#roxy do you recommend it?

[natjennie]

what if I just came up with some way out of left field strawman argument about the rat grinder drama and then never posted about it ever again.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Just had the idea of doing a Roxy askblog that's based on it being a secret blog she's not allowed to have and every so often if someone asks her something she just says stuff like "To the Fazspy reading this, I'm not the real Roxy." to try and throw the staff off her trail lmao

Will probably never make a blog like that, but it could be kinda funny. Maybe I bring the idea of an 'ask Roxy anything' game back where I draw the answers for it instead so it's not a whole ass blog dedicated to Roxy being a sneaky lil shit on the internet

[celestie0]

choso x reader | punk rock au [18+]

in another life ch.1 cupid's arrow

ᰔ pairing. punk rock au - bass player! choso x reader (f)

ᰔ summary. you and choso were lovers in college when him and his rock band were just nobodies with nothing but a dream, but when his band strikes a deal with an up-and-coming record label in tokyo, you make the tough decision to break up with him since you couldn’t go with him to the city. flash forward seven years, his band is the biggest rock band in the world, n you move from the countryside to tokyo with your fiancé nanami to start your new life together. but in the heart of the city, home to many, there’s one person there that still has the power to turn your whole life upside down. and when you run into him again after all those years, feelings you didn’t know were still haunting you come crashing back all at once, and you’re not sure what it is you want from your life anymore.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fluff, angst, smut, punk rock au, partying, drinking/alcohol, weed usage, cigarette usage, romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, second chance romance, time skips, love triangle, bad boy choso, slight age gap (five yrs), longterm pining, jealousy, messy decisions, you know the drill

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 6)

ᰔ words. 10.2k

a/n. hellooooo aaa welcome to my new choso fic :'') i'm so excited for this one! i'm just laughing at how i cannot just stick to a oneshot idea and somehow end up planning out a fullblown series instead hahah. but anyways, i hope you enjoy! thank you to everyone that wanted to be on the taglist, i'm really looking forward to diving into this story. see you at the bottom!!

alsooo my m00tie @sykosugu and i decided to post for our fics at the same time hehe she has a really spicy suguru x reader fic called 'on the run' that i highly recommend so go check that out as well if you're interestedd <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 (pending)

“and there was something about you that now, i can’t remember. it’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender.”

present day. summer.

“We’re gonna miss you so, so, so much, love,” Mai groans, pulling you in towards her for a hug and you reciprocate with fondness.

Another pair of arms wraps around you, grip much tighter and you protest through a difficult breath. “Do you really have to go?” Nobara asks.

You tap on the skin of her arm, urging her to ease her hold in this group hug, and she finally relents and the three of you pull apart from one another. There’s a slight gasp from your lips as you breathe in fresh summer air. “I do, Nobie, I’m sorry. Nanami said it’s the final decision.”

You’re standing on hot concrete in front of a little countryside cottage that you’ve called home for years, but will soon just be a memory. You know which light switches illuminate corners of the rooms, and which creaking wood panels on the floor to avoid when looking for a midnight snack. It’s where you spent years studying for finals, arguing with your mom, learning how to care for Ms. Roxie, and it’s where you fell in love. More than once.

Your parents gave the house to you and Nanami once the two of you became engaged, but that blessing was soon to be given away, as Nanami received news six months ago that he was being promoted and relocated to Tokyo. Now, you have two bags in your hands, your purse slung around your shoulder, and a suitcase filled to the brim with the life you’ve tried to stuff in it. Your taxi driver has the other suitcase, because there were some things you couldn’t leave behind after all, and he’s putting it in the trunk right now.

“Nanami is so rude to take you from us,” Mai sighs, “but at least you’ll be one of those cool city girls now. So scary. I heard trends change faster there than the leaves on Rowan tree during spring.”

Nobara lets out a gasp that’s only half exaggerated. “No way! It can’t be!”

The taxi driver calls after you with a quick question, to which you answer back with a shout from where you stood. A quick glance at your watch tells you it’s time to get moving, as you’ll be taking a connecting train once you reach Tokyo that you need to be on time for. And then he’ll be there. Nanami will be waiting for you there, to lead you into the life that he’s started to make for the two of you.

“I’ll call so very often,” you promise the two of them, “and I will miss you two so very often as well.” Tears prickle in your eyes, and it seems to be contagious as they shimmer in Nobara and Mai’s eyes as well. Another group hug takes place between the three of you, harsh sun beating down with birds chirping in the distance as you try to take in the last few moments you’ve been granted of this place. “Take care of Roxie for us,” you say through a sniffle, “to you, it may seem like you’re only the bearer of food for her, but I promise that little kitty will love you two like no other.”

They both nod at you as you pull away, and you swipe at a tear that rolls down your cheek as you roll your suitcase down the pebbled walkway of your now past home.

The taxi driver helps hoist your suitcase into the trunk and places your other two bags into the back seat. You take a seat at the front with him, clicking the passenger seatbelt, and you roll down the window to wave bye with blown kisses as the taxi driver pulls away from the rocky mud road with crunching under the wheels. You watch Mai and Nobara and your home in the side view mirror until they’re no longer visible, but their voices of farewell linger in the air for a moment more.

“Alright, ma’am, bound for Tokyo!” your taxi driver chirps, his rough-looking hands opening and closing a few times to stretch out the joints of his fingers before tightly gripping onto the steering wheel again.

“Yes, Tokyo,” you murmur softly, gaze set out the window of the familiar street shops and stretches of patchy trees you know you’ll miss once you’re in the city.

“What’s your name?” the man asks, a thick country accent rolling off his tongue, with a sweetness like honey.

You turn your head to look at him more closely. The hair of his eyebrows is bushy, somewhat unkempt, and he has thick lines across his cheeks and forehead that can only mean that he’s lived a lot of life.

You tell him your name and he nods slowly as the two of you stop at a through road, a few school children hurrying past before he turns right onto the main road. “That’s a nice name. Which one of your parents gave it to ya?”

“Um. Both of them?”

He lets out a noise of acknowledgement, and doesn’t ask a further question. You smooth out the fabric of your long skirt with a hand, then toy with the band of your simple watch. Just when you think a comfortable silence has fallen between the two of you, and you think you have the luxury of losing yourself in your thoughts with sights beyond the polished glass window, the man speaks up again.

“Alright then, miss, tell me a story.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Pardon?”

“We’re gonna be spendin’ three hours in this car together, darlin’. It’s either I talk your ear off or you talk mine off,” he says, broad shoulders rolling backwards once as he gets comfortable in his driving position.

“Uh…do we need to talk at all?”

He glances over at you for a moment. The car wheels grind over rocks on gravel road near an agricultural field, and his fingers flex once again on the wheel. “You younger generations are so stuck in your own worlds. Entertain some conversation with the poor old taxi driver, will ya?”

You sigh, folding your hands in your nap neatly. “Alright. I don’t really have many stories to tell, though.”

“A young lady like you, packin’ up her whole life to move to a big city? I beg to differ,” he counters.

His words have you tucking your bottom lip under your teeth, a few blinks of your eyelids to process his observation of you. Your mind searches for stories to tell. Maybe that moment last week when you watched a momma duck waddle across a bridge with all seven of her baby ducklings. Or maybe you could tell him about that time you drove your car into a ditch the night of the comet festival and you swear you saw a UFO in the sky. The story you’ve been telling a lot lately, though, was the one of how Nanami proposed.

But then there’s a different story that comes to mind. With hazy images of blinding stage lights in dim venues, cigarette smoke wafting through the air, sounds of bass and drums and cheers. Smell of dry grass, the feeling of your back against a blanket, heart beating fast underneath the stars in front of a twinkling lake. And forever in your memory, the patterns of his inked skin.

“You got a boyfriend?” the man asks, suddenly.

“Are…are you hitting on me?” you ask awkwardly.

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he shakes his head, lifting his left hand up from the steering wheel and turning the back of it to face you. A silver ring adorning his fourth finger shimmers from the reflected sunlight through the window. “Happily married. Been with my missus for 22 years.”

A small smile makes its way onto your face as you relax into your seat a little, feeling calmer. “Oh, I see. I’m sorry for assuming. And I have a fiancé, actually.”

“Oh?” he chirps, stealing a quick glance at your left hand that was still folded neatly underneath your right one in your lap. “How come I’m not seein’ a ring?”

You tug at the small chain around your neck, a chill felt as diamond stone and cold metal drags against the skin of your sternum before you pull out your own promise of marriage, dangling it in front of your chest for him to steal another glance at. “I wear it around my neck. I’m a pottery teacher, so I usually take it off when showing my students any demos. I figured if I kept taking it off like that, I might lose it, so I just wear it around my neck now.”

“That’s interesting,” he comments, “It’s a real nice ring, that’s for sure! Tell me about this man you’re marryin.”

Your heart aches at the thought of Nanami. It’s been six months since you’ve seen him, since he relocated to Tokyo first, and you’ve missed him every day since. You were in the middle of the academic year at the elementary school you taught at, so they asked you to stay back, but Nanami had already accepted the promotion, thus the two of you made the decision that he would move to Tokyo first to get situated and you’d soon follow in the summer. It was a lot of stress to handle as just one person; searching for apartments on top of managing the heightened expectations from his boss from his new role, but he did it all without a complaint. Because he loves you, and that’s who Nanami was. Someone who would move mountains for you. He’s worked hard to make a place for you in Tokyo, one to call home.

“He really loves me,” you say to the man, softly.

“And you love him?”

“So much.”

“Was he your first love?”

Your breath catches in your throat from his question, a small chill running down your spine. The silence that settles could’ve lasted two seconds or two centuries, and you never would’ve known.

You lick your lips before answering. “No, he wasn’t.”

“Hmm…” the man hums. Bumpy roads are now smooth as he turns onto properly laid roads, the exit from your town onto intercity roads. “I can tell.”

“You can tell?” you ask, skeptic in your tone as you tilt your head at him.

“I can tell from your voice that there was someone else before. Someone who meant a whole lot to you, but he went away for some reason,” he says.

You’re not sure why there’s a lump in your throat from his words, a heavy thing with so much substance that it threatens to weigh your heart as well. Your eyes study the side of his face. “You’re getting all of that from my voice?”

The man’s expression is blank as if it were tabula rasa, something so different from the way you’ve felt for so long now, like your heart has been torn in two. There was something so tempting about it; the luxury of a clean slate. Of a new beginning. A fresh start. And it’s hard not to imagine how you would’ve painted things differently.

“Tell me about him,” the man says, the story he was looking for having been found. “Your first love.”

“He…” you start, shocked that you’re actually answering, but it’s like an invitation you can’t resist, “he was my first boyfriend…my first serious boyfriend. I met him the summer after high school. During a summer like this one.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. summer.

chapter 1. cupid’s arrow.

“C’mon, faster!” Mai exclaims, her hand wrapped around your wrist to tug you across the dim streets of downtown. 

“Just— wait— Mai, please, slow down,” you’re stumbling after her, feet failing to keep up, and you almost crash right into her when she comes to a sudden halt on the sidewalk.

“This is it,” she says, staring up at the sporadically blinking neon lights of what appears to be a small venue, black marquee letters that spell out Backseat Serenade Tonight @ 10pm stand out to you in a way that feels haunting. “We’re so late, let’s head inside.”

Mai drags you inside, and the security guy is less than thrilled by the commotion as he stands in front of closed double doors. You can feel the bass of music vibrating the walls, accompanied by loud shrill screams and chants coming from inside, and the red velvet flooring underneath your feet fuel you with static as you two approach the man dressed in full black.

Mai fumbles with her purse to pull out her phone, and the man scans the barcoded tickets on her screen before giving the two of you wristbands to wear and then he opens the door for the two of you.

The inside of the venue is small but packed, minimal lighting save for moving lights that illuminate the band on stage, but it’s even harder to see anything over the heads of people with their hands up in the air. Mai’s grip on your forearm is tight as she roughly weaves the two of you through the crowd, determined in her gait but you feel the need to apologize to the people she’s shoving in the process. You’re surprised at how fast the two of you make it to the front barricades, thanks to Mai’s nimbleness alone, and your eyes raise to the scene onstage through wafting smoke through the air.

“Alright, alright, alright,” one of the band members chimes right as the final instrumentals of the song begin to fade. His hair is a pale silver under dusty lighting, pushed up from out of his face by a black headband snapped to his forehead, and his eyes are distinctly blue. He has an electric guitar hanging from his neck by a thick black strap. He raises both of his hands up into the air, waving them down a few times to calm down the crowd, and there are scattered hushes surrounding you and Mai. “This is our last song, and we just want to thank you all so much for coming out tonight! This crowd’s the best we’ve ever had!” 

The people cheer in response as a light and relaxed melody begins to tune together from the instrumentals on stage. You hear Mai groan beside you. “What the fuck?! We missed the entire set?!” 

Your hands curl around the cold metal of the barricade dividers and your eyes sweep across the stage. There’s a man in the far back with short black hair, bouncing his leg up and down as he’s seated behind a drum set, fidgeting with wooden sticks in his hands, and you’re puzzled by the fact that he’s wearing a very poorly fitted suit onstage. Off to the right, a man with pink hair is messing with the headphones snapped to his ears in front of an electric keyboard, spread fingers pressing down on chords, and you can vaguely see the black nail polish at the tips of his fingers. A woman with mid length blonde hair and pink highlights stands at the front, her hand wrapped around the mic resting on top of the stand. She’s laughing, tipping her head back at something else the electric guitar player says over the mic, but you’ve drowned out the words because your eyes finally land on what’s directly in front of you.

With an almost bored expression on his face, a man stands with a matte black bass guitar hung from his neck as he has one foot up on the top of a subwoofer located flush to the edge of the stage. His hair is raven black, longer at the nape of his neck with shorter layers scattered, and tendrils fall over his face. There’s a glint to his polished black shoes off of where you’re standing, and he’s wearing tight black jeans that cling to the thick and lean muscles of his calves and thighs, with a leather belt fastened around the circumference of his hips. The shirt that’s tucked into his jeans is just as tight to his skin, and a small gasp leaves your lips when you take in the sight of his arms covered in intricate patterns of ink. His right arm is practically covered from the wrist all the way up to the cut of his short sleeve, likely beyond, and his left arm has ink traveling up to his forearm only, like he’s still working on mapping it all out. You watch the way his biceps flex as he bends his arms, bringing his hands up to his face to push his hair back, and your heart is keeping fast rhythm with the music. 

“Cho!” the woman at the front speaks into the mic, turning her head to look at this man who you’re sure is the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen. “You’ve hardly said a single word tonight, baby. Not that that’s unusual though. Why don’t you say a few words before we kick off the last song?”

A bunch of whoos!! and ahhhs!!! and yesss!!! scatter throughout the crowd in the form of cheers and you watch the man furrow his brows together, a scowl forming on his face. There’s a band of black underneath his eyes that runs across the bridge of his nose, with perpendicular lines resembling arrows running down his cheeks. Dark purple eyes that match the dark shadows around them glint under flickering stage lighting as he takes his foot off the speaker and walks a few steps backwards to position himself at his stationed mic. 

“Fine,” he says, and you’re watching the way his lips barely brush against the mic as he speaks, “This is our last song. It’s called Lost Cause. Enjoy. Or don’t. It’s up to you. Who the fuck am I to tell you what to do.”

There’s only a slight beat of silence from the crowd before they’re cheering again, while his band members just stare at him stunned. The white-haired electric guitarist yells into his mic something like  “THAT’S IT?!” before the drum player cuts him off with three taps of his sticks in the air, and then the song commences from them on practiced reflex. 

The energy from the crowd is loud in the last few minutes of the show, smoke rising in the air from the machines spread across the raised stage, and you can’t tear your eyes away from the bass player. You rest your forearms on the cold metal in front of you, the sight of Mai jumping up and down in your periphery as she headbangs and shakes her hair. 

The bass player’s eyes start to scan the venue within what seems to be the final chorus of the song, chin tipping up and fingers continuing to strum as he assesses the back of the crowd first, then gaze darting throughout the center, before he begins to study the front barricade. You watch his every movement, mapping the trail of his sight, and your heart skips a beat when those dark eyes finally fall on yours. 

His eyes briefly flicker to your left, to continue his study of the crowd, but it’s as if his brain just registered something with a delay, and he quickly moves his gaze back to you in a double take. His eyes widen, bored expression quickly turned into one of surprise with a glint to his pupils, and you swear you’ve been struck by an arrow to your heart.

“Yaaaay! Thank you everyone!” the woman at the front exclaims, pulling her mic from the stand to walk around to make work of the crowd. The white-haired man approaches the edge of the stage with a pleased grin on his face, high-fiving all of the outstretched arms, and the man at the keyboard simply waves a few times before incessantly tuning buttons on his headphones. Drum boy hasn’t stopped playing some sort of loud rhythm as an encore. Your sight is set back onto the bass player, and he’s looking off somewhere else now. Somewhere backstage. 

“Hey!” the white-haired man exclaims once he’s made it in front of the two of you. “Mai! You made it!”

She reaches out to grab his forearm, tugging down harshly so he’s stumbling and dropping one knee to the stage floor, kneeling. “Of course I was gonna make it! Thanks for the tickets,” she’s yelling over loud ambient cheers and music, “this is my friend y/n, by the way. Oh, and this is Gojo, he’s the guy I was telling you about.”

You nod at him, and try to accept his outstretched hand when someone bumps you from behind and your hand is in favor of stabilizing yourself over the divider instead.

You can barely hear the laugh from Gojo’s position on the raised stage. “Just meet us backstage! We can chat for a bit with proper introductions and all.”

As the crowd begins to dissipate with people moving through the sets of double doors out back, Gojo hops off stage to take you and Mai through a side door that leads into a hallway that lines the back of the stage. You look up into the high ceilings with metal structural poles banding between the walls, and the dim yellow lighting in small bulbs bolted to the walls like a runway remind you of movie theater exit routes.

“So, what’d you guys think of the show?” Gojo asks, his arms raised up and hands interlocked behind his neck in a casual-not-so-casual way as he sends the two of you a lazy look over his shoulder. 

“Well, we only made it for one song since miss barista over here was running late from her shift,” she sighs, whacking your arm once with the back of her hand. You glance down and realize you didn’t even have the time to take your frilled and wrinkled apron off. “But, from what we did get to hear, AMAZING! AWESOME! SPECTACULAR!”

Gojo is grinning wide as he turns around to face the two of you, continuing to walk but backwards as he slaps the raised hand that Mai had in the air for him. “I’m so glad, I felt the pressure to please was high since I’ve been hyping up our shows to you for so long.”

“We’ve only known each other for like two weeks.”

“I know. But PSYCH 210 lecture at the ass crack of dawn really brings two people together, y’know.”

Mai and Gojo continue to laugh and talk about random things college-related, and there’s a stirring feeling in your chest that you’re surrounded by people older and much more well-lived than you. You’ve just graduated high school, barely a few months ago, but Mai was a few years older than you, so any time she tries to introduce you to her college friends, you feel the need to perform or be someone that you’re not so they’ll like you, despite the fact that you’re aware of the fallacy in that. And tonight, that responsibility feels much more daunting for some reason.

There are voices heard further down the hall, and as you approach, you notice the drum guy, keyboard guy, and devilishly handsome bass guy are all loitering around in that area, along with a few other people they seemed to have invited backstage. 

Gojo walks up to them, grabbing onto the bass man’s hand firmly before patting him on the back, then slings his arms around the other two. “This is Higurama,” he says, rubbing the top of the black-haired guy’s head with the knuckles of his fist, “he does drums for us. And this is Sukuna,” he says, about to repeat the same gesture to the top of his head but his wrist is grabbed and twisted, “ow, fuck, fuck, fuck– sorry.” Sukuna lets go of his wrist, scowl dissipating into sadistic amusement, and Gojo’s holding his wrist, now slightly red from the burn, with a pout on his face. “He does the keyboard. And all the techno sounds. And some other stuff I’ve frankly no fucking clue about.”

The two of them acknowledge you and Mai, along with the few other people who Gojo seems to know as well, and then Gojo’s approaching the bass player again before resting his elbow up on his shoulder, leaning his weight onto him and the man just crosses his arms across his chest, sending Gojo a side-eye. “Mai, I think you two have met before, but this is Choso. Choso Kamo, our bass player. Best bass player I’ve ever known to be honest. Be careful though, he might bite you.”

Choso scowls, rolling his shoulder back once to get rid of Gojo’s resting elbow. His eyes are on yours, boring into you deep, and when he darts his tongue out briefly to wet his bottom lip, you finally notice the silver lip ring near the corner of his mouth. “Hi. Nice to meet you,” he says, hand outstretched and you shake it with a mention of your name to him. The skin on his fingers feel rough from play, a small sacrifice to pay for the talent he’s harnessed over the years from plucking at strings. His eyes sweep down you once. “Why are you dressed like Strawberry Shortcake?”

“I–” you start, glancing down at your attire and feeling the heat pool in your cheeks, “I just got off a work shift. I work at a cafe.”

“Oh,” he responds, and you notice his hand is still holding onto yours, Your eyes trail the patterns on his skin, visible in more detail up close, and you find yourself lost in every line and swirl and scale and skull and cross, the only thing breaking you out of your trance being Mai’s jab of her elbow to your ribcage.

You gasp, snatching your hand away from Choso, and when you look up at his face, there’s a hint of amusement on it. 

“Babes, he was asking you a question,” Mai says, looking between you and the man in front of you.

“Huh?” you ask, suddenly flustered and you swipe your palm down your work apron to wipe the sweat that begins to perspire at your palm from the lingering heat of his hand.

“I was asking if you liked the show,” Choso says, tilting his head to the side and now he’s allowing his eyes to travel all across you in any way he wants. 

“I loved it,” you respond, almost breathlessly, “it was great. I mean– we only saw, like, one song. But still, really amazing.”  

“Only one song?” Choso asks, his eyebrow raising, “that’s a shame. You’ve gotta come to more shows then.”

Before you can respond, there’s a feminine voice heard down the hallway, sounding an awful lot like the one echoing off the speakers inside the concert venue, and then the blond woman who was the lead singer of the band skips right up to the group formulating in this hallway before wrapping her arms around Choso’s neck and pulling him down towards her in a kiss.

You’re standing there stunned, eyes immediately averting from the scene of the two of them in front of you, but in the corner of your eye you can see his arm wrap around her waist briefly before he pulls her away from him, and the release of her lips from his makes a sound that for some reason creates a pit in your stomach.

“Cho, baby, I just had an insane conversation,” she says, still practically hanging from his neck as she stands on tiptoes, “with this record label guy. He’s apparently hot shit in Tokyo, and he wants to offer us this city gig ‘cause he thinks we’re a potential sign-on, and–”

Choso’s hand reaches to the back of his neck, gripping around her wrist to pull it apart from her other one, and then her arms fall to her sides and her heels flatten to the ground as she blinks up at him. “That’s cool, Sana, but can we talk about that later?”

Gojo’s arms cross his chest as he leans forward, glaring at the woman. “Yeah. And as a band, not just with your lover.”

Sana rolls her eyes and scoffs, placing curled hands low on her hips. “He’s not my lover, bitch. Unless he’s my lover like you’re lovers with a blunt on a sunday– sucked off in a car ‘cause you’ve got nothing better to do.”

“That’s offensive to both of us,” Gojo grumbles but Choso just sighs, unbothered, as he rubs at the back of his neck. He makes eye contact with you again, and his expression sobers as though he forgot for a second that you were still standing there. 

Sana turns to you and Mai. “Hi, I’m Sana, nice to meet you guys. Sorry, I thought you two were some of our other friends, otherwise I wouldn’t have kissed Cho in front of you. I hate PDA, trust me.” 

Mai lets out an awkward laugh as she shakes her hand, and you almost don’t want to shake her hand, but you do just to be polite.

“You didn’t hate PDA that one time I was about to bag the girl I’d been talking to for weeks and you decided to grind your sorry excuse of an ass right up against me in front of her,” Gojo grumbles.

She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “Whatever, she thought you were gay anyways. Would’ve done yourself a favor if you actually grabbed my ass.”

She ignores the insulted gesture Gojo makes, cutting off whatever words he was about to spew with words of her own. “What are you girls doing after this? We’re having a post-show party, you two should come.” She glances at you. “Uh, love, I’d ditch the apron though. Unless it’s, like, some sort of fetish for you.”

You’re defeated as your arms cross your torso to grip the hem of your apron and pull it up over your head, shaking your head a bit to allow your hair to fall back into place, and then you fold the frilly article of clothing neatly before hanging it over your arm. “It’s not,” you sigh, too exhausted to be subject to the title of your occupation anymore. A small flicker of your eyes to Choso tells you he’s staring at you.

Sana shrugs. “So you pretty ladies wanna come?”

Mai shakes her head. “No, sorry, my baby here,” she says, wrapping her arm around yours tightly, “just graduated high school recently, so she’s too young for a party. I’ve got a responsibility to look after her. And throwing her into a room full of sleazy drunk punk college dudes is the opposite of looking after her.”

Sukuna comes around, leaning his arm against the wall, smirk on his face, as he eyes you like you’re something to steal. “Just graduated high school? So you just turned eighteen, sweetheart?”

Mai glares daggers at him. “Get the fuck away from her, Super Senior. You’re icky. Also, case in point proven.”

Sana whacks the back of Sukuna’s head, and he all but growls at her. “Stop being creepy,” she reprimands him before turning to Mai again. “No, I swear, it’s not like that. It’s chill, minimal alcohol. No drugs. Just a small get-together with a few of our fellow friends, and friends of fellow friends, from the music scene.” She leans against Choso’s arm, wide eyes looking up at him, but he doesn’t lean into her. “Right, Cho? No scary guys for her to worry about?” 

His eyes narrow at you, raking down your figure again, and his chest moves a little faster with his breath. “I’m against it. It’s no place for an eighteen-year-old. You’re a fucking idiot for trying to invite a girl who just recently graduated from highschool to a house party. She’s practically a kid.”

Your heart sinks from his words, and you feel juvenile standing in front of him, in a way that makes you angry and embarrassed at the same time, and you can’t bite back the words in time, “Whatever, at least I haven’t been on crack since the day I was born like you probably were.”

Almost all heads in this small hallway snap to you, if they weren’t already there before, wide eyes blinking before Gojo bursts out into a laugh, which dominoes into Mai’s laughter, and you barely register the way Sana looks you up and down once before forcing a smile. Choso’s surprised expression turns into a disgruntled one as he crosses his arms across his chest, and you can’t help but watch the stretch of his inked skin over his muscles as they flex. 

“I’ve never done crack, shortcake, and your lame insult only proves my point on your immaturity,” he scowls, leaning his upper body forward towards you, and his gaze briefly drops to your lips.

Sana comes in between the two of you, pressing herself up against him to get him away, and he takes an involuntary step back and now he’s scowling at her too. She turns around to face you, and there’s that forced smile again. “Uh, y’know what, sweets? Cho is sooo totally right, no place at all for a—I’m sorry, how old did you say you were?”

“Eighteen,” you say with a slight grit to your teeth.

“Oh! Yeah, no place for you, sorry,” she says, with a small jut of her bottom lip to signal a pout.

You roll your eyes at her, then glance past her at Choso who’s looking at you like he’s still got a few retaliating words for you on his tongue, but then he’s dropping his gaze to the neckline of your shirt, eyeing the shape of your breasts, even dipping further down your legs and you let out a scoff.

“You sure enjoy checking me out for someone you think is practically a kid,” you spit back.

He’s not angry this time, the corner of his mouth simply tipping up slightly into a smirk. “I meant you’re too young to drink, but you’re old enough to fuck, so spare me the attitude.”

Your cheeks flush at his comment, nonetheless made in front of a group of people who were practically strangers to you, and you’re about to give him a piece of your mind when Mai grabs your forearm and Gojo places himself between you and jerkface. 

“Woah! Look at the time,” Gojo chirps, glancing at his wrist that was absent of any time-telling device but he rolls with it anyway, “should probably head out now, since the venue’s closing soon. Y’know, grab our stuff.”

Mai nods her head at you in response to his words, sending a single glare Choso’s way before exchanging some pleasantries with Gojo and then dragging you down the hallway with her towards the exit.

“Hey–” you begin to complain, her grip on you starting to hurt, and you eventually yank your arm away from her before she opens the backdoor exit. “Let’s go to that party.”

Mai sighs, leaning her back against the door and crosses her arms. “No way. Your mom wanted me to get you home before midnight,” she says as she glances at the time on her phone, “and it’s close to midnight.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m an adult now, I don’t have to adhere to a midnight curfew, like I’m fucking Cindarella.”

Mai raises an eyebrow at you from the profanity, recognizing the fact that it’s something you just forced into your vocabulary in a way that doesn’t suit you. “I already said no.”

“Take me or else I’m going to tell your mom about the nipple piercings you got last week.”

Mai hisses a sharp breath through her teeth. “You’re a bitch.”

“Take me,” you deadpan.

She tilts her head back so that it hits the metal of the door, and then she’s pushing her back against it to open it, the rush of cold wind from outside brushing past the two of you as she steps into the night and you follow her. “Oh my god, fine. But only for a little bit, and let’s get the lie straight right now–you had explosive diarrhea at the concert so I couldn’t take you home right away since you were incapacitated in the restrooms.”

“What? Why do I have to be the one with explosive diarrhea?” you ask, frown on your face but there’s a skip to your step as you follow her down the street to where she very poorly parallel parked and you open the passenger side door. She doesn’t bother answering you as she settles into the driver’s seat and her car roars to life with a few struggling turns of the key in ignition. 

“No drinking,” Mai says, voice strict with eyes locked on yours, and it’s the last thing she says before she starts driving. 

The house is just a few miles from the venue location, and Mai seems to have been there before since she turns the navigation off once she turns onto a street that has her driving switch to from perusal to more casual.  

Gojo is the one to greet you two at the door with wide eyes and a drink in his hand. You notice he’s changed out of his stage attire into something more casual, and likely in a rush too since his hair is disheveled, and you figured that you and Mai barely got here after they did. The surprised look on his face is quick to turn into a pleased one at the sight of the two of you. “Oh sweet you two actually came,” he comments, waving a hand for you two to come inside, “figured Kamo would’ve scared you off.”

You roll your eyes, “where is that jerk? I still have a few choice words for him.”

“Babes, let it go,” Mai sighs, “Not worth your time.”

“I concur,” Gojo says, “but, if you really want, he’s upstairs putting some of my stuff he borrowed for tonight’s show back into my room. You can…” he glances down at you once, “uh. Cuss him to death? Or whatever you can manage, I guess. But just don’t fuck on my bed, please. That’s my only rule.”

“Why do you sound like that’s a rule you’ve had to make often?” Mai scoffs, amused, while your cheeks feel hot. 

Gojo slumps his shoulders in some type of comical defeat. “I don’t wanna talk about it…” he mumbles, voice trailing off and turning on his heel to walk away while Mai follows him off with more follow-up questions he doesn’t seem receptive to answering. 

Your eyes glance over to the staircase, studying for a moment as loud party music fills your ears before making your way over and up the steps. As you head down the hallway leading into bedrooms, the floorboards creak until your sneakers even over soft carpet, and you hear soft sounds of clattering off to the left. There’s a door that’s half ajar leading into a warmly lit room, and you deftly peek your head through the opening.

Choso stands near the foot of the bed inside a messy room, black boxes and cases and wires surrounding him as he fumbles with unplugging some sort of audio station pad from another piece of hardware. His hand grips tightly around the thick black rubber coating of the wire, and you watch the flex of his knuckles that tense the veins running up his arm, sleeve of the shirt he’s worn all night stretching to accommodate the roll of muscle at his upper arm. With a solid yank, the chord releases itself before the wire whacks him straight in the face and he grumbles a fuck under his breath and he rubs the skin of his cheek, to which you can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight of. 

His furrowed and frustrated expression turns into surprise as his eyes flicker to the entrance of the room. He stands up straight, and then there’s that bored expression again. “Oh. Shortcake. I thought I said you’ve got no business being here.”

“Yeah, about that, I’m waiting for you to apologize to me,” you say, leaning sideways against the doorframe as you cross your arms over your chest. 

He sighs, eyes moving away from yours to busy himself with the jungle of equipment he’s practically drowning in, as if he couldn’t be bothered by your presence right now. “Apologize for what?”

You make your way inside the room, foot pushing aside anything sprawled on the floor that’s in your way so you can continue to approach him, and you stop just when you’re just a step away. His gaze is still set to the ground as he’s crouched over slightly, but it shifts from the speaker he was toying with to the shape of your shoes instead.

“Apologize to me for being so crass,” you say, “after we had just met.”

He slowly straightens his spine, and you’re a little shocked to find the height that he has on you. His expression is curious, eyes narrowing slightly like he has you all figured out already, and it pisses you off. “Crass is such a prissy word to use, princess. Try ‘apologize to me for being a massive dick’ or something, and I’ll start to take you more seriously.”

“Why are you so rude?” you ask, anger building up inside of you all of a sudden. “I’ve barely met you, I don’t see how I could’ve upset you in any way. Yet you’ve already insulted me in multiple ways tonight, and it’s not a cool look for you. Trust me.”

“You’re the one that basically called me a crackhead,” he counters, but there’s no real offense behind it.

“Yeah, because you called me a kid,” you say, face tightening even further with anger, “even though I’m an adult.”

He sighs, closing his eyes in irritation, and tilts his head up to look at the ceiling briefly as his mouth hangs slightly open, all as if he’s running thin of the capacity to deal with this conversation, and then he looks back down at you again. “Shortcake, I didn’t call you a kid ‘cause of your age. I called you a kid ‘cause you’re just so–” he starts, eyes traveling down your body paired with a vague gesture of his hand towards all of you, and you find yourself shifting on your feet to stand a little more poised, “you just seem so innocent and clueless and, uh, forgive me, naive.”

“You’re the clueless one here if you still think negging a girl will get you anywhere with her,” you say, hands clenched in fists at your side now.

There’s a hint of a smirk on his face as he tilts his head at you, some of his dark hair falling over his forehead from the motion and a few strands weave with his eyelashes. “I’m not trying to get anywhere with you here, sweetheart, unless you’re wanting that,” he says, voice almost purred at the end as he steps over a guitar case on the floor to get closer to you.

You’re unable to make eye contact with him when he’s close and you can smell the earthy notes of his cologne, mixed with another scent that seems more distinctly him that makes your head spin. Your gaze takes in the sight of his forearm, the one with scattered tattoos trailing up his arm but not yet fully inked in. You wonder what he’s saving the space for, and what he’s willing to let in. 

When your gaze flickers up to his face again, you’re a little surprised to see his expression is softer. He suddenly holds his forearm up in front of you. Your eyes signal confusion to him, but he just keeps his arm up the same.

“You’ve been ogling my tattoos since we met,” he says, voice low, “if you’re curious, then just have a closer look.”

Your breath picks up in speed, and you hesitate for a moment but it’s true. You were curious. Your hands shakily hold onto his forearm to keep it still as you study the ink on his skin. You twist his arm as much as his joint allows, and he lets you handle him in any way you want, and you swear the snake tattooed on his skin moves as if it were alive. A dark blossoming rose with highlights of burgundy red catches your eye near his elbow, and you brush the back of your hand against it. Your fingers accidentally find his pulse at his wrist, and you find his heart is beating fast. 

You run a flat palm up his arm, the skin to skin contact feeling intimate, and your fingers stop when they tuck under the fabric of his sleeve. You feel the warmth and curve of his bicep, lightly wrapping your hand around it, and you blush at the sight of how small your hand looks on him.

“What does this one mean?” you ask, not meaning for it to come out as a whisper, but you feel like his answer is meant to be kept a secret. Your thumb swipes over small roman numerals permanently etched into him over muscle.

“It’s my dad’s military tag,” he responds, voice quiet like yours.

You tear your gaze away from his skin to look up at him, and you realize he’s closed enough distance between the two of you to where his face is just inches away. From the moment you looked up, his eyes have been on your lips, and his brow furrows as if he’s fighting some voice in his head that’s testing this harmony between the two of you in this moment. 

You swear he’s about to kiss you, since there could be no other explanation for the way he was looking at you, but instead he clears his throat and his face is first to distance from you before he pulls his arm back as well, and then a small step backwards. “Sorry,” he says, and he almost sounds awkward. It startles you, because it’s the first time he doesn’t sound cool or calm or collected.

“That-” you start, “...wait, what are you sorry for?”

His eyes widen, and you see the heaviness under them for a moment, “uhh…I’m actually not too sure.”

Your head feels clear now that he’s not close enough to breathe in, and you blink a few times as your annoyance from earlier resurfaces amidst the lingering energy he just broke between you two. “Start with ‘I’m sorry for calling you a kid, and then also just now calling you naive and clueless,’” you say, foot tapping impatiently, “and then, in front of all your bandmates, mocking the fact I’m not old enough to drink, and shamelessly traveling your eyes over me, and then–” your breath catches slightly as the words fail to leave your tongue, cheeks feeling hot, “and then saying–” you try again, but the thought only falls flat, and he’s taking a step closer to you again.

“And then saying that you’re old enough to fuck?” he asks, finishing your sentence for you, but there’s no remorse in his tone at all. 

His hand suddenly finds the small of your back and he pushes gently so you take a stumbled step towards him, like he needed to have you close to him again.  His lips brush against the top of your head, and the sensation sends a hot feeling through your chest. “Choso,” you reprimand him.

“Fuck,” he exhales, like in cynical disbelief, “my name sounds so sweet coming from you.”

It makes no sense, but you grip his shirt at his chest just to make contact with him, and you brave yourself to look up at him, wondering if he can see the hint of worry in your eyes, because he already feels like something you can’t resist.

His eyes are dark now, different from the tenderness in them before, and he’s freely studying the features of your face. “I don’t want to fuck you, Shortcake, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’re a little too good for me to do something like that.”

His words say one thing while his eyes say another, his arm wrapping around your waist to keep you close, and you’re astonished at how little he cares about the clear contradiction in his words from the way he holds you. His gaze slowly travels down from your eyes to your lips.

“What about–” you start, heart beating fast in your chest as you see the glimmer of the silver ring pierced through his lip. You bite back the words.

But he reads your mind, because his head dips down towards yours and he captures your lips in his, slow and sweet at first before pressing more firmly, more decisively with both hands flying to hold your waist. A moan muffles in your throat at the sensation of his bare fingers coyly traveling under the hem of your shirt, and you can’t help but slide your arms up over his shoulders, locking them behind his neck to pull him down closer to you, and he sighs in response as he presses your hips flush against him. The chill metal of his lip ring has the plush of your bottom lip tingling cold, and when his tongue swipes across to warm it for you, your mouth opens with ease. You taste spearmint on his tongue, and his lips curve against yours in what feels like an amused smile, large hands now slid so far up your shirt that his fingers reach the band of your bra.

“Hey, Cho, do you know where–”

The trill of a feminine voice in the air cuts through harshly, and he pulls his lips from yours but not without a moment of reluctance. You two turn your head to the door, and you see Sana standing there, eyes wide and blinking as she takes in the sight of the two of you standing in what feels like a guilty proximity from how her eyes silently curse you. 

You can only manage an awkward laugh, fist shoving against Choso’s shoulder but his hands are still placed firmly on the curve over your lower back, dangerously close to the plush of your ass, and your hips are practically pinned to him while you do all you can to lean your upper body away. “Oh–sorry, this…is not what it looks like–”

“I…” Sana starts, and you can see the hurt in her expression, but she quickly corrects it, “Oh! Ah, was just lookin’ for Cho here,” she says, making her way into the room, and a harsh shove of your fist against Choso’s chest finally has him relenting to let you go. Your posture immediately stiffens when she approaches Choso’s side, and she playfully pushes his arm but the effort is weak. “Kissing girls in Satoru’s room is seriously not a good idea, Cho. That freak probably has cameras in here to make sure people don’t bump uglies in his room again after that New Year’s party.” 

Choso gives her a pointed look, like he wasn’t caught up on that drama, but you’re just standing there with your eyes flicking between the familiarity of the two people standing in front of you. Why wasn’t Sana jealous? She was looking at you ten seconds ago like she was a whole lot of jealous. 

“What are you looking for?” Choso asks her, and she holds her red plastic solo cup with her drink in it out for him to hold as she crouches down to the floor to sift through the equipment now surrounding the three of you.

“My lucky mic,” she says, “Gojo said it’d be here.” There’s a hint of something in her voice, something that mirrors betrayal if you’re perceptive enough. 

You watch Choso lick his lips once, eyes darting to you, before he’s crouching down too to help her look. “For something that allegedly means a lot to you, you sure do a shit job at looking out for it,” he comments with a sigh before pulling out a black case from under three other ones and handing it to her. “It’s here.” 

“I’m–” you say, taking a step back and almost tripping over a guitar case, “I’m, um, going to head downstairs. Mai is probably looking for me.”

Choso raises an eyebrow at you from where he’s still crouched down next to Sana, and he’s about to speak when Sana cuts him off.

“Okay. Bye,” she says, still rummaging through things mindlessly even though she had already been given what she was looking for.

Choso makes a move to stand up, like he wants to see you out the door, but Sana’s hand grabs him by his forearm, eyes still not meeting his, and there’s a beat of confusion in his eyes as he studies the side of her face. But you know what sort of look she probably has in her eyes right now, and you know only because you’re also a girl, and all girls know what it’s like when a guy you love doesn’t want you in the way that you want him. All you can do at this moment is feel sorry for her.

The atmosphere in the room begins to suffocate, and you head out of the door in a rush. 

.

.

.

present day. summer.

“He kissed ya the day he met ya? Hmph! That wouldn’t fly with me,” the man seated beside you says, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he shifts slightly in his seat to puff his chest out. 

“Hmm,” you hum as you look out the window wistfully, memories that you had locked up for so many years opened like a pandora box that fills your chest with warmth but has your fingers trembling with anxiety because you know how it all ends. “You wouldn’t…let a man kiss you on the first day he met you?”

The driver humors you with a hearty laugh from his chest, at least. “Not talkin’ about it that way, darlin’. I’m talkin’ about my daughters. I’ve got two girls of my own. A man should keep his hands to himself the first time he meets a lady. At least that’s what I’ve taught ‘em.”

There’s a small smile that tugs at your lips at his words, the love he has for his daughters heard clearly through his strict tone. You left out a lot of the details that probably would’ve angered him on your behalf even more, so the fact he still ended up getting worked up about it has you a little amused and reflective at the same time. “How old are your daughters?” you ask, tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, watching the wind-rustled plains of grass that you two have been driving by for a while now.

“They’re a little younger than you,” he comments, his expression now a bit more serious, “one just graduated from college, she’s startin’ more school in the city soon, and the other’s still in highschool. She’s turning sixteen next week.”

“Ah, sixteen,” you muse, “that’s a confusing age.”

“You got that right,” he gruffs, “the other day, she called me on my way home from work to bring some drink called a boba. Fifty-two years of life and I never even knew there was a damn thing called a boba! Why would anyone want swirlin’ stuff in their drink?! Anyways, the shop got her order wrong, and when I brought it home, she refused to drink it, called me the worst dad ever, then stormed upstairs to slam the door on her room. I turn to my wife, and she’s shakin’ her head at me like I’m the one that did something wrong!”

You laugh, then press your lips into a smile. “I’d have to agree with her on that,” you joke, and he lets out another disgruntled noise that has you laughing again. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve lived with my wife and those two girls for over two decades,” he sighs. “I’m used to it by now. All three are equally pains in my ass, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Your smile drops a little as you look at him more contemplatively. There’s a glimmer in his eyes as he speaks, and you realize it’s familiar, but the answer of where you’ve seen it before fails to arrive.

“My youngest,” he starts again, “she’s been listenin’ to really loud music lately.” He presses one of the buttons underneath the AC vents, static noises coming to life before he changes the output to bluetooth. “My wife says it’s some sort of phase, but I’m not likin’ the music. Always sounding tempered and inappropriate.” He plays a song from his phone paired to the car, speakers flowing with music, and a chill runs down your spine the moment the first few notes fill your ears. A song so painfully familiar, so connected to your soul it’s as if your heart still keeps time with it to this day. 

“See what I’m talkin’ about?” the man says, “Lots of words about skin and cigarettes.” With a shake of his head, he lowers the volume. “She’s obsessed with this band, it’s probably a band similar to your old lover’s from the sound of it. She’s got posters of ‘em up on the wall, and she took the picture of us on our first fishing trip together out of the picture frame on her desk and replaced it with this man. This silly-lookin’ white-haired man that always looks like he’s just pretending he knows how to play a guitar. Hmph! She keeps saying ‘dad, I wanna go to their concert!’ There’s no way in hell I’m allowing that.”

You stare down at your lap, brow furrowed from the realization flashing through your head, and your thumb nervously passes over the skin of your other hand. In your periphery, you see him glance over at you once, and he sighs before stopping the music and speaking up again.

“It’s fine,” he says, “my youngest got her sister into the same band, and she likes one of the other ones. Plays bass. He’s too rough-lookin’ for my daughter. Arms covered in tattoos, he’s even got some on his face! She keeps dreamin’ about havin’ him for a boyfriend, but if she brought that home, there’s no way I’d approve. I’d scare him off with my rifle.”

Your heart is beating fast in your chest, and you realize what a small world it is. Or, you realize just how big Choso’s world must be now. So much bigger than he or any of the other members of his band could’ve ever imagined. For once in a lifetime, so rare and pure, are dreams that are fully realized. 

“Gosh,” you respond when you realize you’ve been lost in your own revelations for too long, “that’s an…extreme response. You sound like my father, though.”

“Hm,” he responds, “I’m sure. Did your father approve of this lover of yours? The one that’s makin’ moves on you so fast and too soon?”

You lean back in your seat with your head hitting the headrest. It’s been years since you’ve felt like you’re being lectured or reprimanded for anything, but the feeling comes back to you at this moment as if no time had passed at all. No matter how old you get, you’ll never forget how humbling the feeling was when you thought you knew everything at eighteen, just to look back and realize you didn’t have a single clue.

You sigh. “No. He didn’t approve. Far from it.”

.

.

.

seven years ago. autumn.

chapter 2. the juvenile & the delinquent.

[to be continued]

a/n. eeeeeppp thank you very much for reading n supporting my new fic!! i hope you enjoyed :') still a lot more to uncover n unpack hahah i'm so nervous to start a new fic but i'm also very excited!!! i love choso sm but i also love nanami so this is gonna be interesting to write. also TYSM to everyone that wanted to be on taglist for this omg your support means the world to meeee. love you all sm.

taglist: @joemama-2 @sweetpo1son @lilluna12 @polarbvnny @4y3sh4 @sedona-the-l0bster @horisdope @ilovenana88 @thexmistress @atsushirolll @flvrrg0d @strawnanamilk @nighttwingg @indieotterxoxo @pirana10 @bakuhoethotski @tvdumarvelhpsimp @lavender-hvze @whereflowerswenttodie @alwaysfreakingout @kaitoluver @3xv5s @wrenabbadon @erwinslut @winsga18 @ynishalee @yungbloode

love u all so much!!

[ladykailitha]

Everything I Ever Wanted Part 1/4

The much anticipated sequel for "Not All That Glitters is Gold" the omegaverse epic that I recently wrapped up. The first chapter is here as I highly recommend you read it first.

Each chapter is based on something Steve wanted from the first story. Being a top omega escort and retiring at the top of his game. Having alpha health be brought to the forefront and actually studied. Being married and bonded. And finally having children of his own.

Just a few notes here: This not to say that surrogacy or adopt is lesser or not as important as biological birth. Because it absolutely isn't. This is about Steve being told he was only good for one thing and to learn his worth was far greater than anyone imagined.

This story is mature. There are sex scenes in here as well as full nudity, but also the first chapter has some awful pretty non-binary and sex worker prejudices that if you feel like you can't handle, don't read.

Each chapter is however long it took me to fill out that part. So some chapters are shorter than others, some times by almost 1000 words.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoyed the first one!

****

Steve had finished packing up the last of his stuff. Chrissy would be moving in next week and fill the suite with everything that made her unique.

But as sad as Steve was to be leaving, he knew it was time. Twelve years as one of the best escorts Starcourt had ever seen was long enough, he thought.

A warm pair of arms wrapped around his waist and a wet kiss was placed on his bonding gland.

“Hey, honey,” Eddie cooed. “You ready to go?”

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie’s arms and sighed happily. “Yeah, love, I am.”

“You going to miss this?” he murmured, squeezing Steve tightly.

Steve hummed, thinking about it. “To some extent, but doing this well into my fifties and sixties was never in the cards for me.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I was always too much of a romantic for that. When I first learned I was infertile it was a relief that I didn’t have to live to my parents’ high expectations for me. I had looked up to Roxie because they were living the life young me always wanted, freedom as an omega.”

“I’m glad you got that freedom, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You really grew into your own. If you want to keep working for another couple of years, you’ve got it. I won’t stop you.”

Steve turned in his grasped and kissed him soundly. “No, Eds. This is what I want. I want a life with you. I want to bond and mate you. I want to carry your pups. As many as you want. Because if I was given the choice as a sixteen year old to have that freedom I always craved and the chance to marry and bare children? I would have taken it in a heartbeat. But when they thought I was infertile, the glamour of being an escort was the only choice for me.”

Eddie nuzzled Steve’s scent gland. “Okay, Stevie.” He nipped under Steve’s jaw. “Fuck, you are so hot when you get all passionate about shit. I could have you right here, right now on this floor if you’d let me.”

Steve slipped out of his embrace with a giggle. “As tempting as that would be, darling, the movers will be here in ten minutes and the cleaners in thirty. And I’m not as fast as I used to be.”

Eddie huffed impatiently.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Eddie and Steve shared a confused glance.

Steve walked to the door and opened it.

He stood there in shock for a moment. There on the side of the door frame was Roxie. Steve’s idol.

“Holy shit,” he breathed. “Come on in. You’ll pardon the mess, I’m moving out today.”

Roxie stepped in.

They were as beautiful in person as they had been on the poster on Steve’s wall as a teenager.

They were tall and thin, with long black hair and piercing blue eyes. No one was sure what race Roxie was because they had an exotic look no matter where they go.

Roxie was also the first non-binary omega escort the world had ever seen.

In short Steve was enamored.

Eddie gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m going to meet the movers.”

He kissed Steve’s cheek and slipped out of the door that Roxie had just walked through.

“He’s cute,” Roxie said with a smile.

Steve blushed. “I like him.”

Roxie threw back their head and laughed. “I would hope so considering you’re bonding next month.”

Steve cocked his head and grinned. “Yeah...”

Roxie held up their prizes, two champagne flutes and a bottle of champagne. “I’ve come to celebrate!”

Steve took the glasses and wandered over to the sofa. It hadn’t been moved yet, so they at least had a place to sit.

Roxie produced a bottle opener from the confines of their coat pocket and opened the champagne. Steve held out the two glasses and Roxie poured the bubbling liquid.

“Come, come,” they said. “Sit. Tell me all about the hottie that just left.”

So Steve did.

“I’m happy for you,” Roxie said. “It took me years to find my soulmate.”

Steve blinked. “Are you–no...really?”

“A golden omega? Oh yes. Really,” Roxie said with a laugh. “I just didn’t meet my bondmate until I was much older, and we never wanted children so we bonded and just never share my heats.”

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” Steve asked. “Spending your heats without your bondmate?”

Roxie shook their head. “No. We still share his ruts and we use as much protection as we can. But, no. I’ve gotten used to having my heats alone, adding another person would just be complicating things at this point.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Steve said with a nod. “I guess I’m young enough to miss the connection that he and I share during his ruts when I have my heats.”

Roxie smiled. “I hear you had to jump through a few hoops to bond.”

Steve sighed heavily and took a long drink, nearly draining the glass. “It was a mess. I would be the first official golden omega to retire from active escorting and that was something they wanted to carefully curate. They didn’t want a scandal like what the church had last year when Chrissy broke open the illegal nature of the amount of omegas they took in.”

“That was a nightmare,” Roxie agreed. “I was shocked by it all.”

“I’m just grateful that I’ll have a few months to prepare for the fallout before the shit hits the fan,” Steve said. “After all it won’t come out until Eddie and I get pregnant.”

Roxie hummed their agreement.

“If you’re really lucky,” they said, “maybe a year or more.”

Steve threw back his head and laughed. “That’s what Eddie’s hoping for, but I’m fine with either, honestly. My two biggest dreams growing up were having pups and being an escort, how that would have worked out biologically, I had no idea, I was just dumb kid. But actually getting both feels like a miracle.”

Roxie smiled, their eyes crinkling. “I’m almost sad you’re a golden omega, because I really thought you would be the one to take my place as top earner when I retired next year.”

His jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “Wait, really?” He couldn’t believe it. Roxie retire? That was unfathomable. Oh and the other thing, too.

Roxie must of read his mind because they laughed. “Yes, I’m retiring. I turn sixty-five next year, and I really can’t see myself doing it for much longer. And as for you, yes, darling. You. You are the best escort this industry has ever seen and you have the receipts to prove it.”

“They do want me to come back and teach the next batch of incoming escorts,” Steve said with a sigh smile. “From the ages of sixteen to eighteen, I’ll be teaching them everything I learned to make them better. And that’s more important than any glamour or glitz being an escort could possibly give me.”

“Then the agency is in better hands than I thought!” Roxie cried, gleefully clapping their hands together.

Steve smiled and shook his head. “You know, it’s funny. The only reason my dad even allowed me to be an escort was because there had never been a Harrington omega who wasn’t a trophy wife. They never worked a day in their lives. So when I offered to become a wet nurse to save up money to become a teacher, he blanched and said that I was going to be an escort. At least I could make money for them that way.”

He poured himself another glass and filled Roxie’s when they put out their own too.

“Well,” Roxie said smiling over their glass, “as long as you don’t start work until after you’ve bonded Eddie, that could still be true about the whole ‘no Harrington ever being a teacher’ thing.”

Steve laughed, his eyes squeezed tight, mouth open wide and just laughing with his whole chest. “Here’s to that!”

They clinked their glasses together. They talked for a little while longer, but soon Roxie had left and the movers and the cleaners filed in.

“These knothead movers,” Eddie said darkly, “were trying to duck out of doing the job because you were celebrating still.”

The older of the alpha moving team glared at him. “How was I to know that Roxie was in there?”

“From believing me when I told you?” Eddie asked, waving his arms out in front of him.

“He is so gorgeous,” one of the omega cleaners twittered.

“They,” Steve said with a frown. “Roxie uses they/them. Unless you're talking about someone else.”

The cleaner rolled her eyes. “He was a him for decades and then decides to come out non-binary? Whatever.”

“Out!” Steve said, barely containing his rage. “I will put in complaints with your bosses and management will get in new teams if they know what’s good for them.”

Eddie grinned. “You’ve got it, babe.”

Everyone filed out, the other omega cleaners hissing and snarling their dismissal at the other girl. The movers got what they wanted so they didn’t care.

As the lead mover was passing by Steve, he muttered, “Slut.”

The alpha was on the ground trapped in an arm bar, Eddie’s knee in the middle of his back.

The alpha cried out in surprise and pain. “What the fuck?!”

“That’s my omega you just insulted,” Eddie snarled, his alpha fangs extending. “And I don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. I will make sure that your company never gets a single celebrity client ever again. Steve will make sure Starcourt never uses you again, nor any other escort agency.” He yanked on the man’s arm causing him to gasp in pain. “Now I’m going to let you up, nice and slow and then you are going to apologize to Steve. Understand?”

The man nodded and Eddie got up. After a moment the alpha mover got to his feet.

“I’m waiting,” Steve huffed. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was leaning on his back leg.

“I’m sorry I called you a slut,” the man groused, rubbing the arm Eddie had yanked.

“Just because my work is different from yours doesn’t mean it’s not work,” Steve hissed. He waved his hand. “Now get out of my sight.”

The man followed his team out and Eddie slammed the door behind them.

“I’ve already contacted Powell,” Steve said. “They’ve already blacklisted both companies and have new crews being sent over.”

“Do we need to be here when they come?” Eddie asked.

Steve shook his head. “I was just cutting it fine getting the last of my stuff being packed away.”

Eddie grinned and pulled Steve in for a kiss. “Then why don’t you and I get out of here and celebrate a little bit on our own?”

“That sounds good,” Steve said, throwing his arms around Eddie’s neck. “Because that little display of yours taking down that mover was super hot.”

Eddie drew Steve in closer so they were flush against each other. “Yeah?”

Steve bit his bottom lip and nodded.

“Did my pretty little omega get wet watching his alpha take down a disgusting pig?” Eddie teased, cupping Steve’s ass with both hands.

“So wet,” Steve breathed. “Almost as wet as our first meeting, rockstar.”

Eddie licked his lips slowly and then nodded.

“Your stuff is already at my place,” he growled. “So I’m going to take you back there and fuck you into the mattress. Sound good, baby?”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Sounds so good.”

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Tag List: @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

@spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369

​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi

@maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv

@wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @bookbinderbitch @yikes-a-bee

@littlewildflowerkitten @vecnuthy @scheodingers-muppet @y4r3luv @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

@genderless-spoon @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @irregular-child @nburkhardt

@apomaro-mellow @yellowdevilkitten @eyehartart @mangoinacan13 @demolvr

@ellietheasexylibrarian @rememberthatiloveyou @slowandsteddie @r0binscript @alyelf

@melodymeddler @mogami13 @annabanannabeth @disrespectedgoatman @manda-panda-monium

@lexirosewrites @lawrencebshoggoth @lingeringmirth

[kooldewd123]

I haven't been checking in with the wider Gravity Falls fandom since I've been trying to do a lot of my own analysis so forgive me if this is something that's already been discussed a lot, but this one thing in particular has been really sticking in my mind. Typing "gun" or "oh yes they both" into the terminal provides these two responses:

These are lyrics from the musical Chicago, specifically the song "We Both Reached For The Gun." Here's a clip of the song from the movie adaptation, for reference:

Two immediate things to note here. First, the scene uses heavy puppetry imagery, and the importance of that in relation to Bill should be obvious. And if that wasn't enough, the character actually doing the puppeteering is named Billy. Frankly, that could quite likely be where this reference begins and ends and everything I say from this point onward might be me overthinking this. This could simply be another joke response like "McGucket" just leading to the music video for Cotton Eyed Joe or "Gideon" giving a Google search for sweat resistant bolo ties. What makes this one seem different to me is that unlike those examples, it stays in the terminal and doesn't link to an external site. You wouldn't understand the joke without already knowing the song (honestly, I didn't understand it myself until the previously linked video coincidentally came up in my YouTube recommended feed a few days later), not to mention that the prompts to find it are entirely self-contained as well.

Digging into the song itself, it's a very interesting choice to reference here (Quick disclaimer: I haven't seen this musical before, and most of my research has been fairly cursory, so please correct me if I get something wrong). The context here is that Roxie (the girl being puppeteered) killed the man she was having an affair with when he tried to leave her. In this song, Billy, her lawyer, rewrites the story so that the man was instead a jealous ex threatening her life. Him and Roxie "both reached for the gun," and the murder was actually an act of self-defense. Because of this spin, the false story of Roxie being a sympathetic hero ends up overtaking the reality that she's just a vindictive killer. And the weirdest part is... this kinda mirrors Bill's backstory that we learn about in the Book of Bill? We never solidly find out the truth of what happened to Euclydia. What information we have is at best heavily biased and at worst outright censored. Did Bill truly want to help his dimension or is that just a justification he came up with after the fact? We don't know. We're the reporters in this song, the people who have nothing but the word of the perpetrator to go off of. And I... don't really know what conclusion to make of this. Like, the broad strokes of the two stories are very similar in their themes, but whenever I try to look at the details, they don't map onto each other as well as I'd like. Roxie seems much more unrepentant than Bill, and Bill seems much less, stable? i guess? than Roxie. I really feel like there might be something it's trying to say about Bill here, but whatever it is, it's eluding me.

[safety-pin-punk]

Punk History Resources: Vol. 1

This is a compilation of resources found and recommended by various alternative bloggers, each of whom are credited for their contributions. This started because I was getting SO MANY asks about resources such as videos, books, and websites to use to learn about punk history. Admittedly, my own list isn't that long, so I thought it was best to reach out to some others and share their knowledge with everyone. So thank you again to everyone who helped out with this!!

@raggedyfink @lovintheaesthetic @punk-patches @my-chemical-ratz

YOUTUBE:

Punk/Goth Docs Playlist on Youtube (77 Videos) (raggedyfink)

1991 The Year Punk broke (lovintheaesthetic)

She's Real (Worse Than Queer) (lovintheaesthetic)

Don't Need You, The Herstory of Riot Grrrl (lovintheaesthetic)

The Long Queer History of Punk (lovintheaesthetic)

The very Black History of Punk Music (lovintheaesthetic)

Punk's Not Dead (lovintheaesthetic)

BOOKS:

Phantoms the Rise of La Deathrock (raggedyfink)

Too Tough to Love by Roxy Ramone (raggedyfink)

I Slept With Joey Ramone by Mickey Leigh (raggedyfink)

Please Kill Me, The Uncensored Oral History of Punk Rock (punk-patches & lovintheaesthetic)

Encyclopedia of Punk (punk-patches)

The Day the Country Died: A History of Anarcho-Punk, 1980-1984 (my-chemical-ratz)

The Heebie-Jeebies at CBGB's: A Secret History of Jewish Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Sellout: The Major-Label Feeding Frenzy That Swept Punk, Emo, and Hardcore (lovintheaesthetic & my-chemical-ratz)

Tranny: Confessions of Punk Rock's Most Infamous Anarchist Sellout (my-chemical-ratz)

Punk Rock: An Oral History (my-chemical-ratz)

Girls to the Front: The True Story of the Riot Grrrl Revolution (my-chemical-ratz)

Queercore: Queer Punk Media Subculture (my-chemical-ratz)

Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution: An Oral History (my-chemical-ratz)

Spider-Punk: Banned in D.C.(this doesnt have anything to do with history but i love spider punk so) (my-chemical-ratz)

MOVIES / DOCUMENTARIES:

The Punk Singer (punk-patches)

Queercore: How to Punk a Revolution (punk-patches)

Punk's Not Dead (punk-patches)

Pansy Division: Life in a Gay Rock Band (punk-patches)

Queercore: How To Punk a Revolution (my-chemical-ratz)

Afropunk (my-chemical-ratz)

Punk in Africa (my-chemical-ratz)

A Band Called Death (my-chemical-ratz)) (link courtesy of @wrench-p, but is unavailable to watch in the US))

ARTICLES:

(some of these are found on JSTOR, but you can sign up for a free 100 articles per month)

Muslim Punk in an Alt-Right Era (my-chemical-ratz)

A History of Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Jews, Punk and the Holocaust: From the Velvet Underground to the Ramones: The Jewish-American Story (my-chemical-ratz)

What is Punk and Why Did It Scare People So Much? (my-chemical-ratz)

An Account of a South African Punk Rock Music Collection (my-chemical-ratz)

Queer As Punk: A Guide To LGBTQIA+ Punk (my-chemical-ratz)

Did Punk Matter?: Analyzing the Practices of a Youth Subculture During the 1980s (my-chemical-ratz)

ZINES:

(some may not be *about* history, but they’re a huge part of it!)

Punk Planet archive (my-chemical-ratz & safety-pin-punk)

Queer Zine archive (I personally like the anon boy collection haha) (my-chemical-ratz)

Archive.org in general has a lot of zines :) (my-chemical-ratz)

ETC:

(These aren’t about punk history itself but could be helpful in learning about the politics that go with being punk)

A History of Punk from 1976-78: A Free Online Course from the University of Reading (safety-pin-punk)

Punk History Reading List (safety-pin-punk)

Essays about socialism (my-chemical-ratz)

Leftism 101 (my-chemical-ratz)

Rights as an American protester (my-chemical-ratz)

Social justice classes (I’m really excited to go through these!!) (my-chemical-ratz)

Stamped (my-chemical-ratz)

How To Be An Anti-Racist (my-chemical-ratz)

Nice Racism: How Progressive White People Perpetuate Racial Harm (my-chemical-ratz)

I would love to make a Vol. 2 post at some point in the future, so if you have resources and want to share, PLEASE message me!!

[factual-fantasy]

24 asks!! :DD Thank you so much!! :}}

WAAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! THIS WAS SO SWEET I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT TO SAY!! JUST- THANK YOU! THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU!! 💖💖😭💖😭😭💖💖

@annathefenecfox

I haven't watched the episodes she's in yet.. but I love her color palette! She looks really sweet :}💚💙💛

@spinelfan11

They would run XD

@supersecretnerd

Woof, she looks like hello kitty! <XD What even is she? A squirrel..? Geez, if I ever add her to my AU, she will definitely be getting a full fur color make over- XDD

(Also thank you!! :DD)

@rubydraft (Comic in question)

YES YES! That was very much intentional! :DD And the answer lies in the fazbands!

The animatronics can scan the Fazbands and get any important information about the child they might need. Such as the child's name, age, and which parent they belong to.

The Fazbands also act as a proof of purchase. If the the animatronic scans a child and no fazband is detected, that child must be brought to an employee. As there is no current proof that the child has had their admission paid. Hence why Gregory has a red outline, he has no fazband!

The blue kids all have standard fazbands. As every kid is given when they enter the pizzaplex.

But if its your kids birthday, they are given a special fazband that has them show up differently in the animatronics scanners. This tells the animatronics that the golden kids are the birthday boys/girls! And they will address the child as such if they ever encounter them. :)

(Also there's an Easter egg in one of those panels that no ones pointed out yet.. 👀)

Oh yeah, there's a lot of em. :( But the animatronics don't have to worry about them. They have handlers to watch over them and keep angry Karen's/crowds away.

I haven't really figured out their whole schtick yet..

I think in the partial swap they haven't changed much. Although Monty is a kindler gentler Monty. With Foxy by his side he's simmered down some. And his theme is a little different than before.

Roxy I think is more of a recluse in the partial swap, like original Monty is.

As for the true swap.? I haven't really figured it all out yet. Thinking that Roxy is a golfer and Monty is a racer..? I haven't thought it all through yet <XD

@wolfie-777

Off the top of my head I have these two Minecraft wolf OCs that I made a while back :00 I cant remember any others if I happen to have them-

@itschrisboys

:D Thanks!

@wdillustration

XD I wont draw that today, but maybe sometime I'll draw him giving someone a big ol bear hug :)

@acedgola

:DD Hiii!! I use FireAlpaca! Its got some problems but at least its free! Its easy to learn but also has enough tools to be used by a professional! You can also animate with it if you have the patience to figure out how to use it XD

Overall, 7.5/10 would recommend FireAlpaca!

(Post in question)

I'm not a hardcore fan, but yes! I do love the little korbo :}} And those are some Kirby slippers I got for Christmas! :D

They're my artist hands! And I'm not sure what you mean.. 11 hands is a perfectly normal number of hands to have!

Right.?

I just imagined Glamrock Freddy having an imaginary friend that looks a lot like a purple/blue bunny.. :( 💔

@softkidlavender

My beautiful eyeballs have been known to lure people to my blog XDD (Also thank you! :DD)

@basementdregon101

:DD I'm glad you like it!! :}}}

@rockbott0m47

A fant. Its often mispronounced as "fart"

@ardent-38 (Comic in question)

WAAAA I REMEMBER THOSE TAGS!!! I SHOULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING IN THE COMMENTS- WAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! IT WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAY AND IT STILL LIVES RENT FREE IN MY BRAIN 💖😭💖

AND THANK YOU AGAIN!! I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE MY GOLDEN BOYS AND MY OCTONAUTS STUFF!! WAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! 😭💖💖💖

AAAA THANK YOU!! :DD I'm so glad you like them!! :}}}

@fizzy-stars

XD I'm glad you felt inspired by me to bring those OCs back! And I hope that bite tasted good XDD

<XD It'd be more like;

Classic Bonnie: "Dude, what happened to you?

Swap Bonnies: "😒......"

It's all fun and games until I emerge ominously in the background with a snowball the size of a car XD

Everyone starts looking through the cookies and trying to figure out which one they want. Meanwhile I push everyone aside and snag all the peanut butter ones XD

[callmearcturus]

what do you think about hal is he good evil or just misunderstood thoughts??

Hal as in Whomstve Hal?

Here's my problem: I am, like, the One Person in the fandom who just doesn't find Hal all that interesting. I get what's going on, but I'm not invested, maybe because I spent all my Super Invested points on Jane and Jake when others don't find them as interesting.

Hal is not "evil" though or misunderstood, IMO, because that implies there is a Correct way to interpret him.

That said, I do consider a Litmus Test of Did You Actually Understand Act 6 to be the simple question of: Who orchestrated Synchronize/Unite? Because if you think it was Dirk, then I would recommend rereading the opening three acts of Act 6 again.

The entire Synch/Unite thing is, to me, the one of the two interesting things Hal does. The S/U deal is this ultimate devil's bargain that Dirk strikes to save everyone. Hal will direct him and get everyone back alive again... but in return, Hal is going to kiss Jake first. Which is in of itself a Complicated price, given the animosity between Hal and Jake, and how Jake does understand more than pretty much anyone what Hal truly is... but covers it up with obfuscation to avoid how uncomfortable it makes him.

But I'm also of the opinion that Jake's belief in Dirk, his Hope Bullshit, is partially why the AR project even succeeded, and I find his culpability in it fascinating. Dirk and Jake keep making surrogate children out of their powers, it's hilarious.

Anyway, the other thing Hal does that's interesting is the Suicide Conversation on the rooftop, which to me is fascinating because as Dirk gets angrier and angrier (on some level rightly imo) at Hal's manipulations, the trump card that Hal pulls is "Of course I'm scared of dying, aren't you?"

Because Dirk isn't scared of dying. He categorically proves this so frequently that it's arguably one of his core character traits. He kills himself in Synch-Unite, he considers his dream self hella expendable, he kills himself in the Game Over timeline, he has no problem killing himself on the slabs of Derse but can't bear to hurt Roxy (even when its literally the Right Choice in the moment and impermanent besides), he kills himself in [S] Collide to defeat the Jacks--

Dirk Strider is not afraid of dying. But Hal is, and that is proof that Hal and Dirk are not even remotely the same person, that they diverged long ago. And IMO that's part of why Dirk goes "fuck it" and prototypes Hal, because that's not him. If Hal was just another splinter of Dirk, he'd just kill him(/himself) again, no big deal. But Hal is not a Dirk anymore.

Anyway, I guess to sum up: I unfortunately mostly like Hal in the ways he is Not Dirk. That's the interesting shit.

[ask-the-cookiefish-timeline]

ciao gente! che musica ascoltate, solitamente?

TRANSLATION: hi folks! What music do you usually listen to?

DAVEPETA: B33 < *slides in cutely all smooth like* DAVEPETA: B33 < *meowchal jackson up in this bitch thats how smooth dp slides in* DAVEPETA: B33 < *dp paws through their collection of sick records before landing on the purrfect one and they set that thang gently onto the record player* DAVEPETA: B33 < ive b33n listenin to this jazz fusion band from old earth DAVEPETA: B33 < its called casiopea! DAVEPETA: B33 < if you want a recommendation i like タイムリミット !

ROXY: when i was super young and im talkin like baby ROXY: imagine baby roxy in your brain. oh yeah ROXY: i was super into like early 2000s hip hop n r&b!! ROXY: i had a phase where i would listen to hey ya by outkast on repeat for um ROXY: like genuinely weeks on end i think... ROXY: it was called gettin my hey yas in and it was a genuine ritual that was beneficial to my well being!!! ROXY: that music still means a lot to me but nowadays i listen to a lot of those silly cat song playlists for silly people :3

KARKAT: THIS QUESTION FUCKING SUCKS BECAUSE I HAVEN'T ADMITTED THIS TO ANYBODY YET SO HERE WE GO I GUESS KARKAT: I STARTED DOING THIS BIT FOR MY STUDENTS WHERE I WOULD ONLY PLAY THAT SHITTY STOCK MUSIC BY KEVIN MACLEOD AS BACKGROUND, YKNOW AS THEY DO THEIR WORK KARKAT: DID YOU KNOW WE HAD A KEVIN MACLEOD ON ALTERNIA? THE MUSIC WAS EXACTLY THE FUCKING SAME BUT ALL OF THE TITLES WERE DIFFERENT KARKAT: OBVIOUSLY KARKAT: ANYWAYS I PUT IT ON FOR THE KIDS SO MUCH THAT I STARTED GETTING ATTACHED TO IT AND NOW I EVEN PLAY IT AT HOME BECAUSE ITS THE ONLY THING I CAN FUCKING LISTEN TO ANYMORE KARKAT: DAVE KEEPS SAYING "where i come from we call that autism"

[doomandgloomfromthetomb]

Brian Eno - CJOM-FM, Windsor, Ontario, July 21, 1974

What was Brian Eno doing in Windsor, Ontario, in the summer of 1974?! I don't know, exactly (I also don't know exactly if he was in Windsor, Ontario — see the YouTube comments for some discussion as to whether he was across the border in Detroit, instead). But I do know that this is a cool little slice of late-night radio with Eno and DJ Ronnie Legg — some candid discussion, some joking around, some catty gossip.

Eno had obviously had a very busy year already — he'd released his solo debut Here Come The Warm Jets (50 years old last month!); he'd gone on tour with the Winkies, (a tour which was cut short due to Brian's famously collapsed lung); he'd performed with Kevin Ayers, John Cale and Nico at the Rainbow Theatre (later released as June 1, 1974); he'd helped Nico record The End; and, as he tells Legg, he was already well into the making of Taking Tiger Mountain By Strategy. Dude was making things happen!

But Brian sounds cool as a cucumber on the air here, explaining his departure from Roxy Music and his dislike of the touring lifestyle, along with some typically ahead-of-the-curve recommendations of Sparks and the burgeoning krautrock scene. "I'm gonna have to write these names down!" Legg (who otherwise seems quite hip) exclaims when Eno tells him about Kraftwerk, Neu!, Can and Harmonia. Good as always to remember that those were different times; you couldn't just dial up obscure German bands on your phone. But I'm sure that Brian knew that — someday — you would.

Speaking of different times, one thing Eno doesn't seem too enamored with is Lou Reed, who was then touring behind the sleaze-tastic Sally Can't Dance. He says that he's seen Lou twice already in '74 and pretty much hated both experiences. Fair enough — I can see how the cartoonish funk-rock that Reed and his band were playing at the time would definitely not be Eno's cup of tea. "He seems to have moved against all the things that I thought were interesting in the original Velvet Underground — which were the qualities of 'bad' musicianship rather than 'good' musicianship that distinguished them. The fact they didn't know when to let up when they weren't tasteful at any point. The new band that he's got now are incredibly tasteful and very into long, funky guitar solos. I mean, who needs it?"

[cryptiam]

Sims 4 - FNAF CC: Glamrock animatronics + random cc pack!

Happy 10 years FNAF! This is a random collection of props/animatronics I tried to get converted today. No set is complete, but at least you'll have some extra stuff to play around with!

Fair warning: These are high poly-count [LOD0 roughly 10-15k per model] - I tried my best to lower it down, but only so much I can do at my skill level.

FNAF models are especially bad with this because of all the smooth surfaces and endoskeletons. I tried my best to lower it just before the model starts to collapse, but it's still high. I'm not skilled at retopology enough to downscale it past this point though.

Includes:

Glamrock Roxanne Wolf/Roxy Animatronic Deco

Glamrock Freddy Animatronic Deco + No Mic/Idle version (updated from older cc)

Glamrock Chica

Glamrock Montgomery Gator/Monty

Funtime Freddy Animatronic Deco

Funtime Chica Animatronic Deco

Minireena prop (w/eyes)

Helpy prop

Juice Fountain Clowns (2 swatches)

Bucket Bob Prop

No. 1 Fan Prop

Mr. Gumball Prop

Candy Cadet Deco

Mystic Hippo box

(Moved here from old pack) Cupcake deco

CC Info:

Base game compatible

Keyword "FNAF" in search bar

High LOD/polycount [LOD0 roughly 10-15k per model] - no matter what I can't fix this - I'd recommend not using too many of the models at once or play on a lower LOD setting if you're having frame stuttering.

Recommended:

FNAF 1 Animatronic deco:

FNAF SB Decorations:

FNAF Wallpapers/floors:

FNAF Plushies:

Check out the FNAF Masterlist for other creators cc:

Credits:

•Meshes/Textures from Five Nights at Freddy's: Help Wanted/Help Wanted 2/Security Breach.

Models and Assets owned by Scott Cawthon and Steel Wool Studios. This is a fan mod and not being sold.

▼Download | Patreon (free):

Terms of Use:

~~~

If you like my cc, consider tipping to my Ko-Fi or supporting me on Patreon! I do this as a hobby and it's very time consuming per cc. I also have commissions usually open if you really want something specific from me! Thx!

[caligvlasaqvarivm]

Can I ask for your reasoning behind the Jake and Vriska pairing? This isn't out of hate or anything i am just very curious

3/4 of the alpha kids are IMMEDIATELY introduced with "btw, here's the dead troll you're supposed to date".

Your name is ROXY. God DAMN do you love WIZARDS. (Editor's Note: also Princes. A Prince who is also a wizard? Holy shit.)

So he made a couple of coy recommendations for objects of your attraction, and you have hung his COBALT BEEFCAKES here since. He was pretty spot on with the blue Funke, to be honest, since that's like the best show ever. Mr. Cross can blue himself any time, as far as you are concerned. [...] There is also your magnificent SWANSON. Ron Swanson is the PERFECT MAN.

And Jake's is the most blatant, in my opinion:

But who needs chums, when you can enjoy a top notch gander of your GALS OF CERULEAN COMPLEXION, HUBBA HUBBA. You are oft-times the recipient of a good ribbing from Jane on account of your peculiar fascination with blue movie ladies. You don't have to justify yourself to her though. What is even her deal? Any fella would be off his ROCKER not to fawn over all these BODACIOUS BLUE KNOCKOUTS. You want to make out with all of them. Dear, sweet Neytiri from James Cameron's Avatar. Oh, if only you were the one who could have overcome his paralysis on an alien adventure planet to become her boyfriend, instead of that other guy. Then she could have shown you how to be bold and courageous, and stand up to fight for your people, and maybe later, engage in a bizarre extraterrestrial reproductive process involving ponytails, and a magical tree you guess?

So for those keeping score, Roxy and Eridan, Jane and Equius (moment of silence), and Jake and Vriska. It's further proven by how stunningly hot he finds Aranea, who is a dead ringer for Vriska, and further supported by the fact that Jake is very much Vriska's type - she has a weird red, vascillatory thing for Tavros, and briefly dates John. Tavros is a Page, and John shares many genetic personality similarities with Jake, his ecto-grandpa. Honestly, if I were to distill down Vriska's taste in guys into one single person, it would just be Jake.

And yeah, I know that he and Vriska basically have nothing going on between them post-retcon, but I only consider everything after Game Over to be soft canon anyway, since by that point it's clear that Hussie has no intention of finishing Homestuck the way it was originally intended to end (there are way too many dangling plot threads, many of the choices - especially revolving around Vriska - seem genuinely aimed to make as much of the fandom upset as possible, and the tone and themes swerve wildly from their original trajectories in a way that feels rushed and incongruous). Pre-Retcon, the comic is gunning HARD for red Vriska/Jake endgame, and I put more weight on that than post-retcon's weird personality-regressed Vriska.

So I am specifically talking about post-character-development Vriska and Jake - Vriska who's had her feelings jams with John, proper apology and reconciliation with Aradia, Sollux, and Tavros, and is in a stable moirallegiance - Vriska who no longer feels the need to be such a massive bitch all the time and isn't trying to solo the game and steal the spotlight. Vriska at her best would probably be really healthy for him - Jake clearly enjoys a challenge much more than Tavros (though not enough to work well with Dirk), and Vriska clearly has a thing for goofy little failboys. It's not gay but not everything can be a W for us fujos, sadly.

[roxyco-sexshopslut]

Upper management wants to make sure you're actually succeeding with your quota and not just lying so we need you to fill out this form detailing the 5 most recent customers you serviced, we need exact details on what they did to you and what products were used, and if the service resulted in a sale. Anyway if you could get that back up to the office ASAP that would be great.

(fuckin management..) Sureee

1. Had a customer come in and ask for a recommendation for a onahole, told her that they were all good but she wanted to try them out. So I spent a good hour jerking her off with several, and she ended up cumming and buying the @roxyco-deliverygirl molded onahole. Kinda pissed she didn't buy mine..

2. While I was on "hole in the wall" duty, a customer came in and fucked me while using several toys on my ass. Couldn't tell you what the toys were but they were big and flared~ Customer bought them but never scanned any of them so I don't know what they bought, they left like $400 on the counter so I'm not complaining.

3. When I was doing outside advertising, ended up going nude to show off all the nipple/genital peirceings we offer (all display peirceings on employees are high pressure clip-ons as per mandated by Roxy-Co). A few customers walked by and wanted to "test" them by tugging on them for about half an hour. When I came they decide to walk in and buy a few sets, so successful sale.

4. Had a rude customer come in complaining about poor dildo products from us that he bought the other day for his wife. Tried to give him a refund but he wanted a full replacement, so I had to personally hop on about 19 different ones while he watched. When I got to the behemoth "belly bulgers" set of dildos, he decided to masterbate while watching and gave me a heavy facial (which costs extra but he was a customer complaint so I said nothing). After I came, he took the biggest one and left.

5. @roxyco-deliverygirl came into the store before closing hours and she wanted a few of our experimental horny pills to try out. Gave her a few since they hadn't been tested yet and I must say, they might be a little...strong. She ended up going down on me from below the store counter even though we were getting a wave of customers. She seemed in a trance and I couldn't stop her, so just let her use her tounge on me for the last 2 hours of the shift. She calmed down about 4 hours after that, so I'd recommend lowering the effectiveness of the pill or at least have a disclaimer idk I'm not the product manager.

[alwayswriting101]

Can you recommend some Florelia fanfics please?

So this is actually a terrible question to ask me because I think all Florelia fics are amazing just by the nature of having my OTP 😅.

But here are my general recommendations:

Literally anything and everything by @florelia12. All of her work is fantastic x1000, But Moonlight & Monsters has literally changed my life. I love this fic (and all her fics) soooo much. She is also a (obviously) a massive Florelia stan. AO3 page

The Florelia chapters in Winx Club One Shots by SeaEmerald (chapters 2, 5, and 6). Oh my God is their writing incredible. Very highly recommend all of their fics, if you're interested in other couples/fandoms.

A Natural Fit: Soulmates AU. Also anything by QueenofHufflepuff. I love their writing style to the point where it's inspired my own fics!) They also go under Matrices and Vectors on ffn.

All the Petals Fall by @lynpheas. I swear to God this fic made me quit writing because like what point is there in writing when a fic this good exists 😭😭😭. Also recommend all of @lynpheas works but not all of them are Florelia. AO3 page

Black Sky by SilverSongstress. I cannot emphasize how epic this story is. There's lots of Florelia conflict (that doesn't really get resolved by the end (at least to my memory)) and I was okay with that! There are some issues re: formatting but it's truly a very strong story.

Lunar Rainbow and Under the Cherry Blossoms by Roxy Fan 4 Ever. Literally love these fics so much. So romantic!

The Neighbor by libra986. Now I actually don't remember shit from fuck from this fic, but I remember being OBESSED with it...do with that what you will...

High Temperatures . I like this one.

Six Years, This one is just so nostalgic for me, I think it was one of the OG Florelia fics 😭. I can't tell you how much it PAINS me the sequel is unfinished.

I Promise, Courage from the Heart, Save Me, My Turn to Save You, and Remember Me by Lill2350. Again very nostalgic fics! I think they have a few more Florelia fics as well.

Living a Dream. Very Cute fic.

Chastity Slightly NSFW so don't open if you're at work or underage. But I thought this was a really cute/romantic fic.

Style by KinkyWings. I think this fic is really, really cute. The author has other fics based on more...untraditional pairings (and fics that are definitely NSFW), but I really like this one.

Waned Worries. Why did this person orphan this account 😭? Really good oneshot.

Kamilia has written a bunch of Florelia stories, too many to list and many of them NSFW in one way or another, but check them out if you'd like!

Flora's Christmas. Just a cute Christmas Time Oneshot

As an aside: here are some fics that I tend to really enjoy that focus on Flora or (mostly) Helia as individuals and not as a couple.

Retired, Falling, and The Moonlight Project by @redemptionarcsucker. Their characterizations of Helia are unmatched. And their writing is impeccable! AO3 page

Also @floralovebot has really great Flora/Helia/Florelia headcanons/characterizations on their page.

A Conversation Between... Literally, love this fic with every beat of my heart since I read it years ago. This fic actually focuses mostly on Stormy but Flora has a lot of characterization through her.

The Meaning of the Color Black and Inspired by Kikurukina Bal Des'cagel. Fantastic Helia centric stories by a fantastic author. They have also written on other pairings.

Names. A random, unromantic one shot but I really like the concept.

Never Have I Ever and A Specialist's Journey by QueenofHufflepuff. I've already raved about them in the rec above. Really amazing work. The former is Flora based and the latter mostly Helia based (from what I can remember).

The Shimmering Sunflowers. I am a big fan of fics where Flora is a big sister to Miele.

And finally, I always recommend The Great Witch Rebellion, Brothers at Arms, Band of Brothers, and Bonds of Brotherhood by tearsinrain These fics are focused on the group as a whole and are basically rewrites of the main storyline, but these fics are fantastic. I would bind them into a book if I could. The characterization of Helia (who unfortunately is not really featured in Brothers at Arms), is amazing. And the Florelia scenes that are available are really amazing.

I am a big, big fan of Florelia. If I could fit every fic featuring them onto this ask, I would, but unfortunately, I can't! But if anyone has any additional recommendations please feel free to add! I'm sure there are some stories/authors whom I loved but might have missed, but this is a very general list.

[mr-foods]

You're really good at coming up with striking and fitting outfits for characters; are you hiding any imminent ensembles for Beyond Canon, or will you be coming up with all the wardrobes on the fly?

Also, what would you recommend for someone learning to include better fashion in their own projects?

thank you!

hiding ensembles? yes.

imminent? probably not.

any new outfits i come up with have to be approved by the team so i can't do whatever i feel on a whim HOWEVER the modicum of authorial power i now wield grants me the privilege of establishing things like "roxy has been encouraging kanaya to make the team some new outfits" and then i can turn towards the team and say "haha wow i guess we need to come up with some new outfits for everyone"

wrt to incorporating fashion into your own projects you really just have to get into it. what is "better fashion" is really subjective, figure out what styles or subcultures etc you like to look at and seek out more of it, gather reference pics of outfits looks and pieces you like so you can come back to them later. have fun and draw what you like

[caffeinated-and-annoying-bard]

Dude I am going thru a sixteenth-life crisis (smaller than quarter-life crisis) right now I do not know what to do. I’ve FINALLY figured out after much deliberation that i have the fattest crush (dangerously close to love) on my good friend (we met almost a year ago and have been inseparable since [this is a vast improvement for me considering that i had known my ex for all of two and a half weeks before we got together for the first time]) but i have no clue if she’s into me like that at all (shes bi so im not worried about if shes into girls or not). We have a super close and affectionate friendship because we’re both just like that and im a super tactile and physically affectionate person with my friends, so we’re always holding hands or sitting pressed up against each other or hugging or leaning on each other or whatever. AND we use pet names for each other (just pookie and honey) but like in a half serious half joking way yk. AND when i spent the night at her house we fell asleep in her bed cuddling and we were so close and i dont know if im reading too much into it or not AND we went with a couples costume of Fred Casely and Roxie Hart from Chicago to the harvest dance at my school AND people tell us all the time that we have to be a couple or that we need to start dating immediately but she doesn’t really like those jokes bcs of how prevalent they are with us. Please help i am so confused.

Alright alright alright first rule of the crisis: do not panic (it's a bit of an oxymoron, but HEAR ME OUT) your body feels like it's being chased by a tiger. It is not being chased by a tiger. Make sure it gets the memo, because you need it up and working for Smart Decision Making and when you panic the logic part of your brain shuts down COMPLETELY (for optimising faster, running-from-tiger decision making)

Breathe in, breathe out. The tiger is not here in the room. I know the thought of making a friendship awkward (I don't even count losing a friendship for your case, seems pretty much impossible at the point) it's very, really, truly, genuinely, honestly, and all of the y words for "a lot"; fucking scary. But she isn't going to bite your head off, so think with the brain, not with the adrenaline pumps, alright??⁉️⁉️⁉️?? [shaking you by the shoulders] EVERYTHING WILL BE ALRIGHT. HIGHSCHOOL CRUSHES ARE VERY IMPORTANT BUT ALSO VERY DUMB SO,IF IT TRULY MATTERS TO YOU: KEEP THE "IT'S YOUNG LOVE AND VERY DUMB. THAT'S WHY I CAN AFFORD ENJOYING IT AND LOVING NOW" QUOTE IN MIND !!!!!! ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

🌄i'll be using colours and emojis so it's easier to keep track of the text because this'll be a long message and I know the brain hates those.

Now, I'm not exactly the romance Cassandra (although I've felt like it for almost 2 years now, with the romantic problems my friend Abril manages to collect (like pokèmon) and whatnot), i'm one of the "feels lonely even wi5h friends"-est guy you'll meet, and remember i'm the guy who hasn't told his best friend of 6 years he capital-l- Loved him for almost half of it. But it's way easier to think about solutions when you're not involved, so I'll do my best to give decent advice ‼️‼️‼️💥:

1. Starting from the bottom: (‼️‼️it COULD be just wishful thinking, be warned, but keep in mind that i'd also be uncomfortable and ashamed if my friends kept making shipping jokes about me and my close-friend-whom-i-do-indeed-dig-a-bit, (talking from experience) for a number of reasons, up but not limited to: "what if they don't like me and they find out i like them through this and everything goes to hell", "I don't like Feeling Exposed", the classic "it's none of their business to meddle in my relationships", and "it makes me feel objectified, like a character being shipped for the enjoyment of others" so i wouldn't take her feelings about the shipping jokes for a rotund no

2. I'd recommend to evaluate: YOU are a very physically affectionate person with all of your friends (moreso with her, but that's not relevant to the scientific method), but is she?? Does she hug and hold hands and use petnames and shit with other friends of hers? (please take into the equation people with whom she has been friends for as long as you, to be more precise) please come back to the classroom to share your results. I am positive she's also very touchy-feely with YOU, from what you've said,but does she ever initiate it with other people?

My usual method is "write everything down in a scientific table like a madman and make a spreadsheet at 2am" but i wouldn't recommend it unless you genuinely have no idea.

3. Good and heavenly Mary are all wlw this oblivious????????? (joking, it's just that YOU GUYS WENT AS THE MURDERER-AND-MURDERED COUPLE TO A DANCE).

4. I do not think it's a lost cause. Worst case scenario, she's in denial and/or very oblivious.

If you want to find out, I recommend to gradually level up the flirting WHENEVER YOUR FRIENDS AREN'T AROUND BECAUSE THAT'LL MAKE HER FEEL EXPOSED OR WORSE, THE LAUGHING STOCK

Maybe start with small gifts? Paper cranes and plausible deniability are my favourite pick but you know her and I don't, so go on, tiger skeleton‼️‼️it will drag on a bit but after she becomes used to it you can start making paper rings and hearts or something. WRITE DOWN EVERYTHING YOU NOTICE

If your experiments start giving positive results, and if any of you is good at makeup, ask her to do yours/ask to do hers and sit very closely until she starts to see the inherent romanticism of being a canvas/making of you friend's face a canvas

I am not joking the tension is insufferable even when you don't like-like the person doing your makeup i can promise that much‼️‼️

If none of this gives results, I recommend the Víctor Muñoz (your obedient servant)method: pining until you die🤝🤝👍‼️‼️💥💥🗣️🎉

Nah, more seriously: I do believe you have a strong shot, and wish you the best of lucks! Don't panic, she won't hurt you! Just evaluate, write down, science. Science it up until you have a girlfriend.

Loser out,

Val