#they need the theme riff in there

[essektheylyss]

adding Oingo Boingo's Weird Science to my list of critical role animated amvs to make one day (the other of course being Wage Wars Get Rich Die Handsome)

[marc--chilton]

heyyyy i got a name! i would now like to take the time to specify that the emoji is NOT a guitar it is a BASS guitar is for pathetic losers who can't handle the better clef (joking about guitar being pathetic but bass IS superior by a lot, do you think my fingers can bend that way for chords? they can't)

i love the idea of bulking up around ruts. it sounds super inconvenient, and i like it when fictional characters suffer. is it like "oh dangit i ate a big meal and now my pants are digging into me" or is it focused on the upper body? do they have to buy separate clothes for around the ruts when the regular ones don't fit?

house really does have a great kubrick stare. i think that house being autistic is the closest thing to canon as possible when the canon has said he isn't. but he is. and arguably so is nearly everyone else except cameron. what i don't think gets enough love is ADHD Chase and Kutner, which is odd to me because those two would score horribly on that test where you spend 15 minutes not clicking for an X but clicking for every other letter and also trying to not double-click for a letter. i think it's the connors test. i could be wrong. my point is they SCREAM ADHD to me but i can't seem to find others who agree with me there. do you agree with this conception of them?

do heats/ruts screw with medications? like. does ibuprofen work to reduce fevers in heats? does your dose need to increase during heats to accommodate heightened metabolism? does your dose need to decrease around ruts to accommodate lowered metabolism (if that's what helps the bulking)?

-🎸

hmmm i suppose that could be partly genetics too. like some people get some beefy arms, some just get a gut, or a fat ass,

given that it's highly encouraged for alphas to stay at home for their ruts, most don't bother with actual pre-rut outfits since the window of pre-rut bulking to holing up at home or a hotel for the rest of the cycle is pretty small, opting instead to go with sweatpants and breathable tees. so there's probably some who have rut loungewear specifically but most are fine with just a handful of stuff

i can see adhd chase and kutner totally!! i haven't really thought about it but those sound 110% feasible to me. i don't have adhd myself but i'm part of that trifecta of adhd/autism/anxiety so like i can See it, yknow....... i'm understand you........ also i love "except cameron" i'm just imagining she's their token neurotypical friend. which is even funnier when you notice how normal she thinks she is but she's soooo not. i didn't forget about that HIV bit girl

as for medication....... good question. ibuprofen works in a pinch as a fever reducer, yes, but someone in heat will burn through it faster than they can safely ingest more. those with heart conditions probably need dr visits after their cycles due to the strain it puts on them, and given their results may have their medications adjusted. alphas bulking up for their ruts actually will need smaller doses of some medications because their bodies aren't absorbing everything taken in. think of it like stockpiling. when they come off their rut after having taken their normal medication regularly, it isn't outside the realm of possibility to overdose from backlogged meds

[cherry-bomb-ships]

Hello beautiful followers here I am once again asking you gently to listen to Cortex's boss theme from Crash 3 cuz even if you know nothing about this series, I think everyone deserves to hear this ABSOLUTE banger

[beevean]

Mega Man X3

Volt Catfish

[neocitylights]

SUMMARY: As you move into the building, your mysterious neighbor’s music becomes a quiet—and secret—comfort to your heart, enough for you to send them an anonymous letter. When you unexpectedly meet Mark, your connection soon growing between late-night conversations and shared meals, you find yourself falling in ways you hadn’t expected. Curiously enough, as your worlds start to overlap, you realize that there’s more to Mark and your mysterious neighbor than you’ve ever imagined. GENRE: Romance, fluff, non-idol au, strangers to lovers, songwriter!Mark WORD COUNT: 9.1k WARNINGS: Cursing, suggestive themes

Moonlight welcomes you home as you finish yet another long day of seemingly endless lectures, the gleam slipping through the curtains of your living room as you slip off your shoes, dropping the heavy book bag by the door. 

The apartment is quiet, as you’re coming home a little later than usual, and with a chaotic day behind you, all you need is a hot shower, a warm meal and the softness of your bed.

As you’re stripping your top off, halfway through the bathroom, you hear it—the soft, slow notes from a piano drifting through the walls of your neighbor’s apartment and into yours. The mysterious, upstairs neighbor, as you like to call them now. 

It’s not the first time that the music makes its way into your place. Even though you’re yet to meet whoever resides right above you, with an impressive array of instruments at that, you’re always delighted to hear them play, especially during days like today where you’re exhausted both mentally and physically.

Today, you can recognize the melody, but can’t quite put your finger on which song it is. 

Making a beeline for your bedroom instead, you sink into your bed, half-dressed as you let the sound take over your mind. A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, your brain subconsciously filling the gaps as you start to hum the melody along. 

Your mysterious neighbor and their music had slowly become a source of unexpected comfort to you. 

Some days, you hear the delicate strumming of a guitar. Other days, the lightness of wandering piano notes. On special days though, you listen to the bold, intense riffs of an electric guitar instead. Every day, you welcome it, each time feeling a lullaby meant only for one night.

With the music still playing in the background, you follow through your routine in an almost dreamlike state. The mysterious neighbor plays long enough to last through your shower, unknowingly kind enough to give you the joy of having dinner with your own private live performance too. 

As it stops, the silence almost feels awkward. 

You can’t help but innocently imagine your neighbor, just a few steps away as they tuck in the instrument for the night, completely unaware of their unknown faithful audience. 

The day is already drawing out to be a chaotic one.

As you dash out of your apartment in a rush, just barely hanging onto your bag and the coffee thermos in your hands, you mentally kick yourself for ignoring the alarm an extra time, fooling yourself that it was safe enough just for today.

You’re already unusually late, and to make matters worse, you’d dropped half of your notes as you were fumbling to lock your apartment and the elevator’s seemingly taking a lifetime to arrive at your floor. 

A sigh escapes from your lips at the familiar chime of its opening doors.

You can’t help the clumsy commotion as you finally step into the cubicle, head down as you try to organize the mess of crumpled papers inside your bag, completely oblivious to the current company watching you with curious eyes. 

It’s only when you literally bump into them that you finally look up, eyes wide in surprise. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” you start, stepping back with an apologetic glance. “I swear I didn’t see you here.”

The guy offers you a quick, friendly smile, shoving his hands into his jacket’s pockets as he backs away, giving you more space. 

With a hint of a chuckle laced to his voice, he shakes his head. “No worries.”

Attentively, you glance at him with a discrete side-eye—quickly recognizing him as a fellow neighbor from a few late night lobby encounters, usually when you’re coming back from school after TA days. He looks a little different today, hair shorter and a few shades darker, though the laidback, somewhat shy vibe around him stays the same.

Since you’re still rather new to the building and haven’t met a lot of people your age yet, you can’t beat your curiosity whenever he’s around. It doesn’t help that he’s also undeniably cute, with a quiet sort of charm that only adds to his character.

As the elevator’s doors finally close, you clumsily attempt to adjust your bag again, just for your thermos to clatter against the floor as you fumble around the attached keyrings. 

It rolls around for a second before your neighbor swiftly reaches down to grab it, soon handing it over to you with a small smile. “I’m guessing this is an essential for busy mornings, right?”

You laugh, feeling a little flustered as your cheeks warm up. “You’ve got no idea. Sorry again, I swear I’m more composed than this.”

“I know,” he says, offering a nod as his smile grows bashfully. “I’ve never seen you around this hour, so I’m assuming you’re probably late.”

You pause, caught off guard by his words. 

Given that you’ve only exchanged brief glances and polite smiles here and there whenever you met, it’s a surprise to know he’s observant enough to have noticed your routine at all. It makes you wonder if he’s noticed other things too, as you have with him.

“Very late,” you finally respond, offering a rather chagrined smile. “Not a very smart decision to ignore your alarms for a few more minutes of sleep, I guess.”

Visibly very entertained with your chaos, your neighbor shrugs as a chuckle escapes from his lips. “We’ve all been there, don’t stress too much about it.”

The elevator stops before you can reply, both of you stepping out into the lobby once the doors open. There’s a brief pause between you before he clears his throat, looking somehow both hesitant and effortlessly poised as he opens the building’s door for you to walk through first. 

“Hey, good luck today,” he says, shooting you a sheepish wink as he nods. “It’s gonna be a better day from now on, trust me.”

Taken aback by the rather endearing attitude, you laugh, nodding back at him in delight. “I trust you.”

As you start the walk toward the station, you find yourself briefly glancing back over your shoulder, just in time to catch him watching you for a second before he turns around and heads off. 

With the aroma of your burning candles spreading through the living room, your Friday evening falls to a quiet, hardly earned, peaceful break from work and school. 

After a week of quizzes, readings, papers and presentations, it’s the first time in a while that you don’t have to think about the next assignment on your to-do list or papers waiting to be graded. 

Under the dim lights of your apartment, you’re comfortably curled up on the couch with a cozy blanket, savoring the brief weekend pause. 

Almost as if they knew exactly what you needed to add to your little atmosphere, sensing just the perfect time, you hear the faint harmony of the mysterious neighbor’s piano keys through the walls. Tonight, the notes are slower, gentle, almost as warm as the candles’ flames. 

Completely taken by the music once again, you only break out of your reverie as you spot your journal on the dining table. Suddenly inspired, you decide that it’s only fair that your neighbor knows how much you appreciated their music—even if you have no idea who they actually are, apart from the fact that they’re right over you. 

Without a second thought, with a pen and paper in hands, you let your heart write. 

Dear neighbor,

Even though I’m not sure who you are or if we’ve met, I wanted to thank you through this letter. I’ve heard you play for a while now, and I can’t tell you how much comfort and happiness your music brings me. It truly brightens my day, takes a weight off my shoulders at night, pulls me away from my hectic days and gives me a moment to just breathe and appreciate the beautiful things in life.

I don’t know if you’re playing for anyone, or if it’s just for yourself, but I hope you know that I’m always amazed by it and how much it matters. You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home. Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires. 

Gratefully,

Your neighbor

It’s already past midnight as Mark settles at the quiet studio, only a handful of people left in the building after a long day of brainstorming meetings for the next label releases. 

Staring at the blank pages of his beat-up notebook, Mark starts to feel the fatigue catch up to his body, brain most definitely clocked out for the day as he can’t seem to think of anything but the annoying ache on his neck. 

As he taps his pen against the crumpled paper, a small, folded letter rests neatly tucked between its worn pages—one that he might or might not have read at least a dozen times since finding it under his door a few weeks ago. Needlessly to say, Mark was nothing but surprised by the letter, moved by the thoughtful, kind words written by his neighbor.

Every time he reads it, a rather satisfying warmth takes over his chest, as if the person who’d written it knew something deeply personal about him without even knowing who he was, or even his name.

Too absorbed in his thoughts, Mark startles as Haechan and Johnny burst into the studio, both laughing until the youngest notes his friend’s guarded face. 

“You look suspicious,” Haechan starts, eyes playfully scanning the studio in distrust. “I hope you aren’t doing anything nasty around here. We use this studio too, you know.”

Mark rolls his eyes, closing the notebook with a sigh. “You really need to learn how to shut up sometimes, Haechan.”

Quietly taking in the scene, Johnny leans over Mark, curiously eyeing the piece of paper sticking out of his notebook, distinctly decorated with a red star sticker at the top. “What’s that?”

The two youngest follow Johnny’s finger, pointing at the notebook on Mark’s lap.

As Mark’s stomach drops, he quickly attempts to tuck the letter back inside, distracting his friends from catching a glimpse of it. “It’s nothing, just something I was scribbling on.”

“No way,” Haechan starts, turning to Johnny with the widest grin on his face. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking? Is that a love letter?”

“No,” Mark awkwardly cuts off, feeling his cheeks heat up under his best-friends’ scrutiny. “Who even sends love letters nowadays?”

Johnny scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “You would.”

“He fucking would,” Haechan repeats, eyes wide as if he’s having an epiphany. “Holy shit, you’re so corny, Mark.”

“I mean, Mark wasn’t the one making up excuses to stalk his mom’s employee every day, you know,” Johnny taunts, laughing when Haechan mocks an offended glance at his older friend. 

Not able to resist their curiosity, knowing that he was eventually going to bend anyway, Mark sighs. “It’s a letter from my neighbor. Sometimes I play some music at home, whenever I’m stuck with something from here,” he explains quietly. “I guess they’ve been listening to it? I don’t know who they are but they left a letter to me a few days ago.”

Johnny and Haechan exchange a look, the latter letting out an incredulous laugh. “Your life is ridiculous. You got a love letter from your neighbor?”

“It’s not a love letter,” Mark argues, rolling his eyes. “It’s more of an… appreciation letter.”

Johnny nods, a knowing look taking over his face. “Can we read it? It’s fine if you don’t want us to, though.”

“It’s not fine.” Haechan frowns, a dramatic note to his voice. “What do you mean Mark got a love letter from his neighbor and we can’t read it?”

Mark does hesitate for a moment but ultimately hands the letter over to Johnny, watching his friend open the paper with careful fingers. 

It’s funny to hear someone else read it. There’s a mix of embarrassment and a strange sense of satisfaction in his chest as Mark listens to Johnny’s voice say the words he’s read so many times by now, enough to have memorized it. 

The letter sounds different—now that’s disconnected from him and no longer kept a secret, it definitely feels more real, more genuine. 

“You make the building feel a little warmer, my apartment feel a little more like home,” Johnny finally reads, noticeably taken aback by it. “Please, keep playing to your heart’s desires.”

Haechan breaks the silence as Johnny finishes, looking as impressed as his older friend. “Damn. That was…” 

“Actually really nice,” Johnny completes, a little more serious than Mark expects. “Do you have any idea who they are?”

Mark shakes his head, taking the letter back from Johnny’s hand and tucking it back inside his notebook. “No idea. I’m not sure if I want to know either.”

Haechan raises an eyebrow, grinning knowingly. “Are you really fine with never finding out who they are?”

For now, there’s something about the mystery that keeps it just for him. For now, Mark thinks that knowing might change the feeling, make it somehow less special. Besides, if the future wants him to know, then he’ll probably know.

As his fingers tap the notebook, almost as if sealing the secret inside of it, Mark nods. 

“Maybe it’s better that way.” 

A few hours into the evening, the small venue is already buzzing with energy, voices blending with the smooth, laidback background music of the cozy bar. 

Mark’s not a stranger to the place, having attended a few open mics before with Johnny as a sidequest from his actual job. Today is a special day though—given Jaehyun’s giving a surprise secret performance of his new EP, it’s only fair of Mark to show his friend some support, especially after having worked on some of his songs together.

Besides, as a genuine music lover he does enjoy the atmosphere, the rawness of live music never failing to lift his mood even when he’s tired and overworked. 

At the back of the bar, Mark waits for Johnny with a pint of beer in hand, his eyes trailing through the place as he watches a few artists cycling through with their instruments here and there. 

Out of all things that could possibly happen tonight, Mark most definitely isn’t expecting to spot you there of all places.

Just a few feet away, you step by the bar with your friends, chatting and laughing as you approach the counter to place an order. He holds his breath for a moment, waiting for you to notice him as you briefly glance around. Convincing himself to play it cool, Mark swiftly turns his attention back to the bartender.

Just as his hand closes around his drink, he feels a presence stepping up beside him, a hand tentatively touching his arm.

“Hey neighbor,” you greet him, eyes bright in recognition as a smile tugs on your lips. “Seems like we’re running into each other everywhere lately, huh?”

Mark smiles back, feeling both glad and a bit nervous that you ultimately decided to approach him. “Seems like it, yeah. Though I’m a little surprised to see you here, to be honest.”

“Why?” You laugh, surprised. “I know it didn’t seem like it that day, but I am a normal person, you know.”

“Shit, no, I don’t mean it that way,” Mark objects right away, wide-eyed as he fumbles with the glass of beer in his hands. “It’s just that I’ve been here a lot so I kinda know the crowd, I guess?”

You hum, moving to lean over the counter right beside him with a frown between your eyebrows. “I don’t think we’ve ever introduced ourselves properly, have we?”

As you give him your name, reaching out a hand to him with an amused smile on your lips, he can’t help awkwardly taking the handshake. When the hold lingers for a second longer than expected, Mark realizes he’s holding your gaze for just as much.

Playing it off with a cough, he pulls back to clumsily gesture toward the stage. “So, do you know anyone… you know, performing tonight?”

“Not really. My friends found this place, I just thought it’d be cool to check it out,” you explain, curious eyes glancing around. “What about you? If you’ve been here before, I bet you know someone.”

“Yeah, my friend Jaehyun is actually doing a few songs tonight.” Mark rubs the back of his neck with a timid smile. “Just thought it would be cool to support him.”

“That’s nice of you,” you say, face softening with a small smile. “I’ll check out him too, then.”

He almost wishes you don’t. 

Though Jaehyun’s got this long distance on-and-off thing with a girl he met during one of his concerts, the man is not only mad talented but also has insane looks, a combo that Mark’s seen girls fall for countless times by now.

Either way, he just smiles back with an appreciative nod. “He’s crazy good, you’ll definitely love his music.”

A call from your friends cuts the conversation short and as you glance over your shoulder, they’re waving you over with a handful of drinks. 

You seem to hesitate a little, looking back at him with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I probably should get back to my friends.”

Hoping he doesn’t look too disappointed, Mark shakes his head. “It’s all good, it was nice seeing you around anyway,” he starts, pausing for a second before casually reaching out for his phone. “I was thinking if I could get your number? It’s fine if you don’t—”

You gently take the phone off his hands, visibly holding back a smile as you start typing. As he catches a glimpse of the screen, Mark chuckles at the door emoji added next to your name. 

Before you disappear into the crowd with your friends, you give him one last glance over your shoulder, eyes locking onto his own as your smile widens. 

“I’ll see you, Mark.”

The following days, Mark spends way too much time debating himself whether to text you. As a well-kept secret in his mind, he’s also been obsessively replaying your interaction ever since that night, a little taken aback by his own sudden interest in you. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ever let his eyes wander whenever you coincidentally met around the building, but up until that night you were only that—just one of his neighbors, a pretty girl he happened to run into every once in a while. 

Now, curiosity is getting the best of him and Mark can’t help reading too much into the situation.

Home earlier than usual, he sits at the couch with his guitar on his lap, though now long forgotten in his reverie. As he stares at your name in the contact list, Mark reminds himself that you gave him your number after all.

So he hopes that means something, especially when finally hitting send on the message he’d backspaced one too many times. 

5:11PM Hey neighbor Just found this new place with crazy good food and music in the neighborhood Any chance you’re free tonight?

5:15PM Hi Mark! I’m so sorry I’d love to but I’m stuck at uni until late today Rain check?

Though the anticipation in his chest crumbles to disappointment, Mark plays it off. You hadn’t exactly said no, so he settles to make the interaction as casual as possible, just about to type a quick reassurance when another text pops up. 

5:17PM Actually If you’re free, I could use some company here I’ll buy you dinner if you save me from work for a few minutes

No more than an hour later, Mark’s walking through the campus with two brown paper bags in hand, hoping that a classic combo is a safe enough bet for you to like it. Nearing the library, he spots you waving at him by the building’s steps with a growing smile on your face. 

“Hey Mark,” you greet, walking over with curious eyes at the bags in his hands. “I thought dinner was on me?”

“It seemed like you needed a break,” Mark points, giving an awkward chuckle. “It’s not fancy or anything so don’t worry about it.”

The sun’s just about to set as you walk him to a nearby bench, in a spot secluded enough that there’s only a couple of students around, mostly rushing past without a single glance. 

Accepting the bag from his hands as you sit down, your eyes light up at the sight of the huge burger and fries. “Mark, I could kiss you right now,” you start, taking a single fry as you grin at him. “This is exactly what I needed.”

He chuckles, trying to mask the impact of your words despite the warmth spreading through his neck. “I wasn’t sure what you liked so I hoped the basics were a safe choice.”

“This looks way better than I was planning,” you confess in between your bites. “You seriously saved me from going insane.”

“Hey, I don’t think I’ve asked what you study.” Mark frowns, trying to remember if he’s ever noticed something that could’ve hinted at it.

“I’m doing a masters in political science,” you answer, chuckling timidly as his face shifts to an impressed look. “I’m also doubling as a teaching assistant for undergrad, hence why I’m still here grading assignments and going crazy.”

“That’s amazing,” he replies, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth. “How do you like it? It sounds like hard work.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean back on the bench with a groan, momentarily forgetting about the food. “It definitely seemed easier when I was applying but I do love it. I’m also really good at it, even if my thesis runs me to the ground sometimes.”

“I bet you are.” Mark nods, voice laced with a playful touch. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way but you seem like the type who’s got it all under control.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I’m glad you already forgot about the last time we met back home,” you say, glancing over at him with curious eyes. “What about you? What do you do, Mark?”

Suddenly feeling a flicker of self-consciousness in the back of his brain, Mark hesitates for a second. Even though his job sounds fancy to most ears, people usually recognizing him as a writer of sorts, it almost sounds comical when compared to what you do. Strangely enough, despite his genuine love for music, it’s not the first time Mark feels small over it. 

As he rubs the back of his neck, the answer sounds as ordinary as possible. “It’s kinda all over the place, actually. Mostly creative stuff, I guess.”

You raise an eyebrow, visibly intrigued by the vague response. “It sounds like you’re a secret agent but can’t actually tell me the truth. Am I right?”

Mark smiles sheepishly, relieved at your easy acceptance. “To be honest, I feel like I’d be terrible at that,” he says with a grimace. “I think I’m decent at my actual job, though.”

You hum softly, seemingly still interested despite his awkwardness. “Well, you can tell me all about it later.”

As you effortlessly move the conversation by mentioning the open mic, not leaving your love for Jaehyun’s songs out, the evening soon settles upon you. There’s a whole lot Mark knows about you now—from your favorite songs to your favorite students, the places you dream traveling to, even childhood stories.

When you finally walk back to the library, it’s late enough that the campus is completely quiet. As Mark stands a few steps down from you at the same stairs again, a strange sense of comfort warms his chest.

“Are you sure you don’t need me to wait for you?” he asks for a second time, watching you with a hint of concern. 

You sigh, shaking your head with an amused glance towards him. “I told you it’s fine. My friend’s already waiting for me at her place, anyway.”

Mark nods, reluctantly agreeing. “Text me so I know you’re safe?”

You smile softly, nodding back. “I promise.”

Moving closer, you lean over him from the few steps up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, lingering for a second too short. Mark swears that his skin is on fire, the spot tingling even after you pull back. There’s a quiet pause before you turn around, giving him a final wave before disappearing into the building.

Pleasantly surprised with how comforting and fun the last-minute meeting with Mark was, the details of the night silently stuck with you for the next few days. 

Though it seemed like a simple gesture then, you’d completely turned your brain off from the stress of your routine for a few hours, instead staying immersed in your own growing intrigue about him. There was something undeniably sweet and endearing about your neighbor, leaving you craving for more time to know him better.

Admitting to yourself that maybe you do want to see Mark again, you also want to repay his gentle favor. 

When you text him an impromptu dinner invite at your place, secretly anticipating his answer with nervous eyes glued to the screen, you’re most definitely not expecting a knock at your door just a few minutes later.

Despite the casual stance, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, Mark looks slightly out of breath as he stands outside your place. “Uh—hey, neighbor.”

“Do you live next door?” you joke, stepping aside to let him into your apartment. “You surprised me. I was waiting for you to reply to my text first.”

“You caught me.” Mark shrugs, slipping his shoes off with a bashful smile. “Did I come too early? I can come back later if you want.” 

Leading him inside, you gesture towards your small table, already set with the ridiculous amount of pizza you accidentally ended up baking to stress relief. “You’re actually just in time. Think you can handle the consequences of my poor measuring skills?”

He bursts into a laugh, taking in the scene with wide eyes. “Wow, this is… it feels like an italian restaurant in here.” 

“I feel like you’re making fun of me but I’ll let it slide because you’re a first timer around here,” you tease, pushing him towards a seat at the table. “Sit down, I’ll help you.” 

Both settled in, as the food’s plated by you under Mark’s protests, the conversation naturally flows.

“So, I was thinking,” you start carefully, watching out for his reaction. “You said you’re into creative stuff, right? Does that include writing?”

Mark looks slightly surprised for a second, then opens a smile. “Kind of. I have this habit of writing down random thoughts, stuff that I see outside whenever I go out, you know?”

“Like journaling?” you ask, pausing between a few bites with your interest piqued. 

“You could call it that.” He nods, thoughtfully running a hand through his hair. “Most of the time it turns to a few loose bits of stories. Like, scenes that play in my head.” 

“I think I’ve figured out your job,” you say, giving him a playful side-eye at the visible tension on his face. “I’m pretty sure that you’re some best-seller ghost writer. Maybe a pen name writer or something.” 

“I guess I can’t tell you then,” he teases, a contrast to his shy smile. “What about you? Aren’t you writing a thesis? That’s some serious writing if you ask me.” 

Despite the excitement, you can’t help an exhausted groan at the thought of your own writing. “It seems easier than looks that’s for sure,” you reply with a nod. “Like I said, I love it and I’m actually nailing it… but I do have a breakdown over it every two weeks or something.” 

Taking your answer as a cue, Mark unexpectedly tosses a few questions here and there, leaving you a little stunned at how effortlessly he seemed to ponder over your study. With him attentively hanging onto your every word, you almost catch yourself giving him a long-winded lecture about the subject. 

“Let’s stop talking about this or I’ll never shut up,” you whine, noticing the food’s nearly done. “We’re talking about me too much.”

Mark chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You know I don’t mind,” he says, eyes wandering around your small place for a moment until stopping at your bookshelf. “I’m a little curious about what you’ve got there. Would you mind if I check it out?” 

“Not at all,” you answer, gesturing for him to step closer for a better look. “It’s a chaotic collection, though. There’s pretty much a bit of everything in there.”

As he stands in front of your mess of a bookshelf, Mark runs his fingers through a few spines, attentively eyeing the titles. “I don’t really know a whole lot about books but I can spot some classics here.”

You nod, moving closer to stand beside him. “I haven’t read a few of these in a long time.” 

Glancing over with a knowing smile, he gives you a playful nudge. “Any recommendations?”

Pausing for a second, you briefly mull over a few options before settling on a shorter one, the book's cover instantly earning a laugh out of Mark as you hand it over to him. Though as he reads the title, his gaze turns pensive and you can’t help a fond smile from growing on your lips.

“You can have this one,” you say quietly, Mark breaking out of a trance as he turns to look at you again. “Tell me what you think of it later.”

Mark offers a soft smile, tapping the cover with his fingers. “I'll trust your judgment,” he murmurs, eyes alight with a playful glint. “Maybe I should let you read some of my stuff, then.”

“Maybe I have already,” you tease, arms crossing over your chest as you stare him right back. “If you’re a writer under a pen name, you could be the author of any of these books as far as I know.”

“I’m not that secretive about my writing, I promise.” He smiles, though a bit guarded. “I just don’t really like sharing all of it.”

The conversation lingers between you for a moment, your mind completely taken by Mark’s duality. As you try to figure him out, the lines that seem to draw his persona get more and more blurry. 

Though there’s something effortlessly cool and laidback about him, Mark’s still shy and a little reserved. He’s guarded, but also somehow open to talk about anything and everything. In a way, it feels like a nice balance, but you can’t help but wonder if there’s any missing pieces to him that you can’t see now.

The sudden ring of his phone stops you from taking up on the offer of reading whatever he wanted you to. 

Mark keeps looking at you apologetically as a Johnny talks to him, visibly frustrated with the conversation despite the usual easygoing tone lacing his voice. 

When the call wraps up, he tucks the phone into his hoodie again with a sigh. “I'm really sorry,” he starts, sounding nothing but sincere. “Apparently something happened at work and I’m the only one who can fix it.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile dismissively. “It’s fine, Mark. I hope everything’s okay, though.”

Once at your doorway, Mark hesitates for a second, gaze softening as he turns around to step closer to you. “I’ll make it up to you, alright?” He smiles, offering a firm nod. “We’ll talk later.”

With your face suddenly on fire, you dazedly return the smile, unsure of what to reply. “Alright.” 

In the silence of your apartment later that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, something had shifted between you.

The aftermath of your last encounter is anything but ideal. 

With both of you caught up in your own deadlines and work-fueled late nights, even the chances of casually running into each other around the building seemed to be far-fetched over the coming days. 

While you were wrapped up in a blur of revised drafts and emails from your advisor, unbeknownst to you, Mark himself was occupied with the very same matter that interrupted your shared dinner, struggling with last-minute changes for an artist’s upcoming project. 

Though there was little time between you, the tenderness of Mark’s promise still lingered with you, expectation building in your heart at the thought of seeing him again.

It’s still early in the morning as you wait for the elevator at your floor, relieved that another hectic week is finally over. As you silently plan to ignore your to-do list for the weekend to catch up with the last episodes of a show you’ve been procrastinating on, the doors open to reveal Mark already inside.

Leaning against the wall with wired earphones around his neck, he instantly straightens up upon seeing you, a sheepish smile curling on his lips. “Hey, neighbor.”

Offering a smile back, you step by his side with a gentle glance. “Hi, Mark.”

As you stand there for a moment, there’s an edge of hesitation that both seem to notice, then choosing to speak at the same time. 

“Sorry I haven’t—”

“I’m sorry for not—”

Both of you pause again, sharing a surprised laugh for a second before Mark motions for you to go first. 

“I just want to say sorry for not keeping in touch these days,” you confess, sighing apologetically. “I think you know already, but things got crazy with my deadlines and I completely lost the timing to reach you back after dinner.”

“It’s okay.” He shakes his head, offering a warm-hearted chuckle. “I’m really sorry too, I know I promised to make it up to you but things just… kind of piled up. I kept meaning to text you, but something always came up.”

You nod in understanding, giving a meek shrug as your hands tighten around the strap of your bag. “It’s okay with me too.”

“So… what time are your classes ending these days?” Mark asks offhandedly, clearing his throat as he looks ahead. “Like, today?”

“Today?” you ask, confused despite your amusement. “Around six, I think?”

With a nod, his answer sounds so quiet that you almost miss it. “That’s good,” he mumbles, almost as if to himself before he glances at you again, smiling lightly. “Good luck with your classes today, then.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the lobby, again drawing the conversation to an end before you can answer. As you step out, Mark keeps a small distance behind you, a subtle hesitation in his step once you’re both outside ready to part ways. 

You exchange quick goodbyes, each turning toward your own direction. 

As he’s a few steps down the street, you call out for his name, voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll see you later, neighbor.”

Much to your delight, you do see Mark later—at your university, no less, waiting for you outside the humanities building. Though it’s easy to spot him, the button-up and tank-top combo somehow making him stand out, you can’t hide the shock upon recognizing his familiar figure casually standing around, offering a wave as he spots you.  

You quickly close the few steps towards him, a confused smile playing on your lips. “Oh my God, it’s really you. I thought I was crazy for a second.”

Mark laughs, cheeks hinting a blush despite his nonchalant nod. “I was just around the area and thought I’d swing by to check if you needed company home.”

“I do,” you say, still surprised. “I hope you didn’t wait for too long.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” He smiles, glancing at you with warm eyes. “Ready to go?”

You hum softly. “Yeah.”

Still caught off-guard by his thoughtfulness, you’re most definitely not expecting Mark to quietly offer his hand out towards you. It’s a gentle, open gesture and though he does it very naturally, there’s a hint of apprehension on his face, as if he’s unsure of your reaction. 

Without a word, you immediately slip your hand into his, heart thumping in your ears.

As both of you set off to the station, a strangely familiar sense of intimacy sets between you during the walk. 

The subway is typically packed, chaos all around you with a mob of wide-eyed tourists and aggravated locals fighting for space, loud voices and chit-chat carrying out all the way through the tight space. At the end of a car, you squeeze into a quieter spot as Mark stands right in front of you, close enough to subtly tower over your figure.

Your eyes discreetly take in his frame, pausing at the glasses hanging on the collar of his tank-top. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in glasses yet,” you say, raising an amused eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me this is just for aesthetics, Mark.” 

“I kinda wish it was, actually,” he argues, grimacing. “I mostly wear contacts, though. I keep breaking or losing all my glasses.” 

Carefully pulling them out, you reach over and gently place the glasses on his face, regarding him for a second with a grin. “It looks cute, you should wear them more.”

As if he needs something to do with his hands, Mark adjusts the frames on his face, his cheeks heating up in a faint blush. “Oh—yeah, I guess. Thank you?”

The playful glint in your eyes goes unnoticed by him, grin widening at how endearing his flustered reaction is. “You’re welcome,” you say, leaning in just enough to make him look down at you again. “The blush looks cute on you, too.”

“Come on,” Mark chides, huffing a surprised, timid laugh. “Don’t do that to me.”

As your curiosity moves on to the wired earphones still wrapped around his neck, your fingers graze the cord before you take an earbud, slipping into your ear with a pointed look at him. Mark instantly takes the hint, picking the spare one before reaching over for his phone, scrolling through until a smooth beat starts playing. 

Absorbed into the music, you don’t even notice Mark taking a step closer to avoid the flow of people around you, one of your hands subconsciously moving to steady him by holding onto his waist. 

The songs blend into each other for a few stations as both of you focus on the playlist instead, sneaking playful glances at each other every so often. 

“So you’re a bit of a rockstar, huh?” he asks after a while, smiling warmly at the confusion on your face over his sudden remark. “It’s just that you seemed to vibe with the rock stuff more than I expected.”

You raise an eyebrow, smiling back with a hint of challenge in your eyes. “Maybe I just like your taste in music.” 

Mark chuckles, running a hand through the back of his neck. “Not gonna lie, that kinda makes me feel good about myself,” he says, earning a genuine laugh from you. “I’ll link you up to my playlist, then.”

“Don’t pay too much attention to me next time,” you chide, feigning a frown despite the playfulness in your eyes. 

He shakes his head, voice sounding nothing but sincere as his fingers brush lightly against your cheek, raising your chin up just a tiny bit. “I’ll always pay attention to you.”

Just as his words sink in, the conductor’s cracked voice finally announces your station, leaving you silently grateful for the chance to collect yourself, your burning cheeks thankfully going unnoticed by Mark.

As he takes your hand again, you both move through the small crowd at the platform, the cool night air soon welcoming you outside over the short walk to the building. Though it feels shorter than usual, you still hang onto Mark’s stories with his friends, Johnny and Donghyuck, invested in the mischievous tidbits of their friendship shared on the way. 

At the elevator, you stand beside him for a second time in the day. 

Except that this time, leaving with a quick kiss to his cheek, you know exactly what Mark means to you.

Mark can’t help but read the letter a little differently now.

As an awkward mix of comfort and uncertainty grows in his heart at every word, not even the refuge of his studio feels enough to ease the tension of his thoughts. 

The feeling that you’re the author of the message that he’s been obsessed with for the past couple of months comes with a weight that Mark hasn’t been quite sure how to deal with yet. The kindness laced to the letter already felt way too personal then, but now, it carries a sense of intimacy that feels directly connected to you.

It makes him feel a little silly too, realizing that you’ve entirely known him all along, nonetheless unknowingly witnessing the exact pieces that Mark held close to himself. Still, despite his ongoing conflict, he does marvel at the serendipity of the situation.

Lost in thought, Mark barely notices Johnny sidling over until the oldest takes a seat beside him at the mixing table, raising an eyebrow at the paper in his hands. “Reading the mystery letter again?”

“Sorry,” he chuckles humorlessly, avoiding his friend’s gaze. “I know I’ve been too hung up on this thing.”

“I don’t know what you’re apologizing for,” Johnny huffs, offering an odd look to his friend despite the playfulness of his words. “You got a letter from a mysterious neighbor. So what?”

Mark pauses, clicking his tongue as he finally looks up at Johnny. “Actually… it might not be that mysterious anymore, I guess.”

Johnny’s eyes widen in genuine surprise, interest suddenly piqued. “Are you telling me you found out who wrote your love letter?”

“Remember the girl you saw me talking to at Jaehyun’s open mic?” Mark asks, fingers nervously fiddling with the letter as Johnny nods. “We’ve been kinda hanging out lately and she’s… you know, also my neighbor.”

His friend blinks, visibly impressed by the unexpected twist. “Damn, Haechan is right.” Johnny snorts, a knowing grin soon taking over. “Your life is fucking ridiculous, Mark.”

“I’m not really sure it’s her, though,” he counters, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “I mean, I think it could be. The way she talks to me sort of reminds me of how the letter is written. It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Then ask her,” Johnny offers, as if he’s stating the obvious. “What’s the worst that could happen? You’re already talking to each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but what if it’s just me wishful thinking?” Mark shrugs, a sigh escaping his mouth. “I don’t want to confuse her with my shit. I actually like her a lot, Johnny.”

As brotherly as ever, the oldest lets out a quiet chuckle, regarding his friend with attentive eyes. “You’re overthinking it, Mark,” Johnny chides softly. “If it’s her, great for you, but if it’s not, then it’s just a story you can tell.”

At the reassuring words, Mark turns the idea around in his head. Deep down, he knows that his hesitation says more about him than you—after all, finding out the truth means that he’s vulnerable, parts of him that even he can’t understand yet exposed. Mark also knows that you haven’t given him anything worth doubting your sincerity. 

It’s actually quite the opposite, given he hasn’t felt so oddly understood and seen in a long time, despite how good he is at his job and how well he’s perceived by the people around him.

Considering Johnny’s input in the brief moment, Mark eventually nods. “I’ll think about it, promise.”

“If she got to know you as well as we do, I know she likes you just as much,” Johnny finishes, giving an encouraging pat to his shoulder. “Just make sure to get out of your head a little, alright?”

Taking one last look at the letter before tucking it away, nerves pleasantly buzzing in his chest, Mark decidedly acquiesces. 

What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

The music starts almost shyly at first, chords soon carrying through the walls softly and unassuming. 

You pause mid-motion, fingers hovering over the keyboard of your laptop as your brain instantly loses the next few lines of your assignment. It finally dawns on you that your mysterious neighbor has returned—at the same time as you realize that you hadn’t noticed their absence at all, for a while now. 

As always, you can’t help but love the unknown melody though it strangely stirs something bittersweet in your heart, somewhat apologetic over not feeling their disappearance enough.

It makes you think of the letter. 

Did your neighbor read it? What did they think of it? Did it mean anything to them?

It’s a given that your thoughts also wander to Mark, the significance of your growing relationship definitely not lost as you slowly recognize how his presence has filled so much of your mind lately, so much of your days. 

It almost feels like the song’s tenderness is engraved onto your brain once it fades away, over as suddenly as it started. As the weight of the silence settles in, you feel stupidly torn between the comfort you’d found and the one you’d forgotten. 

Mark 7:23PM Hey rockstar I’m home Kinda want to hear your thoughts on this Care to have a listen?

It’s an unusually quiet Saturday evening for you. 

At the buzz of your phone, Mark’s name lighting up the screen for a brief second, you take a pause from your book. Though seeing his name doesn’t surprise you, given you’ve been texting back and forth all day, your curiosity immediately takes over as you read through the cryptic messages followed by a download link. 

7:24PM You’re home? I hope you aren’t scamming me 😛

Since Mark had to suddenly cancel the plans you’d made earlier in the week due to work, you’re eager to see him, especially now as the university’s break nears by a couple of days. Before you can text him to come over though, another message comes through.

Mark 7:25PM Please listen to it baby

As your heart leaps at the reply, you’re quick to follow his request.

Then, Mark’s suddenly singing to you.

The guitar chords are unmistakable to your ears. It’s the very same melody played by your mysterious neighbor a few nights ago, except the sound’s definitely richer now, crystal clear with no walls in the way to hold back its softness. His voice feels incredibly tender, warm and light like a hug, almost as if he’s poured his soul into it. 

A shiver runs through your body as realization finally hits you—all this time, Mark has been your mysterious neighbor, the very one you’d sent a secret letter to, your unknown comfort presence. 

You’re not even properly thinking when rushing upstairs, urgently knocking on the door of the apartment right above yours. 

As it swings open, one look at him is enough for you to throw your arms around Mark’s neck, catching him by surprise by pressing your lips against his. It takes a second for him to react, his own arms soon wrapped around your waist to pull you flush against his chest. As he blindly steps back inside, Mark kicks the door closed before deepening the kiss, both hands at the back of your head.

You’re not sure how long it lasts but when you pull away, both of you light-headed and breathless, it still doesn’t feel long enough. 

With flushed cheeks, Mark sighs in a mix of wonder and disbelief. “Wow, this is… wow,” he manages, chest still heaving. “What’s going on?”

The dazed look on his face earns a laugh from you, especially as it pairs with his messy hair and disheveled clothes. Completely endeared by his reaction, you lean closer again, brushing a quick, feather-light kiss against Mark’s lips before he can even react.

“You’re my mysterious neighbor,” you start, voice soft with admiration as your hands cup his cheeks. “You’re the one who’s been playing music all this time.”

He gives you a small smile, subtly leaning into your hold. “You’re the one who wrote the letter.”

“This is crazy, Mark,” you say, huffing at the absurdity of the situation in both disbelief and amazement. “I can’t believe you’re the person I’ve been obsessed with since I moved in.”

His brows raise slightly, a teasing glint replacing the warmth in his eyes. “You’ve been obsessed with me?”

“You have no idea how much I loved listening to you.” You smile unabashedly, fingertips gently brushing at his cheeks. “I was always so happy whenever I came home and you’d just start playing out of nowhere. It felt like you knew exactly when I needed your music, you know.”

As his face softens, Mark watches you for a second. “Did you really mean it?” he asks, voice quieter. “The letter you sent me… did you mean all of that?”

Meeting his gaze, you nod without hesitation. “I wouldn’t have written it if I didn’t.”

As he wraps his arms around you in the warmest, heartfelt hug, Mark pulls back just enough so his lips are meeting yours again, the slow kiss melting your body against his own. 

Though pulling yourself away from Mark feels like a challenge, as you breathlessly step back from his hold, your eyes are immediately taking in every detail around. 

Sometimes, you’d foolishly envision your mysterious neighbor’s apartment, wondering how different it could be from your own. So it feels surreal standing there now and realizing that everything feels very, very Mark. It’s almost like the place pieces together parts of him that you hadn’t quite figured out yet.

An entire wall of vinyls and CDs, a few collectible toys here and there on the shelves, instruments all around his living room—all of it explains so much about him.

Walking over to check his collection much like he did with your books, you shoot him a curious glance. “So you’re a musician?”

“You could say that.” Mark frowns, pausing for a second before he sighs. “I mean, I work with music but I’m actually just a songwriter for a record label.”

Your eyes light up, a gasp escaping from your lips. “So I was right when I said you were a writer,” you reply, satisfaction taking over your face. “Did you write the song you sent me?”

He nods, feeling surprisingly at ease despite having spent half of the day restless over the recording. “Yeah, it was me,” Mark answers, chuckling at your enthusiasm. “You didn’t tell me what you’d think of it yet.”

“Are you kidding? The fact you’re my mysterious neighbor wasn’t the only thing that made me attack you just now,” you joke as he bursts into a laugh. “I do wonder who it was about, though.”

Mark raises an eyebrow, his lips twitching in amusement. “You think I’m going to tell you that easily?”

With a knowing grin, you silently turn back to scanning the rows of albums in his shelves again. As he steps behind you, Mark specifically reaches out for a CD, your eyes curiously scanning the cover.

“It’s only fair giving you a recommendation too, right?” he muses, smiling gently. “A rock classic for a rockstar seems fitting enough.”

The subtle implication laced to his words make your smile widen, album still in your hands as you glance at him over your shoulder. “Would you sing it for me if I asked?”

Mark hesitates, though seemingly more out of confusion than anything else. “Like… right now?” 

As you turn around to face him, there’s a hint of reassurance on your face. “You don’t really have to, but I’d love to hear it with no walls between us this time.”

There’s a touch of confidence to the way Mark leads you to his couch, a hand on the small of your back until he settles beside you with a guitar on his lap. It’s probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen him, dark hair sitting above his eyes and glasses perched on his nose, the little moles on his face calling you for a kiss.

The silence between you is soon filled by the guitar, Mark strumming the familiar melody with an ease that you can’t help amaze at. The softness of his voice embraces you again, anticipation growing with every word between your shared glances.

With the last chord drawing the song to a close, you’re the one pulling the guitar away before leaning over, kissing Mark again as he welcomes you closer. 

“So, you and me,” he starts, nose brushing against yours as you hum, smiling against his mouth. “Are we really doing this? For real now?” 

Your heart has never felt so full and assured, no hesitation to your answer.

“We’re doing this.”

The crowd’s applause slowly settles as Mark leaves the stage.

There’s a mix of adrenaline and contentment simmering in his chest, heart still racing as he clutches his guitar closer, taking one last look at the familiar atmosphere—for the first time, not as a mere spectator, but as a performer. 

As your voice breaks through his high, Mark turns around just in time to put the guitar away before you leap into his arms, kissing him so deeply as if you haven’t seen him for weeks. 

A wide smile takes over your face once pulling away, excitement practically spilling over from your eyes. “Oh my God, you were so good!” 

He grins, instinctively reaching for your waist to hold you close. “You think so?”

“I know so,” you gush, expression softening for a second. “I’m so proud of you, baby. It was really incredible, you killed it.”

“I don’t think I could’ve done it without you,” he confesses gently, a contrast to his firm gaze. “If you hadn’t insisted so much… I think I’d still be stuck in my head about it, you know.”

“You were the one up there performing, not me,” you argue, leaning closer to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “It was all you, your music and your talent.”

Mark shakes his head, a chuckle escaping from his mouth as he closes his arms around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “You’re crazy,” he murmurs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for not letting me give up on this.”

As you pull back from his hold to meet his eyes, a playful smile curls on your lips. “I take my thanks in the form of take-out.”

He just laughs, nodding softly. “Let’s go home, then.”

Just like that, under a galaxy of stars in the sky and the warmth of a summer evening, Mark lets you guide him back home.

EXTRA: LOVERS ROCK

MASTERLIST

[arijackz]

PICK A CARD: What Era Is Your Beauty From?

☯︎ “A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.” ― Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. I am not suggesting any of these descriptions are cannon to your ancestral history, these are just how my intuition perceived, and then presented your beauty’s energy.

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

🂽 Pile One 🂽 (the devil, 2oC rev., ace of cups rev., 4oW, 3oC, king of swords, the tower, the world)

❖ Pile one, I feel like I’m watching the Game of Thrones out of context. Just flashes of people from around the Medieval 1400s living their day-to-day; singing, dancing, eating together, and then… not.

❖ The imagery I got when I asked what era your beauty came from, was very longing in nature. There was a lot of joy and celebration but it felt like I was watching the film through teary eyes and a heavy heart.

❖ The “movie” flashed between a thriving culture sharing tales of triumph and having happy, drunk sing-song moments together; and then those same people under a war-torn regime of a very cruel but powerful man. I sense themes of religious persecution, nationwide government-forced famine, and general desecration of the once-peaceful way of life. The population was going through collective mourning.

❖ People lamented over their unfulfillable desire to reconnect with their homeland and all of their loved ones. With the World card at the end of the spread and the Empress at the bottom of the deck, I get the clear image that your beauty is the physical embodiment of a large collective’s longing for the sanctity of their community. You invoke that feeling people get when they remember a bitter-sweet memory that hums fervor in their chest and gives them the fire they need to push forward.

❖ Your beauty comes from an era where the genuine smile and cheer of a pretty girl sparked a nation’s hope for reformation. You are the last remaining connection to long-lost celebration and the heart of a forgotten city.

How Do You Paint The Divine Image of Hope?

🂽 Pile Two 🂽 (7oC rev., 4oP rev., full moon, leo, sacral chakra)

❖ WHOOOAAaaaaa Ammberrr is the collluuhhhhh of ya enneergyyy!! WHOoaaA, shades of gaawwllddd displayyy naturraalllyyyyyy…..

❖ Just know I was HOLLERING that. This is my hippie pile. My people. Yea that’s right, I’m talking the late 1960s - early 1970s.

❖ Your beauty arose at a time when society desperately needed color (specifically seeing some of you wearing a lot of bright colors or eye-catching jewelry or hairstyles). The world was bleak and the war’s aftermath on the overall mental and emotional welfare of the general public pushed people to radical ideals and birthed a revolution centered around liberation, pleasure, and community.

❖ Your beauty is all sunshine and rainbows. Psychedelics and organic food. The best music in human history (feel free to argue with me, but know that it is going straight out the other ear, mama) and week-long outdoor festivals full of peace, love, and vulnerability with total strangers.

❖ Your beauty brushes people with the chilling winds of shameless pleasure. The taste of unadulterated personal freedom that is almost a societal taboo. Your beauty is so purely liberating.

❖ Lmao, I imagine a guitar riff going off everytime you walk into a room.

❖ You are the physical embodiment of eccentric love and vivacious rebellion.

Play That Funky Music

🂽 Pile Three 🂽 (The lovers rev., the High Priestess rev., Ace of Swords., 4oC. 7)

❖ Revolution is a running theme for all of the piles. This collective’s beauty awakens people.

❖ I’m seeing a brilliant man going mad at the lack of creative intelligence around him and pushing for societal rebirth. A complete cultural shift from the Dark Ages (pile one), to modernity. This is my Renaissance pile.

❖ You embody the mystical fusion of art, religion, architecture, and science. You are all the world’s intrinsic beauty rolled up into one figure. You are the art that attracts painters, inventors, and philosophers alike.

❖ You have the beauty of an all-around muse. You invoke the spirit of creative passion. It is like people see you and get a stroke of inspiration. Something that kicks them in the ass and tells them to go outside and create.

❖ This pile is very romantic. A classical beauty, like red roses and bottle poems. The universal innate desire to dream big.

❖ Shoutout to my Aquarians, 11th housers, and Shatabhisha natives.

The Medieval-Modern Muse

🂽 Pile Four 🂽 (king of pentacles, 2oP, 5oP rev., 9oP)

❖ OKAY PLOTWIST?? I don’t know what era this pile’s beauty is from because it’s set in the future.

❖ It’s funny how the last piles were all set in periods of revolution (putting in the WORK) and your pile, the final pile, is set in a better world full of financial stability, the end of inequality, economic fairness, and universal abundance (the fruits of the labor).

❖ Dude, I was trying to read the message at first and was just scratching my head. I was like, “When has anywhere, literally ever been this good???” Then I saw the ace of wands reversed at the bottom of the deck and saw impending change and it clicked.

❖ I also saw some star semblance, and see that your beauty is a reminder to mankind that the “impossible” is already set in motion. The hell we have created will crumble.

❖ You are a physical embodiment of society’s future triumph. You radiate wealth and fairness. My Venusians, especially Libra. You also look regal, something about you makes people want to stand taller.

❖ You got the pride card, I see that you give people the feeling of victory. You are living proof of future triumph in a better world where greed and sorrow are eradicated.

❖ You are the harbinger of the next era.

Introducing The First Titanium Man On The Moon!

[hyperlinkproxy]

✦ “So what even is this?” Shen Jiu asked, with a scathing sneer...

✦ “Fireworks,” said Airplane. “Sulfur. Saltpeter. Charcoal. Nitrates. Colorants. Pyrotechnic stars. Wicks. Someone left their stock here when their business went under.” Then, because only Shen Jiu seemed to get what he was driving at, he added earnestly, “We can blow them all up.”

Everybody should read @mysteryteacup's AMAZING fic License To Edit!!! I've never had so much fun reading a fic before and the spy movie theming forced my hand into making this. If you can't tell this is very vaguely a riff on a James Bond poster!

Anyways it updated just as I was finishing this up and that was the last push I needed to complete it today.

[jyoongim]

Can you do like pastor gets jealous over y/n before a demon guy friend approached her and when they get to the hotel he fucks her hard but with a lovely aftercare?? Tysm🙏❤️

hehehe Alastor would definitely not like some other male around his darling. Friend or not.

themes: jealous Alastor, rough sex, possessive, darling just being nice, aftercare, slight fluff

You and Alastor were out on an outing doing a little shopping and whatnot, when an old friend approached you. You smiled “Oh! Its been a age my friend how have you been?” The two of you chatted, completely unaware of the red demon approaching. 

Alastor had noticed that you were no longer by his side and turned his head to see a demon fellow talking to you. He felt his eye twitch when the male wrapped his arm around you and let out a laugh at whatever you had said.

it was when the demon grabbed your hand and kissed it, when Alastor made his presence known.

”Darling who is this?”

You turned to him smiling “Ah Alastor you remember f/n? i was just telling him about the hotel”

Alastor’s smile turned sharp “Aaaaah yeeesss pleasure to see you again”

the demon gulped and gave a nervous laugh.

Alastor wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you against him, sneering at the sinner as the poor soul told you of his latest ventures.

”Dear we should head back. Now” Alastor said motioning gently for you to get a move on.

you nodded and bidded your friend a goodbye, hugging him and telling him you hoped to see him again soon.

As you walked way, you failed to notice Alastor turn his head around and morph slightly into his demon form scaring the poor demon to death.

Back at the hotel, Alastor swiftly led you to your shared bedroom.

Once inside, you were just chatting away happily about your friend while taking your shoes off; completely unaware of Alastor’s growing irritation.

”Oh how nice it was to see him! It has been so long. I do hope he come by so I can show him around, he seemed intrigued about our work here”

You were halfway undressed when sharp claws dug into your shoulder, turning you around to see a very fed up Alastor.

his eyes were glowing dials and his antlers had grew.

”Alastor?” You tilted your head in question, wondering what could have set off the lanky demon.

”no more talk of that riff raft dear. It is quite irritating”

you blinked surprised “Alastor don’t tell me youre jealous?”

he let out a laugh as he twirled a piece of your hair

”ooh no dear but…”  you were tossed on the bed and with a bounce he caught your ankle, snatching you to be under him.

he made quick work of you panties and inserted a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan and gagged when a claw pressed on your tongue.

Alastor’s smile widened “ it seems my little darling need a reminder that she is mine”

With a sound of his zipper, you let out a whine as he thrusted into you.

bottoming out immediately.

”A-Alastor!” He didn’t give you anytime to adjust as he set a hard pace.

you panted as he rutted into your heat.

Pushing your thighs to your chest, he leaned his weight onto you and grunted as he continued to punish your insides.

”tu es à moi, ma chérie. ce misérable ne pourra jamais vous faire ressentir cela ! est-ce que tu comprends? hmmm?

cette chatte n'est qu'à moi et ne l'oublie pas.”

~you are mine dearest. that wretch will never be able to make you feel this way! do you understand? hmmm?

this cunt is only mine and dont you forget it.~

You nodded moaning loudly as you felt your orgasm rip through you.

”I’m yours alastor, no one else can have me, only you OOH Fuck!”

his thrusts turned erratic and with a growl he emptied his cum into you.

you whined as he gave a few soft thrusts and finally pulled out, smile returning as he watched his cum leak out of you.

Trying to catch your breathe you watch Alastor compose himself and hum and he snapped his fingers and a tub appeared with bubbles.

He lifted you off and bed and placed you in the soothing water.

You sighed as he gently washed you off and smiled softly as he peppered kissed up your exposed shoulders in apology.

”Mmm Al I’m sleepy” you sighed sinking into the tub relaxing.

he finished cleaning you up and dried you off.

bring you back into bed he purred as you cuddled into him, wrapping your limbs around him.

Letting the soft music he played lull you to sleep, you felt him tighten his hold around you.

Alastor mumbled begrudgingly “I might have been a tad jealous”

you giggled in his chest

”knew it”

[gffa]

One thing that was really good about episode 4 of Ahsoka is that it knew exactly what the theme needed to be, the same thing that it always comes back to in Star Wars: Attachment. Ahsoka starts the episode off by saying that, if they can't get to the map, they may need to destroy it, stranding Ezra, because letting Thrawn come back is worse, knowing what would happen. Sabine's big temptation in this episode is exactly that--Baylan promises her that she can see Ezra again, because she thinks he's the only family he has left that she can do anything for, because she's so afraid to live without something that she makes a deal with the dark side. It's the exact same situation that Ezra had to make at the end of Rebels--he could bring Kanan back, but it would mean destroying all that Kanan saved in that moment, possibly even tear open time itself. He could have brought his parents back, but it would have let Sidious into the World Between Worlds to tear everything down. Which was the exact same situation that Anakin faced, that Ezra's was a riff off Anakin's, the willingness to trade the entire galaxy's freedom and lives for the one person (who wasn't even actually dead, either!) he was too afraid to live without. Which was the exact same situation that Luke faced, that he could save his friends if he would just give in to the dark side. It's the recurring theme of Star Wars, to face what attachment means to the Jedi, who are based on Buddhist monks, that attachment means the fear that makes you cling to someone or something so hard that you only end up hurting yourself--and Sabine, in her Jedi training, has to face this choice and she couldn't do it, she couldn't be selfless enough to let go and we can see it's going to be a shitshow. It's such a human, empathizable choice, she lost so much, her family is dead, she thinks Ahsoka is dead, she's been stagnating since Ezra left, she feels lost and adrift, of course she makes the wrong choice, of course she gives in to the fear that is attachment, and of course it's going to be awful. OUR GIRL IS GOING THROUGH IT, PLEASE BE KIND TO HER!!!!

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Link 1, Link 2 :)

Digital Good Omens 2 Sountrack is coming out in 4 days! 🥳 CD version in October! :) ❤ Coming soon on vinyl…

Out to Stream/Download from 25th August. Out on CD 13th October. Coming soon on vinyl…

David Arnold’s ‘end of the world’ complex and multi-genre soundtrack.

From the Award-winning composer of Sherlock and Casino Royale comes a follow up to the hugely successful, Emmy nominated Good Omens soundtrack.

Good Omens series 2 premiered on Prime Video on 28th July. The series follows the odd couple, angel Aziraphale (Michael Sheen) and demon Crowley (David Tennant) in their quest to sabotage the end of the World. The six-episode sequel to the popular adaptation of the novel by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett, concerns the Archangel Gabriel (Jon Hamm) arriving without his memories to Aziraphale’s bookshop. Aziraphale and Crowley attempt to find out what happened to Gabriel, whilst hiding him from Heaven and Hell, both eager to find him.

The Soundtrack

David Arnold’s soundtrack to Good Omens was first released in 2019 to favourable reviews, with BBC Music Magazine calling it “a rollicking trip to hell and back”. Blueprint Magazine described it as “a great listen” and Sci Fi Bulletin commented on “plenty of memorable themes” to conclude that “This is another work of art from Arnold”. At times nostalgic and eerie but always varied, beautiful and full of excitement, the Good Omens 2 soundtrack showcases Arnold’s every skill from his composer arsenal. Featured here are orchestral arrangements with sprinkling of Sugar Plum Fairy pizzicato and percussion, jaunty strings and mighty choral sweeps from Crouch End Festival Chorus. Added to the mix are rock guitar riffs, and psychedelic 70s sounds and all together they create a haunting otherworldly feel, complementing the fantasy and the quirky humour of the show. The spirited Waltz of the opening theme is also present in the second series and it wonderfully sets the scene for fantastical mayhem. In series 2, this robust, evocative, and funny music entity, becomes yet again another character in the story. Award-winning composer David Arnold is well known for his blockbuster scores, including Stargate, The Chronicles of Narnia: the Voyage of the Dawn Treader, Hot Fuzz, Paul, Independence Day, 2 Fast 2 Furious and Casino Royale as well as for his TV work such as Sherlock and Dracula. Also available: The original soundtrack to the first series of Good Omens >

Tracklist

– Disc 1 – Chapter 1: The Arrival 1. Before the Beginning 2. Good Omens 2 Opening Title 3. Into Soho 4. Something Terrible 5. To The Bookshop 6. Maggie and Nina 7. He’s Smoking 8. Tiny Miracle 9. Heavenly Alarm Bells Chapter 2: The Clue 10. Avaunt! 11. The Song is the Clue 12. It’s What God Wants 13. A Mighty Wind 14. Whales 15. Gabriel Returns 16. His New Children 17. Am I Awful Now? 18. Fallen Angel Chapter 3: I Know Where I’m Going 19. Police Arrive 20. Scotland 21. We’re Going to Hell 22. People Get a Choice 23. My Car is Not Yellow 24. Beelzebub in Hell 25. The Book 26. The Fly 27. Mr. Dalrymple 28. We Need to Cut 29. I’m Going to Save Her 30. Crowley Goes Large 31. Not Kind 32. Beelzebub Isn’t Happy – Disc 2 – Chapter 4: The Hitchhiker 33. Hell-O 34. Nazi Zombies 35. March of the Nazi Zombies 36. Crowley Pep Talk 37. The Magic Shop 38. Catch The Bullet 39. Zombies in the Dressing Room Chapter 5: The Ball 40. I’ll Let You Have It 41. We’re Storming a Book Shop 42. Monsieur Azirophale 43. The Candelabra 44. Here Comes Hell 45. Gabriel Gives Himself Up 46. Shax 47. The Circle Chapter 6: Every Day 48. Bin Through the Window 49. Gabriel Leaving Heaven 50. The Halo 51. Gabriel Revealed 52. Gabriel’s Love Story 53. Leaving The Bookshop 54. Gabriel and Beelzebub 55. Crowley and Muriel 56. I Forgive You 57. Don’t Bother 58. The Biggest Decision 59. The End?

[nausicaamusiclover20]

hear me out... early 20s!reader is some really hot but reserved girl working at the studio and the tallica boys all have an eye on her but... shes kirks gf and he gets a bit jelly and takes her home ect ect🙈 possessive smut where hes a desperate and showing her why the others could never replace him. i was thinking maybe 1991 or load kirk? if not, i totally understand!! have a great day <3

Have a great day too, I hope you like it!❤

Warnings:mature themes, emotional intensity, and light possessiveness

No One Else's, Only Mine

The studio always had an energy to it, one that hummed through my body every time I stepped through the doors. Today was no different—amps buzzing faintly, the occasional clink of drumsticks against the floor, low laughter echoing down the hall. It was exhilarating and yet oddly comforting, like the calm before a storm. I adjusted my leather jacket and tucked my hair behind my ear, keeping my head down as I passed the main control room.

Being around Metallica had a way of making you feel small. Not because of anything they said or did, but because they just were so much. James with his loud, raspy jokes. Lars constantly pacing, his hands in motion like he was conducting some invisible orchestra. Jason with his easy, boyish smile. And then there was Kirk.

My Kirk.

He was leaning over his guitar, fingers idly plucking out a riff. His curls fell into his face, and his lips curved into a faint smile when he saw me lingering at the door. “Hey, Y/N,” he said, his voice soft. Always soft with me, even when everything else about him was electric.

“Hey,” I murmured, stepping inside. “Need anything? Coffee? Water?”

He shook his head, setting the guitar down and crossing the room in a few long strides. Before I could blink, his hands were on my waist, pulling me close. “Just you,” he said, low enough that only I could hear.

A flush crept up my neck, but before I could respond, the door creaked open behind us.

“Y/N!” James’ voice boomed. “You’ve been holding out on us, huh? Got some secret training or what?"

I laughed, stepping out of Kirk’s grasp before anyone could make things awkward. James had this way of teasing that always felt just a little too sharp, like he wanted to see how far he could push before you snapped.

“Just lucky, I guess,” I replied, brushing past him to grab a clipboard from the counter.

His eyes lingered a beat too long, and I felt Kirk stiffen behind me. I knew the way they all looked at me. I wasn’t oblivious to the glances, the subtle comments when they thought Kirk wasn’t listening. And I wasn’t blind to how Kirk saw it all. He never said much about it, but I could feel the tension rolling off him like a storm cloud.

By the time the session wrapped up, I could tell Kirk was on edge. He hadn’t said a word since James’ latest round of jokes, and his hand was tight around mine as we left the studio.

“You okay?” I asked once we were in the car, the city lights blurring outside the window.

He glanced at me, his jaw tight. “They don’t get to look at you like that,” he muttered. “Like you’re some kind of...prize.”

I sighed, resting my hand on his thigh. “They’re just being themselves. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“I do worry about it,” he snapped, then immediately softened when he saw my expression. “Sorry. It’s just...you’re mine, Y/N. I need you to know that.”

The possessiveness in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. I bit my lip, trying to ignore the heat pooling in my stomach. “Take me home,” I whispered.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened, and he didn’t say a word as he pressed down on the gas.

The door had barely closed behind us before his hands were on me, pulling me flush against his body. His lips crashed into mine, all desperate heat and raw emotion.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against my mouth, his hands slipping under my shirt to grip my hips. “Not theirs. Not anyone else’s. Just mine.”

“Kirk,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed down my neck, teeth grazing over sensitive skin.

He groaned, lifting me effortlessly and carrying me to the bedroom. The world blurred around us, and all I could focus on was the way he made me feel—claimed, adored, his.

As he laid me down, his fingers brushed over my cheek, then down to the hem of my shirt. “Let me,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine for permission. When I nodded, he tugged the fabric over my head, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin like he was memorizing every inch.

“They don’t know you like this,” he said, his voice low and thick. His lips followed the trail of his hands, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along my collarbone. “They don’t know the way you taste, the way you feel when you’re falling apart for me.”

My breath hitched as he slipped his hands beneath the waistband of my jeans, his touch possessive yet tender. “They couldn’t handle this,” he continued, his mouth brushing against my ear. “The way you moan my name. The way you’re so perfect, so mine.”

His words sent heat rushing through me, and I arched into his touch, craving more. He took his time undressing me completely, his gaze never leaving mine as he peeled away the layers. It wasn’t just physical; it felt like he was baring my soul, reminding me with every touch and kiss that I belonged to him.

When he finally joined me on the bed, his hands slid up my thighs, and he hovered above me, his lips ghosting over mine. “No one else will ever love you like I do,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. His hips pressed forward, and I gasped at the connection, the heat, the overwhelming sense of him claiming me completely.

“No one will ever make you feel like this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. He thrust into me slowly, deliberately, each movement drawing a cry from my lips. “No one else knows how to touch you—how to worship you.”

The slow, deliberate rhythm he set made every nerve in my body light up. Each thrust made me gasp, the intensity pulling soft moans from my lips that I couldn’t contain. “Kirk,” I whimpered, my fingers digging into his shoulders, desperate to hold on to something solid as I trembled beneath him. 

“That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick with need. “Let me hear you. No one else will ever make you sound like this. Only me.”

His pace quickened, each thrust deeper, more deliberate, and with each movement, his voice dropped to a raw whisper against my ear. “They could never know how to make you feel like this,” he groaned. “They could never have you shaking like this, so perfect, so mine.”

A shudder rippled through me, and I clung to him, my body trembling under the weight of his passion. “Kirk,” I gasped, his name spilling from my lips like a mantra, each syllable thick with the overwhelming sensation of him. 

He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. “They’ll never touch you. Never make you fall apart like this. Never make you cry my name the way you do.”

The tension coiled tighter, his movements becoming almost frantic as he chased the edge with me. Each thrust carried more emotion, more desperation, as though he was pouring every unspoken word into me. My body arched against him, trembling as the sensation became too much. 

“You’re mine,” he rasped, his voice breaking, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses along my neck, collarbone, and down to my breasts. Each touch of his lips was reverent, worshipful, as if he were marking me in ways deeper than words. “Only mine. Forever.”

The intensity built until the world around me dissolved, leaving nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his love enveloping me completely. When we finally shattered together, the release tore through me, leaving me gasping his name as my body quaked beneath him.

He held me through it, his arms wrapped around me as though he’d never let go. His forehead pressed against mine, his breaths ragged, and his voice low but full of reverence. “No one else could ever have you like this. You’re mine, Y/N.”

When it was over, he held me close, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back.

“You’re everything to me, Y/N,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Don’t forget that.”

I smiled against his chest, my body humming with satisfaction. “I’m not going anywhere,” I promised. And I meant it.

[2222bad]

A BAD NEED

(michael’s so delicious and you can’t take it…) | 1.3k words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , oral (m!receiving) , sexual themes

through the front door to the foyer, you laughed into each other’s necks, holding each other close as if there were still prying eyes to lose. you turned no lights on, your eyes were far more keen on devouring each other. and michael could navigate his fortress with as much ease in the dark, even if he was blinded with his hands tied behind his back, so his lips seek to capture yours, he didn’t have to think twice.

“you’re so bad…” michael snickers as your lips connect, recounting the touches you just shared, as secretly as you could muster, in the back of his car.

“you started it…” you whine, coaxing him by the collar to keep his lips on you.

he practically cradles you as you move up the long staircase, his grip both on his banister and the nape of your neck, your hold so loose and lax around his bending shoulders. your arms lift, up and up. your lips mimick each other like a symphony; some kisses lingering, some deep, and deeper still with his so-wet tongue lacing yours with slow, decadent slips melting into melodic hums. as you gracefully ascend to the top of the landing, the light of the night reaches all around you through his tall, reverent windows. the two of you dance, it seemed, to the hallway where you stop him now. you couldn’t handle another step longer without feeling him.

you can’t tell if it was the liquor or him. you’ve been drinking both up all night, though michael has all the more power per volume than any bottle could keep. than any drink could punish you, you thought, with so much need and lust. what michael gives to you--does to you-- burns your body white hot, melts you hollow in your party dress every single time.

when you stop him, he holds your back with a widened palm to keep you close. you sway until you find each other, hip to hip, warmth pooling through both of your epicenters with love so exquisite, it tingled heartily through the both of you, being this close.

gripping onto the fabric of his shirt, so nicely steamed and silky even after a night of everyone fawning over him, you sigh into yet another riff of his tongue, sounding almost as if you were crying.

“michael,” you moan in between kissing. you can’t believe you're his. you can't fathom the beauty of him, so close and for you to touch. a hand goes to his face and cuts into his long, thick hair as if it would get him any closer. “oh, michael.”

“what?” he echoes back to you, a cocky smile forming, widening as he explores the feeling of his teeth now nudging against your open lips. “what is it, baby?”

your lips don’t answer with the words he wanted, just kissed and kissed him. on his cheek, along his chin, and down lower to suck the sinew of his neck, licking with a bad need along his exposed collar beneath the buttons that you’ve been skillfully undoing in all your desperation.

michael moans in awe of you, letting out a husky breath as he tries to make room for your mouth, his hand still holding you, squeezing your body at the jolt of every touch on his sensitive skin. “what’re you doin’?” he asks, playing at cluelessness.

your open mouth continues all down his body, hands bracing you as you slide down his clothed chest, his rib cage, his stomach. “i-i can’t take it…” your statement comes out in sobs, longing so deep it chokes you.

michael laughs slowly, his eyes staying on you, “i knew it…you’ve had that look in your eye all night…” your face buries into the ridge in the crotch of his dress pants, kissing his groin and legs with your hot, open mouth. michael hears you sniffle, his teeth sinking deeper into his swelling lip. “like you want somethin,’” he adds, sadistically, to his teasing, but you barely hear him over the drunkenness that’s found you.

you cross to his right hand, near shaking as you kiss the back of his fingers, feel his hard knuckles press against the tip of your nose. you love this. worshipping him. his breath, elated, getting louder and louder in your ears, his lust coming over him to whisper his nastiest thoughts to you, watching you, his body unable to do much else but melt and give in... his other hand adjusts himself over his pants quickly, a way to relieve his ache.

his fingertips crawl along your bottom lip, curious. then feel your cheek and hold your parted jaw. following your head as you sit back on your heels, he watches you tilt back and open your mouth. he gives you his thumb with a sly smile.

“you’re—“ he breaks into a fit of giggles when your tongue tickles the underside—“you’re such a bad girl…”

his affirmation finds you in a hum, glittering his voice as you latch around his thumb, then his first finger inches its way inside, then his middle, long and smooth, relieves his thumb so he could focus on adding his ring finger, playing with them on your tongue to remind himself of how you’ll feel on him for real.

your head spins in the bliss, savoring the salty taste between each long ridge that dissolves and flows back down your throat. you rock a little, lifting your dress higher on your legs before taking his fingers out of your mouth. with a bit less grace in the darkness, you start to undo his belt, feeling inside his parted slacks for his underwear, soft fabric pushing toward you, wanting you to feel him.

“baby…” you gasp, awed by his firmness growing long against your palm. you take out your hand, pulling his pants further down on his thighs.

“c’mon, you’re playin’ too much,” he gusts, a childish frustration running over his senses, and you bite back a giggle at his eagerness, a nerve to tease him further, before you reach back inside, concentrating on pulling him out all the way.

then his voice came to you again, he was always so light, so sweet. “look at me,” he coos, softly, “look at me while you’re doin’ it.” and his large hand, so gently calm, moves to encourage you, on the back of your head.

but he’s a gentleman, so he lets go of your head and lifts his arms up, holding his hair back to let him see you better. he’d always told you everything of his was yours.

you just take what’s yours, baby, he’d tell you.

so there was never any hesitation when you look up at him with the dreamy eyes he loves so bad, and slide his dick in your mouth. suckling as it stretches out your lips and you bob a little deeper, eyes blinking closed with a satisfied moan that rumbles in your throat.

“oh, baby…yes,” michael sighs, lifting the hem of his shirt above his belly, fingers splayed out wide and rattling a little with each gust of breath.

soon he can’t help it, his hands hold your head, and he’s dragging his hips back and forth into you, as much as you can take, taking pleasure from the easy slide of your blissful mouth, your warm, raised tongue creating a holy place, a ring of fire in him. a moan accompanies his hands sewing into your hair, gritted teeth follows his head lolling back. he closes his eyes and whines, out of breath, “never felt so good…”

a quiet stomp comes down beside you from his readjusted leg. he’s trembling, heart sprinting, he sees his peak coming soon; faster and faster as it comes down in waves from his shoulder blades, crashing lightning into his belly and pooling finally around his still-moving hips.

michael’s head falls back down to watch you. “look at me, baby,” he says again, his voice hushed and pleading. your eyes slide up, wet now; your eyebrows knitting, so he can watch the precious wrinkle show in your forehead. the one he sees when he knows you’re feeling just as good as him. the thought overwhelms him, and he looks so sweet and helpless to you, his face crinkling now as he lets out a final groan, his orgasm so fast, you grab hold of his thigh to steady him, a pretty little whine curling out of you in reply.

[bookloover35]

Inked forever// Eddie Munson x fem reader.

The low hum of Eddie's favorite heavy metal playlist filled the air, the raspy voice of a singer echoing off the walls of his room. You were curled up on Eddie's bed, one leg draped lazily over his, your fingers absentmindedly tracing the lines of a tattoo that stretched across his forearm. The intricate skull and rose design had always been your favorite.

He smirked, dark brown eyes flickering up from the comic book he was pretending to read. "See something you like, sweetheart?"

"Always," you teased, giving him a soft pinch on the arm. You couldn't help but grin at the boy sprawled out next to you. His wild curls fell messily around his face, his Hellfire Club shirt worn and slightly frayed at the edges. God, you loved him like this—comfortable, content, and completely unfiltered.

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" Eddie asked, setting his comic book aside. His fingers found their way to your hand, playing with your rings as he waited for you to speak.

You hesitated for a moment, biting your lower lip—a habit Eddie found utterly adorable. The two of you had been dating for almost a year now, and it felt like you'd known each other for a lifetime. Eddie knew every inch of you, every tattoo that decorated your skin, and he loved them as much as you did.

"I was thinking..." you began, your voice soft. "Maybe we could get matching tattoos."

The room went silent for a moment, save for the faint crackle of a guitar riff in the background. Eddie's eyes widened, and then he let out a laugh—a soft, joyous sound that made your heart skip a beat.

"Are you serious?" he asked, his voice laced with disbelief. "You, Miss 'I don't need anyone to define me,' want us to get couple tattoos?"

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, Eddie, I'm serious. But I want something that actually means something to us, you know? Not just some cheesy hearts or initials."

Eddie's eyes sparkled with excitement as he sat up, pulling you closer. "You're on, sweetheart. I'm totally game. But..." He tapped a finger against his lips, pretending to think deeply. "What should we get? An upside-down devil? Or a mini guitar? Ooh, what about something D&D themed?"

You laughed, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "I was thinking something simpler, actually. Like... a design that represents us."

Eddie was quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning your face thoughtfully. Then he grinned, that mischievous smile that always made your knees weak. "What about a snake and a dagger? You've got that snake tattoo on your arm, and I've got the dagger on my chest. We could combine them—like two parts of the same whole."

The idea made your heart flutter. You knew how much Eddie loved his tattoos and how much thought he put into each one. To share something like that with him felt incredibly intimate. "I love that," you whispered, cupping his cheek in your hand. "Let's do it."

A few days later, you found yourselves standing in front of your favorite tattoo shop in downtown Hawkins. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink filled the air as the doorbell chimed behind you. Eddie held your hand tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against your knuckles.

The tattoo artist, a burly guy named Mike, grinned when he saw the two of you walk in. "The power couple is back," he teased, nodding toward your interlocked hands. "What's the plan this time?"

"We want matching tattoos," Eddie announced proudly, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. "A snake and dagger combo. But, you know, something that's badass enough to do us justice."

Mike chuckled, already pulling out his sketchpad. "You two are always full of surprises. Give me a minute—I've got just the thing."

As Mike worked on the design, you leaned into Eddie's side, feeling his arm wrap protectively around your shoulders. "Are you nervous?" he asked, his voice a soft murmur in your ear.

"Not really," you replied. "I trust you. And I love that we're doing this together."

Eddie's eyes softened, and he leaned down to kiss your forehead. "You're the coolest girlfriend ever, you know that? I can't believe you put up with my crazy ideas."

"Crazy is what I signed up for," you teased, pinching his side. "Besides, I think you're the one who puts up with me."

Before Eddie could respond, Mike returned with the sketch: a snake coiled around a dagger, the blade dripping with ink drops like they were blood. It was intricate, dark, and undeniably perfect.

"Holy shit," Eddie breathed, eyes wide. "That's amazing."

You nodded, a smile spreading across your face. "I love it," you said softly. "Let's do it."

Eddie insisted you go first, holding your hand the entire time as Mike brought the design to life on your forearm. The familiar sting of the needle was almost comforting, especially with Eddie's warm gaze locked on yours.

When it was Eddie's turn, he gritted his teeth but never let go of your hand, even when the needle traced over his ribcage where the dagger was placed. You couldn't help but admire him, his jaw clenched, eyes focused on you the entire time.

Once the tattoos were done, you both stood in front of the mirror, admiring the matching ink. The snake and dagger were almost identical, yet each tattoo had its own unique flair—just like the two of you.

Eddie wrapped his arms around your waist from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. "Looks like we're officially inked for life, sweetheart," he murmured against your ear, his breath warm and comforting.

You turned in his arms, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his face. "Inked and in love," you whispered, leaning in to kiss him. It was a kiss that tasted like forever—warm, fierce, and filled with all the promises the two of you had yet to make.

"Can't wait to show the Hellfire Club," Eddie said with a mischievous grin. "They're gonna flip when they see how badass my girl is."

You chuckled, your fingers lacing through his. "They better get used to it," you said, your voice soft but firm. "Because you're stuck with me now, Munson."

"Wouldn't have it any other way," Eddie replied, pulling you close for another kiss, the ink still fresh on both your skins, binding you together in more ways than one.

The End.

[puppyboymikeyway]

little mcr things in songs that i would drop to my knees for

THE GUITAR AT THE BEGINNING OF DISENCHANTED

ITS SO SWEET

'GET. UP. COWARD.'

'run run bunny run' in scarecrow and how it gradually gets louder until gerard is yelling

UHM?? MIKEYS LITTLE 'FUCKIN READY' IN VAMPIRE MONEY?? LIKE BBG PLEASE GIVE US MORE??

the start of kiss the ring?? like?? perfection??

the sweet little guitar part in demolition lovers at the start like go ray! play your silly little riff!

the bassline to planetary(go!)(i have never once called this song just 'planetary'. its always been planetary go to me) is super funky and i absolutely love it. and i remember mikey saying how that was the hardest bassline that hes played or stage or smt like that<3

THE SILLY LITTLE COWBOY THEME AT THE START OF HANG EM HIGH?? LIKE?? I LOVE IT BUT WHY??

that silly riff during dead! that sounds like woody the woodpecker

8 bitter years - 9 bitter years - 10 FUCKING YEARS

romance. all of it. fuck you if you dont like romance. i would die for this little thing

'dO YOU HAVE THE KEYS TO THE HOTEL-'

the peppy little drums at the start of cemetery drive

'sosendmyresignationtothebrideandthegroom'

'hair bACK, MOTHERFUCKER'

THE INTRO TO GIVE EM HELL KID WHERE ITS JUST MIKEY PLAYING AND YOU CAN REALLY HEAR THE BASSLINE. SHIVERS, BRO

also the bassline to headfirst for halos?? and the guitar at the start?? like i love this song too much??

at this point just bullets. all of it. the entire album. so underrated tbh. fuck anyone who doesnt like bullets

'YOU SHOULDVE RAISED A BABYGIRL I SHOULDVE BEEN A BETTER SON' absolute trans anthem right here, folks

the piano throughout blood is just so happy for no reason like hun, this is not the song for this-

the little 'ooooooooo's in all the angels

the howling in house of wolves??? like it fits so perfectly, guys(ive been informed its not howling??? at the beginning?? am i going crazy??)

'so shut your eyyyyess kiss me goodbyeeee and SLEEEEEEEEEEEPP' 10/10

i will never not love the guitar at the start of na na na and it sucks that the only version you can hear it alone and more isolated is the version off of mdnsy but thank god we at least have that version. i love the lil riff at the start<3

the kids from yesterday. all of it. the electro-themed start and then the sNARE- PHMYGOD GUYS. PLEASE DO NOT OVERLOOK THIS SONG

'from the earth to the morgue morgue morgue MOOOOOOOORRRRRRRGUE WELL TONIIIIGHT WILL IT EVER COOOME?'

ray and franks backing vocals during planetary!! the little wooahs! i love them!<3

the drums at the beginning of burn bright??

the way gerard sings television in boy division like 'teLAviSION'

'well it better be BLACK and it better be TIGHT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE. - well it better be WHITE and it better be CUT and it better be JUST. MY. SIZE.'

WE DONT NEED ANOTHER SONG ABOUT CALIFORNIA. ALL OF IT. I LOVE THAT SONG AND NO ONE TALKS ABOUT IT.

'STOP AND STARE AT THE ACCIDENTS AND STARS THAT BORE YOU'

THATS MY FAVORITE MCR LYRIC GUYS

'louder than gods revolver and TWICE AS SHINY'

okay wait this list was longer than i intended but reblog with your favorite little snippets of mcr songs!!(i keep updating this i need to stop)(i updated it again help)(yet again another update for grammar)

[hyperfixatinator]

My take on the "Klavier can hear the game's ost" headcanon:

Klavier's hearing ability isn't exactly like Athena's, but it could be a different variation of it.

Unlike Athena, Klavier's hearing is more tuned to areas and events rather than the specific emotions of individual people. He can sometimes hear the general vibe of a person's overall personality (example: character themes), but it doesn't get much sharper than that. It's the difference between Athena hearing someone feels tense Vs. Klavier hearing the whole situation getting tense (example: the Suspense themes).

This opens up some possibilities.

This hearing power is why Klavier started creating music. These melodies he grew up hearing keep him connected to the world around him in a unique way, and he wanted to add his own influence to it.

Klavier thinks it's just a weird form of synesthesia. He's a little embarrassed about it, so he rarely brings it up.

It's largely based on intuition. His brain pretty much converts his gut instincts into musical cues for him to follow. As a result, he's very smooth in social situations and has a knack for avoiding danger (except when other music drowns out his internal musical cues, like when his guitar caught on fire as he was playing it).

He can hear when the WAA are using their abilities, too (Apollo's perceiving, Phoenix's magatama, Athena's therapy sessions, ect.). I personally headcanon it was Klavier who told Blackquill about Apollo's bracelet trick.

He spent years training himself to hear his own air guitar.

Klavier's intuition based hearing is pretty accurate, but it's not foolproof. Kristoph and Daryan are proof enough of that.

You know how Athena hears discord whenever someone's emotions are conflicted in some way? Klavier gets that, too, but it's different. The discord Klavier hears is triggered by his own denial of a situation, when his conscious mind strongly rejects what his subconscious had already picked up on. The less room for doubt there is, the louder it gets. It'll even start blaring super loudly into his ears in short bursts if it gets bad enough (those detuned guitar riffs that play during his head-in-hands breakdown animation).

Because of the above point, this is part of the reason why Klavier left the court to focus on his band for a while. He needed to take his mind off the Gramarye trial and drown out the discord with his own songs.

[vidavalor]

(Non-Frozen) Peas. A Good Omens Sex Meta Thing Side Dish

Shorter little vegetable-themed side dish to Crepes, which you do not have to have read first. All by way of Aziraphale's dirty French in S2 about how he has a craving for Crowley's Eden.

*slips into GO fandom quietly* *whispers*

Do you all realize that another translation of Aziraphale's "Ou est la plume de la jardiniere de ma tante?" is...

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?"

I probably don't need to tell you that both 'garden' and 'box' are sexual euphemisms for lady parts and, to make matters funnier, remind you of this scene earlier in the season, in which a literal box became related to... well, it's somewhat open to interpretation so let's just call it a gasp-worthy, part-related situation. :)

"Where is the feathered garden box of my queen?" is Aziraphale saying that it's been a minute since he worshipped Lady Crowley and he misses her.

This would account for Aziraphale's impish "but you understood me" and flirty little smile and wiggles. He's so cute about it that Nina comes out of her coffee shop to try to hear what they're talking about that's made the bookseller look so alive and has Snarky Sunglasses all flustered.

Crowley's "Only because, for two hundred and fifty years, you've been wittering on about the plume of your imaginary 'tante.'" = "Only because, ever since you took French lessons the human way, I've had to listen to you euphemistically referring to my occasional wild flower garden and calling me your queen in two different languages and I love to hate how much I absolutely love it."

We know that Crowley did understand Aziraphale and not just because he also speaks French but because his traditional choices in translating it back to Aziraphale in protest-- "you don't have an aunt, she doesn't have a gardener and he doesn't have a... pen"-- is intentionally a bit incorrect because Aziraphale used the feminine French word for 'gardener'-- la jardiniere-- in his sentence. As a result, Crowley is protesting that "the gardener" is a he right now, Aziraphale, and he doesn't have a-- pause of 'wait, this isn't going to work if I translate 'plume' as 'feathers'-- euphemistic or literal-- as I have both so I'll go with the other thing the word means instead'--... pen.

(Which winds up even funnier since a pen is phallic and euphemistic, in this sense, for currently having a penis, which is actually Crowley's current state of effort in that moment. Hold those thoughts until we get to turnips and inkwells down below lol.)

A 'plume' in French is a pen, a feather, a quill, and a cloud of rising smoke. In Good Omens, it's also used in the smoke-like definition by Michael to describe the pink plume of magical energy that came from the bookshop when Crowley and Aziraphale miracled together. Crowley responded with 'pen'-- which is a riff on the fact that Aziraphale is riffing on "la plume de ma tante", a cliched line said derogatorily to mean 'those sentences that you learn when you learn a new language that you'd never say in real life.' Crowley used 'aunt', 'gardener' and 'pen' as the translation in reference to the cliche Aziraphale was referencing. Aziraphale, though, adjusted the line, as we saw-- adding words to it to make it a stealth, flirty request-- and Crowley did hear the innuendo. Crowley correctly heard Aziraphale using 'plume' in the 'feather' sense (hilariously, considering that they have actual feathers in their angel/demon forms lol), with the 'feather'-context 'plume' being euphemistic for Crowley keeping it real down below.

(It could be worse, Crowley. He could be in a blasphemous mood and referring to it as "The Burning Bush"... which I feel like you'd actually find hilarious but anyway, moving on...)

In English, appropriated from the French, a 'jardiniere' is a flower box/garden planter. 'Tante' is French for 'aunt' but it's also a word meaning both 'queen'/'pansy' in the queer sense of the words (a 'pansy' also being a kind of flower, of course, adding to the Eden motif that "*the* Southern Pansy" Aziraphale has going on for his gardener partner here) but 'tante' is also one of the words that just means 'queen' as well, in the 'regal' sense of the word. It might not be the first word Aziraphale would use if he were, instead, speaking a sentence in French about, say, Queen Camilla-- but it's maybe a more appropriate one for flirting with his gender-everything partner by telling him in French that it's been too long since he spent some quality time with his queen's jardiniere.

'A la jardiniere' is also a French cooking term. It translates as "in the manner of the gardener's wife" (Gabriel: "Whatever that is."). It is obviously an archaic-sounding term when it comes to gender but, for the purposes of metaphor here, it's actually a little useful. The phrase is born out of the idea that the chef would be male, straight and married and that his wife would be keeping their kitchen garden-- which, even though she was probably running it, is credited to him, because the patriarchy-- from which fresh vegetables could easily be picked and used in a dish. As such, it's a lot more fun that Aziraphale is using the French here because the actual gardener doing the garden work in the definition of 'jardiniere' is specifically female by the term's description, so it's another way to reference Crowley's femininity.

There's also, of course, that "in the manner of the gardener's wife" is about as porny a definition for a phrase that can possibly be translated from one language to another lol and so adds to the idea of 'jardiniere' being sexually euphemistic. Atop that, there's the fact that the word itself relates food to romance and sex by referring to the chef and the gardener as married in its definition. The second half of this scene is the Nina & Crowley "partners" conversation. In a season that has Crowley and Aziraphale unable to deal with words like 'couple' and 'partners', if only Maggie and Nina understood that maybe they don't know how to use traditional words but damned if Aziraphale isn't already on covertly calling Crowley his spouse when flirting with him.

While 'a la jardiniere' is a cooking term, 'la jardiniere/jardiniere' is also a French food term. It is a side dish or a garnish of mixed vegetables, usually spring garden vegetables. So, carrots, green beans, potatoes (Crowley: "You say 'potato', I say 'excellent'" lol), turnips (Aziraphale can turn garden variety sex into inkwells!-- haha 'garden' pun, get it? please send help-- and inkwells are the things one dips a quill pen into.... and, now, we're back to the 'pen' translation of 'la plume...').

The most signature vegetables of jardiniere, though, are peas.

As Crowley would tell Shax and anyone who will listen, literal ducks-the-water-fowl need not get their actual jardiniere defrosted.

Aziraphale-- the more discerning duck-- likes his hot, though.

~~~

If you have not already and would like to read more meta like this: