#originally this was going to be a video. then i recorded it and found out i recorded the wrong screen

[kxowledge]

kitchen equipment: a guide

[sunfoxfic]

after literally spending hours today on it, I now have a highish-quality version of the complete first My Hero Academia stage play. I'm going to go insane

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 21 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is learning firsthand just how lonely a deployment can be when he's gotten used to talking to you all the time. You are more than happy to record your daily adventures for him, including your steamy ones.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, masturbation, adult language, romantic Bradley, 18+

Length: 3700 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Your original plan to commute to work from your apartment in Mira Mesa went out the window after the box from Bradley arrived. Suddenly his place seemed cozier now that there were tidy rows of envelopes from him covering the table in the living room. You sipped a mug of coffee and looked at all of them, selecting the one that said Open me with your class.

"Whatever you say, Bradley," you murmured with a smile, tucking it into your tote bag for work. You missed your kids almost as much as you missed him, but at least you'd finally get to see them today. You just hoped there was something upbeat in the note, because you were going to have to inform them that he'd be gone until Career Day. Or maybe longer.

Opening the note that was meant for you and your class before digging into all the others just felt right. Really, he was a faithful pen pal to all nineteen of you, even if his current letters were pre-written. As you drove to work, you wondered how long it would take your students to ask about Bradley. Turns out, it didn't take too long at all.

You were standing behind your desk, getting hugs from some of the kids as they got reacquainted with each other and the classroom for the first time in almost two weeks when Jayden asked, "What did you get Lieutenant Bradshaw for Christmas?"

Images of lingerie danced in your head as you cleared your throat. "Stationery," you replied. "So he can write us letters while he's deployed."

"He's deployed?" asked Nia, face lighting up. "With Marty?"

"Can we do another drawing contest with him?" shouted Oliver, already getting colored pencils out of his desk.

"Will you ask if he's allowed to take a video while he's flying this time?" Violet asked calmly.

"Actually," you replied, walking slowly to the front of the room with a single envelope in your hands, "we can't do any of those things. He's not allowed to communicate with anyone who isn't on the aircraft carrier this time around. If he writes to us, he'll have to save the letters until he returns."

Everyone stared blankly at you. 

Jackie raised her hand. When you pointed to her, she said, "But we're not like random people. We're students of aviation. We're his pen pals."

"Yeah!" came a chorus of voices, and you were half tempted to write up a petition to the Navy for all of them to sign.

You had to clap your hands and wait for them to clap in response after they all quieted down again. "I have a note that he wants me to open with you. Should we do that now?"

After literally everyone agreed that was a good idea, you opened it and found a handwritten link to a YouTube video followed by a short note that you read out loud.

"Greetings, Fourth Graders,

By the time you read this, it will be January, and I'll be on an aircraft carrier in the Atlantic Ocean for a seven week deployment. I'm sure your lovely teacher has explained that sending and receiving letters is sadly not a possibility for me right now. I'm going to need you to keep track of all your questions about aviation until I get back for Career Day next month. I'll bring some of my friends along, and we can answer them for you then. Sound good?

Make sure you listen to your teacher, and I'll see you all in February.

Yours Truly,

Lieutenant Bradshaw"

You looked up from the notecard and added, "He also included a link to a YouTube video. Should we check it out now?"

It was actually amazing how quietly they all sat in anticipation while you set up your projector and typed out the link. When you turned out the lights, you had to grab onto the edge of your desk as Bradley's face and voice filled your classroom, even though he wasn't actually there. The twenty minute video began with him sitting on his living room couch in his worn out jeans and the Top Gun shirt you wore to bed last night, and you realized he must have filmed this on Christmas Eve when you were out with Natasha.

"Hi, everyone," said video Bradley as he waved to his phone camera. "I thought I would try my hand at a little lesson on aviation so your teacher could get a break. Make sure you take notes. There will be a quiz the next time I see you."

All of your students were watching him with rapt attention and pencils poised over their notebooks. Bradley kept them engaged and entertained while you fell even more in love.

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

"What the fuck?" Bradley groaned as he sank down into an empty spot on one of the long benches in the mess hall. The spaghetti looked like mush, but his stomach was growling so aggressively, he decided to take a bite anyway. It tasted just as bad as it looked, and he grimaced as he started to shovel it into his mouth anyway.

What he wouldn't give for dinner at Salvatore's. Mouthwatering pasta. Expensive as hell wine. You in a short little dress with his hands all over your thighs. Maybe Bronco parking lot sex.

Instead he got another USS Gerald R. Ford meal which was barely edible, and a view of a very hairy Atlantic Fleet aviator with the call sign Curly. Fantastic. Even the garlic bread was so stale it was hard to chew, but if he didn't eat, he would start losing weight. And if he started losing weight, it would make working out harder, which would suck, because going to the gym was his main source of entertainment.

Other than writing letters he couldn't send.

"Are you gonna finish that?" Curly asked, pointing at the roll Bradley only bit the corner of.

"It's all yours, man," he replied, watching the other aviator pick it up and crunch on it with a smile. 

Bradley picked up his tray with the intention of heading to his bunk to change into gym clothes, but when he got there, he collapsed onto the twin sized bed instead. It was clear that he'd only been brought along for this deployment to fly one very specific mission, because as a whole, the Atlantic Fleet pilots were young and green. But as a result of the current political climate, he had internet access completely taken away from him, and he was stuck here for five more weeks with nothing to keep him sane. He didn't even have Marty this time around. Just the pretty stationery set you gave him and the holiday cards from your students.

So he would do what he always did now. He would write. To all nineteen of you. But mostly to you. He realized, like he always did, that this was probably the most boring shit that anyone would ever read. How many times could you really read about your boyfriend telling you that he loved you and missed you. It wasn't like he was writing elegant poetry here.

Gorgeous, I miss you so much. You'd cry if you saw the spaghetti I had to eat for dinner. First thing I'm doing when I get home (besides you) is driving us to Salvatore's, and I won't stop eating until I pass out. The Atlantic Fleet food makes the Pacific Fleet cabbage rolls seem like a delicacy, and the US fucking Navy can quote me on that. 

I love you. I wish you knew I was coming back to you instead of Norfolk. I wish I could ask you to use the credit card in my sock drawer to fully stock the refrigerator before I get home. The only things I want to do for three solid days after I arrive back in San Diego are eat, sleep, and fuck my girlfriend.

Definitely not poetry. "Was my writing this shitty last time around?" he murmured to himself with a laugh. It couldn't have been if you kept responding to him for the duration of that deployment. Just thinking about your letters, both professional and personal, made him ache right now. Your emails and your sassy selfies and the sunset photos were things he didn't even know he had been taking for granted.

One letter from you now would have made everything so much better. With a deep sigh, Bradley changed to head to the gym.

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

Time passed slowly. Packing up and moving boxes of your things from Mira Mesa to Coronado helped, but you were a little too nervous to unpack too much other than the necessities. You didn't even want to think about that right now. All you wanted to do was plan your next visit to the wine bar with Natasha so you felt a little less lonely. 

As you hung the framed blueprint of the Super Hornet Bradley gave you in the living room, you realized he would have to be lonelier than you were. At least you had Jayden's tales of Vanessa the dog to make you laugh during the work day. And you went out to dinner with some of your friends you hadn't seen recently. And you had a never ending text thread with Natasha now. 

There was a pretty good chance Bradley didn't know anyone on this deployment, and you wondered if he was spending a lot of time in the gym. What you wouldn't give for a gym selfie. You collapsed onto the couch and scrolled through the images of your boyfriend that you had saved to your phone.

"God," you moaned. He was so hot. Especially in front of a sunset. Especially with your lipgloss smudged on his cheek. Especially when he was looking at you in his arms instead of at the camera. "Fuck."

When someone knocked on the door, you nearly fell off the couch. Your eyes caught on the envelopes from Bradley that you hadn't yet opened lined up on the coffee table as you walked across the room. The last time you had an unexpected visitor, it was Natasha. The time before that, it was Vanessa. You didn't know who to expect, but you squared your shoulders and pulled the door open with an abundance of attitude only to find a slightly hunched over older woman standing there.

"Oh!" you said, immediately softening your stance. "What can I do for you?"

She looked from you to the Bronco in the driveway and then back again. "Is Bradley home?"

"No, he's not," you told her, unsure about how much information to give. "Is there something you need?"

She eyed you carefully. "Are you his girlfriend? The teacher he fell in love with?" This stranger knew who you were. When you gave her a concerned look and took a step away from her, she said, "I'm Edith. I live next door. Sometimes Bradley helps me with yard work and repairs around my property." She smiled and added, "He only lets me pay him in piano lessons."

"Edith!" You told her your name with a smile. You knew exactly who she was, because the first time Bradley wrote to you about getting piano lessons from his retired neighbor, you fell halfway in love with him on the spot. "Right, of course! Bradley is actually deployed for a few more weeks." She looked immediately dejected, so you asked, "Did you need help with something?"

"I don't want to bother you with it," she said immediately.

"Please," you replied, already reaching for your shoes. "I'm so bored without Bradley around. I would absolutely love a distraction, Edith."

She wrung her hands and then held them up. "Well, I can't change my light bulbs, because my arthritis is bad this time of year when it gets chilly out. And my back patio is so dark at night, I can't see anything."

"Say no more," you told her, joining her on the porch and closing the door behind you.

It only took you a few minutes to change the exterior light bulbs and rearrange her patio furniture. Then you cocked your head to the side and asked, "Is something beeping?"

Edith sighed. "My smoke detector needs new batteries."

"I'm on it."

She led you inside the sliding glass door, into her kitchen where the beeping was annoying enough that you didn't know how this woman could have slept in the house unless her hearing was starting to slip. Edith told you where you could find a step ladder and new batteries, and once you finished that chore, she started digging around in her purse, pulling out five dollars.

"Thank you for your help," she said, trying to hand it to you as you walked past the piano with the step ladder.

"I am absolutely not accepting your money, Edith. This was the most entertaining part of my day. As long as your arthritis allows it, you can pay Bradley in extra piano lessons when he returns." 

The idea of Norfolk suddenly made you feel anxious, but Edith smiled. "Oh, he's an advanced student. He mostly just plays from memory. I only point out when he's flat instead of sharp."

You weren't sure how long it had been since Bradley checked in with her, but as long as he was allowed to come back to San Diego, you'd make sure he did it more often. "I'll send him over as soon as he gets back."

Edith smiled knowingly. "Something tells me he's not going to want to leave your side right when he gets back. But maybe after a day or two, you could send him over?"

"I'll do that," you told her with a chuckle.

After you walked back across the yard and let yourself inside, you kicked off your shoes and decided to treat yourself with one of Bradley's notes. You'd been trying to ration them, but they were all so tempting. The ones you had already opened were stacked up on the kitchen counter where you could easily find them to read them again and again. You took a few seconds to decide which one felt right, and you settled on Open me when you need a laugh.

Inside the envelope, you found no note at all. There was just one photo, and when you pulled it out, you burst into laughter. Natasha was right; twenty-two year old Bradley was endearingly skinny and mustache-less. He still wore that same grin today, but he really grew into his frame. You marveled over how fresh his scars looked in the picture, deciding to hang it up in the bedroom for now. 

And when you woke up on Sunday, the photo was the first thing you saw.

You reached for your phone thinking you could text Bradley before tossing it aside in frustration. You were frustrated in every way. Mentally and emotionally, but also physically. You missed sleeping next to him most nights. You missed his warmth and the way he kissed you. His strong body and attentive hands.

When you tried to burrow down under the covers in just his sweatshirt to go back to sleep, your skin felt like it was charged. Like there was an undercurrent of need that nothing would soothe except for Bradley.

Open me when you're in bed

That's what one of the envelopes said. You bit your lip before burying your face in Bradley's pillow and moaning. The need was still there, more palpable by the second. You had about an hour before Natasha was supposed to pick you up for brunch and the wine bar; it was the perfect time to read that note.

You ran down the hallway to the coffee table, grabbed the envelope, and took it straight back to bed. Your curiosity had been gnawing away at your mind over what could be in the note meant for the quiet solitude of the bedroom, and now was your chance to find out as you slipped back under the covers.

Gorgeous,

You better be in our bed right now. Maybe you just got home from work. Maybe you're still waking up for the day. Maybe you're ready to fall asleep soon, but you just need something to take the edge off. It doesn't matter, as long as you're thinking about me and my hands all over your body. I hope you're ready to read about how I would take care of you right now.... in an abundance of detail.

You moaned as you looked around the room, wide-eyed like someone was going to catch on to what he had written to you. Desire flared inside you as you squeezed your thighs together and took a few deep breaths before continuing to read.

You're beautiful inside and out. It's no surprise that you really get me going. One thought about the soft swell of your ass or the way you taste when you cum is enough to get me seriously hard. Jerking off while thinking about you is fantastic, but nothing compares to the real thing. Next time I see you, we're taking our time to get reacquainted, but right now, if I could have you, it would be fast and dirty.

"Oh god," you groaned, closing your eyes as you pushed his sweatshirt up, letting cool air meet your warm skin. Then your hand slid down to the apex of your thighs, and you weren't at all surprised to find you were wet.

You look sinful in that bed. I just know it. I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off you. My lips would find your breasts before sampling my way down your belly to that soaking wet pussy. When I say every inch of your body is Gorgeous, I mean it. You've got such a tight, pretty little pussy, and I would love to tease you until you're so worked up, you're practically crying. Just my mouth and fingers until you're begging for my cock, Gorgeous. Go ahead. Beg for it.

"Bradley," you moaned softly, a complete mess for your boyfriend even when he wasn't with you.

Good girl. Now touch yourself just how I'd touch you. Rub yourself just right. Use two of those fingers to warm yourself up and then dip them down inside that perfect pussy. So fucking tight, you drive me insane when I can't be with you. I'd be right above you, singing your praises, telling you how much I love you, and pumping my fingers in and out of that pussy while you whine and beg.

This note was absolutely lethal. You were already close. Sweat beaded on your brow as you stroked your fingers along your clit before pumping them inside you. His name was never far from your lips as you kept reading.

You taste so fucking sweet. I'd run my tongue everywhere until you couldn't stand it. I would eat your pussy until you cum in my mouth. I'd keep going until I couldn't handle how badly I needed you. Then I'd fuck you so hard and fast, you'd have tears in your eyes, voice ragged as my body slapped against yours. Tits bouncing as I bottomed out, holding you in place as I came inside you. And then I would let you know that I'm yours.

I'm all yours, Gorgeous. You absolutely own me.

You were panting, grinding the heel of your hand against your clit as you came. Bradley's note fell from your fingers as your back arched off the bed, and you grabbed the sheet as you cried out. You could hear something familiar mingling with your own voice, but it took you a second to realize your phone was ringing as you writhed around in bed, heart pounding fast from your orgasm. You rolled onto your belly and grabbed your phone as you sucked air into your lungs.

Natasha Trace

Shit. Shit. You tried to get your breathing under control as you answered her call, but you even sounded strange to your own ears as you said, "Hello?"

There was a pause before Natasha asked, "I'm leaving now, and I might stop for a fancy coffee on my way to get you. Do you want something?"

"Sure!" you replied, trying your best to sound casual, but pretty sure you were failing.

"I'll be there soon."

You dropped your phone and reached for the journal instead to let Bradley know just how hard you came for him before you got dressed for the day. 

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

"Bradshaw!"

It felt like an almost foreign concept for Bradley to hear his name now. Essentially nobody spoke to him outside of his mandatory meetings, and he'd spent so little time in a cockpit over the last few weeks, he spun around in surprise when someone called him.

Of course it was Admiral Walker. Bradley wasn't sure if he was being punished for what Cyclone had done, but he was hardly given any flight tasks to work on. But now that his deployment was starting to wind down, he realized the danger he was going to be flying into for his mission was much more than he originally anticipated.

"Admiral Walker, Sir?" he replied, saluting his superior officer. He wasn't looking to ruffle any more feathers here as long as it meant he'd be going home to you before too long. He felt sick with longing, missing you so much, especially at night, that he hurt until he was finally able to fall asleep. And then he'd wake up to the same choking feeling all over again the following day.

The older man examined him closely for a few beats before saying, "The weather looks ideal for tomorrow. You're team leader. Be ready to go at first light."

"Yes, Sir," he replied, because there was really nothing else to say. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could return home to his house in Coronado where you lived now. Where you were waiting for him. He just needed to get through this safely.

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

I hate how isolated he feels. He's not thriving. He's not even eating well. He needs a hug. Gorgeous is enjoying the box of letters even is she is missing him terribly. I think I'll send him home soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 22

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[adrienneleclerc]

Bitch, Whats For Dinner?

Pairing: Lando Norris x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Lando sees an old TikTok resurfacing and decides to prank his girlfriend for a quadrant video.

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: this was originally going to be a Logan Sargeant fic but then I thought “what does he have to gain from this?” So I switched to Lando.

Since it was summer break, Lando decided it was time to film a video for Quadrant. He went to his gaming room to film the beginning.

“Since I am not racing for another few weeks, I thought what better time to prank my lovely girlfriend than today. There’s this TikTok posted by Dusten Conti where he says to his girlfriend ‘bitch, what’s for dinner?’ And his girlfriend actually answers him so sweetly. Knowing my girlfriend, she will not act so sweetly to me calling her a bitch, but I want to know how she reacts.” Lando said.

Y/N was out grocery shopping for dinner so Lando hid a video camera on a shelf, pointing the camera to the kitchen. She came home 10 minutes later and Lando decided to wait until he heard music playing because that means Y/N is on the preparation stage of cooking (chopping ingredients). Lando got out of his gaming room, observing Y/N chopping onions and tomatoes on the cutting board, singing along to whatever song she was playing. Lando made eye contact with the camera before saying the words..

“Bitch, what’s for dinner.” Lando said. Y/N put the knife down and looked around the apartment. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to see if there’s another person I don’t know about because I KNOW you did NOT just call me a bitch.” Y/N responded and picked up the knife. “So leave, come back, and try that again.” Y/N said, moving the knife as she talked. Lando did just that.

“What’s for dinner, baby girl?” Lando asked and Y/N smiled.

“That’s much better, fresita. I’m making bistec encebollado, It’s steak sautéed in onions and tomatoes with white rice. We can add a fried egg to it and make it ‘a lo pobre’ if you want, that’s how I’m eating it.” Y/N said. Lando hugged her from behind.

“I love you, baby girl.” Lando said.

“I love you too, mi vida, now why the fuck did you call me a bitch?” Y/N asked. Lando unwrapped his arms from her.

“I wanted to prank you for a quadrant video. Honestly, I expected you to react so much worse.” Lando said and Y/N turned to look at him.

“What do you take me for? I’m not a violent person, love.” Y/N said.

“Uh huh, I’ll believe you when you stop taking notes while watching true crime documentaries.” Lando said. Y/N hit him with a dish towel, causing Lando to laugh. “In all seriousness, if I ever end up calling you a bitch and it’s not a prank, I’ll give you full permission to kill me.”

“There are research chemicals that don’t show up in a toxicology screen. They’re the chemical cousins of drugs and since the molecules are modified, they don’t show up on tox screens unless you know what you’re looking for.” Y/N said with an innocent smile while Lando looks slightly terrified.

“You scare me.” Lando admitted.

“As I should. But I hate needles so I wouldn’t kill you like that.” Y/N said, turning back to resume chopping the vegetables.

“How would you kill me then?!?” Lando asked.

“Let it go, baby.” Y/N said. Lando went to the shelf and stopped the video from recording, placing it in his gaming room to charge,

After dinner, Lando and Y/N went to the gaming room to film the end.

“Thanks for watching, I just found out I am dating a psychopath.” Lando said and Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Please, anyone who has seen Criminal Minds would know about research chemicals and you literally gave me permission to kill you.” Y/N said.

“I didn’t know you actually thought about ways to kill someone!” Lando exclaimed.

“But now you know to never call me a bitch so, lesson learned.” Y/N said. Both said “bye” and waved to the camera. After transferring the video clips to his computer, editing the clips and posted it on the quadrant channel.

The End

Hope y’all liked it!

[chelseypprimrose]

Home Movie / Negan x Reader / S7 / 18+

Warnings: daddy kink, oral, unprotected/rough sex, slight dom!negan, talk of masturbation, Negan references himself as “the big bad wolf” (cringe but I love it), creampie, forbidden attraction, talk of voyerism, use of derogatory language, glove/leather kink (slightly)

Summary: Negan finds a smut tape of you on the video camera at Alexandria and makes it his mission to seek you out.

A/N: I got this idea in my head while I was watching the episode of season 7 where the saviours first visit Alexandria with Negan and he finds Rick’s confessional video as he’s emptying the houses out. also inspired by another Negan series called Polaroids by @reevesdriver on here as it’s one of my faves ever! 🫶🏼 I just had to write a Negan imagine in the TWD universe again bc as much as I like pre apocalypse Negan, I needed to write apocalypse Negan because there isn’t anything sexier to me than a murderous man swinging a barbed wire bat and talking about his dick, hope u enjoy 🤍 x

“Goddamn it.” You huffed out, a long breath leaving your lips as you shoved the deer that was on your shoulders further up to prevent yourself from dropping it on the ground. You’d been gone since the crack of dawn, with Daryl gone at this point in time, you were one of the best hunters that Alexandria still had. While you felt some type of way about putting in so much effort for someone else to just take the shit you’d risked your life for, you knew Rick needed people on his side at the moment. It would be foolish to try and be defiant right now, too much blood had been spilt recently and you didn’t want to be the reason it continued. Yeah, you’d played your part in the attack on the outpost but you’d all been in acceptance that it was just that outpost. That once that was cleared, you were rid of the foreboding threat that was the Saviours. How wrong you’d been in that moment, it was only the beginning.

You were now dealing with the aftermath of Negan, having to risk life and limb, bend over backwards to make him happy, the asshole. You couldn’t count the amount of times you’d had to hold your tongue to stop yourself from verbally berating his people, knowing what the consequences of giving them a piece of your mind would be. You hadn’t been there when he had killed Abe and Glenn, only hearing the horrid, sordid details after the fact.

The blood from the deer that you’d managed to kill was seeping into your white tee, making your shoulders feel sticky and matting up in the tips of your hair. You signalled a high pitched whistle, waiting for the large dark beige gate to be opened, allowing you enter back into Alexandria. Your eyes found the large sign, “Alexandria Safe Zone: Mercy for the Lost. Vengeance for the Plunderers.” You scoffed, how fucking ironic. The gate began to be moved, revealing three large vans parked up just a couple feet away from the entrance, the Saviour vans. “For fuck sake.” You thought, what could that bastard want with you now, you couldn’t help but feel slightly nervous.

“Negan, you’ll want to see this.” Negan turned to look at the saviour approaching him, holding out a small silver video recorder. “Well, what do we have here Grimes? Got my fingers crossed for a little freaky deaky!” He grinned, crossing his fingers in front of Rick’s face. He slid his hand into the leather handle of the camera, a video of Rick coming into view, looking a lot more threatening than he did now. He could barely make out it was Rick, with the massive beard grown on his face he wasn’t used to seeing. “Woah! Is that you? Underneath all that man bush? Holy shit, I would have not of messed with that guy… but you aren’t that guy anymore. Are you Rick?” He grinned, Rick stood with a stern look on his face, not moving. Negan continued to watch the interview, Rick speaking candidly about the amount of people that he’d killed. The video started to go static, indicating there was a tape that had been recorded on top of the original. Negan’s eyebrows furred in confusion, before his eyes widened at what the camera had blessed his eyes with. He watched as you were stood in-front of the camera, a light pink lace open cut babydoll set on, your breast sat in the cups, nipples on show for the camera. You started posing for the camera, running your hands through your hair, holding it up Pam Anderson style. A large sexy smile on your lips, turning to do a 180 spin, your smooth backside coming into view for the camera, Negan pulling the camera closer to his face, almost not believing what he was seeing. He didn’t recognise you, maybe it had been someone that used to be in Alexandria, wasn’t a member anymore. He growled lowly, that would be just his luck, the sexiest woman he’d seen in recent history just missed by a couple weeks. He moved his attention back to the camera, now watching you spread out on the bed, playing with your nipples while starting to rub your folds underneath your panties before the camera cut out, showing Rick’s interview once again.

“Fuck! Just when it was getting good!” He cursed, snapping the cameras screen back into place. A fire now in his stomach, his jeans now contracting around his hard bulge. He couldn’t get you out his mind, he knew he’d remember if he’d come across you before, so who the hell were you?

You’d managed to get the deer half way back to your house before being stopped by one of Negan’s minions, asking what you were doing. You ignored him, just wanting to get back, the saviour hadn’t liked that, grabbing you by the waist, dragging you towards the circle of people that were gathered around one of the vans. You could hear Rick talking about some guns that he’d found, apparently Negan thought you were trying to stash items, to prevent having to hand them over to his people.

“Negan. Got a rude bitch here for you, was about to run home, sneak this thing back with her.” You slightly rolled your eyes. “How am I meant to sneak a deer back, smartass?” You questioned, not believing someone could be so stupid. The man’s face contorted into a rage fuelled look, his hand raising up to you, before he had the chance, Negan whistled. “Hey! We don’t raise a hand to a woman, you know the fucking rules.” He stepped forward, now coming into full view of you, his eyes glancing over your body, looking like a kid on Christmas. You were still here, he couldn’t believe his luck. Lucille sat on his shoulder, his one gloved hand wrapped tightly around the bottom of the wood. “Now I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Negan.” He smirked, holding his free hand out for a handshake, his large frame towering slightly over you. You were met with a slight musk, you recognised it as an old spice fragrance, masculine and powerful. You looked at it, questionable look on your face before your hand met his, engulfing you from the size of it. His rough skin a stark contrast from the softness of yours, the movement felt foreign, you shouldn’t feel this way, especially when it’s him.

You saw Rick tensing up as he watched on from the sideline, wondering what Negan was up to, showing such civilness to you. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Y/N.” You stated, his smirk getting wider. “Sir? Oh, you my dear, are like the gift that keeps on damn giving!” He exclaimed, bewilderment sitting on the faces of those around you and yourself. What the hell did he mean by that? “Load em up, we’re leaving.” He commanded, the saviours starting to retreat back to their vans, Negan not moving from where he was stood.

A few of the Alexandrian’s moved away as well, not wanting to be in his presence for a moment longer than they were required to. “Now doll, take that damn thing off your shoulders, wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself.” You reluctantly agreed, placing the deer just behind you, before Negan nodded at two remaining men, them coming behind you to take your prized find. You scowled, fury raging inside your soul, you’d risked your life trying to get just one actual nice, fulfilling meal for everyone, just to have your hard work stolen off you. “I believe that’s mine.” You spat out, the fire showing from your eyes as you glared up at him. “What’s yours is now ours doll, or hasn’t Rick drilled that into you yet?” He asked, aware of the sexual innuendo of his words, his tongue rolling across his lower lip. You huffed, knowing if you talked back further, it wasn’t going to end well for you. You felt like you were tasting blood from how hard you bit down on your tongue, fists balled up.

Negan walked over slightly to the back of the last truck, the doors open, a load of stuff that you recognised from peoples homes in the compound. Picking something up, he walked back over to you, Lucille still sat on his shoulder. You saw the small video camera, not thinking much of it, not knowing there was a tape inside that you probably would have never wanted him to see. He placed it on your chest, it digging into your skin, sat just on top of your heaving breasts.

“You should be careful with such sensitive material, never know what kind of perverts going to come across it!” He joked, your eyes widening in embarrassment as you finally understood what he was talking about. You got a look of disgust rise on your face, you couldn’t believe he’d seen such an intimate piece of film. You went to grab the camera from him before he gripped tight on it, making it harder to move. “Now doll, it’s a good job I found this before any of my men did, you know that right? They would have taken this back with them and sat around in a circle jerk together, I however am returning this to you, soooo… How about a thank you, Negan?” He demanded playfully, leaning closer to your face, nose almost touching your cheek. You gulped shallowly, your hand moving over his that was holding the camera to your chest. “Thank you, Negan.” You managed to get out, the words tasting like poison to you.

He laughed, letting go of the camera, allowing you take it back with a yank. “You are more than welcome, baby. Also, in case you were wondering, you are most definitely my favourite Alexandrian now.” He winked, walking backwards before getting in the truck, holding his head out the window, giving a small wave to you as they drove out the front gates. You huffed, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you held in your throat.

It had now been a couple weeks since Negan’s last visit, he’d sent groups of his saviours in between but never actually visiting himself. You were thankful that this had been the case, you’d found yourself thinking about what could have been. You’d began to let your mind wonder to the scenario of meeting Negan in another situation, you couldn’t help but be attracted to him. He was one of the most attractive men you’d ever come across, it was just a shame he was also the most evil men you’d ever come across.

Unbeknown to you, he’d found himself thinking about you too, that fucking video. He’d managed to score some old age dvd porno films from supply runs over the years but he couldn’t even watch them to get off anymore, only thinking of your little smut tape. It wasn’t even like you’d done anything massively explicit on the tape, it shutting off before it managed to get that far but he had concluded that was probably worse. It allowed his mind to run at all the different possibilities, what did you sound like when you moaned, what would you sound like whimpering out his name as he was filling you up? What did you look like when you reached climax? All these unanswered questions racing through his mind as he got out his sexual frustration on his wives, not caring which one it was as all he pictured below him was you. Moaning out your name instead of theirs, the women not caring that much as they were only there to be used by him, no affectionate feelings connecting them to him.

You were currently in the garage, clipboard in hand, biting on the end of your pencil in anxiousness as you went over inventory. You were expecting another visit today, making you want to double check over everything to make sure there wasn’t any discrepancies in the numbers. That was the last thing you needed, especially since you were now actively trying to get plans in place to take the fight back to the Saviours. You were just finishing up when a loud knock startled you, the garage door vibrating at the motion. You put the clipboard down on the side, bending down to pull the door up.

“Well well well! If it isn’t my favourite Alexandrian. I’ve missed you, doll.” It was Negan, that signature grin on his face once again, eyes raking over your body. You felt sheepish under his wandering eyes, now knowing he’d practically seen you naked since he’d come across that video of yours. You sighed, hands resting on your hips. “What do you need, Negan?” You asked, him walking into the garage now, the door slamming back shut. The anxiety started to kick in as you were now alone with just him, as he looked over the shelves, picking up random items and studying them. “Nothing really, just wanted to see your pretty face. I just cannot stop thinking about you, doll! I wonder why that is, huh?” He laughed, you knowing what he was alluding to. He noticed how you crossed your hands over your chest, almost trying to shield yourself from him.

“Oh no no no! There’s no need for all that, I’ve seen those pretty babies already, you’ve nothing to be ashamed of, doll.” He sauntered over to you, towering over you again like last time, practically feeling the heat from his body on yours. You couldn’t take your eyes off his, the way he looked at you making you get slick. He wasn’t one to hide his true emotion, his jeans getting tighter as he imagined you as he saw in the video, putting on a little private show for him. “I’ve gotta know, what made you film something like that? You must of known someone could come across it, why take the risk?” He questioned you, hand coming to rub over his bearded chin. “In this world, there’s not much opportunity to feel sexy. I just wanted something to look back at when I felt down about myself.” You squeaked out, feeling very intimate. Here you were telling the leader of a rival camp your biggest insecurities, possibly giving him ammunition to further torment you and your people.

“Oh doll, you could be covered in damn walker guts, and I’d still think you were the sexiest thing on this damn shithole planet.” He purred, grabbing you slightly by the chin, making you smile slightly. You shook your head, pulling yourself out of his grasp. “What are you doing Negan? We can’t be thinking like this. I can’t be thinking like this. You… you are the enemy.” Your hands resting on the lapels of his leather jacket, the slight coldness of it sending shivers down your spine. You leaned dangerously close to Negan’s lips, his beard scratching the surface of your skin. “Rick would fucking kill me, he’d fucking kill me, if he knew I think about you the way I do. Think about you when I touch myself, wishing it was you.” You whispered, getting more confident in your tone, your eyes staring at his lips, then back up to his dark eyes, your lips partially open as you let out shallow breaths, anything you could to try and lower your heart rate that was pumping under your chest. The silence in the room was deafening, you started to get nervous again, like you were just waiting for him to recoil away from you and laugh at your confession, that this had all been a massive joke to humiliate you further. “Goddamn it doll, looks like great minds think alike because I’ve been doing the same damn thing since I saw that little treat on that fucking camera.” He chuckled, picking you up in one swift movement, placing you on top of the workplace bench.

“Did you think about me claiming your pussy, doll? Fucking you until you can barely remember your goddamn name? What would Ricky say if he saw you submitting yourself so easily to me, the big bad wolf?” The dark tenor of Negan’s voice caused you to whimper in half fear, half pleasure. You could tell his personality was darkening to the more intense side, the jolly joking and fucking about traits were completely absent. You didn’t feel terrified though, like you did when he committed some of the horrific atrocities in front of you, the feelings of excitement causing your hairs to stand on edge and your pussy getting wet with every word that spilled out of his mouth.

“I did, god I want you inside of me.” You confessed, as Negan’s hands ghosted over your cleavage that was exposed by your tank top, before he pulled it over your head, your breasts spilling out of your lace bra. He shoved his gloved hand into your mouth, commanding you to suck. You obliged, your hands holding his arm in place as you swirled your tongue around the two thick fingers, head bobbing up and down as you did. The leather of the glove rubbery on your tongue, causing you to moan onto his fingers.

He grinned at you, a deep grunt as he leaned over capturing your right nipple into his mouth, suckling it, swirling his tongue around and biting it with his teeth causing you to moan and pull his head against your chest as you kept sucking hard on his fingers. He did it again, giving you light bites and licks, alternating between your two erect nubs. Negan removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop, bring them down to give one final pinch to your nipples, the wetness of his one hand causing the cold air to make your nipple more sensitive.

“Get on your knees, I want to see your mouth full of my dick, doll.” Negan grinned with a wicked smile, his hands undoing his jeans, letting them fall to pool at his boots. You felt your mouth salivate, eager to take him as slid off the table onto your knees. You started to lick him, going from bottom to top slowly, teasing him like he did to you with his dirty sweet nothings in your ears, hearing his low groans. You sucked the precum from his tip and swirled your tongue under his head, and then looked up at him, making sure you held eye contact with him, opening your mouth and taking him in little by little, bobbing your head up and down. Your mouth was being stretched wide, you started to move a little faster, sucking him, licking him, taking him deeper and deeper until you felt him in your throat. He was big, causing you to gag a little as your eyes began to water, your throat starting to get a sore feeling within it as he fucked your throat at a quick pace. He gave a slight gasp and his hand took a firm hold of your head keeping you in place, as his hips bucked, making it his mission to get as far down your throat as possible.

“I need to fuck you now, doll. Get up here.” Negan pulled back to your feet, slamming you stomach down onto the table, almost ripping your jeans as he pulled them down your thighs, your moist panties now on show, one tug and the flimsy material broke in two halves, now fully exposing your slick entrance to Negan. He rubbed his dick up and down your slit eliciting a pleasurable moan from both of you, pushing his length inside and then pulling out and rubbing it down your slit again.

“Please... Negan! Please!” You whimpered out, pinching your nipples, trying to get some relief from his teasing. He smirked down at you, that dark gaze watching your every move. “Please what? I want to hear you saying you want daddy's dick. I want to hear you beg me. Come on little girl, say it.” he demanded as he rubbed his length along your wet slit. “Please daddy! I want you deep inside me, please fuck me!” He groaned and pushed himself hard inside your walls, with no hesitations. You screamed, even being sopping wet, you were too tight around his shaft. He leaned on top of you and started to kissing your neck, biting lightly. Negan felt you getting used to his girth, you started to move your hips against him, wanting friction. He started to thrust in slowly, checking for your reaction to his movements. “I'm fine, please, fuck me daddy!” You moaned out, Negan pulling almost all the way out of you and then thrusting in hard making you gasp.

“You're loving this doll, aren’t you? Yeah, you're loving having my dick inside of you. I’d love good old Rick to walk in right now, see you bent over for the big bad wolf.” he chuckled, turning you on even more. Thrusting again and again building up speed, going faster and harder, just like you had imagined he would in your dirty dreams, but so much better than your imagination. “I'm going to fuck you like the slut you are and you are going to thank me for it.” He whispered in your ear, pulling your hair with one hand and holding your hips firmly with the other as he snapped his groin into you, making your ass ripple with the powerful movements. “I want to hear you doll, thank me.” You almost rolled your eyes at the narcissistic request but your brain was too blank to comprehend it. “Thank you, thank you Negan!”

You focused on the obscene sounds of your bodies echoing around you, amplified by how small the garage was. Negan continued fucking you rough and hard, until you felt the orgasm surging inside of you, building fast and strong. When it finally hit you, you screamed with the intensity of it, your body shook with the pleasure waves, running through your core. Negan released your hair to hold your hips so he could keep fucking you. His thrusts shortened, you clenched around his length, a groan leaving his mouth, feeling him finally release just after you. Negan pulled himself out of you, watching as his cum spilled out of your hole, dripping slightly onto the concrete floor below you. He leaned on top of you, leaving small kisses on your spine, body covered in a light sheen of sweat.

“Y/N! We need you out here! Negan is on his way!” You turned to Negan, a confused look on your face, he’d snuck into the compound to fuck you and now you had to act like he wasn’t even here.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ notes: just wanted to do something in honor of sorry boys going on hiatus. this is entirely based on their last video so watch that to understand the silly headcanon time. cc!wilbur likers will be blocked by the way, thanks. get out of here

↳ warnings: none. just the four members here. four original, and only, members of sorry boys. no one else

↳ song: campus—vampire weekend

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• You'd think that an afternoon shift at a trampoline park would be easy; especially on the down days. Hanging around the snack bar with your employees, blowing whistles at loud kids, and keeping whatever was left in the lost and found bin became something of a daydream to you upon first getting hired

• It was a better alternative to the fast food joint you had worked previously at a crazed food van—you'd rather do anything but that after quitting

• Your first tip that things weren't going to be that easy should have been the camera crew that shuffled in on your second week, lead in part by a blonde guy with a stack of pre-signed waivers in his hand

• "What's up with that?" You turned to your only other coworker at the hour, a lanky guy with a mask and fluffed up hair. You thought you remember his name starting with an R or something along the lines of that, but mostly you referred to him as 'dude' or 'hey you.' He never felt the need to correct you, so you just never stopped

• "Oh yeah." He'd responded with a tired voice while barely even looking around. "Uh, we have a group that comes in every few days and rents out the place. I've seen them bouncing around, and I'm not really sure they're, uh, stable I guess you could say."

• Glancing down from the reception desk and to the play floor below, you caught a glimpse of the three others he spoke of, one being the blonde kid from earlier, surrounded by a few cameras and doing some rather weak jump moves. One in a red fat suit fell over at one point and refused to get up as he rolled around on the floor whining

• "Er," You took a step out of the reception desk area as you pointed a finger down at the scene. "Shouldn't one of us be down there? Supervising, and all that." You neglected to mention that one of the men looked old enough to be your father and should probably be mediating them

• For a moment you thought your coworker would shrug and tell you to go on, but he just sighed and grabbed his whistle like a weary office worker preparing for a morning round

• "At least this time I won't be alone." He looked at you. The eyebags under his eyes made you feel like he'd done this a lot more than he'd ever wanted to, despite only being at work a few weeks more than you

• The next few minutes went by fine. You were mostly ignored by the two fellows in fat suits as they proceeded to say 'dude' and 'bro' far too much, and was only offered a high five by the same blonde— Tungo you now knew. At one point the cameramen pulled you and the other worked over for a small interview, the likes of which you seemed to enjoy more than him

• The first time either of you really had to step in was when the red fat suit one delved into his shell, yelling something about yoinking his pork

• "Chungus? Chungo?" You managed to say his name without somehow laughing. "Please don't do that. We're gonna have some problems if you continue to."

• As Chounce popped his head out like a cartoon character to look at you, you offered a wobbly smile, and was severely relieved when he finally brought his hands out of his suit to cross them

• "For the record dude I wasn't even pulling my plug." He frowned, having the decency to look midly embarrassed. "I was just thinking about my feelings, bro."

• You got a thankful look from your fellow employee at your successful endeavors

• The both of you continued to watch as a competition between Chounce and Tungo occurred, eventually somehow turning into a fight between them as the self proclaimed Master Za watched

• In reality, you were pretty sure their real names all aligned somewhere along the lines of Tommy Charlie and Phil, if the signatures on their wavers spoke for anything, but none of them seemed to call each other anything but nonsense

• At one point, you were compelled enough by the entertainment to purchase a bag of popcorn from the snack desk, earning a look at disappointment from your coworker as he saw

• "Please don't encourage them." He dragged a hand down his face, careful not to knock his mask off

• "I don't think it'd matter if I did or didn't." You smiled through a mouthful. "Just look at 'em." You waved at the kid zone they'd all migrated too in the last hour or two, currently kissing Master Za on the face as he yelped in protest

• "Wait." Your hand lowered slowly as you blinked. "That's not allowed—"

• The two of you took off in their direction, using your whistles for what felt like the hundredth time that day as you ran

• By the time closing hours came around, it was dark enough outside to make you yawn. It took a significant amount of convincing to get the three of them, mostly Chounce, to leave and stop bouncing, but it eventually worked with a few well placed bribes. Namely, handfuls from your unfinished chip bag from earlier

• "You weren't all that bad! Not a wrong'un after all." Tungo eventually confided in you in front of everyone as you went to close up, looking strangely proud about such a mediocre compliment. You grinned at him anyways, finding him to be one of the saner ones throughout the whole ordeal

• "Maybe next time I could judge a match of yours, yeah?" You offered as you thumbed through the cash in the register

• "Please do not encourage them." A familiar voice from outside sounded for the second time that day, making you suck air between your teeth in an attempt not to snort with laughter

• "And remember to check the bathrooms before you leave. One of them likes to hide in them after we close."

• "Sorry, what—"

• You ended up having to drag Chounce out bt his ankles that night and into Master Za's car so he could get home

• "You know what? It's still better than the food truck."

[existentialterror]

ARG notes: ZampanioSim

Okay, a work this metafictional and also that (I think) responds to audience interaction is going to need a high-caliber gimmick. Hang on.

...

Alright. Hey guys, catfishAnabasis (Light) here, taking a moment out of my surprisingly busy day tell you about a weird thing on the internet.

ZampanioSim is an intricate and brainbending ARG. It takes direct inspiration from Homestuck, The Magnus Archives, and House of Leaves, as well as the creator (JR, jadedResearcher/justifiedRecursion)'s previous canon of Homestuck fan-work and games. A major theme is "unreality".

HERE IS YOUR TRAILHEAD.

Feel free to ignore the rest of the writeup and check it out now.

I know very little about JR's other work, right now. However, among my many INTERESTS, I am something of a TMA ENJOYER and an AMATEUR INTERNET INVESTIGATOR, and if I were in a HOUSE I like to think I could LEAVE it pretty easily.

So, yeah. I figured I'd just describe my experience of this rabbithole and maybe you'll want to check it out too. I'm sure this will only scratch the surface.

ZampanioSim is structured as a nested labyrinth. In the same way that:

Homestuck is a webcomic framed as an interactive adventure game about an account of kids playing a video game (Sgrub) that doesn't exist, and

House of Leaves is a novel framed as a found scholarly discussion about a documentary (The Navidson Record) that doesn't exist about a house that doesn't exist,

ZampanioSim is a game-based ARG framed as an attempt to simulate a game (Zampanio) that doesn't exist based on a found FAQ of the game (that only sort of exists).

More concretely, ZampanioSim features a lot of nested browser games, as well as audio, narrative, an actual audience-interactive narrative game (the way Homestuck was originally), external websites, and more.

The starting point is, of course, the House:

ZampanioSim takes full advantage of the browser as medium. There is content accessible via the address bar, developer tools, cookies (I think), the developer console, and probably more that I haven't realized.

Like, to give you a sense of the kind of rabbithole we're dealing with: Here's a map I made of the House outset page today:

...And I say today because the House does change over time. Today (a friday) when I clicked on the EastEast route, for instance, I was greeted by this grotesquely distorted version of Rebecca Black's "Friday":

Okay, let's talk about what we have going on in the House map, starting from the doors and working out. (I've given some of these my own names for clarity.)

North

The Classpect Menu Game:

This, I think, is the main titular "ZampanioSim". It's the part that's intended to recreate the experience of a supposed old computer game, but by and large, you only experience the menu screen, not the rest of the gameplay. You can select attributes (based on Homestuck's Classpecting system + the Magnus Archives fears) gain points and select skills and (depending on your seed) eventually "beat the game". It's glitchy, it's a hellscape, there's an entity or two in the menu system that are trying to talk to you. It's great fun. Contains links to a rabbithole (which you can plug passwords into for more secrets) and + some secrets to you in the credits.

(While mostly the aspects seem to add flavor to the menu options, there's a special class called "Waste". This appears in neither TMA nor Homestuck, but comes from a fan or meta-joke that Andrew Hussie and Toby Fox, the writer and a major composer for Homestuck, are classpected* as the "Waste of Space" and "Waste of Time". By telling it you're a "Waste"you're more likely to get weird glitches and new options in your Classpect Menu game run - there's a fun recurring element in some of these games about the game changing depending on who you tell it is playing. I learned about the Waste trick from JR's youtube channel. Also, setting your birthday as Halloween might also do something.)

I have no idea if the different iterations of games here are substantially different. I haven't checked. There's a lot going on. "There's a lot going on" is a good summary of ZampanioSim overall.

*( Uh, classpecting is this in-Homestuck personality system where game players are a [Role] of [Element].)

Eyedlr: Eyedol Games is the company that supposedly made the original game Zampanio. Eyedlr is their spambot-filled tumblr clone, which also has secrets in it. (Actually, just assume everything has secrets out.)

East

The House Exploration game: It has the same setup screen as the Classpect Menu game, but this one drops you into a game with visuals: An infinite(?) procedural house you navigate with imagery derived from your choices.

Peewee's exploration game: When it's not blasting Rebecca Black's Friday But Weird into your ears, the EastEast route is another procedural infinite(?) maze, except that you type directions to Peewee, a snake guy with goggles who also moves around on his own. This one also introduces named characters we learn more about elsewhere.

Bathroom text: Procredural bathroom maze, unless it's just some text telling you to take a break. ZampanioSim really likes telling you to take breaks and hydrate, so that you can better appreciate and spread Zampanio.

Absolutely not. Also, I'm a busy woman. I have to finish this writing summary first.

South

The Train Game: a game - notably not a maze - where JR walks down a series of train corridors and monologues to you about the game and the "reality" behind it.

The mazecrawler game: You tell a little guy how to navigate an infinite(?) maze - and if you choose right and open up your browser's Console menu, you can learn a great deal more about

West

The only West route is AdventureSimWest, which is an actual text narrative game where readers submit commands that the author incorporates into updates - just like early Homestuck. It's still going. The logs are extensive but it's mostly about the antics of a new employee at Eyedol Games, which is stuck in a time loop.

Other

Then there's some other scattered clickable text -

The truth about alt: An exchange between two shapeshifters.

A transcript: A dialogue between two people who apparently work for Eyedol Games.

The lower left leads you to an apparently rotating selection of other Zampanio-related games. I particularly liked NagaGirlfriend.

None of this is even the stuff you can reach this page exclusively through the Console menu.

And much more

And there's a lot of stuff that's NOT branching directly off of the house. There's other things you find buried in links or by searching - a discord and a wiki that both straddle the line between in-character and -out, Archive of Our Own content, a youtube channel, the Eyedol website...

Is there a "story" to ZampanioSim?

Yes.

Like I said, there's a lot I haven't seen yet. But what's going on is something like this:

JR is attempting to recreate this game, Zampanio, of course, and tap into its fanbase. The game Zampanio is an infectious meme. Eyedol Games is a transdimensional company that is perhaps both trying to spread the meme and contain it, by removing its spores, e.g. the Zampanio FAQ - the thing that inspired JR to make ZampanioSim - from the internet.

Various parts of the game recognize that they are fictional and may identify you the reader/player as "Observers".

There are a few recurring characters who have gotten swept up into the meme, either working for Eyedol or trapped in ZampanioSim or both, and have followed it from variant to transdimensional variant.

(this is an image from homestuck. it's a reference.)

Japes aside, this is a brain-bending, very cool, and completely ludicrous unfiction project which I believe is made mostly by one person with an unparalleled hand for web sorcery, whimsy, and vibes. The vibes are so good.

The host website, Farrago Fiction (which AFAICT is a multi-person project), hosts a number of often-homestuck-inspired weird games and simulators.

I know ZampanioSim is now a few years old and is still actively updating. Consider checking it out.

2024-08-24 edit: Part 2!

[tyforthevnm]

“If I have a kid, I’ll call him Dracula.”

All About My Year: Gerard Way

My Chemical Romance Screamo King and Unironic Mustache Advocate

From Blender Magazine, January/February 2007, Volume 6, No. 1 Photograph by: Martin Schoeller

Transcript below

Favorite new band of 2006 Mew, from Scandinavia. They're huge in Europe, but I just found out about them, It’s breathtaking fantasy rock. 

Favorite new catchphrase I'm tired of these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking plane.

What are you going to rename your adopted African baby? Dracula. I've always said, “If I have a kid, I’ll call him Dracula”

Man-crush of 2006 Johnny Depp. He's been a steady winner for years now. Ask a lot of bands in black, they'll probably tell you him.

Favorite new toy I got a Sidekick III, but it’s really just a Sidekick II that's black. I love it. You can AIM people back home for pennies.

Trend you're most sick of What are hipsters doing these days? Oh, right: the ironic mustache! Not that there’s anything wrong with a real mustache.

Favorite sign of the Apocalypse This video I saw of Kevin Federline listening to “PopoZão.”

Most outlandish purchase of the year I got the entire original Star Trek TV series on DVD last night. Our record came out, and I wanted to get myself something nice. As if I didn’t already have enough nerdy shit.

Country the U.S. should “liberate” next None. I think we should send a country some cupcakes. You think some cupcakes would cheer up North Korea? Kill ‘em with deliciousness.

Funniest YouTube video I really hate physical violence, but there’s this one where this kid is talking shit forever to this other kid, and the dude gets into this weird jujitsu pose and just knocks him out with one punch.

Ambition/hope for 2007 Quit smoking. That's my goal. 

Will you be our MySpace friend? Of course!

[misskattylashes]

Okay, I’m going to do it. I have been holding back and just telling my closest fandom friends my crazy theory, but what the hell. Most of you think I’m batshit anyway.

Here we go.....

What if we have been on the receiving end of a long played out psyop and Louise has been a way to make the public want Milex?

Okay, hear me out...

It’s 2017/8 Alex has abandoned Miles after EYCTE. He has gone to France to write and record TBHC, having realised their little TLSP bubble could never last (see Star Treatment). Without Alex, Miles is a little lost and lonely in LA. His reputation is also at rock bottom after the journalist incident. Miles decides he wants to move back to England, and Alex decides he wants to move back to, as we know they can never be more than a few minutes away from each other

Taylor either wouldn’t or couldn’t leave LA, so she and Alex break up. But they need a new girlfriend to keep up the straight image (especially with the new badly-received album and a world tour about to begin). On the original version of OPP as seen on the AM in Mexico video, over the turtle segment Alex sings ‘One More Year I’ll Call It Quits’ maybe the plan was to give it all up,but he had signed a contract to do another album and tour after TBHC, and with Miles’ reputation so bad, if they were together then they would both be cancelled.

So a European girlfriend is found and this is where the subterfuge begins. We start with old Instagram posts with tags like #alexturnerwillyoumarryme, then we get professionally shot videos of her backstage at AM’s concert (all the time Alex is ‘still with’ Taylor) so as soon as they launch, the first image of Louise the public get is a negative one, as a fangirl who has set out to get Alex, not caring if he cheats in his current girlfriend.

Before I list the reasons why I think she is fake, can I say this idea he has stayed with her as punishment for cheating on Taylor is absolutely ridiculous. Men who are serial cheats aren’t known for wearing hairshirts. Especially when you’re a handsome, wealthy rock star who could easily get another girlfriend.

So, the idea is, Louise is the most unpleasant person who makes Alex miserable, and if most people are honest, they want Alex to be happy..

So, let’s look at the evidence..(where there is a * it means there is a Miles counterside)

Louise doesn’t work. She claims to be a feminist, but her job seems to be being Alex’s girlfriend.

She openly copies selfies posed by previous girlfriends, making her look like she has no personality of her own

She boasts in her IG posts ie the ‘we just fucked’ pic and the panties on the piano.

She claims to be a musician but we rarely see her writing or recording anythjng.*

She writes embarrassing things about itAlex on social media (beautiful dick).*

Openly takes a neutral stance on Palestine.

Claims to wear vintage clothes but they rarely are*

When Alex was ill after the third London show, it is publicised that he leaves the Emirates with his parents, no sign of Louise. She’s too busy taking pics in the hotel with Matt and Amanda

Meanwhile Miles has worked hard on his public image. He has shown he is a hard worker. He rarely mentions Alex on social media and when asked about him in interviews, whilst admitting they are good friends, is insistent they are not working together. Which is good because he has always been accused of riding on Alex’s fame.

He frequently gives updates when he his writing and recording, treating us to little snippets, something Louise never does.

Is it a coincidence that holiday gate is the same as the week One Man Band’s release. Alex looking miserable with Louise Vs Miles being charming and hard working.

Not long after Louise starts going on about her fake vintage, Miles posts a whole real of him going proper vintage shopping so he looks authentic.

Even in Dublin there is no duet with Alex. Miles not using Alex’s,fame,but also those who monitor social media can see how hungry they are for Milex interaction.

The river Mersey comment – another way of guaging public opinion. Finally the legion of doom 😍😍 comment on the NY recent. The fandom went crazy at Milex acknowledgement.

Alex....

His face..Alex is a pro. He has had twenty years of faking smiles after arguments with the other Monkeys, girlfriends, even Miles. He could fake a smile with Louise if we wanted to when they call their friends at Backgrid to take pap pictures. But instead he chooses to look like someone either on the verge of tears or else being held hostage. And in the latest set of pics, Louise looks the same.

The Taylor tattoo....it looks like he thinks so little of her he has kept that tattoo.

‘I don’t wanna be hers, I wanna be yours’ quite often at gigs where Louise is in attendance.

Not one song on the car written about her.

And now of course with the tour over, a lot of people return to watching TLSP videos. Happy, muscly, healthy looking Alex having fun with Miles as opposed to skinny, miserable Alex trapped with Louise.

Apart from Louise’s most ardent fans, most people want to see him away from her and would be overjoyed at a TLSP reunion, and for us Milexers, a declaration of their love.

So, has this been a long game? A way of making the people think they want Milex? I told you it was crazy, but just remember the world of public relations is completely underhand and insane.

[unvolver]

i'd say the bias comes from the editing choices - order of the quotes, which quotes are selected and mentioned when, which information, footage, images and music are provided. I understand it's impossible to include everything, even in so many hours, and also make it engaging for the viewers, but it is going to skew the perception, put a specific mood, even under the guise of a non-biased source. don't want to make Lewisohn comparison, but it's somewhat like that

and another thing, I found out is that the creator of ULM believes it was completely one-sided from John. now, that's a matter of opinion, but the problem is they came to that conclusion after listening to Let it Be tapes, which seems weird to me? like that's the worst way to come to that conclusion imo (recorded footage, their relationship strained, Linda and Yoko present, I could go on) and makes me think that's the conclusion the creator also wants the viewers to reach

tl,dr: at the end, I think written quotes should not be put with audio-video montage and provided with other quotes like that. it's going to skew the perception no matter what

seems like my critique of the editing ties into the whole bias thing… i don’t have much to say but i’ll take your word for it. my adhd cannot get me to watch 15 hours of no narration, maybe my brain is fried from short term content who knows!

for the one sided crush conclusion it was my original belief early into my beatles fixation, now a days i’m pretty sure it was mutual. it’s kinda interesting that it’s like seen as a mclennon holy grail but there is a big section of people who believe it was a one sided relationship but i feel like that’s kinda sad. paul was as much of a problematic bisexual as john!

[it-was-summer]

Video Killed the Radio Star- Tape #2 (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

A/N: THIS CHAPTER FOCUSES MAINLY ON THE FIRST ENCOUNTERS WITH YOUR KIDNAPPER. I didn't put any warning before the scene starts, but the entire chapter is essentially that. So please keep that in mind. I changed a lot of this from the original version. I have grown okay? I saw inconsistency in my writing and I am trying to fix it. Thank you so much for everyone's kudos, notes, comments, reblogs, bookmarks, EVERYTHING! Please let me know what you think and enjoy.

Video Killed the Radio Star Remake Masterlist

Link to the Ao3: Video Killed the Radio Star

Previous Chapter: Tape #1 > Next Chapter: Tape #3

WARNING: Kidnapping, morphine use, abuse, talks of death, and more. Remember you are not alone if you struggle with this content.

Tape Contents: The team starts to comb through your apartment. Meanwhile, you spend your time in a less fiery version of hell.

Word Count: 3,721

March 2, 20XX 

After recording the video, you were damn near catatonic. Your eyes were having a hard time pulling away from the corner of your living room, staring at the fading white paint as it met the trim. You tried to turn on the television for some sort of distraction, but every time you heard a sound a little too close for comfort, you would pause the screen and comb through your apartment like a mad woman. You had locked the windows, the door, hell, you even considered shoving a chair under the knob of the front door. 

You didn’t, though. Sitting in a silently lit room with your legs to your chest. You were trying to remember to breathe in the correct order: in, then out, out, then in. Every so often, your breathing would hitch, and you would start over again. You tried to find something to keep you grounded in the moment, a texture to rub your hands over, but the dread kept building. 

It kept building until it was two in the morning, and you couldn’t handle it anymore. 

You were turning off lights slowly, fingers lingering on the switches before you turned them off, dashing into your apartment’s bedroom and shutting the door behind you. Your body was moving as if it thought the darkness was going to kidnap you. Maybe it would, maybe that fate would be better than what the depths of your mind were producing as you found a light to plug into the wall. The old wall plug-in emitted just enough light in the room that you let yourself relax in the dark of your bedroom. 

When you called your mother earlier, she reassured you that the police were there for you, patrolling the neighborhood every weekend. You tried to tell her that their cars were dwindling, and now it seemed like only one was bothering to make the rounds, but she didn’t listen. One was enough for her, so why couldn’t it be enough for you? 

It was wrong to be angry with her, wrong to be angry with the police, wrong to be angry with yourself. The worst part was being angry with Adeline, the way she was trying so hard to be supportive despite her daughter dying of cancer. The guilt felt like a prod: scorching, agonizing, pushing its way into your chest, where it made its home near your heart. You didn’t want to be angry, not with her, not with anyone, but the feeling of isolation had you crying tears of frustration in your bed.

Maybe they were all right, maybe you were just being crazy. You would go into work tomorrow exhausted and weary, but alive. Everything would be fine. You told yourself this mantra over and over again as your tears slowed, your eyelids became heavy, and your breathing got deeper. Everything would be fine.

Dawn crept into your bedroom window. The sun had yet to rise, its glow just dim on the horizon. You couldn’t have been asleep for longer than two hours or so when you heard soft breathing. Your eyes were heavy and slow to open as you listened to the sound. 

Liquid bubbling with a soft ‘ glug’ sound had you stirring a little, eyes fighting you as you tried to open them and focus on the sound. As your body stirred, a hard hand grabbed your mouth, pressing down on your lips as your eyes snapped awake. The last thing you remembered was a gloved hand shoving a handkerchief to your face and the smell of ether before your world went dark. 

March 5, 20XX

Garcia was smiling. It didn’t take long for the field techs to bring back your computer adorned with pink and green sticky notes with passwords, notes, and to-do lists. She always liked a woman who had a plan and stuck to it. “This girl just made my job easier,” she chuckled softly as she logged into your computer with ease. “Not that it was ever hard, but it was sweet of her to help me out.” 

The whole thing seemed clear of any suspicious emails, apps, or spying devices. She frowned as she moved to your phone logs that she received earlier that day; the most recent call was from an unknown number. The voicemail that followed sent chills down her spine, the sound of sobs before the line went dead. She shared with the team her favorite member, actually, Derek, who was listening to her intensely over the phone while the rest of the team combed through your apartment. 

To say they felt a little shocked was an understatement. You were more prepared than you had let on. Each ‘gift’ was labeled and in baggies in the drawers of your desk. Emily was the first to see a folder in a nook of the desk; as she opened it, she was greeted with a picture of… herself. She let out a huff of a laugh as she started to pull out photos. Spencer, David, Derek, JJ, and Aaron. “She’s got everyone but Penelope.” She said, waving Spencer and Aaron over with a slight flick of her wrist. 

Spencer tilted his head at the blurry photo of himself on the desk, an amused look in his eyes as he read out loud, “‘Give this man a pair of glasses, now!’” He looked over at Hotch and spoke in a curious tone, “Do I really have the kind of face that tells everyone I need glasses?” 

Aaron looked up from his photo and gave Spencer a slight grin. "Do you want me to lie?” he asked, much to Spencer’s dismay. 

Emily spoke up, “At least yours says that she’s asking for my number on mine.” She turned the photo of herself over to them and pointed at the writing. She pointed to Hotch’s photo and grinned, “‘Give us a smile, baby’ is kind of funny, come on.” 

Hotch's frown deepened as he looked at the writing, “She was trying to have a sense of humor,” 

“A sense of humor in stressful situations could indicate that she approaches them in a light-hearted way, she’s optimistic. The type to never give up.” Reid spoke softly beside her. 

“It could also mean that she’s the kind of person who draws people in with her personality,” Prentiss suggested softly against Reid’s anecdote, “She’s easy to love.” 

She let her words sink into the air around them like a cloud, watching the gears turn in the minds of the two men near her. Her gears also started up as she set the picture back on the desk, leaning against the wood gently when her eye caught a glimpse of color on the floor. 

She maneuvered away from the desk and towards your nightstand, crouching down to the floor as she picked up a small beaded keychain off the floor. She smiled softly as she turned a beaded keychain over in her gloved hands, reading the words aloud, “‘or die.’” 

“What, like ride or die?” Hotch called over the question from the desk in the corner of your room. 

“The term ride or die was originally used as slang among bikers, but in recent years, it has been used in hip-hop culture and music,” Spencer said as he stared at the colorful beaded keychain in Emily’s hand. 

“Since when did you start listening to hip-hop music?” She asked with a laugh. 

Spencer smiled a little and shook his head, “I don’t,” 

“Then where did you hear the phrase ‘ride or die’?” 

“Derek has a ride or die,” 

“Who?” Hotch’s voice joined in curiously as his eyes flicked over towards the bedroom doorway, where Derek was standing, still on the phone with Garcia. 

Nonetheless, he was still listening in on their conversation as he pulled his head away from the phone a little and looked over his shoulder. “Garcia, obviously.” He said simply before bringing the phone back up to his ear. “Nothing, baby girl. We were just talking about you.” 

March 3, 2024

You assumed it was the next day, or at least the day you wanted it to be. Not that you wished for this day, but it being the next day meant you were still alive. Your eyes were slow to open as your fingers twitched, grazing against something suspiciously softer than your duvet. The question was alive where? 

Your eyes were catching glimpses of light, pink light. As you let your eyes focus a little more, you realize the whole room was pink, or the lighting made it seem that way. 

Your body felt… hot, like heat was spreading through your veins, making your head dizzy. You felt good. Then, it plateaued. 

Your body, sluggish as it was, moved slowly. You were trying to sit up but found your upper body strength failing to cooperate. Your elbows failed to provide much support, and you fell back on the soft duvet with a soft ‘oof.’  

Eventually, you managed to scoot your body back till your head hit a headboard… that, from this angle, you could see it was in the shape of a vibrant pink heart. Soon, your back was resting against the headboard. You went to move your leg to help achieve a more comfortable position when a sudden sharp pain cut through the heat in your veins. 

Your eyes traveled down your leg, grateful to see pajama pants covering your skin until you reached your bare foot. Your ankle was a horrible black and blue color. The bones looked swollen and deformed against the skin. You felt sick. 

Your body was moving fast to lean off the side of the bed as you felt your chest squeeze, your mouth opening to vomit off the side of the bed. As your broken ankle lay with you on the bed, your head hung slightly off the edge. You turned your head to see an IV stand next to the bed. When you followed the drip tube, you felt sick once more, seeing how it was professionally attached to the back of your hand. 

A whimper could be heard in the empty pink room as you wiped your lips clean with your non-IV hand and again sat up against the headboard. And you waited. Time seemed to be still in this place, moving at a sluggish pace that made your body twitch and buzz with anxiety.

There was no sunlight, just a hue of pink. A pink dresser, heart decor on the walls, plush heart-shaped pillows by your sides, and chains around your good ankle linked you to the heart-shaped bed, along with some other decor you didn’t care to look at for too long. It looked like a room straight out of a fever dream. You were still trying to determine if it was just that, a fever dream.

You swallowed thick spit roughly as your eyes stayed glued to the heavily locked door. You kept counting the locks, four. Your head tilted to the side as you tried to imagine your kidnapper coming in, how many clicks you would hear, the turning of locks, or the jingle of how many keys. How many keys would it take for you to get out of here? 

Unfortunately, you would know the answer soon as the sound of keys jingling hit your ears. One. You didn’t know if you should start screaming. Would they be angry with you if you started to scream? 

Two. Your breathing was getting faster, coming in short, shaky bursts. Your eyes looked down at your chained ankle and then toward your broken one. Would you even be able to move? The morphine was making it hard anyway. What would it be like to walk or run with the full pain of a broken ankle coursing through you? How would you even get unchained from the bed?

Three. You were trying to remember everything you had read about true crime, but none of it seemed helpful now. Did you beg for your life? Should you tell them about your family? Would they care about any of it? Were they going to kill you or scar you in ways you could never imagine? You knew that there were fates worse than death. At least dying carried some dignity. 

Four. You tried to steady your breathing and convince yourself that you still stood a chance of getting out of here alive. You scooted your body against the headboard as much as possible, trying to get the greatest amount of distance from the door you could, given the circumstances. 

The door was creaking open with a gentle turn of the knob. A flash of white light filled the room before it was ripped away from your line of sight, and the door was shut again. The person –a woman– was holding a small tray in her hands. You were blinking rapidly as you stared at the tray, a pain in your stomach making you realize how hungry you were. 

Slowly, your eyes tore away from the tray and up to her face—a very familiar face, but one you could quite place. Pretty blonde hair, curls framing her face, her full lips drawn into a pleased smile. When your eyes met her pale blue ones, you could see nothing but… empathy. No, it wasn’t that. It seemed to be adoration. She was wearing a pair of scrubs, fun scrubs, little rainbows, and animals sprawling across the material as she walked over to you. 

Maybe she was an accomplice, a wife, a girlfriend, or a sister who got caught up in this. The thought made the muscles straining in your back relax a little as she set the tray down on a nearby side table. Your eyes never left her as she moved gracefully through the room. 

“Oh, sweetie,” Her voice was saccharine, “Did the morphine make you sick?” She asked with a light tilt of her head, turning on her heel toward the dresser to pull out a small towel. “That’s okay, it's a common side effect.”  

You gave a numb nod as you watched her get down to the floor and clean up the vomit without complaint. “I didn’t mean to,” Your voice was hoarse and weak, sounding slightly childish as you spoke out the weak excuse. 

She stood up, walked the towel to the hamper, and tossed the pink rag in with a little laugh: “No one ever means to, baby.” She sounded familiar, too. Your eyes traced over her fit frame, which you could barely make out from under her scrubs. “Let’s get you eating,” She said as she let out a soft hum of relaxation, sitting in a nearby plush chair. 

As she buttered some bread, you eyed the rest of the food on the tray: soup in a plastic bowl, water in a plastic bottle, and a plastic cup for the butter. The silverware was the only thing on the tray that didn’t seem to be plastic. 

You glanced away from the food and back to the familiar woman. “If someone is making you do this, a boyfriend or husband or something, you don’t have to do this. Yo-You and I, we could plan a way to fight back,” you offered, your voice soft and quick. Hope was creeping into you as she listened to you speak, the butterknife scraping gently against the bread in her hands. 

“Well, for starters,” she set down the butterknife and bread, crossing her legs over each other. “My husband doesn’t know a thing about you. As for brothers or boyfriends, I’m afraid you're out of luck there, too. There’s only me, Catherine.” 

You felt the hope draining out of you, and she must’ve seen it in how your shoulders tensed and breathing quickened, “Oh, I knew you were going to have a hard time remembering me, but I didn’t think it would be that hard.” Then it all clicked. 

She grew up well, Heather did. Back in college, she was shy and slightly intense, a shell compared to the woman sitting beside you. She started as a botany major and then suddenly changed universities, her major, and you never saw her again. You could dimly remember seeing her in the dining hall that first month of college, and you were overzealous. Sometimes, to make friends, if you saw someone lost and looking for a table, you’d offer them an empty seat at your table. Heather was one of those cases. Your act of optimistic kindness seemed to haunt you as you stared at her. 

“Heather Alexander,” 

She beamed and clapped her hands together excitedly, “You remembered! I knew you would. I’d expect nothing less from you, my Catherine.” She sighed happily, reaching over for the spoon and bowl of soup. 

“My name isn’t Catherine, you know that.” Your voice had a certain sternness now, hardening as you remembered inviting this monster into your life all those years ago. 

Heather scoffed a little and rolled her eyes, “Duh,” she said as she spooned some of the tomato soup and held it up to your lips, “Open.” 

As you stared at the spoon, you didn’t feel hungry anymore, but your lips moved against your will. You needed your strength. Your lips closed around the spoon gently as she fed you the soup. The steps repeated themselves slowly, your eyes staring her down. 

“I didn’t mean to get so physical with our little game, but I just,” She laughed a sweet sound, the dull pain thumping against your ankle as you heard the sound. “I couldn’t help myself, I guess. I hate playing cat and mouse. I was a little impatient.” She set down the empty bowl and spoon with a smile. “Come on, don’t be angry with me.” 

“You can still let me go. It’s only my ankle. You can take care of me at the hospital. That’s where you work, right? We can tell everyone that you found me in an alleyway or something. I won’t tell anyone.” 

“Catherine, do you think I’m stupid?” she asked with a frown, venom in her voice, as she reached for the bottled water. “I know that the second the police get you in a room alone, without me, you’ll tell them everything.” 

“My name isn’t Catherine,” 

“I mean, come on! I work in pediatrics, for Christ's sake! Do you think trauma will let me stay to take care of you? Use your head, Catherine! No, they won’t.”

“My name is not Catherine,” 

Her eyes quickly met yours, the softness they once had now gone as she swallowed hard, “That must be it, then. You think that I’m that fucking stupid, hm? You think I went to fucking, nursing school just for some librarian to call me stupid?”  

“I didn’t say that, Heather. I’m just saying there’s a way out of this before it gets worse. The worst that can happen is-” 

“The worst that can happen, Catherine, is I lose my license. I get arrested. I never see you again. My shit husband could,” She cut herself off and let out a frustrated sound, throwing the bottle of water at you, the bottle hitting your side harshly. 

“Name’s not Catherine,” You replied once more as your hands grabbed at the water, tucking it behind your back, trying to hide it from Heather as her face buried in her hands. 

“Shut the fuck up about the name thing! You don’t fucking get it do you?” She screamed into her hands before she pulled her head away from them and stood up from her chair. She grabbed the plastic bowl and threw the dirty dish at your head. 

You almost felt like deliriously laughing as the plastic hit your head with a soft ‘thud,’ but you didn’t. Your face managed to stay straight as you looked up at her. “You’re who I say you are. You got my gifts, the novels. You’re my Catherine, my Emma, my Jane. Get that through your,” she picked up the butterknife and threw it toward your chest. “Stupid,” Then the tray was lifted in her hands, and your body braced for the impact, but it never came. 

You squeezed your eyes together as you waited for the tray to hit you. Slowly, you opened one eye to look up at her, staring down at you with the tray still above her head. Her hands slowly dropped down as she held onto the tray. A slow smile came back to her face now: “Catherine, you know I love you.” 

“You have a funny way of showing it, Heather.” 

Her smile twitched a little at that, and she scoffed softly before walking closer to you. Her hands were quick to grab the butterknife in your lap. She jammed the silverware into your sternum, a gasp leaving you as she did so. 

“You’ve got a big mouth on you, Emma.” Her face was inches from yours as she jammed the handle of the butterknife deeper into your chest, your own hands reaching up to try and pull her off. 

She was breathing heavily, your breath hitching as fear flooded your senses as she leaned in closer toward your face. The look in her eyes told you everything you needed to know. If it's up to her, which it currently was, you weren’t getting out. Her lips were close to your quivering ones as her force lightened softly, “Think about this next time you decide to talk back, Emma.” Her lips brushed yours slightly as she spoke, you nodded quickly. 

Then she pulled away and gathered her utensils before she gave you another sweet smile, “See you tomorrow, my love.” She said in an airy tone as she reached over to the morphine drip and upped the intake with a quick flick of her wrist. The sound of keys jingling against each other filled your ears as she did so. The door opened quickly, and she walked out of the room, locks clicking swiftly. 

And just like that, you were alone again. You felt your bottom lip shake softly before tears started to fall from your eyes, your hands reaching behind your back as you cried. When your hands found the water bottle, you drank it slowly, tears falling down your face, and a dull and sharp pain in your chest slowly fading.

TAG LIST: @babyspiderling @cocobean16 @kodzukenie333

[kissohee]

coming down idol!shotaro x idol!fem!reader ☆ nsfw ; wc : 1.9k ☆ one-shot mdni! synopsis; you and shotaro get paired up for a dance cover, but after a lot of tension, you find yourself in a sticky situation (literally) warnings; practice room floor sex, dry humping, recording, unprotected sex (AND cumming inside)

When you debuted, you had expected people to like you. So when they did in fact like you a lot, it wasn't a surprise. Your group debuted on the more mature-sexy side of concepts after companies realized older fans were in demand of it, and when you listen to fans, you get more money. Already a week into your debut , your manager had mentioned that SM had plans of making one of the members from your group do a dance cover with a boy group member, but never specified anymore than that. You were honestly taken aback when your manager said SM wanted you to be the one to do the cover. Sure, you were very popular but you didn't exactly find yourself particularly great at dancing. At least not enough for you to do a cover dance. But it seemed like the company thought otherwise.

When your manager finally told you who you'd be doing the dance cover with, it started to make more sense. Shotaro. Of course, you should've guessed it. You had done a tiktok dancing to your debut song with Shotaro and the comments were flooded with people saying how you guys had such similar energy. It wasn't the reaction you had thought you would get from doing a quick 50 sec video with him, but it seemed to have boosted both of your groups, which is probably why SM is milking the fuck out of it. That's why you found yourself standing outside an empty practice room, waiting for your dance buddy and instructor to meet you. Out of nervousness, you accidentally arrived 1 hour early, so you took a seat right next to the room door. "How long have you been waiting there?" You hear a voice ask, looking up to see the adorable boba eyes of Osaki Shotaro. "Not too long," You stood up, dusting off the back of your pants and giving him a warm smile. "You know," he opens the practice room and holds the door open for you, "The door was open. You could've just walked in." "Oh." He lets out a small giggle and watches as you enter the practice room. "Instructor said he's running slightly late, so it'll be just us for a bit." He informs you. "So uh, why do you think SM picked us to do the dance?" Attempting at small talk, he gives you a smile. "Well it was originally my decision." He starts, grabbing his water bottle and drinking whatever liquid was in it. "What do you mean?" You furrow your brows. "SM allowed me to pick someone to do the dance with," He looks you in your eyes, "So I picked you." "Oh.." The conversation ended there due to how fast your heart started beating, you played with your fingers until the instructor finally arrived. After he apologized for being late, and blaming it on traffic, he started by saying he was going to show you guys the dance first before he started teaching it. The dance instructor started playing the dance on the large tablet so you and Shotaro can see what it's supposed to look like. You recognized the song as The Weeknd's Coming Down, and by the middle of the chorus you understood that this was supposed to be on the sexier side. "Isn't it a bit-" You look at Shotaro and back at the instructor, "Scandalous?" "Well," Shotaro piped up, "It's just a dance, I'm sure it's fine!" He gave you a warm smile before standing up and holding his hand out so you could also stand up. About 2 hours had passed and you guys were making fast progress with parts of the dance. It wasn't too difficult, thankfully, and Shotaro was there to help if you were confused on anything. He was the perfect dance partner. "We'll end here," The instructor says, "I'll see you guys tomorrow. Same time."

☆ Everyday, for almost a week and a half, you had spent 5 hours with Shotaro, going over the same parts you had already done. You had all but one move left to learn and rehearse. "Okay, now Shotaro I need you to lay on the floor. Y/N sit on his stomach. On my count, flip her over so that she's on the floor instead." The instructor ordered and you both nodded. When Shotaro finished getting into the position the same guy in the video was, you sat on his lower stomach. On the instructors count you rolled your body down so your chests were touching, letting Shotaro know that he can move onto the next move. He placed his right hand on your waist and his left hand on your upper back before flipping you over. What you weren't told was that it would result in your head banging against the hard floors. "Ow.." You whined before rubbing the back of your head. "Shit, I'm so sorry." Shotaro gets off of you and gives you an apologetic look, "I didn't mean for you to hit your head." "I know, it's okay." You sit up and the instructor shakes his head. "Do it again, this time less hard." He orders, "Hand placement was good Shotaro." Shotaro replies with a nod and you guys switch positions again. This time when he flipped you over, he quickly moved the hand on your upper back and placed it under your head to avoid it hitting the ground. He was also a lot closer this time, your faces only inches away and his eyes burned into yours. You had kind of wished your dance instructor wasn't here, you were almost embarrassed at how red you felt. Was Shotaro always so attractive? "It was better this time right?" He asks, unsure if it was towards you or the instructor, the feeling of his warm breathe hit your face. "Well it's a start, there's just no tension. And there needs to be tension." the instructor sighs loudly, "Let's pack it up today. We don't have practice tomorrow so I'll see you the next day." When he left you and Shotaro alone in the practice room, the silence in the room was deafening. "Uh-" He starts, his voice shaking a lot more than before, "Do you wanna still do practice tomorrow? Just the two of us? I think we could use the extra time." "Sure." You accept his proposal, "4pm."

☆ It was hotter in the practice room this time, the air was a lot more suffocating, and the energy felt different. Shotaro was a lot more serious today too, so much so that it worried you. "We don't have to practice it today," you gave him a sincere look, "The instructor should be back tomorrow so we could just do it when he's there." "No, it's okay," he smiled softly, "We don't have too much time left so let's just do what we need to work on today." You nodded in response, and watched as he lifted off his sweater, which made you do the same. "We need to work on that one part where you flip me over, right?" He nods in confirmation and sets up the companies tablet to record your practice, so when you look back at it you know what to fix. He positioned himself on the floor and you took a deep breath before sitting on his stomach. When you were both comfortable, Shotaro flipped you over just like you had been practicing the day prior. His nose bumps against yours, looking into your eyes. His body tense over yours as neither one of you choose to move, and become all too aware of the way his crotch is directly on top of yours.

His eyes travel from your eyes to your lips, his hand still holding your waist as he leans in and stops hesitantly. When you don't move, he leans in again, this time placing his soft lips on yours. Your hands move to hold the sides of his face as you reciprocate the kiss. His hand sneaks under your shirt to touch your skin, deepening the kiss and biting your bottom lip delicately. You softly moan into his ear, the sound going straight to his cock. You feel the way his dick hardens and experimentally circle your hips to apply feeling to it. "Y/N.." He groans, doing the same motion back. "W-we shouldn't be doing this here." "But you're not stopping," You wrap your leg around his waist, making his grinding even more pleasurable than before. "I don't want to." He lowers his head to kiss the side of your neck before sucking on it, leaving marks trailing down your neck to your chest. "O-okay," you close your eyes and let your head rest, the feeling of his lips making your stomach flip. "You look so pretty like this," He looks at you, satisfied with his markings. "You always look pretty though." "Shotaro.." The lights from the practice room was lit comfortably to see him perfectly, his lips swollen and his hair already sticking to his forehead. "Need you in me." You pout and toy with the band of his sweats. "You sure?" his eyes glisten and a small smile appears on his face. You nod, and start untying his pants when he sits up, which he allows. He frees his cock from his pants, letting out a soft moan when it hits his stomach. You look at his cock, worried if it'll fit but still removing your clothes nonetheless. Shotaro looks at your panties, "These stay on." He hooks his finger around one strap and pulls you to sit on his lap. Holding onto your thighs, he controls your movement. Your pussy perfectly rubbing against his cock, taking notice in the way his precum gets on your panties. Becoming more desperate, you pick up the pace, moving your panties to the side to allow direct contact of your skin on his. Shotaro's grip on your thighs tightens, his head falling back. You gently hold up Shotaro's cock, positioning yourself on top of it before sitting down. The feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock makes his eyes roll back, "F-fuck." "Taro," you moan, fingernails digging into Shotaro's clothed back. The practice room air getting thicker when you start moving on his cock. The feeling of his cock against your walls feeling euphoric. Shotaros hips lift up, hitting you deeper than before. You were sure you were going to cum faster than you wanted, but with the way Shotaros dick kept twitching, you were sure he was too. "Sh-shit," His voice trembled, "feels too go-good, im gon' cum." You found yourself unable to respond in words, instead speeding up your hips to help both of you reach your climax. "Fuck.." You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from moaning any louder, forgetting where you guys are. "T-together," he pleads, "Please." You nod, feeling the knot in your stomach as Shotaro's movement becomes erratic. He lifts you up and drops you down on his cock one last time, the feeling immedeatly sending you straight to release. The feeling of your cum on Shotaro's cock sends him over the edge, releasing inside of you before he could pull out. "Fuck you're so good." He looks at you with a softened expression, your head rests on his shoulder. "I'll get up," You mumble, "Just give me a minute."

☆ When you finally clean up the mess you made, Shotaro remembers that he had the tablet recording. He grabs it to see if it recorded what you guys did. After confirmation that it did, his head gets fuzzy just looking at what you guys did. It causes the tablet to fall out of his hands, and when he picks it up, his face drops. "Are you okay?" You rush over to see what's wrong. "Uh, don't kill me," He gives you a worried look, "I accidentally sent the video in."

i tried rushing the actual story leading up to the sex as much as i could because i just wanted to write the sex oops 😭 - 🐠

[slavghoul]

Interview from Rock Hard [FR] Magazine 5/2023

In which Tobias talks about Spillways, Phantomime, how he chooses what songs to cover, the state of the world, why he loves churches, and some touring technicalities.

--

Rock Hard: Let's go back to the version of "Spillways" that you recorded with Joe Elliott, the singer of Def Leppard. How did this collaboration come about?

Unfortunately, this story is less sexy than it would have been if I could have done exactly what I wanted. Before Impera was released, I regularly mentioned Def Leppard in interviews because some of the experimentation on that album was inspired by that band, their writing style. […] As I often mentioned Def Leppard, people around me eventually told me that Joe Elliott and Phil Collen regularly spoke highly of Ghost in interviews. Since I obviously thought it was cool, someone suggested a collaboration. A good collaboration shouldn't be forced, it should happen naturally. The best ones are often the ones that weren't supposed to happen. Two drunk musicians somewhere accidentally writing a good song... Crosby, Stills & Nash style. People who, by chance, find themselves together in a different context from the one they are used to and do something together, by accident. Something magical! That's how I would ideally have wanted it to happen. So I said I was ready to call Joe Elliott and see if we had a rapport. We started talking on the phone and texting a lot, me living in Sweden and him in Dublin. As we were both on the move almost all the time, and he was on tour, we couldn't meet. Suddenly, out of nowhere, he tells me that he has recorded some vocals for 'Spillways'! Quite frankly, I was surprised because I wasn't expecting it. I was anticipating a possible collaboration, but in a different way. To be honest, I thought we would create something new later on. But when I heard the result, I thought two things. Firstly, I found it very flattering. Secondly, I thought Joe brought something new and cool to "Spillways".

But you would have preferred to have the opportunity to write a new song with him.

Yes, that's the way I saw it, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. And then I said to Joe, "You know how we post those funny little episodes on our social media?" He replied "Yes, I think I saw that!" and kindly agreed to participate in one of them. Nowadays, many artists are over-solicited to record video clips for anything and everything in order to keep their channels updated: "Come and see us in concert in such and such a city!", etc. etc. The aim is obviously to keep the media space occupied.

By creating "content"!

Exactly! And that's exactly what I don't want to do. That's why, instead of all this crap, we started some time ago to create these little humorous episodes. One day, for example, I came up with the idea of an episode set in 1969 featuring a sort of "pre-Ghost" group. To do this, I obviously had to write a new song, which I did with this psychedelic track, 'Kiss The Go-Goat', which I thought was funny. When we recorded it, 'Mary On A Cross', another song of the same type, came along. So we ended up with two sides of a single that became 'Seven Inches Of Satanic Panic.’ Instead of just announcing the release on our networks, we chose to shoot a new video in which we featured Papa Nihil and explained the origins of this so-called 'pre-Ghost' band. I thought it was a much more clever and fun way of presenting the single. We do the same when it comes to announcing an album release or a future tour. Joe Elliott has a great sense of humour and is capable of self-mockery, so he kindly agreed to play this little game.

Ghost have made a habit of releasing an EP between their albums, mostly, if not entirely, made up of covers: If You Have Ghost (2013), Popestar (2016) and now Phantomime. How is it not just about “creating content”?

For me, it's a kind of exercise. I like analogies. Let's imagine that the place we are in is a theatre, and that this theatre, in order to be viable, has to host performances all year round. At least fifty weeks a year. Daytime rehearsals, evening performances... You are the director of the place and you know that the play that is currently being performed there will end at the end of the month. So you look for something else to program in order to make the most of the place and keep your staff busy. Maybe an old classic like Doctor Glass (Hjalmar Söderberg, 1905), an adaptation of John Steinbeck, or a rereading of Shakespeare's Hamlet that you could revisit by inviting this actor or that director, renting out your theatre for three extra months for the occasion. Working on this old material, even if it means not releasing it if it doesn't work. We do that to keep the team active, enthusiastic, focused. That's my way of working. I worked simultaneously on the Impera album and the demos of the covers that are on Phantomime. One day I could record 'Spillways' and two hours before leaving the studio to go home, I could look at any of the covers and decide which ones to keep. So, as soon as Impera was finished, I was able to concentrate on those covers that the album's producer wasn't interested in putting on the record. Which was fine with me. I spent some time sorting out the covers I had recorded as demos. There were ten in total, but I only kept five. Because with those five tracks I thought I could come up with a really strong rock EP. In my albums, there are highs, lows, really metal tracks, ballads, instrumentals, etc. So I thought it was a good idea to make a really strong rock EP. I felt it would be cool if this new EP was viscerally rock’n’roll. The opening track, "See No Evil" by Television, sounds like the Rolling Stones on methamphetamine! (laughs)

You like the songs you cover, that's a prerequisite. But their lyrics also play a very important role in your choice.

Yes, that's what makes me choose a song or not.

Is that the number one criterion?

Erm... (he thinks for a long time) If I hesitate between two songs, yes, absolutely! Let's go back to Leonard Cohen, for example. For the bonus tracks of Prequelle, I chose "Avalanche" because it seemed to me to have a biblical and existential significance. This was not the case with 'Take This Waltz', another Cohen song that I liked as much, if not more. The latter, with its Viennese waltz feel, would have metaphorically taken us to Austria, which would not have been very coherent, unfortunately.

Should these covers speak about God, the Devil, ask questions about religion?

They must speak about evil, about good. Be existential, biblical, philosophical, but seen from a certain perspective. Or at least tick one of those boxes, like 'Hanging Around' (The Stranglers) which is about Christ. Some of the other covers I've recorded are more specific, such as 'Phantom Of The Opera' (Iron Maiden), which is about horror. I also make my choice according to the humour of the songs I want to cover. It should be close to my own sense of humour.

You mentioned the first Phantomime cover, "See No Evil". It takes on a different resonance today because, on January 28, 2023, we sadly learned of the death of Tom Verlaine, the leader of Television.

When I recorded this cover in 2021, just after completing Impera, it was already a tribute. But obviously, with Tom's death, this song takes on another resonance, that of a final posthumous salute. I've been listening to Television for twenty years, and I love them and have always considered them a great band. In indie clubs they always play the same song, 'Marquee Moon', but Television had many other good songs, especially on their first two albums: Marquee Moon (1977) and Adventure (1978). I like those two best. It's a band that had a huge influence on one of my previous bands, Subvision. So much so that at the time, I thought several times of covering Television songs that I loved: "See No Evil", but also "Elevation" and "Foxhole".

The first single from Phantomime is Genesis' 'Jesus He Knows Me', a scathing critique of televangelist stars like Jimmy Swaggart, Jim Bakker and Robert Tilton. Ugly people who have made their fortune by 'promising salvation’ to naive believers for big bucks. Can we expect to see you wearing a wig in its video, as singer/drummer Phil Collins did in the original video for this song in 1991? 

(Laughs) We've already shot the video for this cover version (editor’s note: the interview was conducted on 11 March 2023) and I'm not in it, but it's a direct nod to the original video. I've always liked this song - except for the reggae part, which I thought was horrible in the Genesis version and which I reworked - and it's funny to see how this 1991 text is still relevant today. Except, of course, for a few "old-time" words, like "phone book". The televangelists are still there on television promising things to people who take their word for it and shower them with money because they are assured of "salvation", they are promised heaven. I also rearranged Iron Maiden's 'Phantom of The Opera' after taking care to contact Steve Harris for his approval.

Indeed, in your retelling of this song, you are the Phantom and not its victim...

Yes, I wanted to be the Phantom. I submitted the idea to Steve, who gave me the green light. I only made some surgical changes. Similarly, I would have liked to have proposed the same thing to Phil Collins so that the text of "Jesus He Knows Me" would have been more in line with the times. Change, for example, "but she don't know about my girlfriend / or the man I met last night" to "or the dude I screwed last night". Alas, lack of time prevented me from doing so. And then, since this was a slippery slope, I thought: - What if Collins refuses? Or what if he gets pissed off? - We could have made these changes without asking anyone's permission - as long as the artists get their royalties, it's not a problem - but there was no way I was going to do it. Neither I nor my label wanted to alienate anyone, obviously.

In 1977, in "Hanging Around" by The Stranglers, which you also cover on Phantomime, the singer Hugh Cornwell sings about several things, but also about Christ "telling his mother not to worry because he's comfortable in the city where he's high above the ground". Is that why you chose it?

Actually, the key thing that made me choose this song from the band over any other is that I grew up listening to the album it's taken from, Rattus Norvegicus (1977), the Stranglers' first release. There are a lot of songs on that album that I would have loved to play because, as a musician, I really like to play those kinds of songs. ‘Hanging Around' was a good fit for us because of the lyrics, but also because it was more in keeping with our style. Ghost are obviously a metal and hard rock band, but also have a strong punk sensibility. Punk, but well played (smiles). For me, The Stranglers have always done "well played punk": this band knows how to play, how to arrange its music, unlike GBH and Discharge, to name but two. Mind you, I also like the latter, but not for the same reasons. A lot of punk bands from the late 70s/early 80s sounded "sloppy". It wasn't for lack of trying to play better. When The Clash and The Jam went into the studio, they tried to do their best and they sounded great! The same goes for The Adverts. Those guys were doing their best. Nowadays, some people think that being a punk is to play badly on purpose, to be messy. No, no, no ! But I digress...

What is the reason for the nod to Metallica's 'Fade To Black' in the solo on 'Hanging Around'?

Just for fun. When I'm working on a guitar solo, I throw things in here and there, like a messy painter. It's like stretching a canvas on a wall and making big brush strokes... But when I start to feel like I've got something cool, I dig in more surgically, a bit like a collage artist would. I interweave little elements, and when it comes time to insert a solo into a piece, I refine things by continuing to add new elements. Generally, a solo gives you a space of freedom in the middle of an otherwise totally structured song. That's when you can come up with different things in terms of melody. So that's the way I do it, even on the demos of the covers. I ask my sound engineer, Martin Eriksson Sandmark, to play me the draft of the solos I've been working on over and over again, and then I try out different things, whatever comes to mind. It's as if I'm drawing a mental map of what the solo will become. Sometimes, if I'm on a part sometimes, if I'm on a bluesy part, I'll let myself play a few notes of Gary Moore’s "Still Got The Blues", or, if I'm tapping, Van Halen's "Eruption". When I was working on the solo for 'Hanging Around', I felt like playing this part of Metallica's 'Fade To Black', just for fun. And it ended up on the demo. I'm a decent guitar player, but I'm not at the level I could have reached if I'd worked harder. I could just record these solos in the studio, where you can always slow things down when you play them and then speed them up and put them on the album, but Fredrik Akesson can play these parts without tricks and with much more finesse than I can. He recorded the solo for "Hanging Around" as I had presented it on the demo, with this nod to Metallica, and we thought it was so cool that we kept it.

Hugh Cornwell, the ex-singer of The Stranglers, said in an interview that, although he was not a believer, he loved visiting churches. Is this also true for you? Are you also attracted to churches?

Yes, passionately! I believe in them like I believe in Star Wars. I've always thought of churches as stage props. Walking into one of them is a bit like walking onto a film set of the original Indiana Jones And The Temple Of Doom. It's awe-inspiring, even though you know it's just cardboard. Churches have magical powers because they are centuries-old buildings and we know that a lot of things have happened within their walls. Not that I'm trying to throw up on these places of worship, but when I go into a church I don't hear God, but the whispers of time. I am not an atheist, although intellectually I can see that there are many reasons why I should be. I believe in a Force, in an Energy. I also believe that we don't know many things, but that there is a balance between these different energies. The white and the black.

Good and Evil...

Absolutely! Right now the world is in crisis, but we're going to get through it. It's a vicious circle. We do ourselves a disservice if we think that if the world were rid of people like Vladimir Putin, Alexander Lukashenko, Jair Bolsonaro and the ayatollahs of Iran and Iraq, we would be out of the woods. I think all this can happen - and I hope it will, in a way - but Good and Evil will always be there. That balance is necessary. But I am an optimist by nature. I believe that there is a future for Volodymyr Zelensky and the Eastern bloc. That there is perhaps a chance to put into practice what was tried there some thirty years ago. And I believe in a free Iran, in a possible return to what this country was in 1978. What a beautiful day that would be! But that doesn't mean there wouldn't be a new war somewhere else in the world. I'm an eternal optimist, but let's face it: history is always starting over. As I said, it's a question of balance, a permanent coming and going. Because I believe in this Force I was talking about earlier, I truly believe that the West can win, that the way we live and the way we have built our society is a step forward that shows progress and can make a large majority of people happy. Not all, but most. But even if we all lived in love and peace for five years, something else would come along to create chaos! An alien or something! (laughs) That's how it works. Our mistake is to believe in the status quo, in nirvana. It's not going to happen. It's always about balance. The Vatican and organised religion... All that crap is just to pick people's pockets, to control them, to take their energy and scare them into plundering them. The same goes for the GOP (editor’s note: the American "Grand Old Party", suspected of having Christian nationalist leanings), which only deceives people in order to take their money! That's all you need to know. It's simple, so simple to understand. All this does not mean that the energy that emanates from churches is not real. When you walk into one of them, you feel - or so I believe - the energy of all those who have gone before you, for decades, for centuries. Their fears, their hopes, etc. So much so, sometimes, that you can feel oppressed, even upset. So I can walk into a church and feel a sense of awe. I love visiting these places, especially from an aesthetic point of view.

On Phantomime, you also cover "We Don't Need Another Hero" by Tina Turner. Don't you think that, given the state of the world today, we do need "another hero"?

I think Zelensky has shown how much we like heroes, how important they are to us. I think back, for example, to how the world went wild when Andrés Iniesta scored the decisive goal in the 116th minute to help Spain win the 2010 World Cup against the Netherlands. I believe in human determination and how it can inspire the world to distinguish between what is important... and what is really important. What is important for our daily lives. Yes, it's cool to have a complete collection of Venom's work, but it doesn't matter if I’m missing the most important thing. In the last ten years especially, the western world has been focusing on tons of unimportant things trying to pit people against each other, cancel culture and all that stuff... It proves that we are spoiled children. Our mentality shows it when it comes to security. Seeing Zelensky defend himself as he does appeals to our most primal instincts: it's beautiful and very inspiring. Nothing else is more important than that. It is the only thing that matters... Otherwise we have to be prepared for a lot of people to live in misery.

Next August, you will tour in the USA with Amon Amarth. I noticed that they will not accompany you on the last date, in Los Angeles, on September 11, 2023. There is no opening act, you ask the audience not to use their phones, etc. That sounds like a live DVD!

Yes, we are indeed planning to film this show, but it won't be the end of the Impera era cycle, even if we will not have so many dates left after this concert. There will still be a few shows in South America and Australia.

Nothing in Japan? A country that one might think Ghost was made for.

At the moment, it's not very clear. We had a lot of discussions with the Japanese promoters, as there was talk of us appearing on the bill of a Japanese festival scheduled for this month. Unfortunately, the festival was postponed... and then rescheduled for March! I think they originally had a big headliner, but the headliner didn't show up. So they cancelled, and then considered a smaller edition with Pantera. With all the back and forth, we ended up dropping out because it was too risky for us to play one date there after six months of inactivity. Our team is currently taking a break, but we preferred to use this time to rehearse for our next shows. The first one will be in Rouen on May 21st. We learned a good lesson the last time we played Hellfest. It was so hot that day, the conditions were so extreme, that we almost had a storm. We really had to fight against the elements and it affected me (Editor's note: the last encore of the show was not played, as Tobias was suffering from vocal problems). It was a very tough show. What really pissed me off was not the fact that I lost my voice, but the fact that the festival-goers who were there were not treated to our entire production. It was indeed difficult to foresee these extreme conditions. This summer we have to play festivals again, so we have reworked our production, which will be better adapted to the complicated weather. On this tour we will play in Spain, Finland, Norway, Greece, all within a few days of each other. So we'll be touring with two identical stages, so we can do all these shows without too much downtime. It's not very ecological, I'm sorry to say, because sometimes we'll have to take a plane to get to these cities in time. Not great, but it's the only way...

Will you play any of the Phantomime covers live?

One thing is for sure: we will play 'Jesus He Knows Me' because it's the first single from the new EP. As for the rest, we'll see during the rehearsals how the set evolves - because it's going to evolve a bit from the 2022 set. We're thinking of playing some songs from Impera that we've left out so far.

[writeforfandoms]

Listening In 4

Find the series masterlist

Well, here we are. The end of this little series. This took me a lot longer to finish than I originally planned, and I apologize for that. I hope the tooth rotting fluff makes up for it.

Warnings: Fluff, cavity inducing sweetness, Feels, idiots in love, piv sex, dirty talk, and they lived happily ever after.

Word count: 4.6k

Soap and Ghost made it back to the 141 safely, and Price congratulated them on a job well done. 

Life moved on. There was always another op. 

But Soap kept thinking back to that op. To their little waitress. 

And she most certainly was theirs, now. Just thinking about the way she'd whimpered under him was enough to get Soap riled up. 

Soap texted her as often as he could, which was almost daily. Ghost, he knew, didn't text nearly as much. 

But when he did… well. When Ghost wanted to, he was a right bastard. 

Like the time he sent their waitress an audio recording of the two of them. That was well worth it. 

Of course, it wasn't just audio recordings and the occasional video call. 

Soap managed to detour to see their waitress for half a day on the way back from an op. Ghost, lucky bastard, had an entirely accidental two day layover, most of which was spent in her bed. And that wasn't all of it - the two found themselves stopping by to see her as often as possible. 

It wasn't until Soap and Ghost had leave together and arranged to go see her again for a whole week that either of them thought more of it. 

"Hey, Si?" 

Simon grunted, cracking open one eye above his plain medical mask. That was the more plane-friendly look. 

"Think we're a bit looney." 

Simon barked a laugh, closing his eyes again. "Just now figuring that out?" He drawled, amused. 

Johnny huffed with quiet laughter. "Maybe," he admitted. Simon's lack of distress helped put him at ease, though. 

Soon, they'd be off the plane. And then they could surprise their pretty little waitress. 

They had a lot of ideas they wanted to try out, after all. 

–

You'd had an awful day. An opening shift rife with assholes and a few too many pinches. You were tired, achey, aggravated. 

Honestly, you wanted to go home and cry and ignore the rest of the world for a while.

So when your phone rang, you almost ignored it without even checking it. Almost. 

“Johnny?” you scrambled to answer it as soon as you saw who was calling. “What’s up?” 

“Got a bit of a surprise for ye, gorgeous.” Johnny sounded far too pleased. 

“Yeah?” You dodged an idiot who wasn’t watching where he was going, huffing softly. “And what’s that?” 

“You at home?”

You didn’t quite startle at the question, but you did pause. “Not yet,” you said slowly. “Heading there, though. What did you do?” 

Johnny laughed. “So little faith! It’s a good thing, promise.”

You shook your head. “Alright, if you say so. Do I need to check my mailbox or something?”

“Not exactly,” he hedged. “Ye’ll see soon, promise.”

You sighed but gave up. “Alright, sure. I need to go, it’s crowded out here today.”

“Okay. Get home safe.” Johnny paused there for a moment, like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. 

“Will do,” you agreed and hung up. A little abrupt, maybe, but you were tired. You didn’t have your normal energy for his silliness.

The walk home was too loud and too crowded, with people jostling into you. You were so tired and so done you wanted to cry by the time you finally got into the elevator. 

The elevator opened onto your floor and you got three trudging steps off before you halted. 

Johnny and Simon stood outside your door, facing you. Johnny was grinning, bright and a little mischievous. 

You didn't let them say anything. You just walked straight into Johnny, winding your arms around him and hiding your face against his chest. 

"Hey, gorgeous," Johnny cooed, one big hand rubbing your back soothingly. "Happy to see us?" 

"Yeah," you agreed softly. "Also fucking tired." 

"Long day?" His voice softened with sympathy. 

Your laugh was dry and a little too close to tears. "Could say that." 

Johnny hummed in wordless concern, holding you closer and pressing his cheek to the top of your head. "Poor gorgeous," he murmured. "C'mon, let's head inside, aye?" 

You breathed in deep and let go of him, grabbing your keys. Simon plucked them from you, and you blinked. But moments later you were all inside. 

Simon guided you to the couch and pushed you down to sit. You blinked at him, startled. He just motioned you to wait while he brought water. 

"What's goin' on?" Johnny dropped down next to you, pulling you into his side with an arm around your shoulders. 

You blew out a breath, shoulders dropping. "Just life stuff," you dismissed, or tried to. "Nothing like your shit." They'd told you some, a little, mostly that they were military and had unpredictable schedules. You didn't blame them, not at all, and it explained the odd absences. 

"Tell us anyway." Johnny gave you a gentle little shake, eyes warm and focused on you. 

Simon dropped down on your other side, setting water on the table in front of you, leaving you nowhere to run. Of course. These two were practiced, moving in an easy tandem in and out of the bedroom. Which they often used against you. Like right now. 

You huffed, half exasperated and half amused. "Just. Work sucked today. Few too many shitty people." 

"And?" Simon drawled, knowing that wasn't the end of it. You'd ranted to him about work and handsy guys before. 

"And my rent is going up," you finally admitted on a sigh. "It's just enough that I'm thinking of moving or downgrading." 

Johnny hummed soft sympathy, pulling you closer. "Job hunt hasn't turned up anything?" 

"Not yet." You made a face. "It's just frustrating, that's all. I'll get through it."

"We'll come back to that." Johnny pressed a kiss to the side of your head, easy and affectionate as ever. "What's yer schedule, gorgeous?" 

You blinked, thrown off a bit by the question. "Tomorrow I'm off, the next two days I have closing shifts, then two mid shifts, then two more days off," you said after a moment of thought. "Not sure beyond that. Why?"

"Well, we've got a week," Johnny said, grinning at you. "Was hopin' to spend a good bit of that with ye." 

"You… are far too sweet." You smiled, relaxing between the two of them. "Next you're gonna say you've got a better idea about my job and apartment situation."

Silence. Damning silence. You turned slowly to look at Johnny, who was busy looking anywhere but you. Simon scoffed softly. 

"You'd think he'd have learned to lie by now," Simon added conversationally, one big hand landing on your thigh. 

"Ah can lie!" Johnny immediately defended himself. "Just. Not to. Well. The two o' ye."

Your heart swelled at being so blatantly lumped in with Simon, your shock plain to see. Oh, sure, you knew these two liked you - they kept visiting you, after all. 

But this was something totally different. 

"Nope," you decided. "We are tabling that because I cannot be a rational person right now." 

Simon leaned closer to your back, his bulk bleeding warmth into the scant space between you. "Don't be rational, then," he murmured. "What're you thinking, dove?"

"Very non-feminist thoughts," you drawled, shivering briefly as Simon pressed even closer. 

"Tell us." Simon scooted forward, slowly but inexorably pressing you closer to Johnny, who looked more than willing. 

You groaned softly. Simon had a way of getting you to admit to things you wouldn't otherwise, something you both loved and hated. "Really?"

"Be a good girl for me." He was so close now you could feel his mask just brush the shell of your ear. 

"Not fair," you complained weakly, swallowing hard. But Simon squeezed your thigh and you folded. "I was thinking I'd let you both whisk me away anywhere you wanted." You ducked your head to hide in Johnny's chest, flustered. 

"There's our sweet girl," Johnny cooed, immediately pulling you closer, until you were sort of situated on his lap. 

"We'll discuss that tomorrow," Simon murmured, pressing in against your back again until you were sandwiched in warmth. "We have time." 

You huffed but didn't object, just relaxing between them. You were warm, you were tired, and they were very comforting. Honestly, you were tempted to just sleep between them. 

"Have you eaten yet?" Simon asked, thumb rubbing your thigh slowly. 

"No," you admitted, grumpy because you knew that meant he'd move. 

Simon huffed a little laugh. At your attitude, undoubtedly. "We'll take care of dinner," he assured you. "You want anything in particular?"

"Don't really care," you admitted, covering his hand with yours to link your fingers through his. 

"Don't fall asleep on us yet, gorgeous," Johnny huffed with amusement. 

"Shut up," you grumbled, nestling in closer and relaxing. "Comfortable." 

They both laughed quietly, but neither of them moved, letting you soak in the comfort you so needed. 

If they kept this up, you'd do anything for them. 

Finally, you released them both and squirmed away, because otherwise you really would fall asleep. And that would be bad. 

Simon took charge of dinner, as promised, and you didn't have to do a thing. Johnny "helped" you change into more comfortable clothes (here meaning he shamelessly ogled you and got a little hands-on but you didn't let him totally derail you). 

Simon even folded his mask up just over his nose to eat with you and Johnny, which was still new enough to be thrilling, even though it wasn't the first time. 

It was very comfortable, being so domestic with them. It really was strange - you hadn't known them long, not in the overall scheme of things, but you were so comfortable with them. 

Sometimes you wondered about impossible things. Dinners at dining tables and breakfasts in bed and exhausting yourself with the two of them. 

"Gorgeous?" Johnny touched your hand, frowning a little. 

You blinked rapidly and looked at him. "Hm?"

"Where'd ye go?" He gently closed his fingers over your hand, ducking his head a little to hold your gaze. 

You smiled and shook your head. "Just thinking. Sorry. Been a long day." 

The two exchanged a quick look, a world of communication in that one look. It almost made you ache to think about how long they'd been together, to have such wordless communication. 

"Do ye want us here tonight?" Johnny asked, squeezing your hand gently. "Or should we go back to our hotel?"

"Stay." Your heart lurched. You'd blurted that out too fast, too earnest. Revealed too much. 

But Johnny just grinned, like he'd been hoping for that. Even Simon quirked a half smile. 

"Good!" Johnny leaned close to smack an intentionally loud kiss to your cheek, just to make you laugh. "Wanna watch a movie?"

And back you settled into the simple domestic bliss, letting them squish you between them on your couch, laughing at their antics, comforted by their warmth. Neither one made a move for more, both accepting easy kisses from you. 

It didn't occur to you until you were settled in bed between them, Johnny already clinging to your front while Simon curled like a shield between your back and the rest of the world, that you'd do anything to keep this. 

Simon was already up when you woke, Johnny taking a well-deserved lie-in with you. Breakfast was easy, relaxed. 

But you remembered the promise to talk about your current situation today. Honestly, you'd rather get it over with sooner than later, or your anxiety would be out of control. 

"So," you started as you washed the dishes. Johnny was drying while Simon put everything away. (And the fact that he knew without having to ask inspired feelings that you tucked away to be examined later.) "Sounded like you two had a plan for dealing with my woes." 

Johnny snorted. "Something like that," he agreed. 

"Had an idea," Simon corrected without looking at either of you. 

"Alright, let's hear it." You glanced at them both, undeniably curious. 

Johnny breathed in slowly. "Well," he started slowly. "Was thinkin' we could help ye find a place. Closer to us. If ye wanted." 

"Closer to you?" You looked between the two, the dish in your hands all but forgotten. "Like, England?" 

"If you want." Simon spoke quietly, finally looking at you, gaze assessing. 

You nodded slowly, letting the idea sit as you scrubbed at a pan. That would be a big move for you. Very different. You didn't even know if you'd be able to find a job there, or how you'd find a job. How expensive would it be to move? 

Although, really, considering how you felt about these two… maybe it was time to have another talk, too. 

"I have questions first." 

"'Course," Johnny murmured, his foot nudging into yours as he looked at you earnestly. 

You licked your lips, debating how to proceed. Because, really, you were pretty sure you could figure out the rest of it, depending on one factor. 

"Why?" You handed off the pan to Johnny and grabbed an extra towel to dry your hands. "Is this just, like, a convenience thing for you two? Or is this something more?" 

Johnny blew out a breath. "Cut right to the heart of things," he muttered, a little wry. "It's not for convenience." 

You didn't move, still watching him, towel held tightly in your hands, all but forgotten. "Johnny, please." 

Johnny dropped his head for a moment before glancing at Simon. Simon shook his head a little, just once. Johnny swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, and then nodded. 

"Truth is, gorgeous, we wanna see ye more. All the time, if we could. We like ye. More'n we should, prob'ly. And…"

You breathed in slowly, leaning closer to him. "Johnny."

He blinked at you, setting the pan down.

"You're absolutely daft if you think I'd have let you both keep coming back if I didn't care for you deeply already." You quirked a little smile, the words coming easier now that you'd seen him near fumbling his own words. 

Johnny blinked and slowly lit up, stepping right into your space. "Yeah?"

"Yes," you confirmed, amused. "Honestly. Simon knew, didn't you?" 

But when you looked at him, Simon simply looked away. 

You blinked, flabbergasted, jaw dropping. And then you started laughing, completely unable to stop yourself. At the near-twin disgruntled looks, you flapped a hand, trying to stifle your laughter long enough to explain. 

"I've been completely gone on you two for months," you managed. "And none of us was smart enough to know it." You promptly devolved again, hand over your mouth. 

They both froze completely, going quite still. Then Johnny grabbed you with a laugh, yanking your hands away from your face to kiss you thoroughly. No sooner had he released you than Simon grabbed you, mask pulled up so he could kiss the breath out of you. 

Panting, you finally pulled away from him too, looking at the both of them as the enormity of what you'd said and how they'd reacted hit you. 

Clearly you weren't the only one attached here. 

You curled a hand into Simon's shirt, your free hand taking Johnny's wrist as you towed them both to the couch. (Only because they let you but you'd take it.) 

"Tell me more about your idea." You pushed Simon down to sit on the couch and settled yourself in his lap, knees on either side of his hips. Johnny pressed up against your back, hands at your hips. 

"We'd help ye find a job," Johnny murmured into your ear, squeezing your hips. "Get ye all settled." 

"Doesn't have to be a flat," Simon rumbled, hands big and warm on your sides, thumbs rubbing the skin just under your breasts. 

"Could do a house," Johnny agreed immediately, nipping the shell of your ear. "Big enough for the three of us." 

You sucked in a breath, biting your lip. Oh now that was temptation. "Somewhere to stay during your time off?" You rolled your hips down into Simon's lap and grinned when his grip immediately tightened on you. 

"And someone to come home to." Johnny bit your neck gently, humming in satisfaction at your little noise. 

"Fuck." You rolled your hips again, biting your lip. "If you're not serious about this–"

"We are." Simon bumped his hips up into yours, letting you feel the growing hardness there. "Very serious." 

"Give us the word, and we'll do it." Johnny nipped down your neck to your shoulder, hands still on your hips moving you to a slow, steady rhythm against Simon. 

You shuddered, grinding down harder. "Let's do it," you agreed, a little breathless. "Please." 

Johnny groaned softly and pressed you down harder into Simon, biting down gently on the back of your shoulder. Simon rucked your sleep shirt up and quickly pulled it off, his hands settling against your skin. 

Any other time, you might tease them about how fast clothes vanished, but right now? You didn’t say a word. Partially because Johnny had tipped your head back to kiss you while Simon took over guiding your hips against his, the feeling more intense now without barriers between you two. 

“Johnny,” Simon grunted, fingers tightening. 

Johnny hummed into the kiss before he pulled back, eyes already gone dark with desire. “Mm?” 

“Duffel bag,” was all Simon said, but Johnny seemed to understand, because he disentangled himself and stepped away. 

“Really?” you half-whined, pouting at Simon. You’d been enjoying being between the two of them, dammit. 

Simon had the gall to chuckle at you, one hand cupping your cheek and bringing you closer. “Just getting some supplies,” he murmured, soft and soothing. “Won’t take him a minute, dove.” 

He was proven right by Johnny coming up behind you again, pressing his front to your back and dropping a condom into Simon’s hand. You warmed and ducked your head, a little embarrassed you’d forgotten about that. 

“C’mere, gorgeous,” Johnny cooed in your ear, arms wrapping tight around your waist and pulling you back into his warmth. And subsequently giving Simon the space he needed to put on the condom. “Gonna let me fuck ye after, gorgeous?”

“You want to?” You didn’t look away from Simon, though, watching his hands settle on your thighs. 

“Oh, aye,” Johnny agreed, low and rough. “Very much.” 

You hummed softly, running your fingers over his arm still around your waist. “After, then.” 

Johnny nipped the back of your shoulder and moved the two of you forward, guiding your hips up. Simon simply watched, one big hand on your thigh. 

“Ready for me, dove?” Simon watched you closely, fingers rubbing against your skin. 

“More than.” You started to sink down slowly, only for Johnny to tsk and guide you, controlling the pace. You swallowed hard, not entirely sure why that was so exciting… but it very much was. 

“Look at you, gorgeous,” Johnny murmured once you were settled fully against Simon’s lap, hands clenched on his shoulders. “So pretty for us.” 

You huffed softly at him, wiggling a little, getting used to the stretch of Simon in you. His hands smoothed up your sides to your breasts, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your nipples. 

When you moved, Johnny quickly took control again, hands moving you to a rhythm he liked. Simon seemed content to let Johnny move you, head tilted back against the couch as he watched you with dark eyes, still gently teasing you. Heat built between the three of you, and you tipped your head back onto Johnny’s shoulder. 

“Johnny…” You whined, just a little, trying to move faster. Johnny didn’t allow you.

“Hm? Somethin’ ye want, gorgeous?” he teased, teeth grazing the shell of your ear. 

“More? Please?” Your breath caught in your throat when he bit down gently, hands tightening on you.

“What d’ye think, Si?” Johnny asked, low and teasing. “Think she’s earned it?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, hips finally stuttering up into yours, “if you don’t, I will. And I’ll keep her.”

Johnny laughed quietly but moved you faster, until you were gasping and shivering between the two. Your hands roamed restlessly over Simon, trying to make him feel as good as you felt. Your thighs trembled, back arching. 

A second set of hands joined Johnny’s at your hips, their fingers intertwining, before Simon tightened his grip and held you still. You lifted your head, confused, only for him to lift his hips up into you instead. Your lips parted, jaw dropping, eyes going hazy with pleasure. 

“C’mon, gorgeous,” Johnny goaded softly in your ear. “Make a mess of him for me.” 

A few more hard thrusts from Simon and you did just that, whimpering through the rolling pleasure of your orgasm. 

Simon didn’t even slow down, fingers tight on your hips, chasing his own pleasure now. Your overstimulated whines only spurred him on until you leaned forward, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. 

And bit down. 

He swore as he came, hips stuttering, grip almost punishingly tight. He finally stilled against you, grip slowly relaxing. 

“Fuckin’ beautiful,” Johnny murmured, carefully moving one hand to rub a hand up and down your back. “Both of ye.” 

You huffed against Simon’s neck, an action he mirrored. You grinned, amused, and relaxed between the two for the moment. 

“Still alright, gorgeous?” Johnny asked after a few moments, hand lingering at the nape of your neck.

“Haven’t forgotten you,” you assured him, sitting up again, despite the way your legs shook. “How do you…?” 

Simon hummed softly, moving slowly to give you time to move with him. He situated himself longways on the couch, your knees on either side of him, one of his legs on the floor to make more room. 

“I’ve got you, dove,” he murmured, taking hold of your hands and linking your fingers together. The couch dipped behind you as Johnny moved too, giving your back one more soothing stroke before there was a rip of foil. 

“Could get used to this,” Johnny murmured, only half-teasing, pressing against your back. “Quite a view from here.” 

“I’m sure you’ll get to see more like it,” you agreed. “After we figure out the move.” 

Johnny groaned softly at the reminder. “Fuckin’ temptress, you are,” he muttered, one hand on your hip holding you steady as he slid into you. He wasn’t quite the same stretch as Simon, but he still felt divine. 

He didn’t give you slow, though. He started moving hard, startling a little yelp out of you. 

“Easy, dove,” Simon murmured, sweet in contrast to Johnny. “Hold on to me, yeah?” 

You could do nothing but obey, holding tight to Simon’s hands even as Johnny slid one hand up to your back to the nape of your neck, gently pushing you down until your chest pressed to Simon’s. 

“Doin’ so well, dove,” Simon rumbled, squeezing your hands gently. “He feel good?” 

“Yes,” you managed on a gasp, as Johnny drove harder into you, hitting somehow deeper. “Fuck!” 

Johnny groaned, hand squeezing your nape. “Beautiful,” he muttered again, almost worshipful. “What d’ye need, gorgeous?” 

You nearly choked when Johnny did something that hit a spot that sent sparks all through you. And then he hit it again. And again. Until you needed Simon’s support, moving as best you could with Johnny, making too many noises. Johnny was little better behind you, swearing softly but vehemently. 

“Close, dove?” Simon asked, eyes bright as he watched you. “Need a little more, hm?” He released one hand, sliding it down between the two of you. Two gentle fingers circled your clit and you whined, shaking. “Good fucking girl.” 

You were gone. That was all it took. You shook apart between the two of them, briefly unaware of anything beyond the burning, rolling pleasure. 

You slumped fully against Simon, panting, shivering still. Johnny followed close behind you, muffling his whines against the back of your shoulder, hips pressed flush to yours. He didn’t back off when he was done, staying pressed against you so the three of you were a sweaty heap. 

“Up, Johnny,” Simon finally ordered, both hands now soothing up and down your sides. 

Johnny groaned theatrically but got up, pressing one last kiss to the nape of your neck. 

“Think you can get up?” Simon asked softly. “Or do you need a minute longer?” 

You puffed out your cheeks. “Let’s find out.” You stood carefully, letting him hold one of your hands to help keep you steady. Your knees wobbled but held, at least long enough to get you to the bathroom. 

Simon herded you back to bed, where water waited for all three of you, a laptop already set up with a movie. You smiled, both touched and amused at his thoughtfulness. 

“I vote we do nothing the rest of the day,” you muttered, crawling into bed. 

“Nothing?” Johnny asked, moving over you to box you between himself and Simon. “At all?” He pouted at you, over the top. 

“Well, maybe a little something,” you gave in with an easy grin, cuddling between the two of them. “After we’ve rehydrated a bit.”

“Smart woman.” Simon settled against you, relaxed. “We’ve still got days, dove.” 

The reminder made you smile, an entirely different kind of warmth bubbling away in your chest. “Yes, we do.” 

–

Johnny stood at the end of the terminal, anxiously shifting his weight from foot to foot. Next to him, Simon was still as stone, gaze fixed on the steady flow of people coming out of the terminal. 

Johnny checked his phone again, unable to help himself. It had been two whole minutes since he'd last checked. Still no new update from you. 

Not that he was entirely surprised. You'd had a long flight, had to gather your things. 

Well. Some of your things. The rest were being shipped, something Simon had arranged and paid for over your half-hearted protests. 

Finally, finally, he spotted you walking towards them. You were clearly tired, dressed down, looking a little limp. 

And you were still one of the lost gorgeous things he'd ever seen. 

Johnny pounced as soon as you were past the last gate, picking you up in his arms and swinging you around in a hug. You yelped and laughed, clinging to him just as hard. 

"Hi," you said, a little breathless, grinning up at him. 

"Hi yerself." Johnny finally set you back on your feet, though he didn't release you yet. 

"Flight alright?" Simon asked, putting a gentle hand against your back. 

"Long and boring." You shrugged, poking Johnny until he released you so you could turn to hug Simon instead. Johnny's heart melted at the sight of you wrapped up in Simon's arms.

"You're home now," Simon murmured, almost too quiet for even Johnny to catch. 

Johnny did melt at that, throwing himself into the hug and making you laugh, a little watery. 

"Almost," you murmured, squeezing both of them. "Come on, I'm eager to get out of here. I didn't sleep a wink." 

That was all it took for Johnny to take your backpack, Simon taking charge of your luggage, both ignoring your spluttering protests with aplomb. They loaded up the car (Simon's) and Johnny let you have the front seat. 

The house they'd chosen was out of the way, at the end of a quiet neighborhood, with plenty of garden space. 

And a huge master bedroom. 

Simon parked, and you blinked awake again. Johnny had to resist the urge to cook at how cute you looked. He hopped out first and opened your door for you, eager to bring you inside. Simon brought your things in, letting Johnny unlock the door and usher you in. 

Johnny watched with an overfull heart as you turned a slow circle, eyes huge as you looked around. 

"Welcome home, sweetheart." Simon and Johnny squished you between them, trading off kissing you. 

They had all the time in the world now.

[notnights]

Little ninja fans of present day and past, I began watching RC9GN in December of 2012, and it changed my life forever, now it's 2024 and I'm nearing 30, time sure flies! Anyways I've been working on cleaning out my computer files and found a bunch and I mean A BUNCH of Randy Cunningham 9th Grade Ninja promotional material and side content. I pretty much have most things that came out from 2012 - 2015 pertaining to the show.

I imagine a lot of these things have been lost to time as some of it was originally posted was from the DisneyXD website, and variations of the DisneyXD website (meaning from other countries). I have interviews, bumpers, dubs of episodes, even footage of some of the old RC9GN games, and Randy cameos (I saved footage of someone playing the RC9GN Poptropica promo!)

I also have a clip from WSFA where they reported on the fan that wrote Rachel's song. I had thought it was posted to youtube but I can't find it again so maybe they removed it, it's not on the article that's still up either! Guess it's good I saved it. (The article isn't entirely accurate, I believe she said she got the internship because of her song)

I also have a few clips of other dubs, including an Italian dub of the song and music video "GO NINJA GO," that's pretty cool! I also found audio files of the raw music from the show! I can't even remember how I got that. (they are unfortunately not named)

I have some less quality stuff like literally me just recording promos and bumpers off of the TV screen lol. Some of these also include snips of other Disney XD bumpers and promos though.

Anyways, I don't want this stuff kept all to my self as I see a lot of it is lost to time, if not hard to find. And oh look at that looks like I have a handy little sideblog I never used that's perfect for this! @theninjanomicon (I'll pretty it up later), so over time I'll probably share some of it on there.

Younger me was unfortunately not very thorough in the archiving, so some titles, dates, names, and exactly where I got them from, are missing, but I can give a rough time frame and where I got these from that I can remember. (another reason why I'm doing it! to mark down what I can remember before I forget anymore of it)

I wouldn't be uploading any full episodes for obvious reasons but might upload clips of some of the alternate dubs I have. And yes I have the pilot, which I can't share either but I do have STORYBOARDS from the pilot (which up until this year was our only reference for this "kim possible style" it used to have) which maybe I can share as I got it from the storyboarder's portfolio which was public back when I got it.

I might add some commentaries under a readmore for certain posts to give extra contexts/what I remember being relevant to the piece I post.

Now the hard part is figuring out where to start! What would y'all like to see first?

[mieromaestro]

finally found pt.1

Summary: Y/n and Marshall have a fight. This time it is a serious conflict. He's almost disappointed in the relationship again, but this time it's different. He knows you're special and can't just lose you. Y/n is a celebrity too.

warning: 18+

“I can't believe it. I've trusted you for so many months and I stumbled into betrayal again!”

“You need to hear me. I didn't cheat on you yesterday or ever. It's just that…”

“…I found you making out with him in his car?”

“Marshall! That bastard got me drunk. He wanted me to sleep with him, he wanted to take advantage of me, Marshall!”

“And you're happy about that?”

You slapped him on the cheek.

“How can you say that?!” You cried out in frustration as you looked at his face. “I was insanely scared, I was afraid, but I couldn't do anything!!! I couldn't move because of the crap he gave me.”

Marshall laughed, very bitterly.

“You're really good at manipulating me. You know, I thought you were different, not like all the other whores who betrayed me and hurt me. But it turns out you're not. You're even worse. You got under my skin…”

“I didn't betray you, Marshall.” Your voice trembled, tears dripping to the floor, but you continued to speak insistently. You reached for his head but he roughly intercepted your hand.

“Don't do this to me.” You said, looking into his eyes. There was always so much pain and loneliness in them. It wasn't in the last few months when you were able to build a relationship. He was different. He was so much happier. You were glad that you were the reason why. But now everything was falling apart before your eyes.

“You'd better go.” He said in a cold tone.

You looked up into his eyes in disbelief. Was he really that angry? You couldn't move because of the chilling cold that enveloped you. With trembling hands you began to gather your things. Everything was like a fog. 

Now you just couldn't contain your resentment that HE didn't believe you. Tears came flooding out of your eyes again. Grabbing your suitcase, you walked silently out of the house with one last glance at Marshall.

The incident that had happened to you had been televised and broadcast 24/7. It was the high-profile event of the week. Of course, the pop diva was caught in a car with another guy. All the media wondered if there was a breakup with Eminem and how he survived the "betrayal." Every time you threw a pillow or the first object you could find at the screen at the mention of your name.

Marshall didn't call or write. You went crazy with uncertainty, leaving numerous calls and messages until you realized it was useless to do so.

But you had to endure the embarrassment even worse. Reporters found out about the harassment. To the old footage that didn't really say anything was added a video that a fan who recognized you shot. 

In the video, you could clearly see that you were almost unconscious, and the bastard was kissing you. It was painful for you to look at the recorded video, as if you'd been humiliated and shamed all over again. Tears formed in your eyes, which you wiped away. 

Suddenly you heard the doorbell ring. Not knowing who could come at such a late hour, you went to the door, by which there was still an unpacked suitcase. When you opened the door, you were stunned. The one standing in front of you was Marshall.

“You forgot this at my place.” He was holding a sweatsuit. But not just any sweatsuit, of which you had many, but the one he had given you. It was too big for you because it was his original sweatsuit. You still stood there in silence, not knowing what to say. 

“Thank you.” You reached out and took the sweatsuit, pulling it, but Marshall wouldn't give it back. You looked shyly into his face.

“He won't bother you again.” He said. You looked at him perplexed, and suddenly you saw a blood stain on his eyebrow. You were horrified to imagine what Marshall's words meant. A fight. You didn't even want to ask how he'd found him. With his connections and capabilities, it wasn't hard.

“You shouldn't have, I…” Suddenly you felt his hand sharply lifting your face by the chin.

“Look at me. Did he do anything to you?”

You couldn't fight the rush of feeling that came over you. He was there again, you could feel his touch. But an unpleasant realization stung your heart. He came, but only after the news broke.

“So you believed those weasel reporters, but not me?”

“What?” He frowned.

“You only came here after those videos went viral in the media.”

He suddenly looked in the direction of the TV where the sound was still coming from. There was another story on Y/n.

“I didn't know about that.”

You frowned. “Then why did you come here, Marshall?”

“I'm sorry I didn't believe you right away. Jealousy blinds me.”

“What made you change?��

He came very close, and stared intently into your eyes. That look had been familiar to you for a long time, and you could feel your breath catching. 

“I knew it was crazy to leave you. I knew I would kill myself with it. But I can't take it anymore.” His eyes filled with anger. “It's like I can't control myself. Every time I see assholes stretching their arms toward you, I forget that you belong to me.”

You looked up and put your hand on his neck, gently pulling him closer. Marshall let you pull him to you.

“Nothing could ever happen between me and anyone else.” You smiled. “You know how long I've been trying to win you over. You think I'm just going to back out?”

His hands dropped to your waist and began slowly stroking your skin through the fabric.

“Picked up a lost dog and turned him into an obedient puppy?”

The corners of your lips spread apart and the sincerest smile appeared on your face. He adored your smile because it always reflected your true feelings, your happiness when you were with him. Marshall took your chin in his hands, and you closed your eyes, still smiling.

“I don't know how you do it, but you made me come back to you again.”

At first it seemed like your relationship was only for a moment. Guys like Marshall don't usually pay attention to girls like you, you thought. He was too distant and inaccessible. At times his behavior remained so. But you knew the real him, you saw a side of him that was hidden from others.

You reached forward and kissed him. He moved his hand around your neck and pulled you closer. The other hand that was still resting on your waist moved lower, and you exhaled in a kiss. You were both insatiable, you two haven't had enough of each other. 

You buried your fingers in his hair and felt Marshall lead you toward the inside of the apartment. He began to run his hands over your shoulders, back, waist and hips and you heard his labored breathing.

“I fuckin’ love your body”. He said hoarsely.

You pressed your lips to his neck and left a little hickey there. You knew it was his erogenous zone. Marshall growled, and his movements became more sloppy. He took off your blouse and unhooked your bra, slowly running his palm from your neck to your cleavage and your breasts. 

You tried to keep up with him and pulled off your favorite leather jacket of his, running your palms over his broad shoulders. You didn't notice how you reached the bed and Marshall pushed you onto the soft surface and threw off his shirt. You reached up and pulled him to you. Your lips met again.

Marshall deliberately seized the initiative and pressed you against the bed. It was turning him on, you knew it. He pulled away from your lips and grabbed your jams holding them in one position for a moment and hovering over you. You ran your hand over his chest and taut belly, your hand lingered on his belt and you pulled him toward you. He grabbed your hips and lifted them up. You felt how hard he was and you let out a moan. 

“Honey, I want you to do something for me.”

When you looked at him, you willingly leaned forward and unbuckled his belt. Suddenly Marshall intercepted you and switched places. Now he was on the bed and you were hovering over him.

To be continued