Phob is haunted by his own ghost, his mother. Dream is haunted by all the ghosts but also haunted by her father. His impact on society as well as her mother keeping his picture at the table. Uncle is being forced to haunt by his daughter. It's a form of grief and never letting go.

Phob's mother's message is devastating. I'm not surprised she doesn't want to move on. I can't imagine she could with that much hate in her heart. Heartbreaking that Phat's ending prayer/message to Phob starts off like her video did.

I love that art is an ever present part of everyone's lives. Everyone values art. Phat and his dad love film. Chris plays piano, and expresses her love for her son through it. Phob has fashion. Dream has art, which she uses to understand and share the supernatural things she's seen that she can't outright talk about. Nuan is very proud of her cooking. Phob's mother loved modeling so much that she hated her family forever for being part of the reason why she couldn't do it professionally any more. Ben is obsessed with his art so much he struggles to stop performing.

[capsensislagamoprh]

Otabek sat in the room he shared with Yuri, headphones on, tracks running over his laptop in multiple successions as he bent the beats to flow with each other. Lead ins, drops, overlays, tone shifts - so many changes needed to be done without ruining the integrity of the pieces. His focus was laser sharp, his world reduced to a single fourteen inch screen for hours at a time. He remembered to eat because Yuri brought him things. He remembered biological needs because his body wouldn't let him forget. Aside from running with Yuuri in the early morning (for him, end of the night for Yuuri) he gave himself thirty minutes for grooming, and two one hour breaks to keep his sanity. At precicely ten every night for the last week Yuri would walk in, take his laptop away, and plop down with a litany of complaints from people he'd gleefully told off for 'piss poor taste' and knowing 'fuck all' about track mixing. The exception was Leo, who he seemed to give some credit to after the older man had agreed with his take on the importance of shifting dissonance within the contemporary field. Or, as Yuri had originally said, "Your old people music is going to kill the fucking vibe. Do better."

Christophe promptly drafted Leo into the 'complaint department', which was fine with Yuri.  He wanted someone else to take the heat after he'd been particularly volatile about the Titanic theme song not being right for the wedding or the dance floor. Fortunately Leo had far more tact, pointing out themes and timing, suggesting other options that would fit the same orchestrated grandeur without bringing to mind the death of several hundred in an unforgiving, icy ocean. Yuri almost broke his phone as the entirety of three Celine Dion CDs was dropped into the chat.

At the appointed hour Yuri tugged the laptop away from Otabek, who took a moment to reorient, finally focusing when he saw a cup of tea steaming next to him on the floor. Otabek removed the headphones and set them aside as Yuri dropped between his legs, pressing his back to the brunette’s chest. "Look at this shit," he said without preamble. Holding his phone out where Otabek could see it too as he scrolled through the text chat.

It was pinging wildly, different time zones throwing different songs into the list. "Yuuri is starting to pull his hair again. Victor is thrilled by the attention," he said while puffing blond locks off his eyes. "I'm straight up telling people ‘No’ when they make stupid choices, and Leo makes smart arguments when someone gets really pissy about it."

"He's not so bad, hum?"

Yuri glared up at his friend. "I never said he was. It's JJ who's an ass."

"Hmm," Otabek took a sip of tea. "You never quite told me why you're so mad at him."

"You mean aside from making fun of me and my fans, calling me princess, and being a whole bag of dicks?"

" A whole bag? Really? Seems like a lot."

Yuri rolled his eyes. "It's not like he ever goes out of his way to be nice to me. He just waltzes in, has everything handed to him when he doesn't deserve it, and then just fucks off to the ass end of nowhere to live his perfect little life like he didn't just fuck up everyone else’s."

"He worked hard to learn his skills, Yura."

"Fine. He can skate, kinda," Yuri grumbled reluctantly, "but he's not better than you. You should have metalled."

"Still not over it?"

"Never!"

Otabek chuckled, his breath feathering the blond's hair. "I can't win everything, Yura."

"Obviously not. I'm going to win everything. You should win everything I am not competing in, and when we're competing against each other, you should come in second."

"Is that how it is?"

"Yes. That is how it is."

"So matter of fact."

"I know when I'm right." Yuri made a grabby hand motion in the direction of the cup, not taking his attention away from the messages. Otabek held the cup so Yuri could take a drink of the calming brew, the blur of scrolling suggestions faster than he could keep up with.

"Chris wants to know if you can squeeze out an after party mix. I told him I'd ask, but no promises. You're overworked as it is."

"Umm," Otabek agreed. "Maybe. Depends on how many more changes Yuuri and Victor make. They seem to adjust their song selection often. I did not know they were so indecisive."

"Nah. I think it's because Katsudon doesn't want to piss off anyone and baldy is distracted by shiny things."

"Thank you for dealing with the-" a dark hand waved in the general direction of the phone.

"No problem. I don't get a chance to really let loose on someone with sanction that often."

"You've had sanctions to tell someone they,” Otabek peered at the screen, "have the musical taste of a desiccated mastodon's ... pile?"

"Barely digested shit pile. Yes. It's good, yeah?"

"It paints a picture," Otabek admitted. "When did you get sanctions for language like that?"

Yuri stepsided the question with a very neatly placed, "Anyway." Otabek chuckled, thunking the blond head with his chin. The laptop made a pre-programed grinding nose signaling the current file had finished saving. "That is so disturbing."

"It lets me know what's going on."

"Sounds like it's trying to sand its own model numbers off."

"Maybe."

Yuri sat up, tossing his phone to the second futon mat, reaching for the laptop. "Movie time!"

Otabeck gathered up the pillows and spare blanket, propping himself against the wall. As Yuri slid back, pulling himself into his preferred lounging position, he looked through the options, the familiar sensation of Otabek tucking a blanket around them letting him relax. "Something scary?"

"If you like."

"Okay. How about Viy?"

"Think you can make it through this time?"

"Fuck you. I can make it through anything."

"Of course you can, Yura. Your will power is very strong and you are very brave."

"And don't you forget it!"

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7