#very on brand for us (irony)

[fjordfolk]

If this doesn't help i don't know what will 🥰

[drchucktingle]

Hi Dr. Tingle,

I just wanted to say, as someone who has been in the Homestuck fandom for a long time, that I'm so sorry people connected to the game and the comic have been so unnecessarily unkind to you, and that they've carried on this bit so far past the point of decency. Homestuck as a piece of media is deeply saturated with a very particular brand of early 2010s online irony, and there are some folks in the fandom who just refuse to let it go.

I think there are a lot of people out there who choose to take your sincerity as mockery, because to do otherwise would force them to confront their own cynicism and irony-poisoning and commit to self reflection in a way that they're not willing to do at this point in their lives. I'm not saying they're inherently bad people, because I don't believe that and (based only on the limited snapshot of yourself that you give to the world) I don't think you would either, only that they're making unkind decisions out of a fear of difference. Your work is both delightfully fun and incredibly meaningful, for me and a lot of others, and I just wanted to say that.

I'm not entirely sure where I'm going with this, so I'll just say that I hope your day is going well if/when you're reading this.

Respectfully,

Ray/cultivating-saplings

P.S. I would classify Hussie as a light scoundrel, in a 'season 1 villain who you can tell is eventually going to move into the heroes' apartment later in the show and hang out eating all of their chips' sort of way.

P.P.S. I like your lab coat :]

i do not have a lot to respond with other than I LIKE THIS MESSAGE and i think you are correct not just with this way of a specific fandom but with a HUGE PORTION OF THE INTERNET and a certain age range who trotted up in online forums and various websites.

there is a deep deep deep irony poisoning going on with some of these buckaroos and i think my trot kind of short circuits that and it is difficult for these folks to grapple with it. i think when you are used to every single thing on the internet being drenched in irony and every big reveal of an online presence being some keyboard goofball 'trotting for the lulz' it can be very difficult to see chuck and just accept that i am sincere. i have empathy for this.

i should also add that, of course, not all irony is bad. too much can be very destructive though.

all i can do is keep creating my art and being sincere about it, and i think the longer that continues to more irony poisoning will drain from some of these veins. that is one way i can prove love is real i think.

[pitchsidestories]

love me like you hate me II Millie Bright x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2215

a/n: thanks to the anon who requested this, we hope you all enjoy it. 😌

It almost felt like your first day of school.

Nervousness mixed with excitement in the pit of your stomach.

Joining Chelsea was a brand-new start for you. You had spend the majority of your life in Lyon, going through all of Olympiques youth teams. So transferring to a new club in a different country felt like a huge step but Sonia Bompastor, your former coach at Lyon, had wanted you in her new team and you knew that you could trust her judgement.

That’s why you were now taking your first steps on Chelseas training ground, ready to join your coach and your new teammates.

Sonia gave you an encouraging smile before she turned to her players. “Bonjour, girls. Before we begin, I want to introduce someone to you. This is our new player, y/n.“, she said in her heavily accented English.

You waved nervously at the others: “Salut.“

At least there were some familiar faces smiling back at you.

Sonia continued: “We worked together in Lyon. She is already very experienced for her age and she will play Centre back. We brought her in to ‘ave more competition at this position, especially with Millie.“

“Excuse me, what?!”, a tall, blonde woman said incredulously. Millie, you assumed.

Sonia shrugged: “That is football, Millie. It will ‘elp you improve.“

“Oh, wow. But I’m the captain. I…“, she started, seemingly unsure how to express her anger.

“Someone’s scared.“, Lucy teased. She was one of the few people you already knew from her time at Lyon, back when you had just joined the senior team.

Millie rolled her eyes at her teammate: “I’m not scared of a child.“

“I’m not a child. I’m 22.“, you protested, studying the older woman that you would have to compete with. Your heart sank a bit. She was a European champion, a regular starting player for her club and country and while you had your fair share of trophies, contending for the same position with her would be no easy task.

Millie gave you an unimpressed look: “You’re barely out of girlhood, you still got a lot to learn. Welcome to Chelsea, this will be very different to Lyon.“ There was an icy edge to her voice as she said the last part.

Hushed whispers passed between the other players.

“I’m sure you two will get along well.“, Sonia said but you weren’t sure if she was being naively positive or if it was just irony. It didn’t matter. Millies behaviour towards you had already made your blood boil and you refused to let her have the last word in this.

As the team slowly started to disperse for their warm-up, you caught up with the blonde defender: “Good luck, Millie. I won’t make this easy for you.“

She barely even looked at you when she replied cooly: “Don’t worry. I won’t either.“

Before you were able to answer Catarina Macário wrapped her arms around you for a tight hug. “Y/n, good to have you back in the team.”, the American beamed at you. Back in Lyon you two were good friends likely because of the small age difference between you both. Also, it was her who helped you with improving your English skills. Admittedly, it felt good to see her again especially after the frosty exchange you had with your new captain.

“I can’t wait to play with you again.”, you told her excitedly.

“Very good decision from Sonia to get you.”, she grinned.

“She was very convincing during her phone calls. And to honest I needed a change of scenery.”, you confessed with a crooked smile on your lips.

“Did you get tired of getting tackled by Wendie during training?”, Catarina teased you amused.

“Yes.”, you nodded chuckling while you received another pad on the shoulder from a familiar face.

“Missed us kid?”, Lucy asked winking.

“Of course I did.”, you responded in an honest tone.

The older defender looked at you more closely before she confirmed. “Me too.”

A few days had passed since your introduction, the team has flown to the US for a preseason tour and the first stop was New York. On the way to the hotel Millie sat down next to Lucy. From the bus windows they could see the famous skyline of the city, but the Chelsea captain didn’t had eyes for that, she felt the urge to talk to her England teammate about you.

“Why are you so nice to y/n, she’s so arrogant, Lucy.”, the blonde huffed.

“No, she’s sweet.”, Lucy disagreed smiling.

“Not with me, have you seen how she attacks me in training?”, the younger defender countered frustrated.

“It’s not that bad, Millie.”, the dark-haired player assured her smirking.

” When we were young, we wouldn’t have dared to play like that with older players in our team.”, Millie shook her head.

“Well times are changing. And I like that aggressiveness.”, the older woman reminded her.

“Of course you do. God, I just hate her so much.”, she groaned. Much too late Millie realized that you had heard her last words. Immediately when the bus stopped in front of your hotel you were the first to leave it.

“Looks like you have something to fix, skipper.”, Lucy observed.

“Shit, I obviously didn’t mean hate just that she frustrates me so much.”, the Chelsea captain mumbled biting her lip guiltily.

“Tell her that not me.”, her England teammate replied sounding serious.

“Cat our captain hates me.”, you whispered in your friend’s ear, sitting on your suitcases in the huge lobby while waiting for your room keys.

“Millie doesn’t hate anyone.”, Catarina objected gently.

“But you heard her.”

“She clearly didn’t mean it.”, she gave a smile of encouragement.

“How do you know? She seems to like everyone except me.”, you helplessly ran the hand through your hair.

“I know her.”, the American said firmly.

You left it at that, even though you didn’t fully believe your former Lyon teammate. Especially when the days in the US were exactly like the ones back at London, with Millie mostly ignoring you and you trying to prove her wrong in every training.

You were surprised when she finally acknowledged your existence just a day later. It was only the two of you in the hotel room you had to share when Millie suddenly decided: “Y/n, we have to talk.“

“About what?”, you asked, unsure about the direction in which this conversation would be going.

The older defender crossed her arms in front of her chest, her face with an unreadable expression. “About what you’ve heard.“

“Cat says you didn’t mean it but I think it sounded like you did.“, you said, keeping a watchful eye on her from your bed.

She huffed out a breath: “Let’s just say I phrased it wrong, okay? I don’t hate you, I hate the way you act in training.“

“But I’m just challenging you.“, you frowned at her.

“You’re risking injuries.“, Millie said plainly, the clear accusation hidden in the neutrality of her voice. You could tell she was straining to keep a normal conversation.

You shook your head: “No, I don’t want to hurt anyone. I know what I’m doing…“

Millie scoffed: “You’re still a child. You don’t have a clue about what you are doing.“

You rolled your eyes. Of course she would play the age card again. You just wanted this talk to end.

“I’m 22. That’s ‘ardly a child.“

“Listen, all I’m saying is that one day you’re going to injure someone like that.“

“Millie, I won more Champions League titles than you so I’m not as inexperienced as you think.“, you explained, voice tinged with slight annoyance.

“Oh, you mean the titles you won from the bench?”, she retorted.

“No, I actually played.“

“Not in the finals.“

“So you did watch our games?”, you asked before you could decide to throw some French swear words at her.

“No.“

“Not even after Sonia was announced as the new coach?”

“No.“

“I see.“, you nodded slowly, not sure what you actually saw apart from Millies indifference.

“So can we agree that you take it down a notch in training?”

“Yes.“, you agreed begrudgingly. “If you stop thinking I’m still a child.“

From your point of view, that was all that had to be said. The conversation was over. You got up from the bed and pulled your Chelsea shirt over your head, ready to switch into your pyjamas. It was only when you stripped of your sweatpants as well that you noticed Millies gaze on you.

“Stop staring, Captain Bright.“, you laughed through the awkwardness.

She didn’t look away, she also didn’t smile. “Why don’t you get dressed somewhere else?”

“Why don’t you turn around to look at the wall? At least you got proof that I’m not a kid anymore.”, you suggested with a cheeky grin on your face.

“Guess I do. But why do I’ve to turn around? There’s a bathroom right here.”, Millie commented.

“Boring plus it ruins the fantasy.”, you added still smiling.

“What are you even talking about?”, the blonde asked confused.

“Oh, please.”, you kept teasing her for her prude Englishness.

“You French girls are so weird.”, she claimed mildly amused by your behaviour.

“Yeah, but your eyes seemed to like it.”, you smirked.

“Are you done now? I’d like to sleep?”, the older defender changed quickly to a safer topic.

“Good night, Millie.”, you muttered while switching off the light.

“Night, y/n.”, Millie sounded almost half asleep. She hasn’t stopped thinking about your abs, but she would never admit that to you somehow, they followed her into her sweet dreams.

In training you couldn’t stop yourself from mocking your captain, still there was a more loving undertone in the way you talked to her now that wasn’t there before.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”, Millie tried to shrug it off.

“Whatever? The young won over the old and you don’t care?”, you pretended to be scandalized by her seemingly unbothered reaction.

Soon, you’d regret your cheekiness as the captain swept you off your feet to carry you to the ice bathtub and let you fall right into the cold.

“Ah, no!”, you yelled.

“That’s what you get for making fun of team old.”, the English woman explained, biting back a smile.

At dinner Lucy elbowed her teammate playfully. “You’re starting to like her too, Millie.”

“Oh, shut up.”, she pushed her friends arm away from her, her cheeks had turned slightly pink.

“No, it’s true you use every opportunity to touch her like.”, Guro intervened giggling.

“Like what?”, Millie interrupted the Norwegian forward impatiently.

“Like you’re into her.”, Lucy remarked, rolling her eyes at the cluelessness of her England teammate.

“I’m not.”, she protested.

“If you say so..”, Guro responded humoured.

“You don’t believe me.”, Millie sighed dramatically.

“Not a word.”, Erin affirmed.

“It’s pretty obvious.”, Lucy added.

“You know what they say about hatred and love.”, the Norwegian started laughing.

“Stop being annoying.”, the blonde begged her friend.

“I’m just saying.”, Guro threw an innocent smile at her.

“Maybe I don’t hate her anymore.”, Millie acknowledged quietly, hoping that they didn’t hear that confession.

“We know.”, Lucy declared annoyed.

You shook your head to yourself. You had watched from the table across from Millies friend group and couldn’t believe that they really thought you wouldn’t notice that they talked about you.

Patiently, you waited until the end of dinner and when everyone got up, you walked over to Millie.

With a smirk on your lips, you whispered into her ear: “Love me like you hate me then.“

The older defender paused and stared at you, dumbfounded.

“What? What’s that supposed to mean? I…“

You bit back a smile and prompted her to continue: “You?”

Millie caught herself quickly and rolled her eyes: “I wouldn’t go that far to say that I love you.“

“Oh, there’s no need to rush this but would you go on a date with me, captain?”, you continued flirting with her.

She blinked at you, apparently unsure if you meant it or not.

“A date?“, she echoed. “Like a real, honest-to-god date?”

You nodded confidently: “Oui.“

“Why?” She still studied you with narrowed eyes as if she could see right through you this way.

“Why not?”, you shrugged nonchalantly.

It was clearly not the answer Millie was waiting for. Still, she only said: “Okay.“

Now it was on you to look surprised: “So it’s a yes?”

Millies face softened into a smile: “Yes.“

Excitedly, you got onto your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to her cheek: “After our next test game?”

“Saturday then.“,, Millie agreed with a single nod.

“I can’t wait.“, you smiled at her.

Millie watched you with a fondness that she hadn’t allowed herself to show up until now. And you had to admit, it looked good on her.

Going on a date with you on that Sunday the older woman realized that it was easy to hate you for your arrogance, the way you played without compromises, your stubbornness but it turned out to be even easier to love you for your passion of the game, the way you took a real interest in her stories and your smile which lit up the whole dim lit restaurant you were eating at.

[papergirllife]

Lee Jeno (M)

fratboy!Jeno x reader

Synopsis:

Jeno has a past that holds him back from what life could potentially offer him, and one of those, he thinks, is you.

WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, FEEL FREE TO BLOCK ME IF YOU'RE UNCOMFORTABLE

warnings: minor character death (in the past), themes of grief and moving on, tooth-rotting fluff, Jeno being down bad but he was sort of an ass for a bit, crying during sx, sp@nking, mc's a masoch1st (kinda), body worship, unprotected sx, 0verstimulation, oral sx.

The music resonates the walls of the dingy frat house as Jeno makes his way through hordes of people on the dance floor, trying his best to squeeze through drunk college students to get to the kitchen, he's too goddamn sober to handle this amount of people as a self proclaimed, he checked his MBTI, obviously, introvert.

“Jeno! Finally made your way down from your room! Finally done studying?” Chenle asks on the top of his voice, clearly a little more than just tipsy, seeing how Jisung's the one making drinks right now, which the latter offers, but Jeno declines, he wants some alcohol to get him going, not blackout drunk, he still needs to get to his quiz in the afternoon tomorrow.

“I don't have much choice, not even the earplugs work against Johnny hyung’s speakers,” Jeno says with a sigh, looking out at the living area, this is going to be a long night, he thinks to himself.

“I told you to get the ones from that brand, they're only slightly pricier, you know,” Chenle chides, the irony, coming from the international student, but he knows his friend means well.

“They're out of my budget, it's fine, I started earlier just to get it done before this party anyways, I'll see you guys later, if you're not passed out by the pool that is,” Jeno jokes as he pours himself a mixture of whiskey and coke.

“Very funny, Lee, even if Mark leaves me out there in the cold, I know Jisung would save me, right bro?!”

Jeno doesn't hear what Jisung has to say, merely chuckling to himself as he makes his way through the crowd once more.

The worn out couch sinks as Jeno takes his seat, he watches as Jaemin talks about something animatedly with bombastic gestures and his tone pitched higher, he's going to be the perfect kindergarten teacher after he graduates being an education major and all, then there's Shotaro, watching wide eyed, engrossed in whatever tale Jaemin is telling, he's going to miss this, Jeno notes to himself, sighing at the fact that his sophomore year has begun and in a year's time he's going to say goodbye to all of this.

“Renjun said you'd be studying, didn't expect to see you tonight,” you say as you take the empty spot next to Jeno, Renjun on your side, you've always been his beloved little sister, Renjun is tiny, but for you? He'd pack a punch any time, his last victim was a 6 feet guy who was too handsy for his liking and dude ended up with a broken nose, he broke a finger too, but no one mentions that unless they want to end up in the same fatal tragedy.

“Finished studying, so I thought I'd come down here and join the rest of you,” and maybe because he wanted to see you too, not that he'd ever admit that, to himself or others, he has no right to delve into these emotions, it wouldn't be fair to you or her.

“Wow Jeno, no need to brag about your smarts like that, all of us know you're the top of the department,” you joke with a nudge of your shoulder, and with that slight movement, your thin cardigan slips down your smooth shoulder, revealing the strap of your tank top.

“Says the one that doesn't need to study and still passes,” Jeno retorts as he lets his eyes linger for a bit, before he decides to finally scoop up the collar section of your cardigan, covering your shoulder once again, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Renjun watching him.

“That's because I only aim to pass, unlike mister high achiever here, and I'm not cold, don't worry,” you say, but regardless, your body naturally inches closer to his, his warmth seeping through his bomber jacket has you hooked.

“Enough about me, what about you? What type of content are you shooting next?” Jeno asks, you're an almost full time influencer, the only reason you're still in college is because you want to get the degree as plan b, and Jeno, one of the few with a car, secondhand from his sister, always offers to drive you and sits through shootings with you, whether it be a trip to Olive Young or the newest cafe on the block.

“Probably gonna try doing those ‘a day in my life as a college student’ vlogs cuz some of my followers have been asking, but I'm not sure, it's a lot of work to film, might just end up going through my PR boxes instead or a review of this lip balm I've been looking for an excuse of getting,” you joke, knowing you, Jeno knows you're gonna get it and review it regardless, unless it's sold out, then he'd be one of the firsts to hear about your complaints.

“I could hold the camera if you want to,” Jeno offers, he always does, and you knew he would, it's why you asked in the first place.

“Thank you, my sweet assistant, knew I could always count on you,” you say before booping Jeno’s scrunched up nose, he always does that when you call him that, very textbook Taurus of him.

“Hey Jeno! Wanna play beer pong with us?” a girl comes up to him over the back of the sofa, tapping on his shoulder, probably his coursemate or something.

“Sure, I'll see you around, let me know when you wanna film, I'll see when I'm free,” Jeno says before giving you a little wave, following the girl to the beer pong area, and everyone knows she's going to end up inviting her to his bed, whether you like it or not.

“Since I'm not drinking tonight and I'm not a smoker, I'm craving Shin noodles, anyone want some?” you ask as you smooth down your skirt, you're gonna borrow your brother's apron, god knows you're one clumsy bitch and you love this mini skirt you searched high and low for, the things you do for a shushu tong dupe.

“Did someone say Shin noodles? I'm down,” is the first thing Mark says when he finally joins your friends’ little section, sex hair and a rumpled shirt triggering a few snickers.

“Sure, Markie, you should probably tidy your hair though,” you say before ruffling it up further, quickly making your way to the kitchen after, distantly, you hear Jaemin’s laughter ringing out even with the loud music playing still.

When you’re cooking the noodles, someone walks in, out of the corner of your eye, you see a familiar mane of orange hair.

“Hi Yang Yang, want noodles?” you could probably look for another pot if he wants some, you're sure Renjun stocked up some extra pots here, and even if he didn't, you're sure Taeyong did.

“I'd be down for your noods, if you know what I mean,” he answers coyly, his hand resting at your waist as he attaches himself to your side, watching you separate the noodles to cook them faster.

“Very funny, I'm on day 6 still, so thanks but no thanks, bud,” you reply, patting him on the hand at your side before you turn off the heat.

“Damn, talk about bad timing, no wonder you're craving for noodles, I'll just have a bit of yours, who's sharing with us? I'll go out and call them in, you can take the bowls out and stuff ” Yang Yang offers.

“Mark, he's at the sitting area,” you say before you feel Yang Yang leave your side, you carefully move the pot before fetching the bowls and utensils, grabbing the big thongs and ladle, you quickly get yourself a small portion, almost moaning at the familiar spiciness that ignites your taste buds in the best way possible.

“Wow, thanks bro,” Mark says, eyes lighting up at the sight of food, quickly fetching his own portion.

The two boys start talking about the latest NBA match while you eat in peace, you love eating while chatting up with friends, but you cherish having one on one moments savouring the food you're eating, Jeno calls you weird for that, but maybe that's because he keeps having that dry chicken breast for meals.

“Oh, if you guys want to fuck, you need to hurry up cuz Renjun just left with this girl not too long ago, and you know how he is,” Mark informs,

Renjun’s very particular about sleeping conditions with his one night stands, one time he was willing to pay extra for hailing a cab at 2am because he was sick of the artificial vanilla scent of this girl's diffuser.

“Not tonight, crimson rain's still in season,” you joke before getting more noodles into your bowl, meanwhile Yang Yang's stopped eating, he was just craving for a little taste.

“Oop, that explains the noodles, too bad for you dude, maybe Yuta hyung would have more luck,” Mark jokes, he always liked joking about how you got a roster of boys lining up at your doorstep, when in reality you're always bouncing between Yuta and Yang Yang.

“He got her last time, I gotta make my move faster this time,” Yang Yang says with a groan, putting down his chopsticks, having had enough of his fill.

“l'll let you know when I'm done, how about that, you whiny baby,” you tease, pulling his ear playfully.

Yang Yang cheers from his seat before getting up to wash his bowl.

“See you when the sky's sunny, baby, and Mark, basketball tomorrow afternoon, right?” Yang Yang bids the two of you goodbye, probably off to find another girl or game with Hendery.

“He's not bad, you know, simple minded dude,” Mark suddenly suggests, scooping more noodles then soup into your bowl before you put your hand up to stop him, that's enough noodles for tonight.

“He's alright, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now,” both of you know you're lying through your teeth, but it's the answer that won't stir anything up, you enjoy the dynamic you share with the boys, you're not gonna risk it, not that your feelings would ever be reciprocated.

“What about Yuta then? Is he more your type than Yang Yang?” Mark asks, always looking out for your heart, more than you ever did for yourself at least, which is almost the same for all your friends.

“Maybe, but no, he's not looking for a relationship either,” you explain, this time, not a white lie.

“Yuta thinks you're cool, I'm sure he'd be down to try if you showed interest,” Mark tries his best to convince you.

“I don't think I can watch idly if he looks at a girl with some neon-coloured box dye hair a little longer, I'd be seething, I need someone who's 100% down bad,” you say, trying to deflect the topic at hand.

“Alright, alright, I'll let you be, I'll get back to you when I think of someone new,” Mark says, not giving up on playing matchmaker.

“Have fun playing cupid with that terrible aim, Markie,” you tease before saying goodnight to him, planning on spending the rest of the night alone rewatching this k drama you love.

You were about to text Yeri, your roommate and bestie who had came with you, but upon opening your chat room with her, you realise she has once again ditched you for a boy she found. Oh well, guess you're just gonna crash in your brother's room, Renjun’s room is slightly bigger than most of the rooms in the house because you had once stayed here for a brief period of time when you were in between rentals, so there's space to fit in one more super single in his room, albeit a slightly tight fit, but at least you get to steal your brother's skincare for the night.

On your way to Renjun’s room, you bumped into Yang Yang once more in the hallway.

“Hey! Wanna game with us for a bit? It's just me and Hendery, we're playing COD,” he offers with that bright smile of his which strangely enough, reminds you of Lightning Mcqueen from the Cars cartoon.

“I don't know, Yang, I kinda suck at it,” you would love to have a switch from mobile to Xbox, but not at the expense of potentially ruining someone's game night.

“Come on, we're chill, Hendery dies all the time anyways,” Yang Yang insists, a hand on your back, steering you to his shared room, “but don't tell Hendery I said that,” he whispers by your ear before Hendery turns around to greet you.

“Yo! Nice of you to join us, Ten ditched us for the night so it's nice to have three players again,” Hendery exclaims, enthusiastically passing you the remote.

“Why aren't you guys partying like the rest of the frat?” you ask while picking a character.

“Parties are here every week, this one's kinda boring so might as well game the night away,” Hendery explains before noting how you're an urban tracker girlie.

And after two matches with the boys, you have to agree with the sentiment.

Jeno throws on a simple sweater before leaving his room to go get some water for himself and the girl on his bed, but something catches his eye from the other end of the hallway, it's you and Yang Yang, cosying up outside his room, Jeno’s fist clenched up when he sees you following into his room, he knows you sleep around casually, but he rarely ever catches sight of it, and it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue.

The party is finally starting to phase out, most of the partygoers are either passed out on the couch, or the unfortunate ones, by the pool or at the lawn. The frat members themselves are mostly gone, either retreated into their own respective rooms or have gone back with someone, so Jeno hadn't expected himself to bump into anyone when he came in to fetch two bottles of water.

“Why do you look like you want to squeeze the life out of those bottles, dude? Was tonight's lay not good enough for you or something?” Haechan asks, car keys dangling from his hand, he must've come in through the backdoor instead of the front, he once had someone puke on his Nike shoes so he isn't taking any chances anymore.

“Nothing, go to sleep,” Jeno deflects, god knows he doesn't need Haechan nosing into his business, which he has a reputation of doing so.

“When you're this pissed off it's usually either you fucked up a test or… is it her?” Haechan didn't even need to emphasise on who's the her when Jeno threatens to throw his half full bottle at him before he was stopped by Jaemin who had come in to dispose of some of the trash he had cleaned up from the living area.

“Jaemin ah, Jeno’s bullying me again!” Haechan whines moving to hide behind Jaemin’s wide frame.

“Stop provoking him and you'd be fine, now go, you're lucky I'm here to take the trash out,” Jaemin says before he ushers his bratty friend out of their kitchen.

“As much as you don't want to hear this, Haechan does have a point,” Jaemin says as he sorts the trash into different recycle bins, “she's not going to be single forever, and I know you love Eunbi, but it's been years, she wouldn't want to see you like this,” Jaemin explains with his most motherly tone that he dishes out unconsciously at times.

Eunbi was Jaemin’s cousin sister and Jeno’s girlfriend from 15 to 17, she passed away suddenly due to a drunk driving accident, and from that day onwards, Jeno has never really been the same again, he swore off the possibility of loving someone again, until you came into his life, his restraint wavering bit by bit as you take up his heart, piece by piece.

Jeno’s hand rises to his chest to feel the familiar butterfly charm hanging on his necklace, Nabi, he used to call her, because she used to love butterflies and also because they rhyme with her name, this necklace is Jeno’s only significant remembrance of her, other than their shared memories.

“I don't have any feelings for anyone, so it doesn't matter,” Jeno brushes off the topic with ease, he's had a lot of practice, and quickly leaves the kitchen.

With a defeated sigh, Jaemin watches his best friend go, hoping that one day soon, he'd be able to finally move on from Eunbi.

Another week passes and the weekend rolls around quicker than expected, Yuta was in the kitchen pouring himself a drink, spiked punch of some sort that Taeyong whipped up, some people got too drunk for his liking last week, so now he’s doing it himself before Chenle or Jisung gets the chance to.

“Oh, Yuta-ah, can you go and play with the kids? You know how truth and dare gets, and I don’t trust Johnny to be responsible, he’s always been such an instigator,” Taeyong says with a shake of his head, as he measures the vodka down to the tiniest drop.

“And you think I’d be the perfect candidate to keep an eye on them?” Yuta asks in disbelief.

“I trust that you’d do as I say for once, Yuta, the others are all still studying for their finals, just this once?” Taeyong asks, and how could Yuta say no when his best friend pulls out the big boba eyes.

Yuta sighs when he sees the sight of Jisung putting a whole dollop of wasabi in his mouth, but he can’t help but laugh when the youngest rushes to the bathroom before he inserts himself in the circle in between you and Mark.

“You’re playing?” Shotaro asks, already perking up at the idea of his big giving away bits and pieces of himself, Yuta isn’t exactly an open book, so he's excited to learn more about him.

“Yup, Taeyong told me to keep an eye on you scoundrels,” Yuta says before he catches Johnny’s eyes, the latter barking out a laugh, Yuta also notes how Jeno was seated next to his friend, he must be here because you’re here, maybe Yuta won’t keep his promise after all.

Things go by uneventfully other than some truths being spilled and Jaemin being told to twerk in the middle of the circle, which he was more than happy to do, however, when he was done his eyes landed on you, and because you’ve been saying truth for a few turns now, you switch it up by saying dare, and honestly, he knows all the truths because all these boys ask are things in the bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that Renjun is absent tonight, so things weren’t all that interesting, but now, Yuta’s interest is piqued.

“I dare you to make out with the hottest person playing,” Xiao Jun suggests, which garnered some groans, Yuta snickers next to you, Yang Yang isn’t here, so things are very much predictable.

You smooth down your skirt before you circle the men around you, eyes lingering on Jeno for a bit too long, the ones that know watch intently, but when you stop in front of Johnny, gasps ring out around the circle, cheers started erupting when squat in front of Johnny, the surprise on his face was evident, cute even if you’re honest, you’re glad you chose to be chaotic tonight, the panic in his eyes had you giggling, breath hitched when you lean in place a chaste peck on his cheek, when you lean away, and did a quick turn back to facing Yuta, Johnny barks out a laugh, while the rest of them back to groaning, you catch a few of them saying that they knew you were just playing them.

Yuta extends his arms, a knowing smile on his face. His eyes take in your plump lips coated in his favourite cherry lip gloss.

“Someone’s been stirring trouble, haven’t you?” Yuta says before he feels your hands tangled in long hair, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jeno glaring at him, Jaemin watching nervously where he’s seated.

“I’m always down for trouble when it’s you,” you retorted before you seal your lips with his, climbing into his lap, the familiar bulge of his belt buckle digging into your pelvic and the feeling of of his hands enveloping your thighs sends a shiver up your back, and you couldn’t help yourself, grinding into his crotch, the material of your skirt covering most of your movements, but Yuta could feel everything, smiling against your lips, before he pulls away from you, he could feel his cock twitching at the sight of your dazed eyes and swollen lips.

“Show’s over, I’m taking this one up,” Yuta announces, carrying you away from the shameless group of frat boys that were watching, it’s not their first time, but their curiosity never satiates.

“Damn it, now I need to be the chaperone,” Johnny says begrudgingly.

Jaemin’s silent as he watches his best friend fume in his spot, with a sigh, he cracks a bottle of soju he placed next to him before the game started, passing it to Jeno, the latter taking a huge swig, not long after, Jeno opts out of the game to look for a distraction for the night.

Your eyes flutter when you wake, the sun shining from Yuta’s opened blinds, his body warm under yours, his arm tossed over your waist which you remove to go wash up in his ensuite bathroom, the good thing about sleeping over at Yuta’s.

When you’re done, Yuta’s still sleeping away, you close his blinds for him, he’d probably want to sleep longer, he finished his finals not too long ago, he should be getting more rest.

So you put on your skirt from last night and stealing a sweater from his closet before you padded down to the kitchen, opening the fridge to fetch some ingredients for a basic omelette, spinach and eggs.

“There's still some leftover cranberry juice from last night,” Jeno says, startling you from stirring the omelette in your pan.

“Oh, nice, could you pour me a glass?” you ask, “if you want an omelette then you can fetch me more eggs and spinach, I'll make it,” you add on.

“Thank you,” Jeno says, handing you the ingredients after washing and chopping the spinach.

Soon after, the two of you are sat across each other on the island, joking about last night’s events, from the part where Haechan was dared to take off his shirt and go out for a quick run in the cold till the part where Jaemin had twerked in the circle and had accidentally shoved his ass at a very confused Jaehyun who had just finished a round of beer pong and wanted to see what was happening in the truth or dare circle, conversation was going smoothly and lighthearted until it wasn’t, by then the two of you have finished eating and Jeno’s washing the dishes.

“So you and Yuta…” Jeno trails off, his gaze absent, his fingers holding the fork rather tightly, knuckles white from the restricted blood flow.

“It’s nothing serious,” you brush off absently, you’re not lying, what you and Yuta have is strictly no strings attached, but if the lines were more blurred…you wouldn’t have minded if Jeno hadn’t holed up a place in your heart.

Jeno nods, unconvinced, or maybe he’s just blinded by jealous rage.

“Jeno?” your voice yanks Jeno away from the many images of you and Yuta holding hands and kissing, a scene cruller than what he had witnessed last night, but he bites his tongue from saying anything, not when he still has Eunbi’s necklace hanging on his neck, it wouldn’t be fair to any of you if he acts on his urges.

“Yeah?” Jeno grunts out, he didn’t mean to sound mean, but he can’t help it, just the thought of you and Yuta being something more just pisses him off, he isn’t even worried about Yang Yang, he knows you go to him for pure casual fun, you can never settle with a guy like that, he could tell you crave someone who has a natural leading aura, and that’s why he’s so down bad, the way your eyes light up when he helps you with something as simple as carrying your bag or ordering your food, every time he does something for you, he could feel his heartstrings tugging painfully.

“Jeno, if you have something to say, then say it,” you say, you don’t know why you’re feeling so confrontational today, but it’s been two years of running in circles around Jeno, and honestly, you’re tired, and maybe this would send your friend group into a catharsis, but you can’t keep tiptoeing your feelings around Jeno anymore, not when he obviously knows how you feel.

Jeno shuts the tap off before turning to face you, and something breaks inside him when he sees the conflicted look swimming in your pupils, and at that moment, he wants to wipe it away, and so he makes the mistake of pulling you close by the waist, sealing his lips with yours, and Jeno hasn’t felt this alive since a long time, he could feel all the nerves on his lips igniting like a dying flame miraculously being sparked till they’re a blazing wildfire, and the way his hands wrap around your waist, the warmth of your body rekindles a physical craving he’s never felt before with anyone else he used as a distraction of the loss of Eunbi. Eunbi, no-

Your heart shatters when Jeno pushes you away, searching his eyes for an explanation, but Jeno has his eyes closed, he looks too calm, taking a deep breath as if that kiss was merely a simple mistake, you’ve seen him act more emotional when he doesn’t receive his desired grade for a paper, are you nothing to him?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that,” Jeno mutters through gritted teeth, eyes avoiding yours at all cost.

“Is that it? That’s all you have to say to me, Jeno? That our kiss was merely a mistake? Don’t tell me what you feel all this time is also some sort of fucking misjudgement, Jeno!” you lash out, venom in your tone as you throw out punches on his sturdy chest, and what made you angrier was that he let you hurt him, like he doesn’t even bother defending or protecting himself from your lethal accusation, you can’t even call him a coward, a coward wouldn't stand there and let you do as you please.

Fortunately for Jeno, Jaemin comes to his rescue, detaching your agitated figure away from his friend, trying his best to calm you down with sweet nothings, that you’re better off, that Jeno’s being an idiot, but the damage has been dealt, there’s nothing that can make you feel better, but you guess you expected this, you had too much faith in Jeno.

“I’m so disappointed in you, Jeno,” you say before you take your leave, casting one more disappointed look at Jeno, and at that moment, the man that you’ve always thought looked so broad in your eyes now looks like the smallest man who’s ever lived.

Jaemin sighs when he no longer sees you within sight, Jeno heaves out a shudder of breath, he could tell his friend was trying his best to hold himself up in front of you, how quintessential of Jeno, never letting anyone into the depths of his mind.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Jeno,” Jaemin mutters as he checks for bruises under Jeno’s shirt, but Jeno brushes his hand away, rolling his sweater back down, even if you did bruise him, he deserved it for what he keeps putting you through, “Jeno, Eunbi wouldn’t have want to see you this way, she would’ve wanted to see you happy, not punishing yourself like this, she would’ve wanted you to move on, Jeno, you think she’d like seeing you wallowing in self loathing?” Jaemin says in a huff, he’s tried spelling this out in a kinder way to his best friend, but it doesn’t seem to get through that thick skull of his.

Jeno doesn’t answer, he just dodges his friend’s attempts of wanting to talk more, locking himself inside his room, wishing that the remorse, guilt, and heartbreak would just swallow him up. He hates himself for betraying Eunbi, even if it was just a mere kiss, contemplating on what Jaemin had said, could he really move on without feeling guilty as sin?

The cold wind prickles Jeno’s skin, his worn out padding not doing much to block the harshest of the weather, cursing to himself as he climbs down the stairs, not a single person in sight at this period and this hour, and then he sees it, the familiar tombstone, he sighs in relief as he takes in the sight of Eunbi’s tiny photo on the slab.

Fishing out a small cloth from his jean pocket, he wipes the photo of Eunbi before he wipes away the dust atop the tombstone and the dust on the slab of stone where he sits whenever he visits.

“I’ve missed you,” Jeno says as he places down a bouquet of roses, Eunbi loves roses, he calls it cliche, she says it’s because she loves how roses are one of the flowers that attract butterflies the most.

“I used to think I would get the opportunity to grow old with you, a house, a car, and maybe two kids, the cliche, but,” Jeno stops himself, swallowing the lump down his throat before he continues, “I guess those weren't in the cards for us in this lifetime,” Jeno says before exhaling a long sigh, “but sometimes I do think, would we have really gone on our entire lives? Would we have broken up along the road? Those 2 years of loving you, and spending my whole childhood with you by my side were beautiful, and every single day without you by my side was a living hell, but when I thought nothing could really bring me back to life, I met someone, and I feel so fucking guilty towards you, and I don't know if I'm supposed to feel what I'm feeling for her, I love you, and I always will, but I can't deny what I'm feeling for her either, so now I'm here, Eunbi-ah, please tell me what should I do, if you told me to wait till my dying days to reunite with you, I will, please just give me a sign,” Jeno pleads hopelessly, a hand caressing the tiny photo of Eunbi.

Just then, a tiny flutter of wings catches his eye, and a butterfly lands on the bouquet of roses in front of him.

‘Is this the sign I’m asking for?’ Jeno asks himself, but when he tries to sit closer for a clearer look, the butterfly flies away with a quick flutter of its wings, the bright yellow contrasting the cloudy sky.

“Are you telling me to move on too, Eunbi-ah?” Jeno says with a long sigh, next life, maybe things would be different then.

After watching the sunset with Eunbi, Jeno drove home and immediately stormed into Jaemin's room, his friend was busy watching cat videos when he interrupted him, not a surprising thing for him to do honestly.

“What’s up?” Jaemin asks, swivelling his gaming chair to face his friend who had made himself comfortable on his bed.

“I need advice,” Jeno said, which earned him one of his friend’s classic menace smiles which makes him look like the Grinch.

You have no plans today, you had just finished having pizza with Yeri, your roommate slash bestie announcing that you needed a self care day after the shit storm a certain someone put you through.

Suddenly, your doorbell rings, Yeri’s in the bathroom, so you get the door, assuming that she ordered dessert in advance without telling you, but to your shock, it was Jeno, and in his hands are supermarket flowers that he used to joke were overpriced for its minimal packaging.

“I’m sorry for everything, I was a coward and an emotionally constipated asshole, and I know I don’t deserve a second a chance, but if you’d give me the chance, I promise I’ll try my best not to fuck up, and if I do, I’ll promise I’ll make it up to you,” Jeno says, pleading his case with you, everyone often jokes about how Jeno looks like a samoyed, but right now, he looks like a puppy with the way his eyes are trained on you, analysing your every movement and flicker of expression, awaiting your verdict.

“You’re not an asshole for taking your time to mourn and move on from Eunbi, but Jeno, are you sure you’re ready to jump into a relationship? I know you still miss her dearly, and it was mean of me to ask so much from you, you don’t have to be with me if you’re doing this out of guilt, Jeno, I don’t want your pity,” you explain, you don’t want to see the sight of his guilty eyes whenever you’re with him, it would crush your soul to bits, to never have his heart entirely.

“No, I’m serious, I thought things through and realised that I can miss her and love the moments I had with her and still move on to the next chapter of my life, I used to think to love her means I shouldn’t allow anyone in my heart, but Jaemin’s right, she wouldn’t have wanted to see me like this, and I know you wouldn’t want to see me like this either, I want to give us a chance, I’m sorry I came to my senses so late, I hope it’s not too late,” Jeno says, his heart aches when he sees rivulets of tears stream down your face, he places the flowers on the bench next to him before he extends his arms to you, and he sighs in content when he feels your arms around him, your face buried in his chest, he reaches a hand up to pat your head, comforting you.

“Well, I just got a text from Joy that she wants to grab drinks, so I’m gonna head out, you two talk things out on your own, call me if you need anything,” Yeri says before she takes her leave, wanting to give the two of you privacy.

Jeno directs the two of you to the living room, plopping the two of your conjoined bodies onto the couch.

“Hey… don’t cry for me, I’m not worth it,” Jeno says, his hands wiping away your tears with the back of his hand. You choked up a laugh through your tears, swaying your head sideways.

“It’s not that, I’m just, I already accepted the idea of not having you, and now that you’re here… I’m just, surprised– but glad,” you confessed, god, you hate crying for a man, but at least the fool in this fable gets her happy ending after all.

“I’m glad too, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have been mad in the slightest if you said no, but thank you, thank you for giving me this chance,” Jeno says as he wraps you up in his arms, and he feels you sink into hold, and that’s how the two of you fall asleep on your bed that night.

‘Come earlier, I have a surprise for you ;)’

You smile to yourself when you see the text from Jeno, wondering if he got you the new grapes that are in season or something. When you got there a few hours earlier, the house was relatively empty, partygoers aren't here yet and only a few freshmen were setting up the place for the frat party. You let yourself in Jeno’s room, surprised to see that it’s empty, but soon you hear light footsteps pad into the room before your eyes are being covered by a familiar pair of hands.

“What grand surprise do you have for me, Jeno?” you ask, turning around, his hands drop from your face, but you keep your eyes closed, not wanting to spoil the surprise on his behalf.

“Wait, one sec, okay, now you can open your eyes,” Jeno says excitedly.

You peered your eyes open and a gasp left your lips.

“Oh my god, it’s blue!” you say, not believing your eyes, your hands reach out to touch his hair, not fried from the bleach dye, thankfully.

“Wanted to have something fresh to mark the start of our relationship, and seeing my hair on those filters you put on me gave me the idea of dyeing my hair,” Jeno explains, “do you like it?” he tapers off, a bit insecure because you look like you love it, but you haven’t said anything to confirm it yet.

“I love it,” you say as you turn his head from side to side to get a better look at the entire haircut with a giant smile on your face.

“Let me take a quick shower and get dressed then we can head down,” Jeno says with a quick peck before he retrieves his things and leave for the bathroom, leaving you to your devices, or moreso Jeno’s devices, you love watching concert videos on his screen, that expensive hunk of equipment is clearer than your vision.

However, halfway through watching old concert videos, you took notice of his drawer not being closed all the way, out of curiosity, you open it to see what it stores, and to your shock, a jewellery box is the first thing you see, the box design tells you that it isn’t anywhere near brand new.

Maybe you shouldn’t be snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself, Jeno never gets mad at you, he even tells you his phone password, he has nothing to hide, and so you pry the box open with gentle hands.

The glint of the perfectly preserved crystals caught your eye, then you recognise the shape of the pendant, butterfly, Jeno used to wear this ever since Eunbi passed, why isn’t he wearing it anymore? Did he think you’d mind that he did? That wasn’t the impression you wanted to give off, there’s no point being jealous of someone who’s no longer here, that’s just absurd.

“Oh, you found her old necklace,” Jeno notes with no malice in his voice despite the fact that you feel yourself jumping slightly at the sound of his voice.

“I, I saw your drawer wasn’t closed all the way and just wanted to check it out, sorry,” you apologised, but Jeno quickly brushes off your apology with a reassuring smile, “why aren’t you wearing it anymore? It’s not like I’d get jealous,” you say, scared that the reason he felt like he was obliged to stop wearing it was because of your relationship.

“I know you won’t get jealous, and I didn’t take it off like right after you said yes, I just thought it was time a few days ago, to put some things to rest, I’ll look back on these things from time to time, but I think it’s time to put some distance for me to move forward,” Jeno explains as his hands are laid on your shoulders, the weight and the brush of his thumbs comforting you.

“I’m just worried you’re rushing things for me,” you reason.

“I’m not, so don’t worry,” Jeno assures once again, “how about we go down now?” Jeno suggests after hearing the music starting from below, you agree instantly, maybe you’re just too stressed about everything, a drink sounds amazing now.

“Look who just made their long awaited debut,” Jaemin said at the sight of the two of you making way to the usual spot your friend group usually sits at.

Jeno tenses up when Renjun meets his eyes, his best friend had given him a long talk when he had heard from you that Jeno finally came around, needless to say, Jeno would never want to get on his best friend’s bad side, he’s sure he would manage to beat him up despite being much shorter than him.

Distantly, Jeno could hear you tell Jaemin to shut up before there’s too much attention placed on you and Jeno, your skin is thick, but you know Jeno doesn’t like too much attention on him, hence with a little more teasing, your friends switch topics, and just like that things are back to normal, a bit too normal for your liking, because soon, a girl makes her way to Jeno to ask for a dance, but your boyfriend quickly declines and explains that he won’t be casually hooking up with anyone anymore.

Even though you were silent the entire interaction, Jeno could see the jealousy in your eyes and the way you immediately downed a shot of soju.

“Someone’s jealous?” Jeno asks, clearly amused by the sight in front of him, pulling you closer into his embrace, he doesn't want anyone eavesdropping on a conversation where you could possibly feel vulnerable.

“Nope, not at all,” you say briskly, clearly overcompensating, dodging his kiss, Jeno laughing at your antics.

“Okay, whatever you say,” Jeno says, letting you be.

Although unfortunately for Jeno, things get a twist of events when he sees Yang Yang waving to you from afar with a smile too friendly for his liking when the two of you were swaying to the beat on the dance floor, and you quickly see your samoyed of a boyfriend turn into a doberman right in front of your eyes, gone was the puppy eyes that are quickly replaced by the obvious glare in his eyes.

“Looks like someone's jealous,” you tease, playing with the freshly cut ends of his hair at his nape.

“Let's head up, party sucks today,” Jeno says, pulling you by your hand, leading you upstairs to his room, quick on his feet but not fast to the point where you can’t keep up in your heels.

When the door shuts behind you, Jeno quickly kicks off his own shoes before he squsts down to slip off your heels for you, then immediately he tosses you over his shoulder as if you weigh as much as a feather, tossing you on his bed with a bounce before he climbs on the bed himself, his moves slow and calculative as if he was predator stalking its prey, behind his eyes, you can see the gears behind moving as he thinks of what to do with you, but when you reach up to touch his cheek, you see his eyes softening around the edges, the control you have over him sends a shudder down your spine, Jeno smiles at that realisation when he comes to the conclusion that if you asked, he’d relinquish all control over his life to you if you asked, he’s willing to give you all of him at your request, now that he knows life is fragile not to love wholeheartedly, but he knows what you want, and for now, at this moment, you want Jeno to guide you, but what he asks you catches you off guard.

“What’s your average kill in a match on codm?” he asks as he hovers over you, arms caging your body.

“What? I don’t know, like 15 if you’re asking about multiplayer,” you answer in a tone of disbelief.

Jeno has that familiar cunning mirth on his face when he reaches for your phone that you had previously placed on his nightstand so as to not get in the way when things get heated.

“You think you can reach your average while I eat you out?” Jeno asks as he passes you your phone.

You feel heat crawl up your face when you register his words, can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous he sounds, but you’ll indulge him.

“I’ll try my best, just for you,” you agree, but you know there’s more to his proposition.

“Before you say yes, there’s a catch, if you don’t get 15 kills, for every kill you lack is one spank,” Jeno says with a quirked brow, his eyes challenging you.

You don’t consider yourself competitive, but when it comes to a game you know you’re good at, it ignites the dormant competitiveness in you that you swear you outgrew as a teenager.

“Deal,” you agree, you’re gonna win either way, if you fail awfully at the game, you still get to get your back blown out regardless, and in Jeno’s words, you've always been a masochist, maybe just a little bit. There must be some truth to it since you were sleeping with Yuta of all people.

“Let me know when you start,” Jeno says as you open the app, telling him when the countdown begins, and quickly he takes off your skirt and panties to toss it to the side of his bed.

Jeno starts off slow, his index finger tracing your slit, starting from the bottom, it piques your interest, but it doesn’t take away your focus entirely, until his fingertip hits the bundle of your nerves, your breath hitches, but you still manage to get your third kill of the game.

You look so hot like this, all concentrated on your phone screen, not so different from how you usually game, other than the fact that you now have your bottom lip between your teeth to ground yourself, Jeno hears another three more kills when he decides to go in for the actual kill, leaning down to capture your clit between his lips, hollowing his lips as his fingers enters you, so fucking wet, god, Jeno, groans to himself, he can’t wait to be inside you, your cursing distracts Jeno from his train of filthy thoughts.

“Died?” Jeno asks before he dives back to his feast between your legs, he distantly hears you cursing at a sniper before he feels your legs twitching when he finally finds your sensitive spot, fingers curling upward, knowing that you usually cave in and ask him to fuck you at this point when you’re having regular foreplay.

You curse silently when you realise you lost count of how many kills you managed to secure, you haven’t gotten a single headshot in this match, and when the score limit reaches its end, you can feel the knot in your abdomen threatening to snap, and so you quickly toss your phone aside to grind back on Jeno’s face, his nose has always been such a good placeholder for your clit to hump on, and Jeno loves it, loves how debauched you are, he could just watch you use him to chase your orgasm all night if he wanted to, and when you finally reach your high, a whine of Jeno’s name reaches his ears as he feels your sexy legs wrap around his head and your juices burst in his mouth and the excess dripping down his forearm.

When you finally come back to your senses after ascending to heaven, you check your score on your screen, you breathe a sigh of relief, 11 kills, you proudly show Jeno your score.

“So four spanks, you want to sit through your punishment or would you prefer if I do it in between rearranging your guts?” Jeno offers, since you did so well for him.

You ponder over the suggestion, but the thought of needing to wait longer to get filled has you choosing the latter.

“I think I’d like to be surprised today,” you say before you strip off the rest of your clothing, Jeno’s eyes following every movement you make, licking his lips when he sees the slight jiggle of your tits as you move about, that is until you settle on all four, presenting yourself to him, and a beast claws at Jeno’s belly for a need to just take you.

It’s like you read his mind, because you tell him to just put it in, that you’re loose enough from the foreplay, you say as you spread your cheeks for him, the sight of your wet pussy has him losing all control, who is he to deny you when you’re presented so prettily for him like this? He’s no god, any man would crack under your ministrations.

So he doesn’t hold back, grasping his cock in one hand while he parts your folds with the other, cursing when he finally slips in your warm and wet hole, slowly sliding in till the hilt, he loves this process, loves the way you shudder when you feel him intrude your walls inch by inch, your lips parted as your head rests on his pillow.

When you’ve adjusted to his size, you whimper out a singular word, move, before you feel your whole world fizzle away as pleasure clouds your head at the first thrust, always rough when you need him to be, rough and fast, that’s Jeno’s preferred pace, quickly locating your sensitive spot with the thick tip of his cock that has you screaming into his pillow, but no matter how hard you try to muffle your voice, the headboard banging against the walls is dead giveaway of how you’re having your back broken by Jeno, but you throw all caution to the wind if it means you get feel the feeling of such ecstasy flowing through your whole body, you swear every time he drills his cock inside you, the more pleasure you feel, and the dumber you get, when all thoughts of sanity get replaced by the primal need to chase your high, your train of thoughts, or lack thereof since all you were thinking were the word ‘cock’ on repeat, gets broken by a harsh smack on your butt, it came out of nowhere, catching you off guard, and it shows by how your walls clench tightly on Jeno’s dick, your release coating his length.

“Fuck, you’re such a fucking pain slut, aren’t you? One smack has you cumming on my dick like some virgin,” Jeno spats out as he keeps fucking you, knowing that you’re extra sensitive after two orgasms upping his motivation to drive you absolutely mad.

Jeno quickly finds your clit, the poor thing swollen with the treatment Jeno previously put it through, rubbing circles on your bundle of nerves roughly, which has you bucking before he sends two smacks its way.

“Fuck,” you curse to yourself as you feel tears prickling the corner of your eyes, trying so hard not to cum from the pain, and in doing so, you clench around Jeno so hard that has him stop mid thrust to anchor himself, he still wants to get at least one more out of you before he cums.

He resumes after having a bit fun with fondling your tits, thanking gravity with the way he could feel the weight of them in his palm, he’s gonna have to suck on them after he’s done with this, he thinks to himself before he goes back to chasing his high, planting one of his feet on the ground to fuck you faster, and soon you could feel yourself cumming at any second, whispering how you’re close to Jeno, before you feel another spank being sent to your clit, the pain and the oversensitivity pushing you over the edge with a scream of Jeno’s name and a fist forming with the sheets on his bed.

“Fuck, love it when you squirt for me,” you hear Jeno distantly, not really registering his words until you feel your thighs being slicked with your release, which Jeno promptly cleans up with his pack of wet tissue he’s kept in his room by the dozen ever since he found out you’re squirter.

When the three towels are stripped from under you and into the hamper, Jeno finally joins you under his fluffy blanket, holding you close.

“I didn’t go too far right?” Jeno asks, he trusts that you will use your safeword if he ever goes over the limit, but he always does a final check in after you settle, just in case you drop into a vulnerable state where you need extra care and attention.

“No, of course not, I feel more than fine, but thank you for asking,” you say before pecking his lips sweetly.

“You hungry? Craving anything? I could check if the guys are getting delivery, see if you want anything,” Jeno offers, but you shake your head.

“Just want some cuddles and sleep, I’ll let you know what I’m craving for brunch tomorrow, but now, I need to recharge,” you say as you snuggle closer to Jeno, practically attached at the hip, but Jeno lets you, combing through your hair for you as you drift off to sleep.

Jeno was first to wake, quickly climbing out of bed to shut his blinds, knowing that you absolutely despise being blinded by the sun rays first thing in the morning, you’ve always been a night owl after all.

After washing up in the bathroom, he makes his way back to you, still sleeping, cuddled under his blankets, just like how he’s tucked you in before he left his room, you don’t move much in your sleep, Jeno notices as he climbs back in bed, it’s no wonder why you always remain in his arms the whole night.

Jeno looked over to his alarm clock to see that it’s almost 10am, he knows this is the time you prefer waking up, and when Jeno sees his blanket slipping off your shoulder to reveal your smooth skin, Jeno has the best idea on how to wake you up, and maybe, even the whole house if he does well enough, and well, unfortunately for the other people sleeping right now, Jeno’s always been a top scorer for anything he puts his mind to, Jeno chuckles to himself at the thought of being a menace as he makes his way under the blankets.

You’ve never had everyone giving you the stink eye before, well, at least not in this frat house, and the one who looks most annoyed is none other than Haechan, whose room is next door to Jeno’s.

“I swear to god, hearing them made my hangover even worse,” Haechan mutters, but loud enough for everyone at the breakfast table to hear, Johnny was the first one to laugh, Johnny had left the party early for a hookup hence the lack of a hangover, he had just got back in time for this comedy show.

“You’re laughing?! My head is still pounding from last night’s drinking and worsened by their shenanigans and you’re laughing?! God, why did Renjun have to get lucky last night, they always pull shit like this when he’s gone,” Haechan complains, or moreso whining, if you asked Jeno.

“Come on, Haechan-ah, it couldn’t have been that bad, I didn’t even hear a thing,” Sungchan says, coming to Jeno’s defence quickly, they’re coursemates after all, and Jeno is always a big help to him, he loves Haechan, but he’s doing this for his own good.

“Your room is on the other side of the house, of course you barely heard anything, she literally sounded like she was getting mauled by a wild animal, listen, let me try and recreate-

Two taps on Jeno’s lap has your boyfriend springing up from his seat with a deadly gaze and Haechan goes silent before he screams bloody murder, running for Jaemin or Mark, whoever he finds first, Sungchan sighs to himself while Johnny and Jungwoo laugh at the comedic scene in front of them, and you can’t help but laugh along with them too, Haechan might have tried making fun of you, but you know Jeno would always be there to silence him for you, and honestly, you could get used to this life you share with Jeno.

The end.

[artbyblastweave]

One of the light-touch worldbuilding/storytelling/dramatic irony moments I really enjoy in Fallout: New Vegas is everything to do with Aurelius of Phoenix, the Legion Slavemaster operating Cottonwood Cove. Nested bit here, right? On first glance it seems like psuedo-Latin gibberish, something grandiose but divorced from meaning, like a lot of the Legion guys- but then you do the double take and realize it's a cognomen, a nickname Romans would receive based on great achievements or conquests-e.g. Scipio Africanus- and that implicitly this is the guy who helped sack the actual former city of Phoenix in Arizona. Stealth Future-imperfect trope, disguised at first glance because "Phoenix" is already a kind of grandiose mythologic-sounding word. And when you realize that, right, it's suddenly very funny, for the same basic reason The Republic of Dave is funny- grandiose terminology juxtaposed with a mundane name from the world we recognize. If it were Aurelius of Boise, Aurelius of Cincinnati, right, there are cities you could use in the pairing that would cause it to parse as much more of an explicit gag. So now it's silly in the way everything about the Legion is silly. But then it wraps back around to actually kind of unnerving, because first off, basically it's an offhand implication of something very nasty having gone down in Phoenix, A City From Real Life That We Recognize, in order for him to have gotten a whole Cognomen out of it. And second, it's obviously not a coincidence that his name doesn't sound dumb. Caesar isn't gonna let a subordinate quote-unquote "earn" a cognomen unless it's useful to him, unless it enhances the brand somehow, and having a guy named "Aurelius of Phoenix" walking around, well, it does do that! It feels calculated. It's not the kind of name that's downstream of cultural decay and half-remembered information. It's another example of how Caesar micromanages his slave army down to their very names, and how he lifts random superficial elements of Roman culture on an ad-hoc basis without integrating any of it on a deeper level. A lot going on, with this one guy's goofy name!

[dippedinmelancholy]

It might be wild, but I kind of hate that the only way Maas knows how to show women as claiming their sexuality and being “strong” is having them prance around in promiscuous clothing.

We see this with Mor, Feyre, and then Nesta. It’s not a character trait, it’s a statement that anything seen as rigid, conservative or modest makes you weak.

Feyre’s would be wedding dress to Tamlin is not bad because it’s hideous, but because it’s the traditional style of “princess” ballroom dresses. She suddenly enjoys dresses when they’re all skimpy and revealing, despite her having never enjoyed dresses before. Worse, Rhysand dresses her like a harlot, exactly as he did under the mountain, branding her in front of god knows how many eyes.

Mor’s style and statement of her clothing could be beautiful, except once again, it’s only used to show that if you value a more conservative style, you are too closed off, bitchy, and without value.

Both of these could be written as character TRAITS, that women can be as conservative or promiscuous as they want because it is THEIR BODY, except Nesta is shamed for both. She is shamed for her conservatism with her own body, and then shamed for her promiscuousness. She is used and put on display by the Night Court, who she allows to fuck her put under a microscope. She is only accepted by them when she wears the clothing they want her to wear, when she fucks who they want her to fuck.

Idk, I thought there was some beauty in the initial representation of Nesta. That a woman who is conservative in how she dresses, who fights with her words rather than blades, could claim just as power in her own sexuality as Mor or Feyre dressed in sheer fabrics.

And the worst irony is Mor widely fucks whoever she wants, often very blantantly under everyone’s gaze but specifically Azriel’s, drinks wine in almost every scene - and yet no one shames her for it. No one calls her an embarrassment. No one locks her in a house with Azriel because he wants her so badly.

Nesta deserves better.

Women can be just as proud of their sexuality in a conservative dress as a sheer one.

There’s power in simply being a woman, not only putting your flesh on display.

Nesta never should have been forced to conform to a lifestyle that is so opposite to everything she had ever wanted in life.

#pronesta #ic-critical #acotar #nestadeservedbetter #silverflamesbutcherednessian #everywomandeservestofeelpowerful

[probablyasocialecologist]

Israel’s legal manipulations draw on a series of ambiguities and exceptions that constitute international law, revealing that the laws of war favour states over non-state actors and the strong over the weak and consequently might not be the best tool to shield civilians in Gaza. Let us take some concrete examples. The standing orders given to the soldiers entering the Gaza Strip in 2014 were clear: Palestinians who did not heed Israel’s warnings to evacuate their homes and flee south became legitimate military targets. One soldier explained to the Israeli organisation Breaking the Silence that: “There weren’t really any rules of engagement … They told us: ‘There aren’t supposed to be any civilians there. If you spot someone, shoot’. Whether the person posed a threat or not wasn’t even a question; and that makes sense to me. If you shoot someone in Gaza it’s cool, no big deal. First of all because it’s Gaza, and second because that’s warfare. That, too, was made clear to us – they told us, ‘Don’t be afraid to shoot’, and they made it clear that there are no uninvolved civilians.” One might think that a military order permitting indiscriminate firing at civilians would be deemed illegal under international law, particularly given the principle of distinction (the bedrock of the laws of war calling on warring parties to distinguish at all times between civilians and combatants, and prohibiting the intentional attacking of civilians) – and given the fact that over half of the 2.3 million Palestinians currently living in the Gaza Strip are children. The irony is that Israel actually uses the laws of war to portray itself as the moral actor. As it has done earlier this week, in 2014, the Israeli army instructed hundreds of thousands of Palestinians to leave their homes and travel to the south knowing full well that among those living in the area are thousands of elderly and sick people and that the time it gave them to vacate the area was not sufficient. But Israel also knows that warning the Palestinian civilians and instructing them to leave will allow it to deny the very existence of civilians within northern Gaza. That is precisely the meaning of the phrase “there are no uninvolved civilians”, since it brands all those who have remained in the area – even if civilians are still the majority and are unable to leave, as the United Nations has averred about the current situation – as “participants in hostilities” or as “voluntary human shields”. Such terms render these civilians “killable”, according to some interpretations of the laws of war. And since the claim to morality is based on compliance with the laws of war, the lethal violence that Israeli soldiers use against civilians who remain in their homes is then constructed as morally justifiable and even ethical.

[bisnes-socks]

i have a lot to say about this one so pack a snack and let's make sex moneyyy

i think this is one of the most openly culture and media (and social media) critical songs he has. i think it's a super daring song that probably makes the likes of certain helsingin sanomat music critics a little bit uncomfortable, because he is spitting facts - and because he has a relationship with sex for show that people for some reason are still quite weird about.

to start a little further back: we all know sex sells. we all know the music industry uses sex to sell their products. but for some reason, in the year of our lord 2024, a musical artist verbally recognising that they are using their sexuality and sexual themes to build their brand is somehow scandalous. it's like.. it's okay to use sex to sell your art, if it's like "accidental" MTV sexuality or like agreeing to looking objectifiable. the media will call you hot and sexy and wow. but if you own your sexuality, make it obvious that yes this is sexual, i'm being very deliberately sexual and i am trying to be sexual..? oh no that won't do! scandal! we've seen it with so many artists, especially female artists. like WAP is a great example! how scandalous that suddenly these women had agency in their own sexuality! but no-one said a word when their sexuality served the usual male gaze agenda. it's like people are so much more comfortable being peeping toms who sexualise and objectify artists when they're not looking, but as soon as the artist does it as part of their whole thing? well now it's inappropriate actually.

he talked about this in a helsingin sanomat interview, saying how he does actually think things revolve too much around sex in the music industry, even though he uses sex and sexual themes himself to sell things as well, and that he sees the irony in saying that. but the difference, in my opinion, is that the way he, or someone like erika vikman for example, is so open and upfront about the sexual themes, that it becomes carnevalistic, it becomes camp. it's not insidiously using sexual and heteronormative objectifying imagery to get people horny. what käärijä does is playful and fun sexuality, and for whatever reason that is so unusual it needs to be talked about separately as something a bit wild and scandalous, and he needs to be asked to explain his actions.

and that's what this song is. he's very clearly saying none of this is accidental. the visuals of his brand, the social media content, the onlyfans thing, none of it is coincidental, accidental or anything other than his perfectly deliberate way of selling sex. and he has talked about these themes before, he has talked about like the rammstein live stuff that inspired him (some of it is pretty hardcore stuff) so to his fans it's nothing surprising that sexual themes are present in the brand and interest him. but he has also talked about how, even if this song is a bit tongue in cheek, he's also serious. and he is right. and for some reason calling people out about the fact that sex makes them buy things, even when it's true, is still.. scandalous somehow.

and he's basically calling people easy lmao. like, i needed to figure out a lil boost to my career and well, i know what will make you throw money at me. and i won't be shy about it either.

i'm getting sidetracked. the song.

and then that is enough to warrant lyrics such as "koko perheen käärijästä koko perheen krapula" meaning "käärijä for the whole family turning into a hangover for the whole family".

but it was all already there! let's not for a second pretend CCC was some sort of family show and a family song. it's not. but people were okay with that, because they could happily confuse the camp and carnevalistic sexuality of käärijä with the campness and carnevalistic nature of eurovision, and because it wasn't more than the suggestive sexual nature of everything else around them. and it was all just fun, when kids came up with their own lyrics to the song because they couldn't understand the references to drinking. so then people took their kids to see him at shows and became scandalised by the adult nature of it all. it's like.. people were fine letting their kids see the everyday media sexuality that we see in every eurovision, fine letting their kids get used to that, and then just sort of didn't think käärijä would be anything different. but he's only different in that in his show and brand, sex and sexuality aren't denied while still blatantly obviously there.

but again, a lot of this is to do with media, and what media normalises and what it doesn't. what it deems newsworthy and what it doesn't.

if in ready to go he's telling haters that i know you want to see me try and fail, maybe even be too embarrassed to try, but baby i'm ready to go, then in sex = money he's saying i know you want to see me naked and i know you want sex from all of this, so here you go, i'll sell you some sex. and then he stands there holding eye contact like what are you going to do with it. what a cunty king.

and there are so many fun and funny little details in this song.

right in the first verse we have "kieli taittuu sköödi föödi." good old sköödi föödi. i tried to find the earliest example of sköödi föödi, but i'm starting to think it might predate the internet, or at least social media. not to bring up köpi kallio again, but they use sköödi föödi a lot in viki ja köpi show, and köpi just happened to tweet about it in 2020, saying he believes sköödi föödi has been around for at least 20 years (someone tried to credit viki and köpi for it). so, what does sköödi föödi mean, you ask. it does not mean anything at all. sköödi föödi is just a sound, a noise you make, when you need it, usually in place of something in a foreign language but not exclusively. in this instance, sköödi föödi is him demonstrating his excellent english skills. sköödi föödi (pronounced almost like a sterotypical tv american would say skirdy-firdy) means nothing and it means everything, whatever you need it to mean.

it is also noteworthy to point out that "kieli taittuu" can be a reference to two different things here. the finnish word kieli means both tongue and language. so he could also be saying that he has a very bendy and flexible tongue, like literally. which, of course, all of europe has already seen. taittua literally means to fold or bend, but it's a common phrase to say, that if you can do something, you bend it (or more like it bends as a result). so literally the line translates to "language/tongue bends sköödi föödi".

the first verse ends in "sekö jos mikä on varma nakki" meaning "that, if anything, is a sure thing". nakki literally means a sausage, a hot dog sausage, weiner sausage, you name it: a small sausage. so translating literally: "that if anything is a sure sausage". it's a common phrase in spoken finnish, nothing unusual about that, but i love that he used it, because it makes the next line hilarious on a first listen, when the chant comes in. so when they start chanting NAK- NAK- i really thought they were gonna shout NAKKI. but no, it is nakuna, naked.

okay still with me? good. let's look at the "tein onlyfans bägin, koko suomen daddy" section next.

i remember when the song came out, people did explain who danny is, but in case anyone missed it, danny is a singer from finland, and he was a MASSIVE star back in the day, especially in the 70's. so to say he is bigger than danny is indeed quite the flex, because danny was like.. the finnish equivalent of elvis, basically. but danny is not just a flex, he turns danny into a clever thematical scheme here (more on thematical schemes in the bananas post, if you're interested). he says "kadulla on kuumaa, ne pyytää mua hätiin" and this is a reference to one of danny's most popular and famous songs, kesäkatu. smart, smart, smart! and then of course "kadulla on puumaa, mut mulla on jo täti" meaning there are cougars on the street, but i already have an aunt. which, that to me reads like both a cunty quip and a himbo line all at once. like shutting down some man wanting to be your daddy by telling him "but i already have a father". i nearly choked laughing the first time i heard the line.

also can i just say, calling himself the daddy of finland? like, thinking about the whole context i talked about at first, how people are comfortable with sexual stuff and sexualising, but not comfortable recognising it or being real about it or celebrating it? yeah knowing all that, he just called himself EVERYONE'S daddy in a song called sex = money, and he's not even wrong 😭

in conclusion: i love this song. and i love the attitude in it. it's like he is looking everyone, from every uncomfortable insecure hetero man, every scandalised parent to every tabloid journalist, straight in the eye and saying "yes, i'm selling sex. why? well i couldn't think of anything else, but then again, why should i? isn't this what you want? this is what you want. i know what you want. i'm your daddy."

like if he truly wanted to, he really could have this country on their knees for him, don't tell me last independence day didn't prove it. as much as he gets crap as well, at the end of the day, he has people under a spell by simply being, well, bigger than danny. and he-man.

now. the placement of the song on the album, right after autiomaa.

i personally don't think that the album builds one cohesive narrative from beginning to end. but i think this can be read two ways: a sad way and an empowering way. the sad way to read it is that he means it when he says he couldn't come up with anything else and his creativity is fried, but sex sells so he does that, and it's a bit mindless. but given the context of what he has had to say about this song, i'm more inclined to read this the empowering way: he has worked on himself and found a way to see things more clearly, and he has found it in himself to even be confrontational about things. the whiplash of the song order i think is more to highlight the fact that autiomaa is a rare glimpse into something different, and now here we go again. to me, sex = money makes autiomaa even more powerful, but autiomaa doesn't change the interpretation of sex = money all that much for me.

you really can't be upset about the song without proving his point. and you can't love the song without proving his point. facts have been spat and points have been proven. absolute king behaviour.

and if you read through this whole thing, i owe you money. cash money, not sex money. well, we'll talk about it.

++

bonus: i absolutely love that he knows how to say "make some noise" on this track, but continues to say "give me some voice" or some sort of a hybrid word between voice and noise, something like.. woise, at his international shows. the king of in through one ear, out through the other. he, she, noise, voice, he doesn't know the differences and does not care.

bonus bonus for the sad bojere bitches:

second verse: "täl alal ei sua kukaa huomaa" meaning "nobody will notice you in this field (of work)". maybe my brain is rotted but this moment reminds me so much of the famous liverpool bojere lunch date video where bojan tries to parrot jere, who is saying "tääl ollaa nyt, tota" and bojan goes "talalaiteta" and then they both proceed to giggle about it like it's the funniest thing anyone has ever said. "täl alal" goes out to you, bojan titanic.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Seven

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Seven!! Sorry it's taken a while, I've been busy with life and went away with some friends, but it's finally here! It's a long one too, so hoping it makes up for the wait. Also, I write music but fuckkk is it hard trying to actually rap, so this is just a forewarning to everyone seeing as there's a scene in this part that involves exactly that! Hope you enjoy it anyway:) Thank you for all the love on this series!

| Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2

taglist: @thelastemzy

Masterlist

“What’s your favourite chocolate?” I wondered around the Twizzler I’d gone ahead and stolen from the bag he’d gotten at the 7-Eleven. We’d been driving for a little while now, just under a half hour if I had to guess, and between us we had already succumbed to three short-lived encounters with brain freeze, all down to the Slurpee we continued to keep sharing. 

“Like brand?” Marshall questioned me, face wrinkling in confusion as he made another left hand turn, fingers loosening around the steering wheel when it righted itself.

“No,” I shook my head in answer, chewing on the red stick before I held out its end to Em when he tipped his chin in an asking gesture, “I don't know. Like, type?”

He had to think about it for a second, jaw working against the chewy sweet whilst his eyes continued to trail the length of road ahead. “Fuck, I don’ know. Like a Hershey’s maybe?”

I pulled a face at the reply, “Boring. Figured you might say M&M’s or something. Bring a little irony to the table, you know?”

Marshall’s head tilted sideways to level me with a snide look before he stole the next Twizzler right from out of my hand, “Hilarious.” He deadpanned as he took a big bite, “Come on then, Judge Judy. Tell me yours.”

Even whilst wrinkling my nose at his reference to the Tv Judge, I was quick with my retort, “Easy. Can’t go wrong with a Flake or a KitKat.”

“Heard of that first one.” Marshall mentioned, face dropping its previous snark as he pondered on my answer, “Ain’t ever tried it though.”

My eyes widened as I simultaneously turned to face him, ignoring the way my knee knocked against the centre console in my haste. “Oh, you’ve got to! It’s honest to God like Heaven melting in your mouth.”

With an unconvinced brow, Marshall just blew out a breath and shook his head at me. “But a KitKat?” He added after a second passed, “I don’t know. I mean, a chunky I could prolly get behind.”

My upper lip curled, “A chunky, really? What are you, twelve?”

Marshall returned the quip with a stupid look and then stole the rest of the Twizzler pack as a form of retaliation.

I rolled my eyes and it wasn’t long before he waved the topic away, claiming it was stupid anyway because Oreos were supposedly where it was at. An opinion which was strong enough steered us onto a whole new debate: biscuits vs cookies. 

I was still fighting for my life by the time Em eventually pulled the car off to the side, rolling up onto a curb outside a strip of buildings that appeared to get a whole lot of use. “All I’m saying is that a cookie is a kind of biscuit, right? So what the fuck sense does it make to claim that they’re all cookies?”

We’d since come to a slow stop, so confused I pivoted in my seat to look around us with a slight frown, catching sight of a bar on the very corner, a stretch of offices sat on the opposing side, and a huge block building that had long been dubbed ‘Saint Andrew’s’.

“This some sort of convent?” I wondered out loud whilst Marshall simply switched off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. When I glanced over at him again I found him already wearing an amused smirk, one which seemed to brighten at my words, though he just shook his head at my question. It was then that he chose to jump out. “Marsh?”

I was left with the low sound of his chuckle just as the door clicked shut behind him, leaving me in sudden silence whilst I watched the man round the front of the car. Blinking, I could only move to follow him, undoing my belt and finishing the last of the Slurpee before my door was opening all on its own. I raised a brow at Em’s gentlemanly act when I climbed out to join him on the pavement, but kept quiet about it as he shut the door behind me and locked up.

“Thanks.” I breathed out before peering around us once more, taking in the noisy street and the rowdy crowd that was gathered inside the bar a couple car lengths away. “Will you tell me where we are now though?”

“And spoil all the fun?” Marshall smirked, eyes glistening now as he backed away from the curb to start up the set of stairs leading into the big block building that had caught my eye a minute earlier. 

My face flattened, “You’re the only one having fun here.”

The grin he flashed me was cheeky and only lasted that of a split second before he was gesturing me to follow him up, tucking his hands away in his pockets when we finally reached the top step and came to a stop in front of a pair of heavy wooden doors that gave off such a retro feel. 

Staying quiet, Marshall was quick to push through them, as though he’d done it a thousand times before, slipping inside and holding the bottom plank open with just a foot so that I could join him. I wrapped my arms around myself slightly as the door stilted shut behind us, the sound echoing out. 

As I walked a little further inside, my gaze caught on the building’s lofty interior, a total contrast from both its outer disguise and what I’d first expected. It was a large lobby of sorts; four long tables were stationed in the very centre, a short stretch away from a snazzy looking bar detailed with ebony wood and warm lighting in the back, and adjacent to a set of stairs which led upwards.

I glanced back over at Em, who appeared to be watching me rather than taking in the room. I felt myself flush lightly under his gaze but quick to cover it up as I took another glance around, noting a different set of double doors sat on the other side of the room and a couple of sofas dotted around by the surrounding walls. I swallowed lightly before turning back to him, “Bit early to be drinking, no?”

It was a joke, a silly one seeing as he’d been sober for years, but one which seemed to loosen the atmosphere around us further as his mouth quirked upwards slightly and he moved to walk once more, nodding his head at me to follow. 

Follow I did, eyes catching on all sorts of details the building had to offer as he led me across the room and through the mentioned pair of doors, turning away from what appeared to be the ‘main event’ (a rather large hall decked out with a stage and a plethora of seating rows) so that he could instead jog down a hall full of metal stairs. 

The heavy door at the very bottom opened with a long squeak and although there had been people dotting the building here and there as we’d walked through, I took quick note of the small group which resided down here. There were only about six of them, from what I could first tell, the majority messing about with wires and other equipment by a platform stage whilst another two stood behind what looked to be a bar. 

My attention was ultimately caught though by the two men bickering back and forth by the side of the stage, just in front of a DJ booth.

“Fuck you, man. I’ma do what I like!” The first one spat, nose wrinkled as he swiped a microphone right from out of the other man’s hand. He was a few inches shorter than the latter but didn’t seem to mind, nor care, about that fact as he practically tiptoed to better get in the guy’s face. 

“Awh Jesus man, Soup! Why you always clownin’ around?” The second blew out, tossing the rest of the mic’s lead his way as he swatted at the air, “I mean, come on. You always tryna switch shit up when shit don’ need to be switched up!”

Soup? If that really was his name, didn’t seem to much care about his mate’s lack of excitement for whatever plans he had brewing as he fumbled with the jack lead and jumped back at him to defend himself. “I ain’t clownin’, dawg! Just trust me here on this one, this is gone bring a whole load’a new people in, D! I just know they gone be linin’ up out the door to get their hands on this stuff.”

“We ain’t sellin’ fuckin’ club merch, Soup. How many times I gotta say it?” ‘D’ retorted and shook his head as he turned his back on the other man to grab the rest of the equipment they’d obviously been unboxing.

“Yo, when have I ever been wrong ‘bout shit like this?” Soup followed up, unrelenting as he dragged the mic along with him, creating enough of a trip hazard that I worried when a young guy in a yellow cap swerved on past him. But it appeared that everyone here was far too used to the duo’s antics because the man in the cap skipped over the lead with an ease that looked utterly effortless, making it to the bar in one piece whilst the other two continued on none the wiser.

“How ‘bout every damn time?” D huffed with a look thrown over his shoulder, before he then sighed, “We stick to what we know, man. Stop houndin’ me with all this other crap.”

It was just as Soup opened his mouth to argue his case yet again that Marshall laughed from beside me, making me jump ever so as the noise rang out across the room. Heads spun in our direction then, most eyes widening at the sight of the infamous newcomer but mine were caught on the matching set of grins that Em was immediately met with when kicked off the wall he’d been leaning against, content with having watched the argument play out.

“Mickey, my man!” D hollered, dropping what he held back into the box to meet Marshall halfway. 

“Thought I told you to stop callin’ me that.” But even with the snippy retort, Em was smiling as the two of them clapped hands, sharing a short embrace before Soup wormed his way between them. 

D shook his head as he took a large step back, although the man was still grinning, eyes captured on the two friends, “Shit, man. It’s good to see you.”

Marshall just smiled before he turned to the shorter man and clapped him on the back, “How you doin’, Soup?” He let his hood fall back as he stood before the small group around us, seeming to become more alive in their presence, “Still mouthin’ off, I see.”

My own lips quirked up at that, watching the three of them from the sidelines. It was obvious to anyone with eyes that they had history, all of them sharing an easy comradery that I hadn’t much seen yet with Em since I’d first arrived, and already I was hooked on watching it all play out.

“I ain’t mouthin’ off, man. This idea’s the real deal!” Soup countered and he was smiling so wide that I could see the silver tooth that was embedded where his front left should have been over from where I stood. “Genius even! Could see it settin’ us up ‘til The Jam finally passes.”

I had no idea what the fuck ‘The Jam’ was but I had a calculating thought as to what the underground level of Saint Andrew’s supposedly was now. It was a little surreal once I’d latched onto the idea, in truth, never having figured I’d be standing in The Shelter of all places. The building was notorious on its own, having hosted a plethora of artists up in the main hall, people like Nirvana, R.E.M., The Beastie Boys, Iggy Pop, Blur, and Bob Dylan. And so I kicked myself for not having realised it sooner, the venue truly was one of the best in the city! Then again, I’d only ever really heard it iconically dubbed as The Shelter.

Marshall appeared to look back over at me then as he shook his head at Soup’s justification, grin softening ever so. I smiled back at him, gaze flickering over the expanse of his face, taking in what I could.

“Yo, come on over.” He said, voice travelling over to me without him even having to yell. The two men seemed to recognise my presence then as they turned to get a good glance at just who Em seemed to be speaking to. So, accompanied by only a little trepidation, I walked over to meet them, D eyes calculating whilst Soup’s lips pursed in an act of surprise, his eyes raking over me.

“Woo, Slim. And they claim you gotta type!” Soup all but whistled at my approach, earning a raised brow from me and a hearty backhand from his promoter friend. 

Marshall just rolled his eyes, seemingly used to it, arm stretching out to welcome me into the odd triangle they’d created, an action I allowed even as his hand came to rest on the small of my back. “Ignore Soup, he ain’t never been near a lady.” 

Blowing out an unexpected chuckle, I pressed my lips together before they eventually settled into akin to a smirk, eyes flitting over the two men. “Most would beg to differ with those pretty eyes.” I quipped, ignoring the man’s previous remark but filing it away for later.

Soup blinked at the obvious complement, seemingly dazed for a split second before he bounced back with a kilowatt grin. He looked between Marshall and D smugly, batting his eyelashes. “Y’all see?” He said, before he turned to me, “I been tellin’ ‘em, baby. But do they listen? No.”

D rolled his eyes at his friend’s antics, apparently done with him as he shoved Soup hard enough for the man to stumble slightly to the side, ignoring the scowl he got in turn whilst Marshall just snorted, the hand on my back unmoving. “You really gone dropped yourself in it now.” D chuckled to him, peering over at me with a sweet smile that warmed his face whilst Soup tried to right himself, “What, Mickey didn’t warn you?”

“Mickey?” I wondered, eyes flitting between the two. I grinned when Em groaned lowly, tossing his head back a tad.

D laughed at my ask, the sound bright in the shrouded shadows of which lower levels of the building offered, “As a kid he had these giant fuckin’ ears, his momma called him it the first time she picked him up from school and well, it sorta stuck.”

“Actually?” I looked back over at Marshall with an almost adoring face, peering past the brim of his cap to get a better look at his ears, “Oh my god, I can actually see it now!”

I joined D in his snickering after, muffling my amusement slightly when Em’s eyes narrowed a tad in a playful way, his hand dropping from my lower back to pinch my furthest hip. I raised my own in a silent surrender, but his settled there. 

“Yeah, yeah. Eat it up.” The man scoffed whilst he shook his head at us, pointing an accusing finger over at D, who’d since settled a hand on his stomach to keep from bowling over, “You know I’ma have to get you back for that one.”

D merely waved the warning away, just as Soup slid on over to pipe up once more, “Ayo, you gone introduce us to yo girl then, Slim, or you just waitin’ on me to work my magic?” He asked around a smug smile, shucking the collar of his heavy jacket before he flashed me a flirty look, “Homegirl’s got a real pretty voice, too. Where you from, baby?”

Never had I ever had someone be so blatant, I was honestly unsure if he was just messing around in hopes to annoy Em or if he was actually trying his luck with me. A little wide eyed, I looked back at Marshall stumped. The man’s face had flattened a tad at Soup’s remarks but his smirk was still ever present.

“Lay off it, man.” D sighed before Marshall could say anything at all, cheek dimpling as he shook his head once more at the shorter man. 

“I’m just sayin’!” Soup proclaimed before he spun back around to face Em, “A girl that fine is gone get snatched up real quick, man.”

“Keep talkin’ and you might not keep your tongue.” Marshall responded calmly enough, though it shocked me enough to have me keeping quiet as the man stared back at Soup unblinkingly, lifting an eyebrow at him whilst his hand continued to reside at my hip.

“Oo and the claws have come out!” D cut in with a whoop, obviously humoured by it all, but his response was enough to have Marshall rolling his eyes and for another small smirk to toy at the corner of his lips.

Soup grinned as well, hands held up in a placating gesture, “You know I mean no harm, Slim.”

“Yeah, you ain’t never mean it.” Marshall shot back around a low chuckle, clucking his tongue when Soup immediately tried to argue his case, rapidly mentioning a house fire, some sort of robbery that had gone wrong and then an accidental shooting far too quickly for me to really ask anymore about it, because Em chose then to speak over him, ultimately cutting him off. “You done?”

With a huff, Soup let up. “I was just sayin’.”

D snorted, “When the hell are you not just sayin’, my man."

Marshall shook his head at the duo and wet his lower lip before he finally moved to introduce us, although it was also in that moment that his hand finally slipped away. The lack of it had me blinking. 

“Boys, this is Elia. El, this here is Soup and Drew.” Drew shot me a smile alongside a slight tilt of his chin, whilst Soup just wiggled his brow. Marshall continued on with a swift jab to the latter’s abdomen, ignoring the slight squark given, “Known these guys since middle school.”

I tried to add up the age in my head, forever baffled by the difference in education here to that back home. Em must have realised it too, because his next smile was wry and knowing.

“‘Bout ten, if I had to guess.” He mentioned just to settle the matter for me, before he looked back at D and Soup to explain, “Girl’s from London, they do shit different over there.”

I rolled my eyes, though my smile gave away to the fact that he’d amused me with his explanation. Drew nodded in understanding whilst Soup– well, he was Soup, “Oh shit! I thought all them talked real classy.”

My brow rose all on its own, “This your way of saying I’m not classy?”

His eyes grew huge as he realised his mistake, stuttering to correct himself and stumbling ever so to be sure of it, “Nah, no! What? I jus’– I meant it like–” He spluttered before he finally landed on, “I said you had a real pretty voice!”

Snorting, I let myself smile which appeared to ease the man’s evident worry over having offended me and had the remaining two snickering between themselves. He shot the pair of them a scathing look and elbowed Drew, who in return just laughed that little bit harder.

“Shut it.”

I almost felt bad. Peering back over at Soup, I eventually spoke, “You’re all good. I was just teasing.”

“Teasin’.” Soup seemed to linger on the word, twirling it over his tongue and around his mouth as he muttered the word over again, lower lip turning itself out in thought. “Dope.”

Marshall shook his head with a huff before his eyes eventually landed on me once more, I widened my own in jest, but the wordless moment was cut short by D. “Aye, you ain’t the same Elia that sung Sinnerman are you?”

My head jolted back ever so slightly in surprise. Sinnerman had been an early days cover, one from when I’d been busking in pubs way back when and of the few that had been filmed on a shaky camcorder and uploaded to the internet by some random patron. I hadn’t thought of the video in well over a decade, but remembered it had managed to gather a large enough viewing at some point that it had dragged more people into the pub to see me.

Fishmouthing slightly, I nodded just the once. “Yeah. God, yeah. Wow, you saw that?”

Marshall’s brow had since furrowed, watching the conversation play out between us just as Drew’s face brightened considerably. “Hell yeah I saw that! That shit was cold, girl. Remembered hearin’ your voice and thinkin’ 'she’s gone make it someday.” He told me, making me flush a tad at the praise, “‘n I was right.” He continued on, nudging his chin over in my direction with a thoughtful smile, “Knew I recognised you from somewhere. Saw one of your shows when I was last in LA, couple years back now though.”

I actually giggled at that, fingers jumping up to cover my mouth whilst I shook my head slightly, “That’s insane.”

“Hold up,” Soup interrupted, a bemused look marring his face, “So you famous too? You ‘member how I just said you was fine, yeah?”

“Soup, man.” Marshall warned around a put upon sigh.

“I’m jus–”

“Just sayin’. Yeah, we know.” Drew finished for him, smirking as he rolled his brown eyes.

Chuckling, I went a little easy on the former, “I’ll make sure to remember.”

Soup perked up at that, tossing the other two a prideful look, whilst Em’s gaze turned Heavenwards. 

It was then that Drew turned to pick up the equipment he’d since dropped, the three of us following him as he spoke, “So what you doin’ down in these parts anyway? Figured you’d be workin’ or some shit ‘cause last we saw you was way back in December.” He threw a couple of cables Soup’s way, huffing out a soft chuckle when the man fumbled to catch them, earning himself a glare he didn’t respond to. “Made a fuckton of sales then though. Got me thinkin’ maybe you should show your face ‘round here more often. We all know those magazines don’t want it no more.”

Marshall flipped him off but came to a stand beside him, reaching inside the box to help out. “Still as unfunny as ever, D.” He replied, handing me a couple of packs to hold onto whilst he grabbed a few more, “Was showin’ Ms. London over there the neighbourhood, so I thought I’d stop in to see how you two knuckleheads were doin’ without me.”

“Hey we survived this long!” Soup exclaimed to him around a laugh, struggling with a mic stand he’d since dragged up onto the stage.

“Don’t I know it.” Drew murmured in a funny sort of self-suffering way that made me grin, “You take her to Cow’s head?”

The question had Marshall rolling his eyes as the man sorted through the packs he’d gathered, me aiding with the process whilst I listened. “Shithole’s gone be there longer than I ever will be, figured I’d have time.”

D blew out a chuckle, “Ain’t that the truth.”

“Red.” I mentioned, handing back the pack Marshall had attempted to give me, fingers brushing over the back of his as he dipped his chin in a show of acknowledgement. “What’s the Cow’s head anyway?”

“Old ice-cream stand on Mack. Used to use it during drivebys or to just deal. You remember Jimmy? He still works that corner.” Drew explained, aiming that last bit over at Em, which ended up making the man chuckle around a small tutting sound. D continued on though, for my supposed benefit, “But mostly it was just a place people got caught hookin’ up behind.”

Feeling bold, I was quick to quip, “And I paint you as that type of girl, do I, D?”

Widening my stare up at the man when his head darted backwards with a shuttered expression, Marshall could only snicker beside me. “Awh, come on, be nice.” He said, though his smile was jeering, “I tell you, Drew’s a real feminist.”

Sharing a smile with him, I was quick to look back at the man in question, who in turn merely tossed another pack at Em, who narrowly avoided it hitting him upside the head. “Asshole.” Drew sniped, “A guy dates one vegan chick and a brother never lets him live it down.”

“It weren’t ‘cause she didn’t like meat, man!” Soup added his two cents in, smile smug as he propped himself up on the mic stand, “It was ‘cause she didn’t - like - meat!”

Marshall’s loud laugh had me looking up, instantly invested in watching the way his eyes closed with the action and how his cheeks then appled. He caught me watching him when he lowered his head and rolled his eyes fondly at his friend, figuring I’d only been staring because I hadn’t caught onto Soup’s joke, “Next person she dated was this vampy chick who worked at Chilly's.”

My mouth formed into an ‘o’ shape before I was tittering away too, much to Drew’s obvious displeasure, the man waved the three of us away with a lazy hand before he carried on hooking up a couple mics.

It continued on that way for a short while, me listening to the trios odd stories and funny tales from their youth whilst Drew and Soup grew comfortable enough to ask me a little more about myself. Though both of them were wholly invested in the story of how Marshall and I met, Soup latching onto it before I could think about where the explanation might lead.

“Come on then, woman.” The man was quick to start, jerking his head at me in a sudden rush of enthusiasm as he jumped past the DJ booth, “Let’s see what you’re made of.”

My forehead pinched in confusion as I pushed myself up from where I’d been crouching down by an amp. It was an older model and the fuse at the back really needed to be resoldered, but it would work for a while longer. I looked over at the man and his newfound excitement, brows furrowing further, “What?”

Soup just waved me over though to where he was now centred midstage. “You heard me, get yo ass up here!”

I could only look to Em then and when he didn’t offer me anything other than an amused shrug, cheek twitching, I turned to Drew.

The tall man simply raised his hands before he shrugged too, smiling ever so sweetly. “Need to mic check anyway,” He mentioned, jutting his chin over to where Soup continued to stand, “I propose a battle.”

“Hell yeah, man!” Soup hollered loudly, already moving to grab a set of mics from the front panel, sending an audible squeak through the room that had most of its occupants wincing. 

“Not happening.” I quickly shot down, shaking my head as I moved away from the amp– and therefore the stage. 

“Why, you scared?” Soup prodded mockingly, earning a low ‘ooh’ from both Marshall and Drew. 

“Terrified.” Came my deadened retort, before I chewed at the inside of my cheek, gaze flitting back and forth between Soup and the duo perched by the side of the deck. “There’s no way I’m doing it.” I added, furthering my previous answer.

“Don’t have to be long. A minute max.” Drew assured me, already moving to work the amp that the mics were connected to. My eyes widened at the move, flicking back to Em in one final plea.

“Don’t look at me.” The older man laughed, his blue eyes shining. “I already done did my time here.”

Way to rub it in, I thought to myself before looking towards the stage with a pinched expression. 

One final glance between the three men and I knew I couldn’t say no, not without a fight at the very least, so I let go of the heavy breath I was holding and took a big step up onto the stage’s panelling, holding out a hand to Soup for the remaining microphone. “Don’t say I never did nothing.” I heard myself say, earning a round of chuckles just as D finished setting up and Soup started to stretch theatrically. “I hate you all.”

“El-i-a.” Marshall started up and immediately my head snapped over to find him stood by the front of the stage, hands circling his mouth. “El-i-a!” He chanted again right as a steady beat came through the overhead speakers. I felt my stomach flip and was quick to shoot the man a scathing glare, not that Em minded it, continuing to grin up at me. Smug as could be.

It was that, I supposed, which had me forcing back the bile that was now building, enough to try and shake the nerves away too. I could do it, I breathed in deeply, it was just a little fun. Nothing unlike what Danny and I used to do as kids, making breakfast whilst mum was dead asleep in the next room or off getting high someplace else.

“You ready, Limey?” Soup snarked, but it only proved to further stoke that fire that had started. 

“You first.” 

Soup dipped his head before he started bouncing it to the rhythm, torso soon following it. I tensed as I waited for his first line, sole focus on the man stood across from me and wondering how the fuck people did this in front of such a huge crowd. All I could do was pray that I didn’t embarrass myself too much.

“See, this here is a little white girl, 

Who’s momma told her she could have the whole wide-world,

But just ‘cause she got Slim wrapped ‘round her fin-ger,

Don’t mean that my boy’s ever gonna ring her,

He’s a wraith, yeah, which means he never ling-ers,

Have her sleepin’ in his bed ‘fore he finds another singer.

And that’s not on me clownin’ girl, I’ve seen it,

He’ll wrap and tap, and then he’ll jus’ go ‘n leave it,

You cute and all but you ain’t nothin’ spec-ial,

We all know white girls ain’t on a brother’s lev-el,

So while you thinkin’ you out here makin’ it big,

Jus’ remember who’s runnin’ this motherfuckin’ gig.”

Pursing my lips to keep from grinning too broadly– an act to keep up the facade that this was a very real battle and that his words had actually stung me– I then booed the performance whilst the rest of the room applauded, a few laughs and cheers echoing out around us. “Alright, I see. That’s how it’s gonna be.”

Soup shrugged cooly, though his smile was wide and teasing. “I went easy on you, girl.”

I hummed disbelievingly, then looked over my shoulder at Drew, who nodded in understanding, moving to continue the beat. I sucked in a small breath and attempted to feel the rhythm, the way it pulsed beneath my feet and how it seemed to jump between my ribs. 

It was a split second decision I made to glance over at Marshall in the next moment which came and although he stood surly, arms crossed over his chest whilst he waited for me to start, his eyes were watching, anticipating. Between us we’d yet to work on any real music and so I figured this could be my shot to show him what I was really made of.

I inhaled.

“Man, you know for a rapper I think you’re missing one restriction,

The same type they tell kids is in the terms ‘n conditions, 

When they try and ride the big boy rides at the theme park, 

Only to find out that they went and fucking missed the mark.

I mean, I guess you’re kinda cute for a– short guy,

But kings are made, baby, so I won’t spin you a lie,

‘Bout how it’s okay to only miss a couple inches,

‘Cause it's one thing height wise, but your dick looks like the Grinches.

And I know I should probably stop before I hurt your ego,

But with a name like Soup that ships since sailed, amigo,

Like I can’t help but wonder who’d your mother hate more?

You, or that motherfucking grocery store.”

A loud chorus of applause went up as soon as the beat dropped, leaving me looking back at Soup’s slack jaw in the stooped light. It was only when Drew whooped right by my ear that I realised he’d jumped past the booth to drag both Soup and I into his hold, shaking our shoulders hard enough to rattle the pair of us. 

I let the mic slip slightly in my hold, arm dropping to my side as I casted a slow glance out at the audience, finding that a few more people had slipped into the room since we’d started the stupid battle. My chest tightened a little at the realisation but it was easy to let go of the anxiety when Drew was all but bouncing beside me.

“Damn, girl! That was cold, honestly thought Soup would have you there.” D grinned, looking down at me whilst Soup managed to release himself from the taller man’s hold. “You did anything like this before?” He asked and I had to shake my head.

“Hang on. You just butchered and served me up on a plate, ‘n now you gone deny not ever battlin’ before?” Soup spluttered, eyes wide as dinner plates, enough though to match his growing grin, “Woman, you don’t expect me to really believe you.”

Laughing, I tried to rally, but it was then that another body joined the masses, sliding in beside me. It was their appearance that had Drew’s arm loosening its hold on me. 

“She ain’t lyin’. I’ve heard her spit a little before, I won’t deny it, but that was some next level shit.” Marshall commented, absorbing all of my attention. “You went in hard.” He laughed incredulously, eyes roaming over me as though he was taking me in again in a whole other way. I felt my cheeks heat but couldn't decide whether or not it was down to the sudden attention we’d garnered or just him. 

“Hard?” Drew cut in, “Girl killed him!”

Soup shoved him as payback but it wasn’t enough to really trip the man. “I said I went easy!”

D hummed sarcastically, dragging it out long enough to earn himself another hearty shove before he then chuckled, “Face it, Soup. You got yo short ass handed to you.”

“Sorry, man.” Marshall stepped in before it could escalate and it was then he draped his arm over my shoulders, drawing me in enough to have me leaning against his side. “D ain’t wrong. Best hope no one breathes a word, otherwise you gone be fighting for your life in the next battle.”

I rolled my eyes at the sudden dramatics, and again when Soup’s expression troubled slightly, I shook my head. “I’m gonna say it again, I hate all of you.”

The words earned me a few laughs and the feel of Em’s chin coming to rest atop my head.

–

The drive back was made up of a dull buzzing tension, most of which emanated from me, seeing as I was still riding out the waves of anxiety I’d experienced throughout the battle and then after. I’d gotten a few nods of approval once I’d stepped off the stage under Em’s arm, Soup still echoing his previous sentiment of having gone easy on the new girl, and then a couple people's praises when Marshall had finally decided to head on out, claiming that we had places to be. 

So he’d said his goodbyes to his longtime friends, with both Soup and Drew managing to worm their way into my followers list on Twitter and having put their numbers in my phone. They’d claimed it was so I always knew that I had a place to come visit if I ever found myself back in Detroit and so I echoed the notion, saying that they could have tickets to any show they liked and a tour of London if they ever made the trip. Something which had seemed to please Marshall, seeing as his smile stuck all the way back up to the car. 

“I still can’t believe I did that.” I breathed once we were a little way away, The Shelter less than a dot behind us in the rearview mirror. 

Marshall blew out a small chuckle, “Why not?”

Shrugging, I found that I didn’t really have an obvious answer to his question. “I don’t know, just not my thing, you know? Like I never pictured myself doing anything like that.”

He made a short hum in retort, “I get that. Still, it was a sight to see.” He snickered after, mouth lifting into what I’d label a sarky smile, “Doubt Soup will live it down for a while.”

I winced before eventually laughing too, thinking back on the entire experience. “They’re good guys, real nice. It’s been a while since I really had fun like that.”

Marshall’s head turned to look over at me, eyes lingering on mine. “Me too.”

The smile that took over my face truly was unavoidable and so I looked towards the passenger window in hopes to shield him from it. “You do that often then?” I asked once a half a dozen shop fronts had passed us by, “Drag people down there in hopes they’ll destroy what’s left of Soup’s reputation.” I added teasingly when all he’d done was gift me a look of vague confusion. 

The skin between his brows slackened in understanding before he then shook his head, “Nah, reckon you’re the first.”

I blinked slowly at that revelation. “But you said–”

Marshall glanced over at me but was quick to hone his focus back on the road. “Know what I said. Also mentioned that it never worked out, remember?”

I did, remember that is. And immediately thought back to the earlier conversation we’d shared on the car ride over to his old home and how the people he’d let in never seemed to get why all this mattered so much. “Was that what Soup was on about then? When he claimed people thought you had a type.”

Em had to think back on that one and was quiet for a second or two before he worked his jaw. I wondered if he was reminded of the fact that once again he’d failed to mention that I wasn't in fact his girl. I didn’t ask about it.

“Nah, I guess that’s down to them havin’ met a couple of the women I’ve dated.” Marshall evaded slightly, confusing me enough to prod.

“What do you mean?”

He was silent for a long moment, but I allowed him it, figuring that whether he answered or not would be down to him. I wasn’t the type to force shit out of a person. 

“After Kim,” He started slowly, already assuming that I knew most of it, which wasn’t incorrect, if you listened to the guy’s music then you probably knew more than needed. “Lot of the girls I was seeing were fling type shit. Superficial, you know? A couple models, other famous people wantin’ to hop on the wagon. Tried to date a few women who weren’t immersed in that lifestyle after rehab and my divorce, but it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped.”

I chewed on my inner cheek, pondering over the string of women who had been welcomed into Marshall’s life. Still stuck on the thought that Soup reckoned I was different to them just from looking at me. ‘Cause see, I knew I was probably overthinking this but I wasn’t horrible looking, had to be at least a little attractive to sell albums with my face on, but I was far from being that of a model. That much I knew. In truth, I didn’t even know why I was so hung up on the thought, me and Em were just friends, that was all.

“Still, I figured that maybe Kim just fucked all that up for me. Hard to trust, to let people in. ‘Sposed it was easier just havin’ people leave before they could fuck me up any further.” Marshall explained, none the wiser to my thoughts as he drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel, “Drew and Soup, they’ve been ‘round for a long while, before Dre, ‘fore I ever even thought too hard about rappin’. They saw me through it all. I guess when you came over they kind of figured that shit had to be different, I ain’t never brought no one ‘round here to them, let alone a girl they’d never met.”

I ran my tongue over my lower lip as I listened, it wasn’t a complete answer to my question— why Soup had figured Marshall had a type and me being far from it— but it was him opening up and I wasn’t about to spit in his face and get all prickly over it.

“Should I feel a sense of privilege then?” I found myself poking fun at him instead, an effort to get away from the handful of ideas that had started to plague my mind. “‘Cause I feel like I should.”

Em laughed, the gesture light, easy. It felt like the visit to Saint Andrew’s had done us both some good. “Fuckin’ right. Shelter alone is somethin’ I don’t visit all that often. D and Soup are just an added nuisance, I guess.”

“Shut up.” I chuckled in return, shaking my head at his words, knowing just how much bullshit they held after having witnessed the relationship the three of them shared. “You love ‘em.”

With a grunt, Marshall then shrugged around a quiet smirk. “Come on, today’s been all about me, I’m sick of it. Don’t tell me you ain’t got no mad stories about a couple crappy exes.”

It was an invite as well as a dip into a pool of unasked questions, a topic where Em didn’t seem too keen on overstepping. But he was right, he’d given me a lot today and that meant something.

“I don’t know what to say really.” I answered him with a subtle shrug, “Never really had an ex.”

Marshall almost came to a full stop with the way his foot stuttered over the brake. The action would have earned us a lot of loud beeps, maybe even a small collision if we hadn’t been the only ones driving down this particular side road.

“Shit, Marshall! What the fuck?” I exclaimed in one fluid breath, releasing my hold on the car door I’d gone and grabbed onto in my haste to stop my body from propelling forward into the dash. I fixed him with a wide eyed stare, “Why the hell would you do that?”

“Why’d I do that? Why’d you say that?” He countered, as if he was making any sense at all. 

“Say what!” I asked him, voice shrill and still a decibel too high after the sudden scare, but Marshall appeared mostly unphased by it, having started driving again despite everything. 

He scoffed, “That someone as pretty as you don’t have no exes.” 

I paused, noting that the way my heart stuttered was very similar to the way the car had, suddenly and then all at once. But although I was surprised by the compliment, I forced myself to relax a tad, ignoring how my pulse jumped rapidly in my throat– down to the scare or his words I wouldn’t ever know. 

“I don’t.” I told him point blank, hoping that the heat I felt in my face was just that and not me blushing. “I mean, I've had little flings and the odd date, but nothing like— I don’t know, nothing too real or long lasting.” Describing that fact was more than a little embarrassing, I wouldn’t lie, it always made me feel less than in a strange way. 

“There ain’t no way.” Marshall continued on, unknowingly driving that particular wedge in further I supposed. “There’s gotta be somebody.”

I sighed. “No. But if you want a story, the last person I was seeing was this singer, we worked together on my last album, flirted, fucked and then went on a couple dates. He stayed with me in London for a while but ended up sleeping with one of my close friends on my sofa, so, you know.”

I let go of the rest of breath I’d been holding onto then, shoulders slumping a little with it, before I suddenly remembered the next part to that particular tale. 

“Oh! And he also decided to dedicate the whole B side of his next album to it. Can you believe that? The B side, Marshall. I mean fair enough, write about an experience and what fucking not, but the B side? That’s just kicking a person whilst they’re already down, no?” I added, shaking my head in hopes to get rid of the memory, but no such luck. “He was the one who did that film too, um— I can’t for the life of me remember the name of it, but when they won that Academy award last year he mentioned me as the ‘one who got away’ and then thanked me for being the reason he was able to channel so much of his ability into the character.”

I actually had to laugh at the reminder, having been utterly fuming when the whole thing had gone down. But I guessed that enough time had passed since then that I only questioned the very decision I’d made to have let that arsehole and his tiny dick anywhere near me whenever his name was mentioned. 

“Shit’s messed up.” Em blew out, eyes alert and flitting back and forth between me and the road.

Snorting in reply to that, I couldn’t help but shoot him a wry grin. “No shit. But yeah, I don’t know. I’ve never really let anyone get too close, I ‘spose. Just easier to keep people at arm's length than give them the chance to hurt me.”

“Damn,” Marshall said, “talk about daddy issues.”

Surprised by his words, a laugh bubbled up out of me, “Like you’re one to talk.”

Em’s lips pursed in an attempt to dim his amusement to that, turning the wheel with a single motion and letting it drag back over his palm when we turned onto the next street. “Still. It’s hard to believe.”

I gave a soft chuckle in reply, letting my head loll against the headrest so that I could bat my lashes in his direction, “Why, ‘cause I’m so pretty?” I teased him, recalling his earlier statement.

Marshall’s head shake was slight but visible, as was the tiny curve his mouth made.

I reached out to poke his shoulder, smirking now. “Come on, say it again.”

He swatted my hand away before I could continue on with my fun, “Anyone ever tell you you’re also annoyin’ as fuck?”

“Yes.” I replied easily enough, “No one’s ever called me pretty though.”

“Liar.”

I laughed, the bright sound filling up the car. “Yeah, but at least I’m pretty too.” He went to open his mouth after I said that but I beat him to the jump, “Can’t take it back now you’ve already said it!”

Tutting, Marshall had to shake his head again, eyes flitting over to my wide smile, trailing the length of it. “Such a shithead.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“What are you, two?”

“Maybe.” I shot back, pointing over at him. “What’s that make you then, if I’m two and you think I’m pretty?”

Marshall caught my finger with his free hand in retaliation and clung to it as he resettled his arm back in his lap, “Fuckin’ weirdo.”

“Least I’m not a creep.”

“Asshole.” 

“Dickhead.”

“Bitch.” He quipped, eyes gleaming as they darted over to meet mine.

I shook my head in hopes to hide my growing grin, but it was then that I instantly perked up, gaze catching on the large allotment sat up ahead. “Oh, let’s go there!”

“What, to Trader Joe's?” Marshall voiced his confusion at the sudden switch in topic, though his expression was much softer than I had expected in the face of my excitement when I peered back around to look over at him.

“Yeah, can we?” I pushed, an idea now blossoming. “I wanna get some ingredients, bake something nice before Rosie gets home.”

Lifting a single brow, Marshall’s eyes flickered rapidly between my own for a split second. He was quiet before he eventually flipped his indicator to switch lanes, “You gone bake me a cake just ‘cause I called you pretty?”

A full blown grin broke out on my face at that and it was too hard to hide this one from Marshall, seeing as I’d been looking right at him. “No, ‘cause you’re gonna help me.”

[dalesramblingsblog]

I know we've been commenting since The Star Beast on the irony of Russell T. Davies taking Disney money and using it to say trans/gay rights as part of one of the biggest British television events of 2023/2024, but I think Dot and Bubble fully opened my eyes to something I've been quietly contemplating since at least the time of The Giggle.

I am genuinely convinced, knowing everything I know about Davies' comments on the state of the BBC and the kinds of art he's been making of late, that Series 14 is a brilliant and purposeful piece of artistic subversion that has taken Disney's money to not just say trans rights, but to actively comment upon the cold, empty yawning abyss that is modern MCU franchisecrafting.

Time and time again, the show has returned to the idea that that sort of "artistry" is completely anathema in a cosmic horror sense to the very fabric of Doctor Who. The Toymaker is an arbiter of rules and continuity, who threatens to turn Doctor Who into a knock-off of The Avengers before everything collapses back into a game of catch with the Doctor in his underwear.

73 Yards is quite explicitly about the loneliness, emptiness and futility that accompanies human beings trying to impose rational, ordered frameworks and narratives on a fundamentally chaotic and strange universe. The very fact that the episode exists in a media ecosystem where hackish YouTubers will be falling over themselves to make "Ending Explained" videos for it *is part of the point*.

And then we have Dot and Bubble, where the modern glut of franchisal/social media (and the two are often close to interchangeable, as proven by this very blog post) is explicitly shown to have an anaesthetising effect that insulates people from real-world suffering. But it's more than that, because that same anaesthesia ties into expressions of actual, direct racism that are so baked into the foundations of that media and who it tends to uplift (white, conventionally attractive and implicitly straight people) that they become indistinguishable from said suffering.

After years of Doctor Who trying its hand at being a generic MCU-esque property and fans creating mockups of Phase-esque release timelines with a million spin-offs focusing on the Wacky Adventures of Miss Evangelista or whatever other bullshit fandom constantly clamours for, here is an era that puts its foot down and says "Actually, the foundational elements of that brand of media consumption are materially connected to the constant racist or sexist backlash you see against the casting of Ncuti Gatwa or Jodie Whittaker or Kelly Marie Tran."

And it is absolutely, positively, 100% correct.

How, then, does Doctor Who resist the creeping power of this monolithic cultural entity? In a world where studios seriously try to argue for the artistic worth of tripe like Morbius or Madame Web or Ant-Man and the Wasp: Quantumania, what is the appropriate response?

The same response that it's always had, the thing that it's been doing for sixty years. Getting people to learn how to run down corridors from hokey aliens, hoping against hope that those people don't turn out to be massive fucking racists and telling them exactly where they can shove it if they are, and instilling the children of the world with a healthy dose of fear and light-hearted humour.

Welcome back, Doctor Who. God, I have missed you.

[frigidwife]

when u said 'they want armand to be lestat' it floored me tbh, i never thought of it that way. bc armand stans are obsessed w/ framing him as lestat's morally superior narrative counterpart & i didn't twig that they were ironically upset bc the writers gave him a brand of bullshit distinct from lestat's, but there u go! obviously lestans are just as bad wrt peddling idiotic 'lesser of evils' rhetoric, but w/ armand some folks latched onto him specifically bc he was Not lestat & crafted a fantasy version of him from the ground up on the basis of how very Not-lestat he was (which made him being an abuser extra awkward bc they had to willfully unlearn critical thinking before our eyes & resort to textbook lioncourt abuse apologia to justify themselves w/out a hint of irony.) & sure…most of us cooked up self-indulgent theories ahead of s2 that got proven wrong, i did it too, but some got so drunk on headcanon they couldn't engage w/ the text anymore, so i figured that's why they perceived the ep8 reveal as more of a rug-pull than it actually was. ngl i still kinda think that. but ur right, they'd probably be cool abt armand lynching claudia if was a grand scheme to 'keep louis all to himself' bc the scale of his abuse matters less to them than the motive behind it. louis being flat-out disposable to him was a dealbreaker bc it couldn't be romanticized. & that's why they felt so inordinately cheated when lestat saved louis, complaining it was a cheap redemptive act on the writers' part, when it was actually so clear that he & armand were both acting in line w/ their own selfish needs as ever. as u said, neither one is more noble or moral than the other, they just have different priorities & their choices reflect that. anyways i'll stop ranting now, sorry for the lengthiness, this one really ran away w/ me!

No exactly exactly!!! agree w everything u said here Love how u put that last bit about neither of them being more noble or moral just having different selfish needs. and armand's are not particular to louis. and same i was coping hard until ep 4 like i literally . can find the texts of me being like "i think louis does like him though..." 12 hours later "nevermind you were right." bc i .. processed the show...and it is actually moree interesting like if BOTH lestat and armand had the same motives and priorities it would be a little repetitive. but armand is his own unique horror. which is also a very blasé horror!! and structuring it this way where the "love triangle" is not actually be a meaningful triangle at all is so Gothic Romance like Linton is not seriously on the same plane as heathcliff in cathy's mind. St john is not on par w rochester. and rochester is not the more benevolent lovely option but st john. IS BORING.

[darkeagleruins]

Democrats, in a stunning display of irony, are building an impenetrable wall around their convention in Chicago and demanding ID from everyone entering the venue. This comes from the same party that decries walls as racist and insists that requiring ID is discriminatory. Meanwhile, all the appointments for free vasectomies for Democrat men at the convention have already filled up.

In a move that would be laughable if it weren’t so hypocritical, the Democratic Party is set to erect an impenetrable wall around their convention venue in Chicago and require photo ID from everyone who wants to attend. Yes, you read that correctly. The very party that has spent years branding walls as racist and denouncing voter ID laws as discriminatory is now embracing both when it serves their interests.

For years, Democrats have vilified anyone who dares suggest that America needs secure borders. They’ve gone so far as to label the construction of a border wall as an act of racism. Yet, when it comes to protecting their own, suddenly walls are a necessity. The message is clear: walls for us, but not for thee.

[vindicated-truth]

There's a remarkable thoughtfulness on Kim Sujin's part as a writer in ensuring that the right person arrests the right perpetrator—made especially relevant and impactful due to the nature of the relationship between them.

For Lee Changjin, it was his former wife and head of Team One of the Violent Crimes Unit, Oh Jihwa, who arrested him. He killed the Chief of Munju Police Station, the Chief of Manyang Substation, and the serial killer that had been silently terrorizing Munju all these years, all under her watch. It's only fitting that she—the most virtuous cop in the show—arrest the man who is formerly her husband whose ambition blinded him enough to dare to terrorize her area of responsibility.

For Kang Jinmook, it was Han Joowon who arrested him, with Lee Dongsik silently watching from afar. Han Joowon, the elite detective from Foreign Affairs who got himself transferred to Manyang substation all to follow up on what happened to the woman he used in a sting operation, who finally brought justice to her and a semblance of absolution for himself in his thoughtless mistake of using her to solve the case.

(It could not have been Dongsik, not when the irony isn’t lost in how he, too, had a hand in Kang Minjeong's death, no matter how indirect or inadvertent, if only because due to his thoughtless actions, they lost the very small window to save her while she was buried alive.)

For Park Jeongje, it was Han Joowon who arrested him. Han Joowon, the partner of Lee Dongsik, the partner of the man whom Jeongje has loved for 30 years as a loyal friend, even as he was struggling with the fact that he couldn't face how he might have had a hand in the pain and sorrow Dongsik had endured for 21 years in the first place. Han Joowon, the man whom Jeongje has now asked to love Dongsik in his stead, now that he finally owns up to his culpability in Dongsik's suffering.

(It could not have been Dongsik—not when he is too angry and too hurt to forgive Jeongje, precisely because he loved him, too.)

For Do Haewon, it was Lee Dongsik who arrested her. Lee Dongsik, who suffered greatly in her hand in manipulating evidence so that he was wrongfully accused and branded as a suspect for 21 years. Lee Dongsik, who lost his dearest friend, because Do Haewon, in what masquerades as excessive and overzealous love for her son, ended up breaking him instead. Lee Dongsik, who lost so many more of the people he had tried so hard to protect just because Do Haewon could not take on the responsibility to let her own son face justice, too.

And finally, for Han Kihwan, it could not have been anyone else but Lee Dongsik who arrested him. Lee Dongsik, the one who suffered the most in Han Kihwan's thoughtless decision to turn away from and cast away Yuyeon's body, who is the very reason everyone who ever suffered for the past 21 years struggled so hard and so long for justice. Lee Dongsik, who lost his sister, his father, his surrogate daughter, his surrogate father—and indirectly his mother, and his best friend—all because the most powerful policeman in the country could not face his own accountability in a crime of his own doing.

(It could not have been Joowon, because Joowon knows this is not his arrest to make, not his justice to enforce. More than anyone in the show, it's Dongsik who deserves to enact this justice for everyone they have lost, but most importantly: for his sister, Lee Yuyeon.)

And here, the most important arrest of all:

For Lee Dongsik, it could not have been anyone else but Han Joowon who arrested him. Han Joowon, his partner, the son of the man who killed his sister, who brought hell upon himself just so he can bring down his own father, who singlehandedly brought justice when the justice system has failed Dongsik, over and over again:

His partner, Han Joowon, the one person, the only person, Dongsik can ever surrender himself to: completely, wholeheartedly, and without regret.

His partner, Han Joowon, the one person who destroyed his own life to save Dongsik.

[zepumpkineater]

I want to talk about my personal favorite fanon interpretation of Hank.

It all begins with Hank driving through a ruined Nevada, not an uncommon scene at all in Madness Combat. This cartoon begins with the typical expectation, in classic Hank fashion he's on his way to cause untold violence unto those who wish him harm.

And in no time flat, Hank does exactly that. One by one, the bodies of AAHW begin to rack up, incorrectly colored blood Engineers and all. All in all, it's a pretty good action scene. Not the smoothest animation the Madness animation scene has provided, but pretty impressive for 12 years ago.

But here's where this cartoon changes pace, and begins to divert from your traditional Madness animation. We see Jeb and Sheriff, characters that we're used to seeing in an antagonistic role, promising a better Nevada with their brand new Factory. Kind of wild how this parallels Jeb's misguided attempts at saving Nevada in the main series, when this one aired in 2011, before we even had Nexus Classic to give us Jeb's backstory. It's clear this factory is doing Nevada no good, and the story changes from here.

Here we see a looming, massive tower, not at all unfamiliar to the sight of the Nexus Tower looming in the distance, a symbol of Nevada's destruction. This tower is no different, Hank looks over it and his goals are immediately recontextualized. Hank's violence suddenly seems a lot less meaningless, less fueled by the pure desire to cause chaos and to kill. Instead, the goal is clear. Get to the top. Destroy the factory. Save Nevada.

A familiar foe stands in his way. Is he up to his old tricks, to play with his old pal Hank, or is there something darker hiding beneath that metal mask? I always got the vibe that Tricky wasn't fighting for himself here, but rather because he had to.

After a prolonged battle with the Clown, we are greeted with a most unique sight in a Madness cartoon. Blue skies, green grass, flowing water. Serene music as the birds fly through the air. Hank looks alien here, like he doesn't belong, a product of a ruined world in a small bastion of perfection.

This is one of my favorite shots in the whole cartoon. Hank, this bloodthirsty killer we've come to know and love, doing something so very vulnerable and human. Reaching for the sun, basking in its warmth. Something he probably hasn't felt in a very long time. Something worth killing for, something worth dying for.

And die he does. With the last of his conscious self, Hank fruitlessly reaches for a flower next to him as he dies. Hank doesn't look any less like a foreign invader here, an entity from a world that doesn't belong here, and I really appreciate that contrast. This small gesture of him reaching for the flower speaks volumes on the kind of Hank this is, one who has some love for the world he so effortlessly murders his way through. Someone who, somewhere deep inside, wants that killing to stop. One who wants to appreciate life, instead of living in death.

Jeb doesn't look any less alien here, a savior twisted and corrupted by the doomed world he promised to save. Again I'm extremely impressed in how Pegosho managed to capture Jeb's moral ambiguity here, in spite of it being somewhat nonexistent in the cartoons at the time. I think it also says something that his halo appears to be more in line stylistically to the world around him, as he sticks out like a sore thumb.

Jeb's last moments are spent looking in awe at the corpse of his fallen adversary, with his own factory's slogan taped onto the bomb that's about to spell his doom. Say what you want about Mr. Wimbleton, but you can't say he doesn't have a flair for irony. Maybe it's spite, one last spit in the face of Jebus, or maybe it's because he really does believe in that slogan. He wants the world to be alive, and maybe he has to die to accomplish that.

My personal favorite shot in the entire cartoon. A massive tree, perfectly contrasting the intimidating tower producing a cloud of suffocating smog, now breathing life into this ruined world. Hank's sacrifice was not in vain, and though he didn't live to see it, he bought back a piece of life into the cruel and merciless Nevada. It's hopeful, it's beautiful, it's everything Madness normally isn't.

As we all know, Hank is acting very out of character in this cartoon outside of his murderous pursuits, but I enjoy and love it all the same. Again, this is a favorite fanon interpretation. This Hank has so many layers of depth to his morality, his goals, his violence, and he never speaks a single word in the entire cartoon. He simply acts. Through small gestures and actions we can glean his personality and how it contradicts his canon counterpart. It's really great.

I love this cartoon. It's called Madness: Ascend. Please consider watching it, in spite of its age, it's one of my favorites.

[fallenhunnyapple]

Decided to do a kinda.. design breakdown for my version of Sinner Adam cuz there's a number of deliberate choices.

Piercings

Left eyebrow ring piercing

Two Hoops on the Left ear

Two chained studs on the Right ear + dangly triangle

Tongue piercing

Snake bites

Nipple barbells

Before becoming a sinner, the only piercings he had were tongue and ears because he could get away with them without Sera chastising him

The snake bites were just There when he became a Sinner and the irony pisses him off, but they're definitely not the only snake bites he's getting :3c

The eyebrow piercing and ear piercings also just Were There when he became a Sinner. The only ones he got afterwards were the nipple piercings and that's because he finally learned why males have nipples and a little of wanting to please his dom

He's got some vaguely goatish/sheepy details

He has the long rectangular pupils that give him an advantage to lateral views which, given the fact that he's severely Nerfed, is an advantage he needs.

Obviously his horns are an homage to the ones on his helmet but have the grooves that are more common in ram horns.

He got ears that are somewhere between floppy sheep ears and elf ears. They can move a bit up and down but they're not super mobile.

Wings

His wings are a dull golden color, nothing like the vibrancy of his wings as an Angel. And more than that, they're Literally Clipped. He can't use them as wings, he's completely grounded. He can't put them away either so he has a constant reminder of the fact that his wings are Useless. He still uses them protectively, they're still big enough to at least partially cover himself (or Lucifer when need be)

Tail

He has a classic long spaded tail. Naturally, it's All Black, but because of his deal with Lucifer, there's a Red Mark on it, not unlike the heart marks on Lucifer and Charlie's tails.

Scars/Marks

Adam has a number of these. Of course he has the scar along his torso from when his rib was removed. That's something so deeply engrained in him that even coming back as a Sinner doesn't remove that.

He also has the Scars from Niffty going absolutely wild with the knife. Instead of just a single classic X where the main blow was, he has a number of scars littering his chest and back, the first and worst Stab being the most visible. These scars have a bit of a golden hue to them because they were scars to his Angelic Body.

His Apple mark is something Lucifer deliberately left there. It's also like a Golden hued Scar, and it acts like a Brand. After all, their deal is for him to lend Adam protection, but he can't Always Be there, so a mark like that should help deter anything too bad from happening since it's Very Clear that Adam belongs to Lucifer. It hasn't always worked to plan, but it does give some level of protection when Adam is on his own, especially in the beginning where he doesn't trust or like anyone in the hotel and vice versa.

Bonus notes

I know I don't really draw Adam as Soft as a lot of people do, but he's definitely not Skinny. To me, because of his position as Leader of Heaven's army and being responsible for training the Exorcists and also just getting involved with Exterminations himself, I see it more as like a balance of muscle and fat, solid and soft. In other AUs where his lifestyle is different, so is his body type to me. But in this one, this is the kinda dad bod type I give him. (The lack of hair is because I am a coward and don't really like body hair so I don't wanna draw it for my own stuff)

Also: I have Sinner Adam's hair, skin, wings, and wardrobe all be much more muted colors than how I draw him as an Angel and that's also deliberate. No more divine light for this guy, so it's left him dull and dark.

As for why I don't have him with a face resembling his mask: While I do appreciate that choice for other people's designs, to me it's got a lot to do with my Dysmorphia Headcanons. He doesn't like how Human his face is, it's one of the things he has the most insecurities about. So of course Hell is gonna exploit them and give him a face that's so very similar to his human/angel One. He doesn't get away from it that easy.

Thanks for coming to my TED Talk

Tbh if anyone wants to hear anything else about that AU, or any other, any details or questions, please feel free to Ask. I love getting to talk about my ideas, I just don't know how usually lol

[anna-neko]

Welcome to another episode of "let's cosplay an audio-only chara!" because sometimes the brainrot lies dormant for months and suddenly.... (goin to live show needed a new outfit)

Scary Marlowe - the Sophomore Slump album

details and whatnot rambling under cut

basic concept was easy enuff: make another t-shirt. "Shit Garden" needed a break, now its time for this

The font seemed basic enuff to copy out and then I'm sittin here like... how to...draw circles... a wholeass ball? (btw no printer access)

frellin BLESS Terry for pulling out his graphic design skills and making me a fantastic ball stencil! He even did a size readjust after my hasty tests the night before

.......anyway, the black shirt had for over a year. It was supposed to be for a Scorpion Slut logo, but scorpions are impossible to draw/cut-out at this detail (aka my lack of skill lvl)

So! because was terrified would fuck up, did a test run first. T'was most educational, seeing how much seeps out and heat needed frm blowing hot air vs ironing over

Kept peeling off bits, readjusting (negative space be dammed), running back to trace out a failed letter (hey kids, want easiest way to fake a light table? ANY backlight works. window, glow of the monitor...) and try again.... (did "O" so many times, its no longer real letter in my brain)**

**MOST OF THIS WAS HAPPENING IN FRIEND'S BATHROOM

Went OCD as fuck getting everything super blocked-out on the actual shirt once was ready to commit

This shirt wasn't painted, but bleached, and i wanted only the words/logo in and nothing else. Clearest outlines, no stencil far edge outlines, no bleed mess

Yes you can see a pin holding on the "hole" of a letter. When I say wanted crisp outlines, that wasn't a joke

of course - irony be dammed - after this part was done, went back and Very Carefully splattered lil bit with my brush. In a highly controlled way

Also the secondary loose concept is ...well.... the first shirt (Shit Garden) she angrily tore at to be punk and all, but this one.... this one was an old team souvenir... Thus soccer ball on both front and back

For this reason (slightly more 'treasured' if you will), the rips were far less chaotic. The hem is left intact, and the neck a careful trim to show she wasn't blindly goin at it with scissors. Ditto on sleeves

Still freehanding this, but folding stuff in half to at least pretend symmetry, ya know?

there's no "Butthole Ricochet" branding ... snuck in a lil Warlock symbol at sideseam instead

New skirt! It has stars!! ★★☆☆★★ she IS a rock star for her album dammit (and it goes on w/ the stars of the barbwire-and-stars long-sleeved shirt frm before)

Everything else (bracelets, fishnet armwarmers, skelenimal scrunchy, etc...) are frm previous incarnations. Tape-measure continues to live on the hip chain

No jar of horrors daddy magic memories, instead there's a funny lil resin charm Terry made (he also once again helped with safety pins AND contributed a few black and white new ones for the sleeves)

The thigh-highs no longer have purple stripes in them (no purple on this one whatsoever, byeeee Omega Patron poison)

Exact same style have used before with alternating sheer & solid stripes, but fully black! (@sockdreams out there continuing to miraculously have Always what am looking for!)