#the way they’re so in sync in devils rejects

[juniperhillpatient]

me watching baby & otis commit atrocities as a duo

[nicelytousled]

As we're on the topic of a potential sequel explaining the immortality of the old guard, despite agreeing that it is probably better left alone since they would only have like 2 hours and I want Quyhn to have time to shine, I'm gonna play devil's advocate because I've been sitting on some Thoughts™ about it. What if their healing is not simply regenerative but rather reversal, a kind of time travel?

warning: this post contains body horror pls proceed with caution

I think it would be cool if their bodies were their own unique contained alternative timelines and healing was sort of like recalling a memory. When you remember an event you're not remembering the initial event itself but rather the last time you remembered it. Healing and coming back to life would mean rewinding to the last time they were healthy/alive. I think that could explain basic things like why their hair grows back the same way, why they have scars or piercing holes from before their first death, etc.

To explain what I mean in more depth let's use Nicky's spleen as an example. Let's say Dr. Kozak removes Nicky's spleen, puts it in a jar, and sets it aside. That spleen now exists in two different timelines: the timeline of the external world where it's in the jar and the timeline of Nicky's body after it reverses to the last time he had a spleen. That would also mean there's nothing remarkable about their DNA, something an anon bought up in an ask to @wickedpact which I thought was interesting. Dr. Kozak's samples would be effectively useless, just ordinary organs and tissue samples that abide by different rules of time only within the context of their bodies.

It could also explain how their bodies reject bullets and how they would be immune to disease. If their bodies are their own contained alternative timelines and all their atoms abide by different physical laws then anything that entered that differing timeline would be reversed and rejected. For example, when Nile stabs Andy if Andy hadn't pulled the knife out then eventually her body would have pushed it out by itself. I think this would also make very traumatic injuries like being beheaded easier to explain. Instead of growing an entirely new head from nothing they would instead revert back to the last time they had a head.

To explain what I mean further, if I place my hand flat against a wall then my hand and that wall are made of the same essential stuff, it's all just atoms buzzing around together in different combinations abiding by the same laws of physics. If Nile with her newfound immortality put her hand flat against a wall it would be different. Her hand and the wall would not be made of the same essential stuff because her atoms are buzzing away to a totally different tune than the wall she's touching. They can interact but they are fundamentally different because Nile's body is its own unique dimension with different rules about how time works.

Off the top of my head, I think this is interesting in regard to the story of The Old Guard for these reasons:

It might be interesting to explore exactly what results in someone transitioning from the timeline the rest of the world operates in into their own embodied dimension. We don't yet know the circumstances of Quyhn or Lykon's first deaths, but going by Andy, Nile, Booker, Joe, and Nicky they probably all share the setting of war and the experience of very intense emotion, for example, betrayal, hatred, and fear. What is it about war specifically? What is it about those emotions? What do the characters think about these shared similarities? They could dig a lot deeper than destiny and misery loves company.

It could also add some depth to how they dream of one another before they meet. The dreams are from an outside perspective, which on my last rewatch I thought was odd. It's not like you're in someone else's head when you dream of them, rather you're being shown their face from some non-existent perspective. It's like they're being orbited by something, as if they're each the centre of a different plane of reality.

It would explain how Quyhn could be awake for long enough that Nile could dream about her in such detail. Her body would be constantly returning to the point where she took her last breath, reverting to when it last had oxygen. I think that's more terrifying than the idea that she's simply regenerating, to have been submerged for hundreds of years but to have your body constantly reverting to the state it was in the last moment you had above the surface.

^ side note on the above points but The Old Guard has the potential to be a kind of cosmic horror story I think, especially from Quyhn's perspective. Her body constantly turns back time but her present remains the same and there's no escape and no way of knowing why. I might make a separate post some time about The Old Guard in relation to the fear of the unknown and the discovery of incomprehensible truths. Much to think about there.

I also think this version of immortality is interesting because it's such a contrast to how healing works for ordinary people, and how emotional healing works specifically. Healing is never about returning to the place you once were before you were hurt, something that's often impossible to achieve and distorted by memory, but rather about building yourself back up while accepting that hurt as a part of you. Both Andy and Booker are carrying around unprocessed grief, and I think it's interesting how their bodies could be so out of sync with how humans heal emotionally. That must wear on them psychologically and that could be interesting to explore.

On a much lighter note, if they are their own contained alternative timelines then maybe Joe and Nicky are perfectly in sync. Not to quote Bronte wildly out of context but I'm talking "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" kind of stuff. I'm talking when @emjee wrote "They’re a binary star system, Joe thinks. Two bodies, one single point of light.” Maybe they're perfectly mirrored, orbiting one another. Maybe because of that they're guaranteed to stop being immortal together too, I think that would be nice.

Really, I do agree with Greg that a sequel should be focused on characters and relationships rather than exploring the how's and why's of their immortality. In 2 hours it would be better to dedicate time to incorporating something like flashbacks like Greg says, maybe to show the tension between past and present with Andy and Quyhn.

I think my more general point is that if a potential sequel did explore the how's and why's of immortality, I think there might be a sweet spot where they could give us more information about how it works without revealing everything (like they did with Copley's big board of stuff). Sometimes information like that can ask more questions than it answers, and it can strengthen character arcs when interpreted by the protagonists, and I think that can be great for storytelling. Personally, I wouldn't mind seeing that in a third film.

[sometimes-i-write-4-you]

je t'aime too: Eric Forman X reader

Requested by @thatsabummer02 : Could you do an Eric Forman x Female!Reader? When Eric geeks out and the reader finds it cute but the gang makes fun of him. So for Eric’s birthday the reader climbs through his window and gives him something Star Wars related and Eric gets excited and kisses the reader then gets nervous and they confess their feelings and make out or something. Sorry if that doesn’t make sense

a\n: hope you like it!

trigger warning: cursing.

We all sat at the Forman Basement, expect from Eric, who was standing in front of the freezer, talking about star wars. Most of the people around him find it stupid and keep poking fun at his love for a Movie series, but i find it Adorable. The way he gets so excited over the movie, and the way his lips moved along to the lines in perfect sync. Whenever his mission of convincing the gang to see it again… for some reason, it made me happy, and maybe I was hoping that one day he’ll talk about me all excited, and his lips would move against mine in perfect sync.

“- and that’s why Leia and Luke are perfect for each other. I mean, both are Brave, Smart, and-” Eric explains, but Hyde had enough. “Man, shut up, you’re boring my ass off” He says, punching Kelso lightly, since our tall, self-centered friend fell asleep. “Aw, man, i was having the best dream” Kelso sighed, “i was a Jedi and i went to save Leia, and then when she kissed me for luck i got to touch her boo-” “Kelso! This is so disrespectful!” Eric cuts him off before Kelso gets to finish the sentence, although we all understood what he was about to sat. “you two are fucking nerds” Steven sighed. “I’m not a nerd, I'm horny and Eric’s star wars talk makes me sleepy” Kelso corrects, and I let out a small laugh. “Yeah, Eric is a nerd. I bet you guys he is wearing star wars underwears” Donna’s turn to contribute to the conversation. “No i don’t, i don’t even own a pair” Eric says, but Donna looks at him, her eyes screaming “we both know you do so just admit it or i will pull your pants down and show everybody”. “Fine, I own a pair, but it’s in the laundry, so, you were wrong!” Eric admits, his voice high-pitched like it gets whenever the gang makes fun of him. Steven, Kelso and Donna burst out laughing, but I just gave Eric a comforting smile.

“You guys are fucking mean” i say, attempting to calm them down. “Says the girl who told Jackie she worships the Devil only to get her off of our back” Donna says. “Hey, That was for all of us” Eric jumps in, “and I worship (y\n) for that”. “Really? Will you sacrifice your star wars boxers for me?” i say, making everyone laugh. “(y\n)!” Eric’s high pitched voice is making a comeback. “I’m sorry, it’s just.. You make it so easy” i smile at him, “if it makes it any better, i think it’s cute how much you obsess over that movie”. “Burn!” Kelso screams, and I look at him confused. “Oh, (y\n), you don’t tell a guy he’s cute” Hyde’s laughing, and Eric seems to agree. “Yeah, i think i’m gonna quit the star wars talk for now” he declares and finally sits down. “Thanks, (y\n), i can always count on your non-existing boy skills” Donna smiles at me, and then Jackie walks in. she notices me and leaves so quick i’m pretty sure i was the only one who niticed.”Jackie then re-enter the room. “Hey babe” Hyde says and gets up to kiss his girlfriend.

“Hyde, Do you know she worships the Devil? How can you hang out with her? I’m so sick of this! Stop having her around, cause i refuse to let her sin rub all over me, i am not going to hell because you have a bad taste in friends!” Jackie says, and everyone’s looking at me, urging me to confess the truth. “Jackie-” “do not speak my name, demon!” Jackie cuts me off. “It was just a fucking prank” i reply, and she calms down. “Oh. sorry i called you a demon, you were really convincing when you painted a pentagon on the floor with blood, i’m assuming it was just paint, right?” she says as she’s taking a seat in Hyde’s lap. “oh , no, I dissected a frog that day in science and got some blood- I'm kidding! It was ketchup `` I say, quitting the gory lie once I noticed her eyes widened in shock.

Eric’s birthday is tomorrow, and I suddenly have the perfect idea. “Well, I have to go now, see you guys tomorrow” I say, getting up. Eric hugged me goodbye, and I knew i’m going to feel the exact place he touched for the whole day. A round of hugs and goodbyes (Jackie was still questioning me, so she just shook my finger, scared to touch hands that summon a demon ). 

It was finally the big day - Eric’s birthday, and of course I was so smart and forgot the gift. “I’ll drop it by later” I promised to Eric, since Kitty refused to let me leave the Party.  “Cool, thanks,” he replied, reaching for my shoulder’s to move me to the right so he could go talk to Donna. She’s about to leave for college tomorrow, and this party I forced Kelso to organize along with me was half a goodbye party for her, half a happy birthday Eric. Kitty had enough of her mind with Red’s heart condition, so I took over the organisation and even came by early to make him pancakes, and not toot my own horn, but at this point I don't know what he sees in Donna he doesn't see in me. Every goddamn time she breaks his heart, and every goddamn time they end up together. When she rejected his proposal, claiming that she doesn't know if they can have the future she want for herself, their relationship got awkward and they ended up breaking up for college, since she was leaving and he was staying, and when i say they decides, i mean Donna Offered so that they can date while they are far from each other. Hyde thinks they’re done for real now, but Kelso bet him a bag of “goodies” that they’ll end up sleeping together the first weekend Donna spends home. “It sucks, ha?” Kelso says, sipping on his beer. “What are you talking about?” i asked him, hoping he dosen’t mean what i think he eans, because if his idiotic ass saw right througt it, Then Eric knows for sure. “Well, you’re into Eric, who’s into Donna, much like me, who’s into Jackie who’s into stupid Hyde” kelso explains. “Shit, Does Eric know?” I sigh, and now it’s Kelso’s turn to be confused. “Knows what?” he asks me. “That i like him” i answer, “you just said it-”. “Wait, are you really into him? I was just messing with you, god” he laughs, “but you know what we should do? We should hook up to make Erick and Jackie jealous!” he says, resting his hand around my waist and pulling me closer. He closes his eyes and leans in, but I push him away before he gets to kiss me. “No, kelso, I'm not that desperate”.

Finally I get back home, take the gift and head out to the Forman’s. Eric’s window is open, as usual, however it’s less usual that he sits next to it and looks down. “I hoped you’d come” he smiled down at me. His gift was in my bag, and so I climbed up. He cleared the way and I entered his room. “Hey, sorry I ditched you at the party, it was not very cool of me” he says as I sit down on his bed. “It’s cool man, it’s your last night with Donna, you love her and all that” i reply, keeping my eyes on the wrapped gift. The paper had a space print on, and it had a card shaped like a spaceship. “No, no. I was being shitty… shity friend” Eric insisted as he joined me on his bed. No, not like that, pervs, but i kinda wish it was. I handed him the gift. “God, (nickname), this is amazing” Eric said. “You didn’t even open it” i laughed. Looking over his shoulder, excited to see his reaction to the lightsaber toy and Luke and Han solo poster, on which I glued a picture of him and me over the faces. It wasn't perfect, but it was good enough for him to jump up and pull me into a hug. “God, you’re the best. I’m so happy I could kiss you!” He says. “I’m so happy you’re happy, i might just let you!” i replied without thinking too much,and I was surprised when his lips met mine. He pulled away before i got the chance to sink in the feeling. “I’m sorry, that wa-” he starts, but I pull his collar to match his height and bring my lips back to his. He quickly kissed back, his fingers tightened around my waist and one of his hands brush against my stomach as he reached for my cheek to pull me closer from both my places. He spins me around without breaking the kiss, slowly bending to sit on his bed. I find a comfortable enough spot on his lap, slightly opening my mouth to hint it’s okay if he wants to turn this into a french kiss. Never really understood why they call it french kiss, aren’t they supposed to be like, polite and classy? What’s so polite and classy about having your tongue down someone’s throat? I quickly dismiss the thought since it made making out with the guy I've loved gor forever much less romantic. “je t'aime” he whispered. Looks like he was thinking about what we’re doing too.

“je t'aime too” I reply in between kisses. “Actually, you’re supposed to say je t'aime aussi” Eric says while my lips move from his to his neck, “shut up, smartass, you are ruining the moment” i say. “Make me, please, make me” he says, and since he asked so nicely, my lips move back to his.

[damnzawa]

hii can i request a kageyama love alarm au pls? hope u have a lovely day 🥺🤍

MILK CONFESSIONS — K. TOBIO

Note(s): Mayhaps I love this AU with Kageyama,, mayhaps I might also do one for Kenma/Kuroo haha,, also mayhaps I might post an Aizawa smut tomorrow 👀👀 ANYWAYS,, I LOVE THIS REQUEST AAAA i love kageyama tobio,, i love haikyuu,, i love them ALL! So feel free to request anything! My AU FEST! is till open too! So request your heart out!

Warning(s): Jealous Kageyama mwehehe, Yachi x Hinata (because I do whatever the fuck I want and I say in this AU they're meant to be ok?)

—

"Oi, Kageyama." A noisy crow interrupted Kageyama's inner debate on what to get from the vending machine. There on his left, stood in his short, tangerine glory, Hinata Shoyo. Hinata seemed eager to tell Kageyama something, and it appeared fishy to the blueberry.

"What?" He asked in his usual grumpy tone. Hinata pulled out his phone and started waving it at him.

"Look! Look! Someone loves me!" What does he mean by that? Does his parents not love him or something? "I downloaded this app called 'Love Alarm'! Everyone's using it so I thought might as well try right? Anyways, it syncs with your heart and tells the person you like that you like them if you're in a 10 mile radius! It also tells you if someone likes you! It doesn't tell you the name though so it might confuse your dumb brain!" Out of all the bullshit that came out of Hinata's mouth, the last one annoyed Kageyama the most.

"Oi, who are you calling dumb?" His menacing aura could almost kill Hinata. Almost. Hinata's used to it by now.

"You!" Hinata let out an 'ow!' as Kageyama hit his tangerine head. "A-Anyways, you should try it too! I was walking down the hallway earlier and my alarm rang off! Someone loves me! In this school!"

"I don't wanna. It's a waste of time." Kageyama replied before pressing the milk button. "And that app's a fake, dumbass. Don't believe in them. It's a scam."

"Psh. You're just saying that because no one probably loves you." That made Kageyama's eye twitch. Hinata smiled in triumph as he saw the boy's expression change.

Kageyama, who had a determined look on his face, grabbed his milk and faced Hinata who had a smug smile plastered on his face.

"I'll download the app. Let's see if you're right about that, dumbass." And with that Kageyama left a smiling Hinata alone on the corridor. Grabbing his phone, he made a reminder to download it when he got home.

He'll prove that dumbass wrong. He'll make Hinata pay hell later. And he'll also see if this app's a scam or not.

—

"This is stupid." You groaned as you turned on the 'Love Alarm' app on your phone. "Why do I believe in this app anyways? It's probably a scam or something." Clearly, an app wouldn't know who you're in love with right? It's just absurd. Who could possibly make such an app?

But... it wouldn't hurt to try right?

Spotting a certain blueberry just around the corner, you took a deep breath. Thump. Thump. Thump. There goes your heart again, beating as fast as it could whenever you see the volleyball maniac. You never really know why you liked him in the first place. You two weren't close nor you were strangers to each other. You two were friends—if Kageyama even considers you that—but not like Hinata-Kageyama level. It was more like on a 'I-tolerate-you' level. You don't know everything about each other but still know enough things that are personal. You both have the same interests too, it being playing volleyball. Though you weren't in his class—you actually are smarter than him—you still talked when you can. Though, conversations with him mostly happens by the vending machine while he ponders on what to get.

Something about him just attracted you. Maybe it was his looks? Or maybe it was because of his passion? Either way, you liked Kageyama. You liked him a lot. A lot, a lot.

There was only one problem.

You don't know how to confess.

You know you were probably gonna be rejected. All Kageyama thinks about is volleyball after all. His head is a volleyball. So having romantic feelings for anyone or anything except the sport? Impossible. It's unlikely to never happen at all. You're pretty sure he'll marry the sport. So confessing? Hah. No way.

That was before Love Alarm anyway.

You figured Kageyama would have one. So, you thought of a plan to confess without him actually knowing that it's you.

Slowly approaching him, you gulped nervously. You saw Hinata approaching as well. Great, ok. If his Love Alarm rings, he'll probably think it's Hinata or something. Good.

You kept on walking, and walking, and walking. Until you heard an alarm ring. Kageyama's eyes widened as his eyes darted around until it landed on you. Your eyes widened then you fled the scene. Flustered and beet red.

Welp, there goes your friendship with him down the drain.

"Woah! My Love Alarm rang!" Hinata exclaimed happily as his eyes searched for the one who had feelings for him. "Ah! Who could it be?! I still haven't figured it out yet!" Kageyama released an annoyed sound at that. He couldn't believe it. You? You liked the dumbass? Surely you can do better than that.

Kageyama paused. Well that explains everything then.

The way you 'sneakily' glance at Hinata whenever him and that tangerine practice, or the way you act differently around him as well. Kageyama hated the fact that you seemed a lot calmer when you're with Hinata, you radiated a different aura too. But with him, you seemed nervous, always stuttering and being polite.

He glared at Hinata, who was currently daydreaming about the one who rang his Love Alarm, then stomped off.

He certainly wasn't setting to that tangerine dumbass today.

Meanwhile you were panicking behind the bushes as you watched Kageyama get angry from afar. Oh shit. He certainly didn't like that. Judging from his expression, he seemed repulsed by it. Cringing a little, you sighed and walked away.

Avoiding him it is then.

—

The past few days, you stayed dejected and it showed. Yachi worried about you and went into mother hen mode everytime she was near you. Though you appreciated the gesture, it didn't lift your spirits at all. Your mind kept recalling the disgusted look on Kageyama's face and the hatred within his eyes. You sighed and banged your head on your desk. Idiot. You're an idiot. A complete idiot. A greater idiot than Hinata.

You avoided Kageyama completely. You made sure you never crossed paths with him. You stopped buying milk from the vending machine too, opting to buy some at the Sakonoshita store on your way to school. You also took another route to get to the gym the girl's volleyball team uses. All of those in hopes that Kageyama wouldn't find you.

"Yachi-san. I'm sorry but I'm not in the mood to go over some notes today. Please leave me alone for a while." You said once you felt a presence infront of you. You were alone in the classroom until said presence came over. Silence came after. Yachi didn't say a word as you burried your head further in your desk—if that was even possible. You were about to tell her off when suddenly two Love Alarms rang, catching the attention of some passerbys.

Your head shot up once you realized what happened. Your Love Alarm rang. Who could it possibly—?

There they were. Looking as shocked as you are. Infront of you sat Kageyama, who had just turned his Love Alarm on. Neither of you said a word for a while and just looked at each other. Holy shit. Kageyama... Kageyama likes you too? How could he? Doesn't he hate you? How? What the fuck?

"I was right..." Kageyama stated making you confused. Right about what? You liking him? "This app truly is a scam." And with that Kageyama took off, leaving you in the room.

A scam?

Doesn't that mean...?

Oh.

He doesn't like you.

You knew it. You knew it, and yet you hoped he would reciprocate your feelings. What a dumbass you were. Giving yourself false hope. Looking for a sign that he might like you back.

What a fucking dumbass.

What a fucking dumbass, Kageyama was. Surely this app is fake, right?

No, it wasn't.

The app was right.

He had feelings for you.

Do you have feelings for him? If you didn't, his Love Alarm wouldn't ring, right? Besides, you two were the only ones in the classroom. So it couldn't be someone else. But surely you don't like him and Hinata right?

Right?

Kageyama groaned. Feelings are hard to deal with and this Love Alarm just made it harder.

"Oi! Kageyama!" Speaking of the tangerine devil, Hinata appeared with Yachi in tow. "I know who rang my Love Alarm now! It was Yachi-san!"

What?

What?

It was Yachi?

Not you?

Oh, he was certainly gonna confess to you later.

—

"Y/n." A blueberry volleyball maniac blocked your way while you were heading to the volleyball gym. You looked down, not meeting his eyes. After what happened earlier, you didn't want to see Kageyama ever again. You feared that Kageyama would chew you out and slap your so called friendship on your face. You feared that he'll wash everything you shared down the drain. You feared whatever his response may be. You dreaded this. You didn't want to interact with him yet but it seemed that the universe had some other plans with you and Kageyama.

"Here." A milk carton appeared in your sight. Upon closer inspection, you saw Kageyama's messy writing on it. "Take it."

"Is this some kind of a 'sorry-but-I'm-rejecting-you' gift? Because if it is, then I don't want it Kageyama. I don't want your pity."

"It's not." Kageyama replied before shoving the milk carton in your hands. "Just read it."

Sighing in defeat, you read the words Kageyama wrote on the carton.

'Thank you for ringing my Love Alarm.'

"What's this? Why are you thanking me?" You voiced out your thoughts. "Aren't you mad? You seemed mad when I rang your Love Alarm near the gym last week."

"I was mad." Kageyama answered your question making your shoulders slump. Upon seeing your dejected state, Kageyama frowned. He hated seeing you like this. He just wanted you to smile shyly at him again. Or invite him to the vending machine and waste lunch time chatting away about some random topic. He just wanted things to be back to normal. Maybe he even wants to date you. "But it wasn't because you rang my Love Alarm."

Before you can even ask him about it, he continued speaking. "I was mad because I thought you rang Hinata's Love Alarm." Your eyes widened at that. It was Hinata's Love Alarm that rang that time? It wasn't his? How could that possibly be? It was Kageyama you liked, not Hinata. "Turns out, Yachi-san's the one who rang his alarm. She was behind him that time. They confessed earlier." Oh. So, that's why Yachi left in a rush.

"Why didn't your Love Alarm rang that time then? Didn't you have it turned on?"

"I still haven't downloaded the app. I didn't believe in it. But now that I know it's not a scam, don't avoid me anymore. Come back and drag me to the vending machine every lunch." Your heart thumped once again. "Let's even get meat buns from Coach after practice." Does this mean what you think it does?

"Are...Are you asking me out or...?"

"Of course I am, dumbass. Is that a yes?"

"It sure is."

[smoljamswrites]

all is fair in love & war | bts x reader | chapter two

pairing: bts x female reader

genre: mafia!au, series fic, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut

warnings for this chapter: stalker-ish kinda? y/n is uncomfortable, mentions of abuse, my bad writing!!

a/n: hey, I’m trying my best to make the chapters longer than the previous and including more things, so please stay tuned!!

the fic playlist is here, if you wanted to hear it x

He flew down the stairs, eager to find the two at the bar and fulfill his ‘mission’. Well, if there’s anything Taehyung is good at, it’s distracting people. He was regularly sent out to divert people’s attention, and boy was he quite the distraction. With his boxy grin and beautifully sculpted face, it was hard to leave him. He couldn’t wait to see you properly! With all these years of staring at old photographs of you, he couldn’t believe this was his chance to finally talk to you. This, of course, only made him run faster. And it was at this great speed that Taehyung could barely see what was ahead of him and bounded straight into Jungkook.

“Watch where you’re going-“Jungkook started, “What? Why are you looking at me like that for?”

“Did you let her leave?” Tae deadpanned.

“…yeah, but I got her number!” he smirked, walking up the stairs smugly.

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

Your last 3 days have consisted of three things; sleeping, eating, and texting the bartender. He keeps asking when he’ll see you next and you want to see him too, you really do, but it’s too risky to leave again.

The lights behind you are blaring, good at hiding the blush forming on your cheeks. He leans in, mouth by your ear. He smells quite musky, with a touch of vanilla. It’s so sweet and hypnotizing and God do you love it! With his lips ghosting over your ear, he whispers “do you want me to take you back to your home later? Saves you paying for a taxi, I can drive you?”

You begin to fidget in your seat, squirming at the idea of him taking you home. Not because its him that would take you home - actually you find yourself trusting the bartender more as you continue to speak to him - but rather because what would happen if he did. Would he expect to come into your house? What if they notice he’s there? Would they hurt him? You can’t even get caught coming back in, let alone sneaking in another person! God how long have you been out for?

A small cough interrupts your inner dread, and you notice Jungkook beginning to stand up straight. After you quickly realise that he must have thought you had rejected him, you subconsciously reach out and grab his arm.

“um I’m sorry but I live in a dorm and you see the, um, university is very strict on having strangers on campus and so it’s not-“

“Hey, don’t worry about it, I completely understand!” he says, rather gently “but can I at least have your number?”

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

Your mind wanders back into reality as you hear footsteps heading towards the kitchen. Immediately your hands move to play with your bracelet, your eyes darting to the door of the kitchen, fingers twisting the metal on your wrist. 3 of the main members of Sin Syndicate enter the kitchen as an uneasy feeling sets in your stomach. You look up expectantly at the men, and they look down back at you. The one member, who’s name you know to be Ju-Won, walks around the table and stands directly behind you; as for the other two, one stands in front of you, on the opposite side of the table, and the other stands at the door. A tingly sensation creeps up over you, as you feel Ju-Won touching and twisting strands of your hair through his fingers. You hide the urge to cringe, as you think about the things those hands have done – the lives they have taken.

“So sweetheart, Yunseo says that you can’t keep scrounging off us anymore. You’re a big girl now, and we can’t keep paying for you, can we? You have to start working for your life now. Ju-Won suggested you could work in one of our brothels, but we don’t want you too tired for us when you come back home, so we have decided you’re going to be working at ‘Angels’. You start tomorrow!” the greasy smile in front of you makes you want to throw up.

As Ju-Won lets go of your hair, and you nod politely at the 3 members (much to your resentment) you head back into your room. It seems really out of place in this big mansion of the Syndicates. The room has a cream colour scheme and is filled by a single-bed and a small chest of drawers. Reaching around your socks in your drawer, you search for the one that hides your phone. The phone springs to life, with the brand logo flashing on the screen when you turn it on. Sitting down on your bed, notifications begin to come through.

Jungkook: Hey, how are you today? [11:34✓✓]

Butterflies arise in your stomach as you lie back onto your bed, smiling to yourself. Your fingers move faster than your brain, and before you know it you have already replied.

You: Hey, I’m alright thank you, I’m actually starting a new job tomorrow! I’m a little nervous about it to be honest, but I’m so glad to be getting out the house more! [13:26✓]

You reread the message you sent and panic. It definitely sounds like you’re being held captive, you think.

You: Yknow, getting out the house more than usual because of college and everything haha! [13:27✓]

You put your phone away in your drawer, feeling calm now that you had saved your little mistake.

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

“Um Joon?”

Jungkook, adorned in a complete black outfit, enters the living room, phone in hand. His eyes search the 6 other pairs in the room, until he lands on Namjoon’s. He nervously walks over to the couch and sits on the arm of it before continuing,

“as you know, I’ve been texting Y/N for the past few days, and well...she says she has a job?”

“A job?”

“Yeah. She said she starts tomorrow and she’s nervous. You don’t think-“

A shorter man, but equal in fierceness and determination, interrupts Jungkook’s fretting, ”Well they aren’t going to let her go and work for a legitimate place, that’d be stupid. And as the Syndicates only run drug chains, strip clubs and brothels, then she’s obviously working in one of them.”

Jungkook’s face morphs into one of outrage; almost disgust,” A fucking brothel!? They better not be sending her to work there Yoongi, I swear to God, I’ll fucking torch the lot of them”

Taehyung can’t stop himself for giggling at his younger’s outburst, “Why do you even care!? You hardly know her, and be realistic yeah? She’s probably working for one of their strip clubs to get her started, because it’s not like they’re gonna let her run riot on a drug chain. And sending her straight into a brothel? Unlikely.”

“Tae’s got a point. I’ll try and work out which one they have likely sent her too.” Their leader places his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder comfortingly, and then continues to head to his office.

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

A bright purple neon sign, declaring the title ‘Angels’ flickers above the bar. The ‘A’ has devil horns above it, completely ridding the name of its suggested innocence. Most of the place looks like it is following an open plan design. Yellow leather chairs meet black shiny counters; tacky turquoise poles stand tall on top of the surface. You are pretty sure, that just in the 2 minutes you have spent here, you have seen every colour existing.

It’s quite busy in here already to say it is only the late afternoon, you think. Men dressed in suits occupy most of the room, but you are surprised to see female clients lurking around. From all the movies you watched, you always gathered it was only men that visited these types of places. Clearly, you were wrong. Your eyes continue to search the place, whilst you are waiting for further instructions from Yunseo. On the opposite side of the room you see a raised platform, with black, leather seats and small, red, circular tables surrounding it. You quickly conclude that this must be the stage where main performances are given. Focusing on that area, you see the a few silver poles coming out of the stage. You gulp, wondering if they are expecting you to be able to pole dance. You could never do that, you muse, you can barely walk in a straight line half the time! As for the employees, they are absolutely stunning. Long hair swaying in sync with their hips, their golden skin hypnotizing every person to watch their every move. You really don’t know how you’re going to fit in here.

As you take a sip of your water, a gentleman joins you at the bar. You can’t help but to take notice of him as he orders himself a drink, engaging in conversation with the Syndicate Bartender.

“You’re new ‘round here, right? I haven’t ever seen you here before?”

“Yeah, a friend recommended me the club, said I should check it out, so here I am” the dark black hair of the gentleman is parted, allowing any lurking eyes a better scope of his handsome face.

Just as you begin to listen to the rest of their conversation, Yunseo taps your shoulder.

“Okay Y/N, you’re going to have to get practicing because I’ve booked you a performance slot ready for Saturday, and you better not disappoint us!”

“Wait? For Saturday? That’s just 3 days away! How am I supposed-“

“You’d watch your mouth if you know what’s good for you sweetheart”

And just like that your head tilts down, hands in lap. Yunseo has always scared you, and has always took advantage of this whenever he has a chance.

“Good girl,” he hums, hand moving to cup your face, “Come with me and I’ll show you where you can practice”

As you get out of your seat to follow Yunseo, through the pungent scent of sweat and arousal, the gentleman at the bar catches your eye once more. It’s the way he is looking at you that you notice the most. With a prominent frown filling his features, he seems to be thinking about something. But you don’t have time to ask him about it or continue to ponder, so you turn back around and walk after Yunseo.

The rest of the evening is filled by your frustration. Yunseo had left you in this room, filled with only a stripper pole, a speaker and leather sofa, and these 4 walls are now driving you insane. It’s not like you’re the worst dancer in the world, it’s just you don’t have enough confidence. Just when you were about to hit play on the music, someone bursts into the room.

“That’s enough for today! Yunseo told me to get you home” a member you recall being named ‘Seojun’ says.

That’s right, you smile to yourself, if Yunseo told him to fetch he’d do it – he’s like a little puppy dog, a follower, and he always has been.

As you exit the room with him, Seojun’s phone starts to ring in his back pocket. As he picks up the call, you can’t help but to watch and listen,

“Hello?......How long did he stay here for?.....I don’t think it’s too strange no…….He could have been telling the truth I guess……bring it up with Yunseo, he’ll know what to do.”

You wonder for a moment who ‘he’ was. But then you remember where you are, and that it literally could have been anyone. Seojun closes the door behind you and leads you out the back entrance to the car.

next chapter update: Saturday 1st February 2020 8pm gmt

tagging: @dearlydreadful @honeydewseoks @whimsicalwoodlands @toddsgirl27 @wendyiiwl @asifetch7 @barbyisafangirl @miraculyfe @btsxdoll @laluzdirectioner​ @slutkoo​ @bubbletae7​ @h5naaa​

let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters!

Thank you so so much for reading!

all rights reserved © smoljamswrites | 22/01/2020 | reposting my work or modifying of any kind is strictly not allowed. Translations are also not allowed.

[alloftheimagines]

billy hargrove | heaven-sent | part eleven

masterlist | series | part ten

words: 1.8k

warnings: swearing, mentions of abuse, angst

summary:  she’s an angel. he may as well be the devil. one would not exist without the other.

Billy has been driving around Hawkins for the better part of two hours. He couldn’t sleep, his thoughts tossing between his father’s abuse and everything that has happened with Frances. The night is pitch-black, the Camaro speeding past orange streetlights and merging shadows—and it’s peaceful. He doesn’t have his music turned on, doesn’t need it so much in the dark. All he needs his the whir of the Camaro’s engine whispering to him softly and the feeling of farms and forests passing him by. He can almost pretend he isn’t in Hawkins anymore in the darkness, almost pretend that the grey, uneven concrete beneath his tyres is that of a Californian road.

His headlights catch movement in his peripheral vision, breaking him out of his daydream. A silhouette is walking down the road, body half concealed by trees. As he gets closer, he recognises the brown, knotted hair and tattered, loose denim jeans. Frances. Her breath is visible against the blackness, her face washed out by the car’s lights. Of course he can still stumble across her here, in the middle of fucking nowhere, where there isn’t even a side-walk between the woods and the road.

“For fuck’s sake,” he curses under his breath, pulling up at the side of the road and opening his door. The cold bites at his fingers, and he shivers.

She doesn’t so much as look at him, continuing her determined tread, though there's no way she hasn't heard the Camaro.

“Frances,” he calls irritably, stepping out of the car and leaving the door to swing open as he follows her. She spares him a scowl over her shoulder, her arms wrapped around her torso tightly. “Frances, what the fuck are you doing walking out here at 3 am?”

“It doesn’t concern you,” she hits back, her voice hoarse.

“Frances!” he yells louder, stopping in his tracks and dragging his hair through his curls in frustration. “Will you fucking stop and talk to me? What are you doing? You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

“Like you care,” she spits, finally turning around to face him. Her eyes are glassy, numb, her cheeks and nose flushed a bright red from the cold and her lips an unhealthy shade of blue. “Were you following me or something?”

“Oh, yeah, I was following you,” he mocks, rolling his eyes. “What else would I be doing at 3 am?”

She doesn’t answer, blinking dumbly.

“I was drivin’, okay? I couldn’t sleep.”

“Well, you can carry on drivin’,” she mutters, burying her face further into her scarf, “and I’ll carry on walkin’.”

“No, you won’t,” he counters, gesturing to the car still sitting with the driver’s door wide open. “Get in.”

“No.”

“No?" he repeats in disbelief. "You gonna carry on walking until you get murdered or freeze to death?”

“Oh, give me a break, Hargrove.” Her upper lip curls in contempt as she takes a step towards him. “You wanna drive me home again, see if it’ll be a case of third-time lucky? Whatever this weird fucking act is where you pretend to give a shit, just drop it. I don’t trust you. I’ll never be stupid enough to trust you.”

“I don’t care if you trust me, Fran. Just get in the damn car and let me take you home. You can be mad at me for whatever imaginary scenario you’ve made up in your head tomorrow.”

“It’s not imaginary and I’m not stupid.”

“Coulda’ fooled me,” he spat back, anger beginning to simmer in his stomach.

“Oh, fuck you,” she says, about to turn away. “I’ve seen how you are with other girls. I know exactly what game you’re playing.”

His voice brings her back, unbearably loud in the otherwise silent night even to his own ears. He hopes to fucking God there are no houses nearby, because they’d be sure to hear their screaming match.

“No, Fran, fuck you. If you pay as much attention to me as you claim to, you’d realise there’s no one else’s bullshit I’d put up with like this. You think I go out of my way to take other girls home when they're drunk? Huh?” he questions, his voice thick with passion now. “You think I break into cars to get their shit back from their boyfriends? You think I’d even be here right now if all I wanted was to get in your pants? You’ve made it perfectly clear that that’s never gonna happen and I’m still fucking here. I still give a shit. Fuck knows why, but I do.”

The words are slipping out of him uncontrollably now, words he’s imagined saying, words he wishes he could have said earlier. “Maybe I’m a dick and a man-whore and whatever else you think of me. You wanna push me away and hate me for it? Do it. Hell, I’ll even let you, but you are not wandering around the fucking woods at 3 am in the freezing cold, no matter how much you hate me, so get in the damn car before I make you.”

He’s breathless when he finally finishes, and for a moment, so is she. Her eyes are shiny in the moonlight, cloaked by her damp eyelashes as she looks up at him. Somehow, they are closer together than Billy had noticed before. “But you tried to kiss me,” she whispered, almost as though trying to convince herself rather than him. “You said you wanted rebound sex.”

His hands slap his sides in frustration. “And you rejected me. I could have left it at that, ran off to some other chick who wanted me, but I didn’t, did I? I’m still here. You think I like stickin’ around when a girl throws me through a door and rejects me?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you.” Her expression flickers with doubt, but her voice is weak, now, and he can tell she wants to believe him.

Billy’s eyes lower to his feet as he replies, “I think you know a hell of a lot more than most.”

Frances sighs, her arms tightening around herself as the wind picks up. Billy uses his denim jacket to guard himself from it, but it cuts into his clothes and whips his hair across his face.

“I’m not getting in your car,” she says again finally, her gaze locked on something past him.

“Jesus,” he exclaims, “have you got a death wish or are you just being stubborn on purpose now?”

“I need to find them!” Her voice rises in frustration and panic.

Understanding dawns on Billy slowly, and his expression softens. “Fran—”

“No, Billy, you don’t get it.” She takes a step back from him, and just like that, they are as far apart as they were to begin with, the moment of quiet lost in the wind. “Please. I need to find them.”

Her eyes flash golden, and he wouldn’t have caught it if he hadn’t been looking. He knows to expect it now, and though he doesn’t react, his stomach twists. “You’re right: I don’t get it, so talk to me. Who’s ‘them’?”

“Him, I mean. My dad. I … I can feel it again,” Frances stutters, her hand pressing against her chest as though she is desperate to make him feel it, too. “The feeling in my chest, the dread. I felt it the night that Barb was killed and I ignored it. I can’t ignore it again now. Something is wrong. My dad … my dad is all I have left. If I lose him—”

“Alright,” Billy nods, knowing already how that sentence might end. “Alright, how about we look for him together? I’ll drive you anywhere you wanna go.”

Her attention darts hesitantly into the woods beside them, her teeth chattering as she shrinks into herself. “You wanna help me?”

“Yes, Fran,” his voice is pleading now, “I want to help you.”

“Alright,” she agrees. He can hear the exhaustion gnawing at her in that word alone. “Okay.”

“Alright.” A breath of relief slips from him as he reaches for her shoulder and guides her small frame to the car. Her cheek is like ice even through his shirt as she presses herself into him for warmth. “Jesus, you’re freezing. Have you been out here all night?”

She nods against him as he leads her to the trunk, popping it open and pulling out an old, flannel blanket. He wraps it around her quickly, and to his surprise, she lets him. Her focus is no longer on him, but on the mound of sleeping bags and pillows in the trunk.

“Do you sleep in here?”

Billy can feel his cheeks heat with embarrassment, and he closes the trunk with a slam, guiding Frances to the passenger side. “Sometimes. My house is a shit-show.”

She closes the door, and he can feel her eyes following him as he rounds the car and slips into the driver’s seat. He turns the heater on full-blast as Frances relaxes into her seat, head pressed against the window.

“Where we headed?”

“I don’t know. I’ve looked everywhere … twice. I don’t know where he could be.”

“You been home since earlier today?”

She nods solemnly, clicking on her seat-belt as an afterthought. “Yeah. Twice.”

“Alright,” he sighs, putting the car in gear. “Let’s just drive around, see what happens.”

She seems satisfied with this, and already her lips are gaining back their colour as her shivering resides. “Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she says.

“Yeah. No problem, angel. ‘S nowhere I’d rather be at 3 am.”

* * *

He pulls up in their usual spot overlooking the ravine. The sky is a murky blue as it prepares itself for sunrise, a gentle shower of rain pattering against the windshield. He glances over at Fran, who fell asleep about an hour ago and hasn’t stirred since.

He thought about taking her home and carrying her in, but he knows he’s a clumsy shit when he’s not trying to be, and he doesn’t want to risk waking her. She needs to sleep; it’s clear by the deep purple crescents forming beneath her eyes and the way her lips are pursed into a thin, permanent line.

Carefully, slowly, he reaches over to the backseat and pulls out another blanket, draping it over her. He can’t help but admire her, though he knows he’s stupid for doing it; her freckles, peppered in random places across her forehead and jaw, her neck; the way her eyelashes flutter as she dreams; the way her breath falls rhythmically, in sync with the soft breeze rustling the leaves outside. The soft light paints her skin indigo, and he can just make out the small cut across her cheekbone. His fingers tingle with the need to touch it, but he doesn’t, can’t.

Instead, he shakes his head at his own stupidity, as if that might empty his brain of the thoughts—only it’s not his brain that’s the problem: it’s that knot in his chest that makes him feel as though he is either falling or flying. Either way, he closes his eyes to free himself of her. It doesn’t work. He can smell her, still, lavender and pine buried in his nostrils and clinging to his car, his skin.

It consumes him, and he falls asleep wrapped in her.

part twelve

[diveronarpg]

Congratulations, KAT! You’ve been accepted for the role of PUCK. Admin Rosey: There's nothing that thrives more in Verona than chaos and Kat, that's exactly what you brought us - a character that exudes nothing but pure and utter chaos. Your para sample highlights perfectly the best and worst of our beloved Puck and his unapologetic satisfaction in being the best at being the absolute worst. Verona has endured many things but it has yet to endure Puck - and honestly I'm not entirely sure it will. Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Kat Age | 24 Preferred Pronouns | She/her Activity Level | I think I’ll be able to get on quite a bit! At least two or three times a week, but likely more! Ya girl dropped a whole job ya YEET Timezone | EST How did you find the rp? | I originally came across it in the lsrpg tag, also I miss y’all :( Current/Past RP Accounts | These are links to inactive past accounts! https://neosy.tumblr.com/ https://grchcmisms.tumblr.com/ https://99gael.tumblr.com/ https://halogenq.tumblr.com/ https://odinbellc.tumblr.com/ ;)

In Character

Character | Puck, Pavel Lam

What drew you to this character? | beautiful chaos and twisted humor, a spring in the step of a child-like demon, all soft face and sharp features. they live life as if there are a lack of consequences, laughing in the face of harbored restrictions and societal rules. they swindle, steal, and slice, color the world with trickery and a wicked grin. they’re absolutely flavorful, chocolate cake with bitter, poison icing, long sticks of candy cane that are licked too sharply pointed.

similar to the likeness of peter pan, of trickster gods, and all devil-may-care figures. he is forever a boy, but parading as a man, selfish and big-headed. i see potential dripping from the deepest of crevices, his heart burrowed in armoured steel, tasteless victory.

what draws me to pavel lam? sweet, sweet chaos fed to me like grapes from adonis himself. let me unleash the beast of my writing in all its absolute, unruly nature. let me shatter glasses of whiskey by chucking them towards my fireplace as i express all the ways he can shred plans like priceless documents. i crave blood-stained teeth and busted knuckles, the dance of a jester as he makes away with all the kings gold. the clanking of chains and countless rings adorning fingers, gluttony and swallowed sanity. dear god, what doesn’t draw me to this character?

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i. pride he shrugs, his silhouette not at all coy nor a picture of interest, but on the other side of a turned back there are gritted teeth and balled fists. he supposes it’s the curse of a person forced to work for their success, scramble and claw for riches. nothing tears him apart like a lack of respect, ironic and hypocritical from someone who can’t recall the definition of the word most days. he cannot stand being discounted, or ignored, more likely to smile at a drink thrown in his face than a turned back. his pride will eat him alive if he lets it, will consume him whole without mercy, and he cannot let them know how much it bothers him. he keeps secrets and lets blood pool his mouth from having his teeth sunk too harshly into his tongue. he can only clench his jaw so tight before something begins to splinter, a comment or a jest just an inch too far, just a little too close to home and something is bound to snap; an aging dam that still struggles against the weight of its burden.

tread lightly, or beware of the snakes in the long grass.

ii. greed it’s never enough, not all the riches in the world, not the most dangerous task nor highest penthouse. they can’t be sated by grandiose or any price tag, though such things are very well accepted and stolen. he will take all that is offered and more, refusing to reject any task that seems of interest, anything that feels as if others would turn it down out of fear or otherwise. these are the things that get people killed, and still he only laughs, the sight of his own blood lighting mirth and distaste. he feels no pity for himself, no self-preservation active in his mind or body. it’s only a matter of time before he finds himself in a situation that he even his wit and silver tongue cannot get him out of. danger signs do not flash so brightly to him, the dense fog filling the road in a blind search for glory and gore, his fingers grasp in the darkness and he plays it all as a game.

once and awhile, headlights cut through the mist in a warning.

iii. shame at night his muscles twitch and ache in sync with the pain in his chest, stood in his bathroom mirror with smudged glamour and horrid eyes – hurt, and disdain for his hurt. who is this person in the reflection? weak, and caked with dirt, hideous, with weighted skin under dull eyes that look pitifully vengeful? at night he stays out to avoid the man he shares his apartment with, the one who glares at him through the framed glass in his bathroom, the sleepless monster that feels everything he ignores, drunk and full of nightmares so that the pavel who works and the pavel who socializes can laugh and spit and jeer. the man who cowers under sheets and stares at blinking clocks is human, disgustingly so, and he rots and rots until he pulls his arms through decadent sleeves embroidered by gods. he does not cry, but seethes, and then he pulls himself together, all intoxicated and wild, the character, the jester, the mercenary.

he plants his hands on the cold porcelain edges of his sink, locks eyes with the reflection he sees, and laughs as if mad.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | you know me, the more pain, the more suffering, the more gain. bring it y’all.

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

he sits in the backseat of a parked stretch hummer with his legs spread in a dramatic fashion, leaned back in his seat with aloof expressions, careless posture. it’s not his car, but he dominates the atmosphere, the perfect center of attention, the other man’s eyes steadily on him, as it should be, as he intends for it to be. silvers drip from him, a newfound love of chains and jewelry, pretty and powerful. he looks unimpressed, perhaps playing his version of coy as he says, “okay, you have me here, now what on earth are you going to do with me?” all sharp teeth and glinting eyes, a modern day dionysus filled with lies and mirth, devilish words with a darkened tone, he leans forward, his elbow on his knee and his chin in his hand. pavel smells of fortunes, far from the street rat in rags, far from desperate but perpetually greedy, his grin so sharp it practically glows in the dark, could easily be imagined floating in midair, hovering above the leather seats.

they’re only here to play games, fingers gleaming with rings and itching to touch, to sully, to disrupt.

in instances like this they feel perhaps immortal, catching the light of the car overheads, the glare and tinted windows blocking the blackness of the late night outside. yes, mother, a child not designed but merely thrown together, a sloppy collection of limbs and blood becomes something beautiful, something frightening, so very terrible. a boy who had to struggle for money now carries himself as if he has had it his whole life, so comfortable in luxury, shrugging at expensive things and putting his shoes on the interior of italian leather.

“you know what you’re here for.”

pavel’s lips pull back in a wicked smile. the knife digs into the bottom of his calf in his boot.

it’s all too easy to play a part; pursed lips, crossed arms, sunglasses perched on the end of his nose. he appears petulant, perhaps wanton, poorly postured at a gala. expensive clothes but in an under dressed manner. he caught the targets attention immediately, an old married man with a high price on his head, a chunk of gold hidden in his chest, a new rolex behind his temples, and that’s all he sees now, not blood beneath flesh or rolling veins. if he is inhuman, then so is the man, objects for objective purpose, paid for in cash and carnage, a handsome face with chilling features.

he whispers lies and gets pretty words in response.

he likes it this way, business perceived as business, no fluttering eyelashes and personal questions, just the words of ‘roll over’ and a ringing, gawky laugh in response.

this is what war looks like to him now, red tinted club lighting and soaked underfoot, sleight of hand and golden letter openers, expensive bottles of wine and chandelier shards etched into skin. he suits this as well as he did sloppy street crimes, officers never minding the homeless man on homicide scenes; now they turn their backs to boys with expensive things, petty and spoiled, they assume, not worth their time. he climbs into the other man’s seat easily, a swing of legs over hips, knees fitted and he leans forward. it’s then that the feeling inside the car changes, near imperceptible to the eye but distinguishable by the way the man suddenly squirms, feeling less in control still, suddenly trapped. pavel gets close, faces nearly touching, eyes all humor. “what’s wrong? you wanna be on top?” he laughs, and the man pushes his chest, trying to get him off but pavel tightens his grip, fingers pressed tightly to the top of the seat on either side of the man’s head. “this is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he feels the panic, the surge in energy, and it’s then, in one quick motion, that he unsheathes the knife and plunges it into ribcage.

he still does his best work with messy murder, pulling the knife out and slamming it into the man’s chest a second time, the leak of blood getting on his clothes, pants and undershirt black for good reason.

blood runs red yet appears inky in the under-lit vehicle, seeping out of wounds like tar, a monster escaping a body first in slow motion and then all too quickly. bodies get cold fast to him, his interest only spanning how long it takes for the light to leave your eyes before it’s on to the next. not a minute to waste, unopened bottles of champagne lay waiting to pop, showers of wine and new gadgets and shiny things to replace the new gaping void he feels in the cars interior. it doesn’t make him quite nauseous, but something inside him rolls. disgusting. boring.

he removes his long white over shirt now tainted with red and discards it on the floor of the vehicle carelessly, leaving a black wife beater on his person and opening the door, one leg sliding out in front of the other. he stills just a moment outside the gaudy vehicle, allowing only a moment to pass before the dull click of a lighter.

Extras:

playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6BpLUvLJ5B0AShSPXzf4sT?si=xZj_nNlVTWOQqzk3K2S_Ig hc: owns gucci slides unironically

[underachievers-please-try-harder]

Interview // Rachel Chinouriri

For NME. Read online.

As career options go, criminal psychology feels like quite a leap from professional musician. The absurdity of the gulf between the two definitely isn’t lost on Croydon-based singer-songwriter Rachel Chinouriri, even if both were valid options before the latter won out. Speaking over Zoom from Carnoustie, Scotland – where she’s currently staying following a family emergency – the 22-year-old acknowledges the distinction before revealing some similarities with her current endeavours.

“It sounds depressing but I’ve always been drawn towards very sad things,” she laughs, exuding a playfulness ostensibly at odds with her melancholic obsessions. “I watch crime documentaries and I’m always researching really sad stuff because it’s more inspiring to write about. And also I have a bad habit of feeling like I can help heal everyone. So in many ways, I carry other people’s sadness and turn it into songs.”

Drawing beauty from despair is Chinouriri’s forte. It’s a skill she’s been honing in public since 2018, with the release of her sparsely atmospheric single ‘What Have I Ever Done?’, and before that at BRIT School, where she studied Musical Theatre instead of Music so as to bypass the theory-based songwriting approach she so loathed at GCSE. This prowess has already led to support slots with Celeste, Sam Fender and Lianne La Havas, plus a sync on Michaela Coel’s boundary-breaking series I May Destroy You, but there’s a sense that this latest collection will be the one to bring her before an even bigger audience.

Recorded in February 2020 with Oli Bayston (Kelly Lee Owens, Loyle Carner), Tom Allen (Yellow Days, Cosima), and Daniel Hylton-Nuamah (KAM-BU), new EP ‘Four° In Winter’ – out this Friday (April 23) finds Chinouriri digging even deeper, creating atmospheric arrangements that finally match the power of her introspective subject matter. It’s arriving three years on from her debut EP ‘Mama’s Boy’, but where that set dealt in dreamy folk and soft-focus indie-soul, ‘Four°…’ plays with production techniques, piecing together an eerie patchwork of sounds to construct an immersive new world.

The silvery pop of early single ‘Darker Place’ serves as a good entry point for the rest of the record, tackling “the battle between light and darkness”, and finding Chinouriri’s hushed vocals layered over a shimmying beat, and pulsating electronics. She credits the song with “setting the tone” for the rest of the EP, both in terms of its palette and its subject matter; a remix from Hot Chip’s Joe Goddard ups the ante even further.

Chinouriri took inspiration from some of her all-time favourite artists, channelling the haunting atmospherics of Daughter, the stirring vocal harmonies of South African a capella group Ladysmith Black Mambazo, and the storytelling of Coldplay who she defends from accusations of naffness: “I don’t care – I love Coldplay! I stand by them!” The influence of Daughter emerges in ‘Lose Anything’ with delicate acoustic guitar and rolling waves of reverb, and again in the eerie tape loops driving ‘Plain Jane’. Listening to the collection as a whole, you come away with the sense she might finally be able to dismiss the lazy R&B tag that’s followed her, simply by virtue of her Zimbabwean heritage.

“If you Google me now you’ll find so many references to R&B, and it honestly stresses me out so, so much,” she grimaces. “When I used to make music and not show my face it was always like ‘Here’s this indie, guitar-playing woman.’ And as soon as I started taking press pictures it was like, ‘She’s R&B,’ or ‘She sounds like Lauryn Hill’ And I’m like, I do not sound like Lauryn Hill at all.”

It’s an insidious microaggression every bit as unacceptable as the relentless, racist bullying she suffered in her early years at senior school in south London, where she was one of only six students of colour. “On the first day [of school] I got pushed into a wall, called the n word, and called a slave, and it was just continuous for three years until I enrolled myself in a new school,” she recalls with a depressing calmness.

Chinouriri is similarly measured when relaying her recent experiences in therapy, in which she was diagnosed as “codependent” by her counsellor. It’s the same disarming candour that characterises her songwriting on ‘Four° In Winter’, which delves into mental health struggles (‘Darker Place’), heartbreak (‘Give Me A Reason’) and even suicidal thoughts (‘Lose Anything’). “I’ve attempted suicide before,” she says when asked about the latter song. “It’s strange because when you end your life it is final; it’s a permanent resolution to temporary issues. So the song is me saying ‘What will I lose by making such a permanent decision?’”

Then there’s ‘Plain Jane’, which delves into some of the more toxic traits brought out by romantic rejection. “People stalk their exes online, and then they look at their new partners and feel some sort of satisfaction that they’re better looking than them,” she says. “It’s so horrible, but it seems to be a healing factor for so many people.”

In the pre-chorus she paints herself as a vengeful presence akin to Medusa, a theme that’s further explored in the accompanying visuals “I did the music video for it yesterday before I came here, and you know how my family are super devout Pentecostal Christians? Well, I sent pictures of me holding onto this snake and they were like, ‘Oh my goodness, this is the devil!’”

“What I want people to know before they listen is that I have put my most vulnerable self at the forefront on this EP,” she says when asked about listener interpretation. “Every single situation I’ve struggled with in my life, and some of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with mentally. It’s what I’m using to heal and hopefully it can heal others.”

So there it is: for all the exquisite sadness in her songwriting, Chinouriri is using darkness to help encourage listeners towards the light.

[mistakeiwontmaketwice]

justice-driven​:

Diana can recognize the idle expression of wheels turning. While the amazon was granted gifts by the god’s … she was not versed in mind reading, and as such - the one they call ‘ Black Widow ‘ was unknowable to anyone just trying to scratch the surface. ( A trait that Diana admired, in the same way she had secretly come to loathe her own openness. ) It would seem no one understood her complicated exit from the team she had helped build from the ground up or the bonds that had been shaken when no one could talk her into staying.

“ I hurt them, when I left like I did - I think they’re avoiding me. The league didn’t need me to help run it when it had the core powerhouses of the Bat’s ethics and Superman’s Morals. I was just the peacekeeper between the two sometimes and the devil’s advocate at other times. It’s more complicated than it seems and now they’re avoiding me. “  

Not that she’d necessarily want anyone to understand. It all hurt to admit out loud, but she was past the point of keeping it bottled up. Her time away had helped her prioritize regulating her emotional well-being … as much as it felt like a weakness these days. 

“ I don’t profess to know any organization outside of my former one. I just don’t want to see this world torn apart and I know there’s strength in power and knowledge and numbers. I’m still … I’m still trying to help. Even if no one wants it. “ Diana said wearily. No, she doesn’t know anything outside of the fact these people all have incredible gifts and abilities too. Maybe her colleagues would listen and make time for them ? It was the last shot she had, and she’d finally been granted a little head way. Now, she was afraid of losing it. 

“ Don’t underestimate Lex. I know I don’t have to tell you that - but he’s got friends all over and they’re all in better sync than any of us imagined. I have documents I’ve been making myself if you’d like to compare notes and see them. “ The offer leaves Diana’s eyes wide. 

Bingo. 

She’s been gifted an opportunity to talk, for either reassurance or rejection and ridicule. Either way, she wants to talk it. 

“ Of course, and thank you. I owe you … fighting my way out was seeming like a more inevitable possibility the longer I talked. I’d rather not have needed to do so. “ 

She offers the first hopeful smile she’s mustered in a long while. 

“ We won’t be interrupting anything, will we ? When we speak to them ? “ 

Most would say that Natasha had a resting bitch face. That was what she was used to hearing, anyhow. Though, no one ever said it directly to her. It was something that she overheard whispered in the halls of SHIELD. She wasn’t certain that she agreed with assessment. At the same time, she didn’t hate that they believed it. Largely, it led to others leaving her be. As she didn’t really enjoy interacting with most and loathed small talk, she was glad that most were too afraid to even approach her. 

It lent to quiet days, unless Clint happened to find her. 

The words about what Diana’s place had been resonated with the Spider. It was often the place where she was within the team. The peacemaker between whatever little spat broke out between the members. The constant unspoken competition could be draining. “I’m sure that you’ll work it out. I’m sure that they miss you,” she intoned softly. 

It seemed to Natasha as though Diana was hurting and feeling replaceable. There had been times, with Yelana, that she could relate. However, she was uncertain if it was the same thing. “I don’t think that anyone would tell you no,” she insisted quietly. 

“I have no intention of underestimating the man. Though, I don’t know that I’d call them friends. More like people he’s manipulated in some way.” She commented, giving Diana an opinion that she had had for some time. “Exchanging notes would be a good thing,” she agreed with a bit of a nod. 

"I don't think that we'll be interrupting anything. I happen to know that they're home," she explained. Clint had already begun texting her in order to talk her into either making or picking up dinner for him.