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lordprettyflackotara · 5 months ago

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forgot about jack || eyeless jack & jeff the killer

tw: smut, 18+, minors dni threesome, double penetration, knife play, freaky demon top, unrealistic sex but what else are you here for be fr

a/n: this may be the silliest plot to a smut i’ve ever written LMAO

“Oh cmon what the fuck is this?!”

Jeff’s voice boomed through out the living room. Jack sat unfazed on the couch, channel surfing on the television. “Something wrong Jeff?” He asked flatly. Jeff was always on one, always mad or triggered about something. It didn’t take a genius to get accustomed to his dramatic antics. Jeff stormed around the couch, blocking Jacks view of the television. He held out a newspaper in his hand.

“New women killers on the rise?! Look at this!” He ordered. His pale finger pointed to an article, Jack quickly gazing over it. He leaned to his right, trying to see the TV past Jeff. “Yes Jeff it is 2024, women can slaughter people just like we do,” Jack replied. He scanned the newspaper again, rolling his non existent eyes. You would’ve thought after him creating Jane and Nina he would’ve gotten a clue. “Nuh uh! They’re not just slaughtering folks EJ. They’re stealing credit for our hard work. Look again!” Jeff exclaimed. He flipped the page, pointing at the headline.

Eyeless Jill is at it again! Farmers lungs stolen!

Jack ripped the newspaper from his hands, rising to his feet. His eyebrows furrowed as he read the article. “What?! Who the actual fuck is Eyeless Jill?” Jack hissed He gripped the newspaper, examining the victims photo. “I took that fuckers kidneys! KIDNEYS! Who the fuck likes lungs? They’re so sour,” He rambled. Jeff crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. “Oh so you only care when it’s your work being stolen. I invented going to sleep,” Jeff grumbled. He couldn’t believe what he was reading.

“We have to do something about this! What kinda sick fuck would spin the narrative? Have they really forgotten about me?” Jack asked, sitting back down on the couch. He felt defeated, forgotten about. Jeff grinned devilishly as he pointed at the author.

“I say we should pay Y/n Y/l/n a little visit, don’t you think so Jacky?”

Both Jack and Jeff stood ominously in the shadows, admiring your house. “This house will look better burned to the ground,” Jeff muttered. He was salty about his article, or in better words, lack of one. Jane had stolen the front cover. “I want to see the bitch first,” Jack grumbled. He led the way, sliding into your living room window. Unlocked. Typical. Your house was further away from town. Jack thought humans were smarter than this. As he walked into your living room he concluded he was wrong.

Your small television played an old sitcom, the laugh track playing in the background as Jeff followed him. Jack signaled for him to check the kitchen, gesturing his head. Jeff stood still. “EJ I don’t think now is the time for a snack,” He whispered. Jack had to restrain himself from face palming. “Check the kitchen you dumbass,” He ordered. Jeff’s eyes narrowed. “Since when do I take orders from you? We-” He began, the blinding light of a flashlight diminishing their debate.

There you stood, a short satin baby blue nightgown barely covering your chest and thighs. Your innocent appearance almost made Jack falter, until he remembered the newspaper article. You didn’t seem to be armed and even if you were, Jack easily towered over you. “Holy shit you guys are real?” You gasped. You were clutching your cross necklace for dear life, the men exchanging looks. “Obviously we’re real! You’re obsessed with replacing us with women!” Jeff said. Jack sighed, yanking the newspaper out of his hoodie. He shoved it in front of you, your eyes bewildered with terror as he towered over you.

“See this? What the fuck is an Eyeless Jill?” He hissed. You skimmed the article, recognizing your own writing. “You do realize you guys are urban legends right? Not celebrities?! I didn’t even think you guys existed,” You argued. Somehow the pale killer without eyelids and eyeless demon didn’t seem to faze you, your temperament hot. “Well we do, we’re right here,” Jeff huffed. He crossed his arms, glaring at you. “So Eyeless Jill and Jane don’t exist then but you guys do?” You asked. Jack glanced at Jeff, who was not so subtly trying to signal him to not reveal Jane’s existence. “Well Jane does exist but that was Jeff’s kill,” Jack said. He smirked under his mask, paying Jeff back for his stupidity.

“Is she with you guys or?” You asked, glancing behind them. Jeff could have ripped a chunk of his hair out from irritation. “No she’s not with us! You should be honored to be in our presence you stupid slut!” Jeff spat. Jack noticed the subtle rubbing of your thighs, but pretended not to. “See right here it says go to sleep on the wall, Jane’s catch phrase is don’t go to sleep you won’t wake up,” Jack explained, pointing to the picture. You murmured an ‘oh’, studying the photograph. “Hello?! EJ stop simping and let’s get on with torching the place,” Jeff bellowed. You looked at Jeff, the pale killer losing his temper. “You guys want to burn down my house?” You questioned.

Jack shrugged, Jeff’s hand flying to his forehead. “It’s not my problem Jane does headlining kills and you don’t,” You argued. Aggressively you went to launch yourself at Jeff, the eyeless demon grabbing you and restraining you. “Oh and by the way i’m not simping. If I was her panties would be on the floor by now,” Jack told him. You thrashed under his grasp, desperate slap Jeff. “Oh please. If she’s going to drop her panties for either of us it would be me,” Jeff argued. Jack set you aside, stepping up to his partner in crime. “You’re always so cocky and i’ll never understand why. You think that pasty dick of yours could ever even compete with mine?” Jack snarled. Jeff gave him a cold smile, “I know it could.”

“Thats not what Jane said,” Jack debated. Jeff’s cockiness fell. “YOU FUCKED JANE?” He questioned. Quietly you slid on top of your kitchen table, your feet dangling as you watched the argument continue. “I did and i’ll go ahead and let you know she told me i’m better than you,” Jack informed him, mockingly patting his shoulder. Jeff let out a dramatic gasp. “We fucked when I was like fifteen that absolutely does not count,” Jeff hissed. Jack crossed his arms. “Oh really? Is there another girl we’ve both fucked that you’d like to ask?” Jack questioned. It was then the boys gaze landed on you, your perky nipples showing through your thin nightgown.

You gulped nervously, watching the two tall killers stride towards you. “You know she is a pretty one,” Jack murmured. He reached his hand out, stroking your jaw with his fingertips. You were practically shaking with fear and arousal. “No reason why we can’t share her, then have her tell us who’s better,” Jeff purred. Jack inhaled deeply, the smell of your arousal flooding his nostrils. He grinned mischievously under his mask. “I think she likes it when we talk about her like she isn’t here,” Jack informed Jeff. You rubbed your thighs together anxiously, looking up at the two men.

The demon brought his thumb to your lower lip, dragging it down slowly. Instinctively you opened your mouth, sucking on his thumb. Jack smirked as Jeff rounded the table, climbing onto it and placing himself behind you. Jack lowered himself to his knees, spreading your thighs. Removing his thumb from your mouth, you shared a look of lust. “Such a tiny little thing,” Jeff snickered. His pale hands explored your chest, sliding the straps of your nightgown down your shoulders and arms. Your breast were exposed to the cool night air, Jeff’s fingertips on them in a flash.

His touch was cold, Jack’s warm. “Why don’t you remove your mask Jacky, let the whore see what she’s letting fuck her?” Jeff asked. Jack slid off his royal blue mask, the demon staring up at him. Oozing black tar dripped from his eye sockets, coating his lower eyes. You shuddered at the sight, Jeff pinching your nipples. You gasped, a smile creeping across Jacks lips. Rows of razor sharp teeth revealed themselves behind his curled lips. “Scared yet?” Jeff taunted, his breath hot against your ear. Jack placed sloppy open mouth kisses to your thighs, his large hands keeping your thighs pried apart.

“Not in the slightest,” You lied boldly. Jeff snickered, sliding his knife out of his pocket. Jack nuzzled himself to your cunt, one of his tongues licking a stripe through the skimpy silk that was your panties. The pale killer brought the blade to your throat, the metal cool against your skin. You swallowed, fear and lust washing over you. “You’re fucking pathetic, letting us play with you. You’re scared now, aren’t you whore?” Jeff huffed. You could feel his boner poke you from behind, the sight of Jacks three black tongues making you shudder in fear. He pulled your panties to the side, watching you intently. He slowly slid one of them into your drenched cunt, another one toying with your clit.

You moaned, one of your hands flying to Jacks hair. The blade of the knife pressed against your throat harder, causing you to squeal. “Answer me bitch, you’re scared aren’t you?” Jeff hissed. You wanted to nod, the knife restricting you. Your hips desperately moved on their own, grinding against Jacks tongues. It was then you felt another one slide inside of you, curling upwards. “Fuck yes, i’m scared, but it feels so good,” You groaned. Jeff brought his knife down to your nipples, using the sharp tip to play with your nipples. Jacks tongues were curling upwards to hit your g spot, a knot forming inside of your stomach.

“Awe really? Does Jacky make you feel good?” Jeff asked tauntingly. He dragged the blade to your other nipple, poking at your sensitive buds. “Y-yes, so fucking good,” You moaned. Your fingers were yanking at his brown curls, your eyes fluttering shut from the pleasure. You were pathetically grinding against his face, your orgasm getting closer and closer. “Awe is someone gonna cum? For two killers? How filthy,” Jeff purred. He nibbled at your earlobe, your sinful noises bouncing off of the walls.

“C-c-cumming!” You stuttered, Jacks one last flick at your clit sending you over the edge. You could feel the thinnest line of blood forming across your neck, your thighs squeezing around Jacks head as you came down from your high. Jack slowly emerged from your cunt, a devious grin spread across his lips. “You taste so fucking good,” He panted. He rose to his feet, admiring your exposed figure. “You’re lucky I want to fuck you, otherwise i’d eat those pretty organs,” Jack purred. The boys rearranged you, Jack laying flat on the kitchen table. Jeff guided you to crawl on top of him, your ass in the air as you positioned yourself on all fours. Jack grinned as you met his gaze.

“With how big I am it’s better that I take your cunt,” Jack explained. You whimpered as you heard the clinking of both the boys belts. “I-I’ve never-” You stuttered, shaking with nerves. Jeff’s large hands grasped your ass, massaging the skin harshly. “We know doll, we’re making you our personal slut,” Jeff chuckled darkly. Jack guided his cock to your cunt, collecting your slick on his tip. He gave you a small smile. “This may hurt a little bit,” He warned. You grabbed onto his hoodie, your core throbbing in desire as Jack began to push himself into you. A mixture of moans and whines escaped your lips, your eyes screwed shut.

“There you go, you can take it,” Jack purred. He could hear your heartbeat speed up, the sound pleasurable to his ears. You felt Jeff spit on your other puckered hole, your knuckles turning pale from gripping Jack so hard. Once Jack bottomed out you felt Jeff’s finger teasing your other hole. You felt like you were being split in half by Jacks cock alone, the idea of taking Jeff’s unimaginable. “You’re so fucking tight,” Jack growled, his noises sounding animalistic. Jeff shoved a finger inside of your unexplored hole, a gasp being ripped out of your throat. “I’d start fucking her Jacky, she’s gonna be in the world of pain,” Jeff suggested.

Jack began to slowly move, his cock slowly exiting your dripping cunt. “Such a breedable cunt,” Jack muttered. His large hands grabbed the sides of your stomach, his cock returning to your cunt and brushing against your g spot. “Fuck, please go faster fucking please,” You pleaded. Who was Jack to deny you of that? Jack began to fuck you quickly, his hips snapping into yours. Jeff curled his finger inside of your other hole, the pain subsiding as Jack abused your cunt. “Thats a good fucktoy. Just be a babbling begging slut for us,” Jeff snickered. A sharp slap landed on your ass, causing an electric shock to shoot down your spine. Jeff inserted another finger, his patience thinning.

Watching Jack fuck you in front of him was too erotic, his cock twitching with urgency. The pale killer removed his fingers, spitting on your puckered hole again. “This may hurt, a lot,” He warned, smirking to himself as you whimpered. Jeff began pushing himself inside of you, your vision seeing stars. Your vision became spotty, strings of whimpers and moans escaping your lips. Your eyes were screwed shut, Jeff focused on bottoming out. You felt dizzy, a large hand cupping your face. Jacks touch was warm, the demon bringing his lips to yours. The kiss was unexpected, your body beginning to relax as he tenderly kissed you.

“Yeah that’s right, kiss her before I turn her mouth into my personal cum dump,” Jeff grunted. Your walls were spasming around the both of them, your body being pushed to its limits. Your eyes fluttered open, your vision still hazy as you groaned into Jacks mouth. Both of them began moving in unison, opposing the other’s pace. “Holy shit,” You cried. You felt so full, the killers having the time of their lives abusing your holes. “Fuck, you’re coming home with us. I need to breed you. Every fucking day,” Jack grunted. An animalistic growl was boiling in the bottom of his throat, his thrust becoming more intense.

His filthy words only made you clench around him tighter. Your sounds were uncontrollable, your body beginning to shake as they fucked you senseless. “Fuck fuck fuck, feels so- mmph!” You whined. You could feel the cord inside of you tightening again, the boys large hands holding your body up. “Such a pathetic whore. You gonna cum on our dicks?” Jeff taunted. You nuzzled your face into Jacks neck, your thighs violently shaking as you came around his cock. Your walls milking Jack sent him over the edge, his seed painting your inner walls with one final thrust. Jeff reached over, grabbing a handful of your hair and yanking you towards him. He relished in the whimpers of pain that escaped your lips, the killer tugging at the roots of your scalp as he came inside of your other hole.Jeff released your scalp, the three of you panting in unison as you came down from your highs.

You stood in between Jack and Jeff, arms crossed. “Was this absolutely necessary?” You questioned. Jeff was practically bouncing with joy, your beloved farm house now engulfed in flames. You all watched as the flames spread further and further across the building. “I told you it would look better burnt down. I was right,” Jeff gleamed. You frowned, your baby blue nightgown barely covering your exposed skin as a night breeze blew past. “So where exactly am I supposed to go now?” You asked. Jeff carelessly tossed his handful of matches aside, throwing them into the fire. Jack followed suit, tossing his can of gasoline into the large flames.

“Didn’t you hear me? You’re coming home with us. You’ll never forget our names again.”

#jeff the killer #eyeless jack #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x y/n #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer smut #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #creepypasta #creepypasta smut #creepypasta lemon #jeff the killer x reader #eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack x jeff the killer #jeff the killer x ticci toby

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scoobydoomistakes · 1 year ago

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...all these years later, and we're still discovering new things.

Look, on this blog? We're no strangers to accidentally-identical backgrounds.

Or to love, but that's another story.

Forgetting to adjust your framing between cuts? Keeping background the same?

Sure! It happens.

...but... then there's this.

Which is waiting... until you've panned to the exact part of background you're gonna use next?

Before starting that "new" shot?

...when... literally any other moment wouldn't make it look like the shelves teleport in?

Just go a half-second longer and cut back to the barrels, and it'd all be fine.

But no.

They actively chose the only possible frame where this would happen, and I'm freakin' fascinated.

We've officially achieved speedrunning in animation errors, folks. This is a frame-perfect technique.

#scooby doo mistakes #follow me for more #comedy #humor #cartoon #animation #lol #humorous #funny pictures #funny content #humor blog #cartoons #funny #scooby-doo #scooby doo #gif #gifs

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swiftiethatlovesf1 · 2 months ago

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Love strategy p.3

Hey guyss, I hope you enjoy part 3, here's part 2 if you've missed it :)

The next morning arrives quicker than you expected, and before you know it, you're rolling your suitcase through the hotel lobby, your mind racing with the events from the day before. It all feels surreal—the kiss, the plan, Carlos’ indifference. It’s a lot to process.

As you step outside, the cool morning air hits your face. You spot Lando leaning casually against the side of a black car, phone in hand, his luggage already stowed away in the trunk. He looks up as you approach, his expression softening into a playful smile.

"Ready for our grand escape?" he teases.

You chuckle, though there’s a hint of nervousness in your laugh. "As ready as I’ll ever be."

Lando straightens up, grabbing your suitcase and lifting it into the car with ease. "Don’t worry," he says, glancing over at you as he closes the trunk, "this will all be worth it once people start talking."

"I hope so," you murmur, climbing into the passenger seat.

Lando slides into the driver’s side, adjusting his sunglasses before starting the car. He turns to you with a grin. "I mean, we’re going to make headlines. I can already see the gossip: ‘Are Lando Norris and his mystery girl getting serious?’"

You roll your eyes, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips. "Just remember, no over-the-top dramatics. We’re aiming for ‘believable,’ not a full-blown tabloid scandal."

"Right, right," Lando says with mock seriousness, then smirks. "Though I wouldn’t mind a little drama."

When you reach the airport, Lando parks the car, turning to you with a relaxed smile. "I’ll see you on the plane," he says, his voice soft but carrying a hint of excitement.

You nod, feeling a flutter in your chest that you try to ignore. "See you on the plane."

As you both step out, you give each other a brief nod before heading in separate directions—Lando through the VIP entrance and you through the main one.

You board the plane, still carrying a sense of unease from Carlos’ indifference. Normally, when you flew with him, he’d sit with his friends, leaving you on your own for most of the flight. It had become the norm, so you weren’t expecting much different this time, even with Lando.

But as you step onto the plane, Lando catches your eye from a few rows ahead. He’s already sitting down, an easy grin spreading across his face when he spots you. To your surprise, instead of sitting with the other drivers or disappearing into his usual crowd, he gestures toward the empty seat beside him. You hesitate for a second, not used to this sort of attention mid-flight, but his encouraging smile leaves you with little choice.

Taking your seat next to him, you give him a playful glance. "What, no VIP treatment for you? Sitting with the common folk?"

Lando chuckles, the sound warm and genuine. "Thought I’d mix things up a bit. Besides," he leans in a little, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "we’ve got a plan to discuss, don’t we?"

You smirk, nodding. "Right, the plan."

At first, the conversation sticks to the details—how you’ll post the photo, what you’ll do when people start to speculate. But soon enough, the playful side of Lando starts to slip through.

"Okay, so picture this," Lando begins, his eyes lighting up with mischief. "We post the picture, right? And immediately, people start speculating. They’ll probably think I’m whipped. And you? You’re obviously the mastermind behind all of it."

You raise an eyebrow. "Obviously?"

"Of course," he teases. "I mean, you’re the one calling the shots here. I’m just the poor, innocent driver who got swept off his feet."

You laugh, shaking your head. "Right, poor you. Must be terrible having to pretend you’re dating me."

Lando grins, leaning back in his seat with an exaggerated sigh. "The things I do for a good story."

Before you know it, the conversation flows into something more natural, the plan slowly fading into the background. Lando starts sharing random anecdotes about his life on the road—racing stories, inside jokes with the other drivers, and moments of chaos that only someone in his position could relate to.

"Okay, so get this," Lando says, his eyes sparkling with laughter as he recounts a story from a past race weekend. "Carlos and I were in this tiny restaurant in Italy, right? And somehow, I managed to order enough food for, like, a family of eight. Carlos, of course, being Carlos, dared me to eat it all. Let’s just say I’ve never been more full in my life, and I had to race the next day!"

You laugh, picturing the scene. "Let me guess—you won the race with a food coma?"

"Surprisingly, no," he chuckles, shaking his head. "But I didn’t throw up either, so I consider that a win."

The conversation keeps rolling, each story sparking a new one, and before you realize it, you’re telling Lando your own anecdotes—random moments from your childhood, funny travel mishaps, and awkward encounters. He listens intently, laughing at all the right moments, and it feels surprisingly… easy. Relaxed, even.

It’s different from flying with Carlos, who usually busies himself with his friends, leaving you to your thoughts. With Lando, there’s none of that distance. He’s fully present, engaging in the conversation with his usual charm and quick wit. He makes you feel seen.

At one point, mid-laugh, you realize how much fun you’re having. You hadn’t expected this—hadn’t expected Lando to be this comfortable to be around. You glance out of the window, noticing how far into the flight you are, time having flown by without you even noticing.

"You know," you say, turning to Lando with a small smile, "I’m kind of surprised. You’re a good travel companion."

He looks at you with mock offense. "Surprised? What, did you think I’d be boring?"

You shake your head, laughing softly. "No, just… I guess I’m used to Carlos doing his own thing."

Lando’s smile softens, his gaze lingering on you for a beat longer than usual. "Well, I’m glad I could change that."

The sincerity in his voice catches you off guard, and for a moment, there’s a quiet understanding between the two of you. This whole thing might have started as a plan, a façade, but right now, sitting beside him, it feels a lot less like pretending.

The plane touches down smoothly, and you feel a strange mix of relief and apprehension as you start gathering your things. You and Lando have spent the entire flight talking, joking, and trading stories, and for a few hours, the world outside of the plane seemed to blur away. But as you prepare to step back into reality, the weight of the plan settles back in.

Lando stretches beside you, yawning slightly before turning to you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it?"

You chuckle, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "Not bad at all. Maybe I should fly with you more often."

His grin widens, but there’s something else in his expression—like he’s holding back a secret. As the two of you make your way off the plane and through the terminal, you notice Lando constantly glancing at his phone, his smile growing with each tap of the screen.

"You know," he begins casually, as you step out into the cool air outside the airport, "you don’t need to worry about how we’re going to announce this whole thing anymore."

You stop in your tracks, turning to look at him with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "What do you mean?"

Lando bites his lip, holding up his phone to show you the screen. Your eyes widen as you take in the image—an article, complete with a photo of the two of you entering the airport together just hours ago. The headline blares in bold letters:

"Lando Norris’s Newest Catch? F1 Star Spotted With Mystery Girl at Airport!"

Your stomach drops, the air suddenly feeling heavier around you. "What? How did they…?"

Lando’s grin only grows as he scrolls through the article. "Looks like the paparazzi beat us to it. We didn’t even have to make an announcement. They did it for us."

You can’t help but laugh in disbelief. "We didn’t even post the café photo yet!"

He shrugs, clearly amused by the whole situation. "Guess we’re more convincing than we thought."

As you stare at the headline, a strange mix of nerves and excitement washes over you. This was all part of the plan, of course—but seeing it in print makes it feel so much more real. You glance up at Lando, who’s watching you with that same easy smile, clearly unfazed by the attention.

"Guess it’s official now," he says, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "No going back."

You smirk, shaking your head at the absurdity of it all. "I guess not."

With a final grin, Lando steps closer, his voice low and teasing. "Welcome to the spotlight."

Here's part 4

Tag list: @abq654 , @spaceflowergal, @mads94sworld, @anewpersonthatexists, @qlovalova, @itsskavya, anaferreira-4, @willowsnook, @larastark3107, @blueberry648579, @luckyangelballoon, @runs-with-sciss0rs

#f1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando imagine #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz

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rebeccathenaturalist · 1 year ago

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Existence Value: Why All of Nature is Important Whether We Can Use it or Not

I spend a lot of time around other nature nerds. We’re a bunch of people from varying backgrounds, places, and generations who all find a deep well of inspiration within the natural world. We’re the sort of people who will happily spend all day outside enjoying seeing wildlife and their habitats without any sort of secondary goal like fishing, foraging, etc. (though some of us engage in those activities, too.) We don’t just fall in love with the places we’ve been, either, but wild locales that we’ve only ever seen in pictures, or heard of from others. We are curators of existence value.

Existence value is exactly what it sounds like–something is considered important and worthwhile simply because it is. It’s at odds with how a lot of folks here in the United States view our “natural resources.” It’s also telling that that is the term most often used to refer collectively to anything that is not a human being, something we have created, or a species we have domesticated, and I have run into many people in my lifetime for whom the only value nature has is what money can be extracted from it. Timber, minerals, water, meat (wild and domestic), mushrooms, and more–for some, these are the sole reasons nature exists, especially if they can be sold for profit. When questioning how deeply imbalanced and harmful our extractive processes have become, I’ve often been told “Well, that’s just the way it is,” as if we shall be forever frozen in the mid-20th century with no opportunity to reimagine industry, technology, or uses thereof.

Moreover, we often assign positive or negative value to a being or place based on whether it directly benefits us or not. Look at how many people want to see deer and elk numbers skyrocket so that they have more to hunt, while advocating for going back to the days when people shot every gray wolf they came across. Barry Holstun Lopez’ classic Of Wolves and Men is just one of several in-depth looks at how deeply ingrained that hatred of the “big bad wolf” is in western mindsets, simply because wolves inconveniently prey on livestock and compete with us for dwindling areas of wild land and the wild game that sustained both species’ ancestors for many millennia. “Good” species are those that give us things; “bad” species are those that refuse to be so complacent.

Even the modern conservation movement often has to appeal to people’s selfishness in order to get us to care about nature. Look at how often we have to argue that a species of rare plant is worth saving because it might have a compound in it we could use for medicine. Think about how we’ve had to explain that we need biodiverse ecosystems, healthy soil, and clean water and air because of the ecosystem services they provide us. We measure the value of trees in dollars based on how they can mitigate air pollution and anthropogenic climate change. It’s frankly depressing how many people won’t understand a problem until we put things in terms of their own self-interest and make it personal. (I see that less as an individual failing, and more our society’s failure to teach empathy and emotional skills in general, but that’s a post for another time.)

Existence value flies in the face of all of those presumptions. It says that a wild animal, or a fungus, or a landscape, is worth preserving simply because it is there, and that is good enough. It argues that the white-tailed deer and the gray wolf are equally valuable regardless of what we think of them or get from them, in part because both are keystone species that have massive positive impacts on the ecosystems they are a part of, and their loss is ecologically devastating.

But even those species whose ecological impact isn’t quite so wide-ranging are still considered to have existence value. And we don’t have to have personally interacted with a place or its natural inhabitants in order to understand their existence value, either. I may never get to visit the Maasai Mara in Kenya, but I wish to see it as protected and cared for as places I visit regularly, like Willapa National Wildlife Refuge. And there are countless other places, whose names I may never know and which may be no larger than a fraction of an acre, that are important in their own right.

I would like more people (in western societies in particular) to be considering this concept of existence value. What happens when we detangle non-human nature from the automatic value judgements we place on it according to our own biases? When we question why we hold certain values, where those values came from, and the motivations of those who handed them to us in the first place, it makes it easier to see the complicated messes beneath the simple, shiny veneer of “Well, that’s just the way it is.”

And then we get to that most dangerous of realizations: it doesn’t have to be this way. It can be different, and better, taking the best of what we’ve accomplished over the years and creating better solutions for the worst of what we’ve done. In the words of Rebecca Buck–aka Tank Girl–“We can be wonderful. We can be magnificent. We can turn this shit around.”

Let’s be clear: rethinking is just the first step. We can’t just uproot ourselves from our current, deeply entrenched technological, social, and environmental situation and instantly create a new way of doing things. Societal change takes time; it takes generations. This is how we got into that situation, and it’s how we’re going to climb out of it and hopefully into something better. Sometimes the best we can do is celebrate small, incremental victories–but that’s better than nothing at all.

Nor can we just ignore the immensely disproportionate impact that has been made on indigenous and other disadvantaged communities by our society (even in some cases where we’ve actually been trying to fix the problems we’ve created.) It does no good to accept nature’s inherent value on its own terms if we do not also extend that acceptance throughout our own society, and to our entire species as a whole.

But I think ruminating on this concept of existence value is a good first step toward breaking ourselves out first and foremost. And then we go from there.

Did you enjoy this post? Consider taking one of my online foraging and natural history classes or hiring me for a guided nature tour, checking out my other articles, or picking up a paperback or ebook I’ve written! You can even buy me a coffee here!

#nature #natural history #ecology #wildlife #animals #environment #environmentalism #conservation #existence value #deep ecology #science #scicomm #environmental philosophy #climate change

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callmelittlesunshinefics · 7 months ago

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Dancing On My Own (Gambit X Reader, Part One)

Alrighty folks, this was meant to be a quick fluffy one shot that keeps getting longer and more angsty and has been sitting in my drafts for entirely too long now. Still very much a WIP that will be continued this week or next, PG13 for the time being with potential to take a turn for spicy down the line :)

A/N: Some quick background, the reader (Y/N in fic, described with she/her pronouns) is based off of an OC I tend to pull out pretty frequently. Half human, half angel, displaced from their home universe and dropped into this one (in which Lucifer, the tv show, is also cannon because why not maybe do a crossover down the line?). Gambit x Reader is the main ship we're sailing towards, but there's definitely some Logan x Reader if you squint. OH and last last thing, there's a party and I'm shamelessly linking the dress I had in mind for the reader here.

gif credit :) : @counterspelling

Dropping below a read more, don't be shy, come say hi when you're done reading! :)

“‘Stay for the summer!’ they said, ‘quiet and relaxing’ they said!” You throw the words you were told back at Jubilee who looks back at you completely unfazed as you continue untangling string lights to hang in the garden.

“Honestly Y/N if you had stopped for two seconds to think about who was telling you that, you probably would’ve gone back to LA.”

She was completely right, of course. You showed up to Xavier’s school not a mutant, not fully human either, and just looking for a place on the east coast to stay. Your uncle Lucifer made a few calls, found a friend willing to host a universe-displaced nephilim, and the rest was history. You might not be a mutant, but you were a partial human with powers you couldn’t always understand, and even other angels in this universe weren’t always able to help. Charles met and understood you quicker than anyone you’ve ever encountered in this universe or the next, so when you were asked to extend your stay and take on some guardian duties over the summer you were happy enough to agree.

“Jean is the one who told you it would be relaxing, and Jean’s idea of relaxing is staying at a constant level 8 of activity.”

“How is that not like the school year?” You rolled your eyes, dropping the lights.

“Well during the school year she bounces between a 9 and 10, reserving 7s and 8s for the weekend. I can make you a diagram or something if you need it.”

“I’m going to need a lot more than that by the time we’re done here.”

“Maybe Gambit can help you with that?” Remy had sauntered over from the basketball court, at least that’s what you assumed given his current state of undress.

“Unless you’re here to help decorate, I don’t think so handsome. If Jean catches us behind schedule the phoenix might make a reappearance…” You looked around and took a deep breath, realizing that other than the lights, everything looked pretty set. There was a reasonable sized clearing in the garden and Jean had hired a company to install a temporary dance floor. Chairs and tables were scattered around picnic style, and Jubilee had done an amazing job of setting up the bar despite being the only one unable to drink, legally.

“I think it’s actually just the lights,” Jubilee nodded to the messy pile at your feet, “And I think Gambit would be more help with that than me anyway, so?”

“Go ahead,” you nodded smiling and she ran over to hug you, “And if you go to the mall, bring me back a pretzel!!!” You yelled after her knowing it was useless, she’d bring you a pretzel whether she heard you or not.

“Avoiding me, chere?” Gambit eyed you with his usual flirtatious undertone that you couldn’t make heads or tails of.

“In fact, I am. Grab that end?” You handed him the lights as he waited for an explanation, “Okay, I’m going to sit in the tree, I just need you to feed me the lights as we move. Ready?” You didn’t give him a chance to answer, disappearing and reappearing in the branch just above his head.

Gambit stared back troubled and suspicious, so you nodded and gave him the sarcastic, albeit not entirely untrue, answer he was waiting for, “Oh Remy my attraction to you is just so strong and all consuming that I had to avoid you in order to get anything done at all. Every second I can’t throw myself at you is torture. Et cetera, et cetera, please start passing me the lights so I can go inside and shower.”

He laughed and finally did as you said, “You know if you wanted ol’Gambit all you had to do was ask.”

The two of you worked in a comfortable silence passing the lights through the trees. Just as you finished wrapping the last string, your footing slipped and you let out a quick yelp before bracing yourself for a fall that never came.

“I never would have guessed angels could be so clumsy.”

“If we weren’t you’d be short of a pickup line. Tell me honestly, how many times have you asked a lady if she fell from heaven?” Remy laughed and began walking away with you still in his arms.

“Not as many as you think, chere. Are we about done out here?”

You looked around and nodded, “Finally, yes. It was a good catch by the way, but I think I can walk on my own.”

Placing you back on the ground, the two of you walked towards the mansion in another comfortable silence. Remy was probably tied with Jubilee as your closest friend in the school. You could remember the first day you arrived, how he couldn’t stop watching you. It wasn’t until later that same night, you were out in the garden and could still sense him watching you, that you decided to do something about it. You walked right up to him, introduced yourself, and asked him to kindly explain why he was staring at you like he’s seeing a ghost.

It turned out the boy who grew up being told he was a demon had a lot of mixed feelings discovering angels and demons were not only real, but one of them was living under his roof. Remy felt a bit silly admitting it to you, but he owed you an honest answer when you confronted him so directly. And when he told you what people had said about him, what he suspected his own parents must have thought of him, your heart broke. You told him stories of all the demons and monsters you’ve encountered, and reassured him that he didn’t come close to fitting the bill.

“What’s on your mind, Remy?” There was quiet and then there was Quiet. You were still pretty new, but you knew well enough when something was bothering him.

“Are you heading back?” You stopped short, and he stopped to face you.

“Back where, Rem?”

“Anywhere that’s not here.” He was facing you but he wouldn’t quite look at you, as if he didn’t actually want to hear the answer.

You took a deep breath, “The honest answer is that I don’t know. I don’t really feel like LA is where I belong, but I’m not a mutant or a gifted youngster either. I mean, I’m not even from this u-”

“Okay, okay.” Gambit interrupted you with a hug, correctly sensing an impending panic attack from you, “Gambit just worried he won’t get to see you s’all.”

You took a deep breath, sighing into the hug, “Well that’s really stupid.” He pulled back to look at you, full of confusion. “It’s really stupid because if I were going anywhere you’d be the first person I tell, and because it takes me about 5 seconds flat to get anywhere. I’d be back before you even knew I was gone.”

You smiled wistfully and he returned it, “I’d know.”

The two of you continued heading in and you finally felt brave enough to ask the question you’ve really been wanting to ask.

“Well, I have to head up and start getting ready for tonight. What about you, getting ready for your date?” Of course, you weren’t sure he actually had one, but that was as direct as you could bring yourself to be.

“Suppose I should be doing the same. Save Gambit a dance?” He kissed your hand and walked away, leaving you flustered and confused. You immediately pulled out your phone.

Y/N: okay so i said ‘gotta go get ready! what about you, getting ready for your date?’ and he said ‘suppose i should do the same’ what do we do with that??

JB: does he think you have a date??

Y/N: SHOULD i have a date???

JB: yeah, one of you should have asked the other out by now

You dropped your phone on your bed, having finally made it to your room after a flurry of texts. Complicated feelings for your maybe best friend aside, it was still important to you to be slightly better than presentable tonight.

Tonight was the first time all summer the adults of the mansion could relax and have a good time, and some non-residential mutants would also be joining the mix. You had never really been to anything so strictly social with the gang, and you didn’t take your invitation lightly.

It wasn’t exactly formal, but Jubilee was able to confirm your suspicion that it wasn’t exactly casual either. You showered, taking more time than usual to exfoliate and moisturize, trying to pamper yourself into relaxing and getting excited for the night ahead, trying to ignore Remy’s words from earlier bouncing around your head.

Two simple words that have had you in a tailspin since he said them so casually. ‘I’d know.’

The trouble maker in you wanted to test him on it, and you did a quick assessment of yourself to see if you could. Fresh out of the shower but mostly dressed, you were presentable. Should you take a quick trip overseas, hop over to France for some wine for tonight and back in a blink? You closed your eyes and heard a knock on your door just as you were about to take off.

You opened your door more suspicious than you’d care to admit, suddenly paranoid that Gambit sniffed you out, but you were met with Jubilee instead, weighed down with garment and shopping bags from the mall.

“You never answered me! I have your pretzel and you promised we’d do makeup together so-“ it was all the preamble she gave before forcing the pretzel on you and making herself at home in your room.

“I was showering! And I really thought you were going to be gone longer?”

“I just had to pick up some stuff I ordered for tonight, plus giving you and Gambit some time to flirt didn’t seem like a bad thing.”

You rolled your eyes, “We have banter, definitely, but I’m not sure I’d call it flirting. He flirts with everyone.”

“So you realize that what he does with you is different?” She turns it on you but you’ve heard it before.

“Yes, different as in he’s not interested!”

Jubilee made a sound of frustration before giving up and asking for help with contour. You dropped the subject and fell back into your usual routine, an easy friendship that reminded you more of sisters than friends. You showed up at the mansion looking for a place to stay while you visited old haunts, and you made a friend in Jubilee who was willing to venture into those places with you, even if it meant confronting ghosts.

“Lucky for you I think I found the perfect way to test his level of interest. You didn’t pick out what you’re wearing yet, did you?”

“Well yeah, I was just going to wear-” You started motioning to the dress you picked for tonight, but Jubilee was moving and cutting you off before you even finished.

“Okay so scrap that, I grabbed something for you at the mall,” she reached for one of the garment bags she had laid across your bed, “and if this doesn’t get a reaction out of him, I’m at a loss. What do you think?”

She unzipped the bag and your eyebrows flew up so fast you wondered if they were still there. It was hot pink, sequined, and most noticeably, short and backless. You reached out to touch it and couldn’t deny how beautiful it was. Sure, the pink was a lot and it showed more skin than you were strictly comfortable with, but you couldn’t deny that the striped details of the sequins were gorgeous, or that the dress would hug and accentuate your curves…dangerously.

“Now tell me what’s really going on because there’s no way you were able to afford this dress.”

Jubilee snorted, “You got me, it comes with a letter.” She handed you a small envelope you promptly opened and started reading.

‘Your young friend told me you planned to attend a party wearing some frumpy thing off a rack and that’s simply unacceptable for my niece, I have a reputation to uphold, Y/N ;) Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do! Sincerely, your Fairy DevilFather (p.s. TRY to have fun?)’

“Lucifer intervened to send me a dress?? How did you two even contact each other?”

“I answered your phone once when he called while you were showering. We really hit it off, he actually sent me one too!” She excitedly pulled out another bag and showed you an equally gorgeous, albeit much more modest dress. Part of you wanted to argue, but another part of you realized how exciting this was for your friend and you weren’t about to let her down when she was waiting for you to join her excitement.

“I think we might be best dressed tonight?” You smirked and she whooped, celebrating her victory.

“Oh I’m ready, maybe everyone will finally accept the fact that I’m 20 and stop treating me like I’m still 15.”

You knew it was a sore point for her, but you still smiled. The way all of the x-men treated Jubilee as their adopted child was something that endlessly warmed your heart, even if it frustrated your friend. The two of you took your time helping each other get your hair and makeup perfect before donning your dresses and leaving your bedroom, having already started to hear the arrival of a few guests and the slight murmur of conversation.

You stopped just short of the stairs, turning to face Jubilee, “Don’t they say ‘fashionably late’ is a good thing?” Your anxiety was starting to get the best of you, wearing such a risque dress to attend a party with lots of new faces.

“I think we’ve already reached fashionably late, babe, if we wait any longer they’ll think something is wrong.” You took a deep breath and started to make your way down the stairs. The mansion was empty, signalling that everyone else had already made their way out to the garden.

The sun was just beginning to set when the two of you arrived to find the party already in full swing. Jean and Scott were dancing, Logan and Hank sharing a drink by the bar, and around 20 faces you had never seen interspersed with the rest of the team. You heard a low wolf whistle behind you and felt a hand on your lower back.

“Breaking hearts tonight, chere?” Remy was on you before you could even turn to look at the sound.

“If I’m lucky.” You shrugged.

“Think I have enough of that for the both of us.” He winked and you tried and failed to suppress a snort that only made him grin wider.

You turned to say something to Jubilee and your eyes narrowed when you realized the little traitor had run over to greet her friends, leaving you and Gambit alone. She looked your way and winked as you openly glared at her.

“Well it looks like I’ve been ditched so I’ll need to borrow some of it.” You grimaced in the direction of the crowd, not needing to elaborate.

“All yours, chere.” He offered you his arm and you accepted, making your way into the party and jumping right into a flurry of introductions, hugs and handshakes that Remy led you through, guiding you away when it was time to move on.

It seemed innocent enough but you couldn’t stop focusing on the fact that Remy’s hands never left you. Whether it was an arm wrapped protectively around your waist or his hand on your exposed lower back, lazily tracing shapes you couldn’t make out, it was becoming increasingly distracting. He introduced you to Kurt and you only caught 30% of the conversation, too distracted by Remy’s hand tracing the curve of the dip at the back of your dress. You were relieved when Remy excused the two of you to go grab a drink.

“Admit it, not as bad as you thought.” Gambit smirked at you, leading you to a table where Logan and Jubilee were catching up.

You rolled your eyes, “I never thought it would be bad, I just,” You took a deep breath, “I don’t know, I guess I was worried I wouldn’t fit in here, or that everyone would be wondering why I’m even here but too polite to say anything.”

Logan and Jubilee both looked in your direction, hearing the tail end of your conversation that you didn’t bother hiding from them. Logan very openly looked you up and down before chuckling and taking a sip of what you suspected to be whiskey.

“No one’s kicking you out of here looking like that, that’s for sure.” It was maybe the first time the wolverine had ever given you a compliment and you blushed.

“You clean up rather nicely yourself, Logan.”

“Then why are you spending all night with the cajun instead of talking to me?” You were surprised but did your best to cover it up, meanwhile Jubilee was fighting off a laugh herself by taking a sip of her drink.

“Because the cajun knows how a lady should be treated.” Gambit grumbled, leveling Logan with a look before departing briefly to get the both of you drinks.

“Does he?” Logan asked you while you sat to join them, shooting him a quizzical look before he continued, “Know how to treat a lady?”

“How much have you had, Logan?” You asked, eyeing his drink.

“Not that much, darlin’. Answer the question.” If there was one thing you loved about Logan it was his lack of bullshit, and judging by the look on Jubilee’s face as she waited for your answer, right now it was probably her favorite thing about him too,

“He’s been a perfect gentleman, but we’re just friends.” You tried to say it in a way that wouldn’t reveal how much that bothered you, but both of them knew better. Gambit returned a second later with your drinks and you only got two sips in before Logan insisted on a round of shots.

One round turned into two, turned into three, turned into…you lost count. Jubilee was swaying happily in her seat, having convinced the two men to let her join in with half shots somewhere around round three. Everyone’s judgement was impaired by that point, but she made a great argument about drinking for the first at home where she’s safe or something else you couldn’t remember anymore in your happily inebriated state.

A song came on and you gasped, turning towards the dancefloor and excitedly announcing your love for the song. What it was called? You couldn’t remember if your life depended on it, but you needed to dance. You locked eyes with Remy who smiled but shifted his eyes away awkwardly, causing you to quickly deflate.

“Have you even had a dance yet tonight, Y/N?” Logan asked you suspiciously.

“Not yet.” You pouted, considering heading out on your own, dance partner be damned.

“Knows how to treat a lady my ass.” Logan grumbled in Gambit’s direction, shooting a glare at him before getting up and begrudgingly but kindly offering you his hand.

“Oh. my. GOD.” Jubilee squealed, far too gone to contain her excitement at the drama, as she would say.

You beamed at Logan, accepting his hand and making a run for the dance floor, pulling him along behind you.

“That crazy cajun might try to take my head off later for this.” Logan grumbled, settling his arms at your waist while you threw yours around his neck, getting closer than was strictly necessary so the two of you could continue your talk while dancing. Your eyes shifted over to where you just left your friends and you felt a stabbing pain in your chest when you looked for Remy just to see he had also made his way over to the dance floor, with Rogue.

“I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Logan.” Your eyes were starting to tear up and you looked up trying to stop it as Logan became worried, turning to figure out what made you so upset. His eyes landed on Gambit and he growled, holding you a little closer as he actively tried to calm down.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.” You laughed, “He’s allowed to be with whoever he wants.”

“Yeah, but he’s not allowed to follow you around all night like a lovesick puppy just to ditch you when he catches another scent.”

You smiled sadly, “He was being a good friend earlier, that’s it.”

Logan pulled you closer and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “I watched his hands stray all over you, Y/N,” He touched your bare back to emphasize his point, “He’s not a friend, he’s a coward.” You couldn’t take it anymore and hugged Logan, hiding your face in his chest to let a few tears escape, hoping you would feel a bit better if you could get some of your distress out.

“Might have to kill em for making you cry.” Logan grumbled and you laughed, smiling up at him despite yourself.

“Believe it or not you’re helping enough like this.” The two of you continued dancing and Logan’s discomfort wasn’t wasted on you, but he’d be damned if he let the two of you leave that dance floor before Gambit and Rogue. He was making a point.

The music began to slow down and Rogue and Gambit finally went their separate ways. You watched as Remy found Jubilee again and made their way back over to the table, you turned to Logan.

“Think we should head back?” He looked behind you and shook his head.

“We finally get a song that’s more my speed and you want to leave?” He shook his head no and pulled you closer, making you laugh and rest your head on his chest as the two of you swayed lazily.

“Thank you, Logan. It’s not how I expected the night to go but I wouldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

“Dancing with you looking like that isn’t exactly a punishment.” He snarked and you chuckled.

“Mind if I cut in?” You looked up to meet red eyes, Remy looking between you and Logan harshly before addressing you again more quietly, “Didn’t Gambit ask you to save him a dance?”

You hesitated and Logan took that as his cue, “Bad timing cajun, Y/N just said she was getting dizzy, we’re heading back to the table.” Logan put his arm around you and lead you out of there, leaving Gambit to grumble and trail the two of you back.

Jean had joined Jubilee to rest and eyed the three of you quizzically as you made your return.

“Y/N!! I found out that shots of vodka with cranberry juice is amazing, look!” She held out a shot for you and you grabbed it and threw it back before Logan and Remy could even finish their protests.

“Chere! Didn’t you say you were dizzy?” Gambit took the shot glass out of your hand, leading you to a chair.

“From the dancing, Rem! I definitely haven’t had enough to drink yet.”

Jubilee whooped and passed you another shot, clinking it to her own before you both threw them back. Jean looked at you even more confused and you tapped your temple with a wink, an agreed upon gesture inviting her to read your mind.

“Rough night but I promise everything is okay, just need to drown my sorrows a little with you guys. Logan’s been doing his best.”

You heard Jean’s response in your head, “Fair enough. I’ve been cutting Jubilee’s shots with a lot of cranberry juice. Seriously, a LOT.”

You struggled to mask your laugh, “As I was saying, definitely not enough to drink, I’m gonna go-“ You stood and made your way to the bar on your own before anyone else could say anything, but you could feel a few sets of eyes watching you leave.

Someone had been manning the bar, but as the night wore on and the guests dwindled, those of you remaining were left to fend for yourself. You assessed your options and reached for the gin, giving that a generous pour before adding sprite, a splash of cranberry juice, and a lime wedge before you can talk yourself out of it.

“That looks amazing, can you make me one too?” Jubilee had appeared at your side and you smiled before making her a much more restrained version of yours. “Now I need you to tell me eeeeevery detail of you and Wolvie dancing I mean I neeeever-“

“To be clear,” you interrupted, sipping at your drink, “It was a pity save when it became painfully obvious Remy wasn’t going to ask.”

“After spending literally all night following you around and basically growling at anyone that tried to get near you, what’s up with that??” She made a good point but you weren’t sure what she meant by that first part.

“Pause, rewind, what are you talking about ‘basically growling’?”

“You seriously didn’t realize how handsy he got with you when Kurt started getting friendly?”

You realized you were drunk when you couldn’t stop the words from coming out of your mouth, “I was so distracted by him being handsy I didn’t even hear whatever Kurt was saying to make the connection.”

Jubilee nearly spat her drink in your face and she started smacking you excitedly, “Can you please please go tell him that??”

“But then he didn’t ask me to dance!! He pointedly looked away!!”

“So Logan? What happened there?” You were starting to suspect your friend wasn’t nearly as inebriated as you thought, her tone sounding surprisingly sharp shifting gears.

“I really don’t think there’s anything more than his mother-hen instincts going on there.”

Her eyes rolled and she shrugged, “I’d agree if it was just one dance, but-“

“Again, pretty sure that was to save me from being zeroed in on Gambit’s dance with Rogue..”

She didn’t have a response for that one and she simply clinked your drink before you both took generous sips, “Don’t tell Jean.” You whispered as you topped both of your glasses off before heading back to the group.

Jean had left to track down Scott who was mingling in the small groups that remained, some still dancing but most everyone else was doing the same as your small group. Jubilee bounced into the seat next to Logan and you drifted a beat too long before sitting next to Gambit. The silence that stretched between the two of you was no longer as comfortable as it was earlier, so you broke and piped up first.

“I almost tested you earlier, you know.”

“Almost?” Remy squinted at you, “Been testing me all night, chere.”

You narrowed your eyes back but decided not to engage, continuing your thought instead, “When you said you’d know if I left?” His playful glare dropped and he waited on your next words, “Just a quick trip before the party but still, decided against it.”

Remy chewed on what you were saying and not saying, wondering how the night had gotten so far away from him. Everything started out better than he expected, getting to show you around the party, not letting you too far out of sight in that dress, and then the hesitation. His own doubt sneaking in, reminding him that Y/N is quite literally an angel, he knew her place in the world, but his? He looked over at you waiting for a response and decided that didn’t matter right now.

“Still have sea legs or are you about ready for that dance, chere?” He didn’t leave you much room to answer, already standing with his arm extended.

“You know I literally just sat back down, right?” He rolled his eyes at you, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet alongside him. Your night was clearly nowhere near over and you gave in, letting Remy lead you back onto the dance floor and into his arms.

#gambit x reader #remy lebeau x reader #xmen #x men the animated series #x men 97 #remy lebeau #gambit #gambit xmen #light angst #in which reader and gambit are both complete idiots #but we love them anyway #tw drinking

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narcissarina · 9 months ago

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Darkened Desires

Prologue and Chapter 1: The sun

Pairings: Mafia!Scaramouche × Barista!Reader

Word count: 1,006

Tw: praise kink, degradation, kidnapping, tourture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, gore, deaths, age-gap, corruption, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, mentions of human trafficking on the near chapters, slowburn.

Warning: This fanfiction may contain kidnapping, torture, dub/non-con, forced breeding, dismembering, age-gap, corruption, vigilante Scaramouche, use of force, trauma, use of drugs, stalking, and more. This fiction will continue to grow darker as chapters goes by.

Your mental health matters.

CHAPTER 2:

THE MOON

I should’ve just killed this fucker earlier, but here I am interrogating him in a public place and inside this fucking café. I knew I shouldn’t have taken and agree on this meet-up. Maybe this is my karma after killing another fucker earlier too or that I’m just too kind to this person.

“So,” I spoke, my tone threatening and so is my aura, I could spread a lot of negative energy right now as my mood is bad as shit. “What happened to the person I told you to give me information about?” I finally asked, wicked grin across my face, trying my best to seem… friendly. Even though I want to reach out to him across the table and slam his head until he bleeds to death. But no, we don’t want that kind of attention out in this open, right?

All he could do was stammer and fidget, fuck. I don’t have time for this.

“You shitheads deal with him.” I told to my bodyguards and they started muttering deadly threats, telling him that I, the boss, don’t have time to deal his bullshit.

I lean my head back and feel the soft cushion of the seat, I saw a glimpse of someone in the corner of my eye. Someone caught my attention.

It was the barista, the way she smiles at the two customers—probably a mother and her daughter. As if in her eyes she saw a glimpse of reflection of herself and her own mother. I clicked my tongue and shakes my head as I continue watching her.

She was gentle, her smile like a ray of sunlight.

I could only bite my bottom lip, snap my fingers and whispered to one of my men, “give me her personal background.” I spoke in a demanding and authorizing tone, “will do, sir.” One of my men nodded.

So fucking pretty, would be much more prettier if she became one of my priced belongings.

He shuts up, that’s it.

I’m going to kill this bitch after we’re out of here and when we do I’m gonna—

“Excuse me?” a voice filled my raging thoughts and pulled my full attention to her. What the fuck, she’s much prettier up close.

Oh.

Oh, shit, shit, shit! Did we get caught?!

Before I could open my mouth, she starts asking us questions and how me and my men were here for quite a long time and hasn’t ordered anything… yet. Then asking us to leave, pfft, that’s cute. Trying to put on a brave face and act when I could clearly see that she’s intimidated by us too, I could hear her stammer her words and almost eat her words up too. So fucking cute.

But before messing around, I got to deal with this situation first then him. I relax my eyes and looked at her, “so we just need to order and you’ll leave us alone?” I asked, fuck, I didn’t mean to sound so cold and flat. But I need her away from us, away from danger.

I click my tongue with irritation and rest my elbow on the table and my chin resting on my palm, “whatever, get me some dark coffee.” I hiss, and focus my attention to my men and the man in the middle, I place a smile and told them they could order. It’s on me all right.

After she wrote down all of our orders, my eyes were on the man and he’s sweating, trembling with fear and fidgeting. She noticed.

“I’m sorry sir but are these gentle folks seems to bother you nor are they intimidating you?”

I frowned, she gave her attention to him and not me? Well, I hope he comes back alive and well tomorrow.

“You know,” I start, shifting her attention to me as she turn her head and straight her posture, the notebook in hand. “Don’t you think it’s better to get our order done?” I asked with a smile, trying to soften my tone but she still seems intimidated by me. That sucks.

Well, it doesn’t matter does it? In the end, I will claim her no matter what. She’ll be mine, she doesn’t need to know it yet.

I could only laugh a little, grinning to myself on how cute she walks away. She was a little stiff and her legs look like it’s gonna give out, I hope I made her excited—even for just one bit…

Minutes later, our order came. My little sunshine here is too kind to delivery it to us, to our table and left—still as stiff as a board when she walks away from our table.

It'd be fun to break her, to have her submit.

Every now and then I would steal a glance while speaking to the man who “broke” my trust and my contract with him, oh well. I’ll just kill him after I eye-fuck the most beautiful barista I laid my eyes upon.

“Time is up and it’s time we leave.” I stood up, belly full and muscles and bones stretched and cracked. I point to one of my men, tell him to come closer and whispered, “Don’t let him out of our sight, bring him with us and you know what to do.”

I smiled and lend out a hand, “Well then, Mr. Parfez let me offer you a ride home.” I emphasize the word home so much that he knew he’s in trouble, two of my men went behind him and escorted him first as I walked up to the counter up front—took my wallet out and gave a 100$ tip.

She was so confused and I fucking love seeing her scared of me. I’m fucking addicted.

I turn and walked out, and took one last glance at her. Thinking to myself that I can have her all to myself and for it to work is that I need her to warm up bit by bit.

She doesn’t have a choice.

Link:

Chapter 3: THE MOON

#genshin impact #scaramouche x you #scaramouche fanfic #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x y/n #scaramouche smut #Darkened Desires Series #genshin smut #sorry if the story is short TT #I'm trying out if chapter by chapter are suited to me lol #will be writing chapter 3!#Mafia!Scaramouche #Mafia!Scara

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ellieloves2draw · 1 year ago

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while we’re all on the subject of songs, here’s an album cover concept i did for one of my classes! i imagine this hypothetical third life album would have kind of a folk punk vibe. alas, if only i knew how to write music 😔

(ID: the front and back cover of an album. both sides have a muted yellow-brown background with a grainy texture. on the front cover is a drawing of the head of a dog with a red crown floating above its head. its mouth is open, and there is blood running down its face over its eye. the image has a slight glitch effect. the title of the album is “bloody noses, cracked crowns” and is at the top of the cover. at the bottom are the words, “the spectators”.

the back cover has both the title and the artist at the top. there’s a numbered list of the tracks in the center. the tracks are:

romans and countrymen

debt

poppy fields

the tower

red winter

brothers in arms

no lone wolves

the siege

canary cry

the hand of the king

and the winner is

there’s a false record label in the bottom left corner, and a barcode in the bottom right. end ID.)

#3rd life #3rd life smp #third life #ellie loves to draw #fun fact that barcode is for a potted cactus lol #i have been brainrotting over this concept for weeks and now i really wanna do covers for the other seasons too #trafficblr

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simporado · 1 year ago

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You’re somethin’ else

Bakugo Katsuki x Reader

Summary: The same words said to you in different points of your life, all still manage to make you blush everytime.

Content Warning/Tags: Fluff, Making Out, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied Sexual Content, Drunken Confessions kinda, Mutual Pining, Reader-Insert

MDNI please 🔞

Today was work study for you and some of your classmates. You were out in patrol with with some of the heroes from the company you were interning in. You had been patrolling for about 30 minutes now. As you and your fellow hero turn a corner, you see Deku, Shoto, and Bakugo walking towards your direction.

Deku spots you first, “Oh! Y/n-san! What a coincidence.” Bakugo and Shoto then turns to look at you. “Hi guys! you were out on patrol too, huh? How’s that going for you all?” You asked. Bakugo puts his hands in his pockets and slouches, “Hah. No ass-beating’s happened yet and its a fuckin waste of my time.” Deku calls out with a small “K-Kacchan..” in the background when suddenly, a scream was heard. You all turn to the direction of the sound.

A villain attack. You all spring into action. You, Deku and Shoto evacuate nearby civilians away while Bakugo immediately goes for the villain. the villain had a quirk where they could aim in various directions and multitask. When the villain had Bakugo at point range and a civilian was nearby who would for sure get hit, you immediately moved to intervene. You had used your quirk to simultaneously move the civilian safely, Bakugo out of the villain’s shot, THEN delivered a blow to the villain enough to get him distracted.

The police had finally arrived and restrained the villain with anti-quirk cuffs. Shoto was briefing the police while Deku aided in bringing civilians to get first aid. You and Bakugo had been talking to an officer as well. After the officer left, you were about to turn on your heel “Well, I’ll be on my way. Great job in handling the villain as usual, Bakug—“

“I didn’t really do shit…” Bakugo interrupts. “You… handled that well more than any of us.” You blink at that then smile, your hand reaching to scratch at the back of your head in bashfulness, “Well, we all did what we could and succeeded, didn’t we? That’s still a win.” and you smile. Bakugo stares at you with an unreadable expression then looks away. Then, you feel your cheeks heat up as you heard what he whispered to himself, “Heh. You’re somethin’ else.”

-----

Your classmates from UA decided to get together after working hard being Pro Heroes. It was a hangout in Momo’s place since she had the largest space to accommodate all your classmates. It was mostly the girls and the “bakusquad” who had planned it. “C’mon, it’s a great opportunity for everyone have fun and catch up! Plus everyone’s schedules aligns by then, so there’s no other perfect time.” Mina had said. And you did agree, it was a much needed relaxation after working hard being a pro hero.

You hadn’t planned on drinking too much, but it must have slipped your mind because everyone was having a really great time. Karaoke was brought out, and Kirishima’s folk song performance had most of you dying of laughter. Some of the guys looked like uncles it also made you laugh so hard, you couldve busted a lung. Iida, Sero, Shoto, and Shoji standing at a corner, a hand holding their beers and the other either at their waist or in their pockets, chatting amongst themselves. Others went and played Just Dance, You, Mina, and Ochako being the ones playing more then others.

Whenever you danced, you felt eyes focusing on you but refused to acknowledge that and played it off as being delusional. You tried really hard not to scan the room and see who was watching, you really did. But before you could stop yourself, you found yourself locking eyes with a pair of red ones, who was sitting at the couch nearby. The shock must’ve been great because you didn’t notice you both were just staring for so long.

“Oh, we’re almost out of cold drinks here!” Kaminari announces from the table, and it snaps you out of your daze. “I’ll get them. There’s more in your fridge, right Momo?” you asked, volunteering mainly to excuse yourself. Momo turns to you from the table, “Yes, they’re in the fridge. They’re still unopened in crates so it’s quite heav—“

“I’ll come with.” Bakugo interrupts Momo. “I need a cold one.” he explains, raising the empty beer in his hand as if to emphasize. He stands from his seat and stops right next to you. You stare at him wide eyed and in shock, and he just raises a brow at you. After shaking off the shock, you quickly realized he was waiting for you to go first.

When you get to the kitchen, you open the fridge to grab the beer crates. Bakugo reaches to get the crates from you, but you didn’t let him. He tuts and forces the crates out of your hands, only to quickly put in on the nearby island behind you and trap you between his arms. against the island “Why’re you carrying a lot.”

You blink at him confused, “What?”

“I mean, just let me fuckin’ do it...”, he pauses, “for you…” You didn’t know how to respond. You figured he was drunk with the way he’s acting. But then again, so were you with the lack of response your brain had been giving.

Before you could say something, he drops his forehead to your shoulder and you stiffen. “You’re too fuckin’ cute.” He groans into your collarbone before softly kissing your shoulder, your collarbone, going up your neck until he stops at your cheek. You both stare at each other, his eyes silently asking if he can continue. You raise your hand to grab at his collar and pull him to your lips. You felt a flutter in your stomach when he leans more into your kiss, releases a sigh of relief through his nose, as if he had been meaning to do this. You gasp in surprise when he starts to swipe his tongue on your lips, and takes that opportunity to shove his tongue in your mouth. His hand on your waist pull you tightly against his body and his right leg pushes up in between your thighs. He pulls away, both your spit still connected. “Fuck, you’re something else.” He says panting, pupils blown wide.

Your half-lidded eyes widen at his words but before you could respond, Kirishima enters the room loudly. “Momo said to bring all of them out, so I came to help—“ You and Bakugo already had distanced yourselves from each other when Kirishima’s eyes lands at you both. Bakugo wordlessly brings out the two crates from the island and walks out the kitchen past Kirishima. “You okay, y/n? you look red in the face.” You cup ur face then fan yourself, “Do I? I mean, haha, Momo wasn’t kidding when she said they were heavy”, you lie as you thumb at the fridge. Kirishima just smiles at you then you both carry the remaining ones out the kitchen.

It was already late in the am, and most of your classmates were passed out. You couldn’t stop thinking about Bakugo since the incident in the kitchen, especially the last thing he said to you. You scanned for him in the room, only to find him going up the stairs. You don’t

know what compelled you to follow, but you were already on the stairs. When you got up, you didn’t see where he went. Just as you were about to walk to a direction, a hand grabs you and pulls you into a room. It’s Bakugo. And he’s got you against the door.

The room was dark and the only light was coming from the window. He leans into you, forehead resting against yours, his hands on your hips. He opens his mouth to speak, “I—“ but before he could finish, you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him fervently.

—————

Nothing but heavy panting fills the darkened room. Pants alternating between the two of you, eventually your breathing slows in sync. You're straddling his hips on top of him, brows furrowed and both eyes closed as you bask in the afterglow. Both of your hands at the sides of his waist on the matress, the proximity allowing you to feel his slowing pants on your face. You slowly open your eyes only to see him already staring at you. Somehow you couldnt begin to describe the look in his eyes. Disbelief? Adoration? Love-

As soon as the last thought hit you, his fingers comb through your hair from the hairline at your forehead down to the back of your neck. His hand ends up cupping your jaw, thumb carressing the skin of your cheek. He lets out a deep sigh, "You're somethin' else" he whispers, mouth adorned with a soft smile.

Your eyes widen before chuckling and he frowns. “What’re you laughing ‘bout?” he asks. “Nothing, just remembered you first told me that during work study before back in UA.” you cross your arms on his chest and lay your head down on your arms, tilting up to look at him. “Left an impression on me because it was the first time you had complimented me.” Katsuki’s eyes go wide and blushes. “I… pushed myself to say that ‘cuz you looked hot, beatin’ the shit outta that useless extra and all. Realized I’ve never really seen you in action before that.” and now your red in the face at his confession.

He smirks in amusement at your flushed face, as if he knew what you were thinking, before wrapping his arms around your waist and slowly bringing you towards his lips to kiss you once again.

“I’ve always liked you since then, Y/n. You really are somethin’ else.” He says with such serious eyes yet full of emotion. You lean up to kiss him at that, then lay your head down on his bare chest. sleep starts to overtake you as you listen to his heartbeat. "I like you too, Katsuki. I think you're really something else too."

~~~~

originally posted from ao3, link below!

this is my first fic ever like. no cap. sponsored by my delusional simping brain.

i hope you enjoyed reading nonetheless! thank you for reading mmmwak

#bakugou x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x y/n #mha x reader #reader insert #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff

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end-otw-racism · 2 years ago

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Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

Read our Call to Action first, then come here if you have additional questions!

Vote To End OTW Racism FAQ

Why Voting?

We feel the current Board of Directors has demonstrated little urgency on dealing with issues of racism on their platform. Additionally, over the course of the last few weeks, a variety of accounts have come forth showing fundamental, institutional and structural issues with OTW as it currently stands. With 4 of the 7 current board positions up for election, we feel that now is a key time to push for a board that is willing to address and tackle the issues OTW and AO3 are currently facing.

Why are you encouraging donations to an org you are trying to change?

The only way to be able to vote is to donate. Like many nonprofits, OTW uses a membership fee to ensure that each member is a distinct individual with one vote. In order to do this, the OTW requires their supporters to make a minimum donation of $10 US. We do not feel that anyone should feel compelled to donate. However, there are many people who have already donated who may not know that donation entitles them to voting!

Can we donate on behalf of other users so they can vote as well?

Unfortunately this is not possible under OTW’s current system. You cannot create a membership for anyone but yourself. This system protects OTW elections from sabotage by outside parties.

Do we have to give money?

No. We fully believe no one should feel pressured at all to contribute financially. There are many who are uncomfortable contributing to the OTW as it currently exists and we fully support and understand their position. We feel voting is only one of many ways people can be involved and encourage everyone to do so at a level they feel comfortable with. With that, our Call to Action has a subsection of many ways you can get involved that do not involve money.

What is the point of changing Pseuds?

We want everyone, including those who cannot or do not create fanworks, to have a way to show their support and be engaged in this movement. Creating a Pseud is a great way of showing support and reminding people that voting season is upon us – it makes our action visible in comments and kudos and can be done by anyone with an account. After the action, the Pseud can be deleted and all comments/kudos made will revert back to the main account.

Should we change the names of old fanworks for this action to Vote to End OTW Racism?

You don’t need to, but are welcome to change any and all fic titles to join in the action and our collection at any time. The primary goal of this action is to be a constant reminder to AO3 usership that it is voting season and they should vote if they can, which is why we’re focusing on name-changing new works between now and the end of elections – so that the reminder can be front and center regularly on various fandom and tag pages. (We can’t put a banner at the top of every AO3 page to encourage voting, so this is our next best tactic.)

General FAQ

Who are you people? Who's running this initiative?

Given that virulent harassment for speaking out about fandom racism is one of the things we're attempting to fight, it should be understandable that we don't want to make targets of ourselves by revealing our names/handles. We believe that our message and this movement is more important than our individual identities, and ask that you respect that by not engaging in baseless and inflammatory speculation.

The core organizers of this initial action are all longtime fans and users of AO3, including both people of color and white folks, who have been in fandom for decades. We are NOT "outsiders"! Our perspective and work on antiracism in fandom has also been developed in collaboration with a diverse range of fans older and younger than us, from many different fandoms and backgrounds. We are grateful for those connections, and are inspired by those who have been tirelessly fighting racism in fandom over time. We are all sick of seeing the same kinds of racism crop up in fanspaces year after year, in fandom after fandom. We want to see fandom's flagship project do something to make fandom more inclusive and safe for fans of color. We welcome participation and input from all fans who want to fight racism as we move forward. Fill out this form or contact our socials to get involved beyond this first action!

Are you pro-shippers or antis?

Neither. This is not about shipping discourse, it is about racism and harassment, full stop.

Is this about dark or "problematic" content?

Is this about policing kinks &/or queer content?

Is this about top/bottom discourse?

No. This is about racism and abuse/harassment. We are in favor of kinky, queer, and dark content (and many of us have created and enjoyed fanworks that falls under those umbrellas). If you consider extremely racist content to be a kink essential to your identity as a fan, then we can't help you.

Why aren't you focused on underage/incestuous/dark/etc content? Isn't that also a problem?

Bigotry is a different issue from content that fans may find uncomfortable or even triggering in other ways. Please don't derail this focused campaign by bringing other topics into the mix.

Is this about monetizing fanworks on AO3? Is this about making the AO3 palatable to advertisers?

No. We support AO3's rule against openly/directly monetizing fanworks hosted on its platform, and its commitment to being totally fan-funded and free from advertising revenue (and the fickle, proscriptive demands of outside interests like major corporations and other advertisers). Fanspace should be for fandom, not credit card companies or tech conglomerates to profit from.

What kind of work do you mean when you say "extremely racist and extremely abusive"?

We understand that people might be concerned that we're opening the door to broad censorship of work on AO3, but that's not our goal. Our concern is with racist fan works written for the purpose of making the fan site unwelcoming to fans of color. We haven't directly linked to current examples here because we don't want to invite harassment of individuals. However, we do hope that the OTW/AO3 takes a long hard look at their Terms of Service (TOS) and brings it in line with current/progressive antiracist content. Currently, AO3 only considers something harassment if it targets a specific individual - and even then, they have often refused to take action on harassment like authors using racial slurs in replies to comments, or tagging a scholar of color's full name in a fic to incite harassment of them for speaking out about racism. We believe that harassment against a racial/ethnic group should be considered harassment under AO3's TOS and Abuse policies. How AO3 handles offending works until these proposed changes would be up to AO3 to decide. Avenues for progress may involve discouraging such works, de-listing such works from search results, or prohibiting them all together, depending on severity. We are also in favor of the organization establishing reasonable guardrails or guidelines so that the new TOS/policies are less likely to be abused or otherwise used maliciously.

Who gets to decide what content is "extremely racist and extremely abusive"?

Ideally, the OTW will update their TOS and Abuse policies and procedures to define these terms, and they will ultimately determine how to implement these changes. We're not asking for them to hire a bunch of prudish strangers to comb through every work AO3 in order to mass-delete anything remotely objectionable, but for the OTW to implement common-sense measures to make the AO3 and the organization more inclusive. They've already committed to similar measures, so we're just asking for concrete action to back up their vague promises. This approach to racist harassment is in line with their existing policies that prohibit certain kinds of content, such as their policy on plagiarism that takes a case-by-case approach to determining what is and isn't plagiarism. We're just asking that they expand those policies and practices to include extreme forms of racism & harassment.

What do you mean by "off-site harassment"?

Answered here.

Do you want to remove content from the Archive?

Our primary goal is for the OTW to follow up on the promises it's already made to protect fans of color and other people who have been harassed, but in more concrete ways than they've done thus far. This does involve reviewing the TOS and Abuse policies and procedures to add protections for people facing racist harassment. Like with any other violation of the TOS, such as failure to use the archive warnings properly or plagiarism, this may result in creators receiving warnings about their works that are in violation of the new harassment policies. However, the end goal is not censorship, but an Archive that is more inclusive for fans of color and which minimizes harassment and abuse.

When do you expect AO3 to solve these problems?

We're hoping (in an ideal world) that they will respond within the recommended two-week timeframe of our action (which ends May 31st) by putting out a statement committing to our requests. We understand that a large organization like this run by volunteers needs time to actually implement those changes, but OTW has been working on these policies for three years already. With that pre-existing work, our demands can be feasibly implemented within six months to a year at the latest, and a commitment to change – and sharing a concrete, expedited timeline – can happen immediately. The exact timeline is up to the OTW, and we hope they will be fully transparent about both that and any delays they may encounter. We don't want this to be a rehash of their previous commitments, where they keep kicking the can down the road indefinitely: we want them to make a concrete plan and stick to their promises. The OTW has in fact acted quickly on policies when they feel urgency to do so - their implementation of a tag limit happened within months! - so we know it's possible. After the current action window closes, we'll still need your help to keep an eye on the org and make sure they fulfill their promises. Fill out this form if you're interested in helping long-term!

Why are you doing this? Why aren't you focusing on real racism in the real world?

Fandom racism is real racism. Fandom is not an utopian bubble insulated away from the real world – if we're not careful, we bring our parent cultures' biases and bigotries into this space, and fandom racism has a real impact on fans (who are real people). People of color, especially Black fans, have been harassed, doxxed, had their actual jobs threatened, and even reported to law enforcement for talking about these problems. Fans of color deserve for fandom to be just as safe and welcoming and inclusive for them as it is for white fans privileged enough to ignore these issues. And racism should be fought everywhere so it has no place to hide or fester - remember Gamergate and how the bigotry in that space metastasized into American politics? Don't let fandom have the same issues.

[edited 06-16-2023 for Action 2]

#End OTW Racism #End OTW Racism FAQ #racism in fandom #otw #ao3 #fandom racism #organization for transformative works #archive of our own

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manorpunk · 7 months ago

Text

1️⃣

In the White House press briefing room in the year 2069, the presidential lectern was alight for the first time in decades. On the dais, hidden behind thick blue curtains, a series of lenses came to life, powered by thrumming machines the size of cabinets. In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea, The light from the lenses reflected along an array of precision mirrors, engineered down to the nanometer, reflecting and warping the light, directing every beam to a spot just behind the lectern. A shimmering orb of color began to grow and take shape. It was a hologram, the first of its kind in quality and fidelity, but needing time to form. With a glory in His bosom that transfigures you and me… The hologram grew, like a multicolored egg, until it took the shape of a body - a woman’s body, thin but not too thin, tan but also pale, tall but not too tall or too short, a work of perfection as delicately engineered as the machinery that created it. The Mary Jane shoes, the pleated skirt, the puffy blouse with Juliet sleeves. The cherry-red hair with a big white bow on top. The baby blue eyes with little white five-pointed stars for pupils. For better or for worse, the USA’s decades-long interregnum was drawing to a close. As He died to make men holy… With a thrum of light, the hologram was now displaying at one-hundred percent fidelity. The first president of the American League, a rough and discordant coalition of states that had emerged from the fall of the United States federal government, newly embodied with vague and untested powers in the transition out of provisional government, was an anime girl vtuber. Let us die to make men free, While God is marching on! She smiled. It was a wide, sharp smile, like the letter v, brimming with barely-concealed pride, the smile of someone who was always up to mischief, but never too much. She turned her head, letting the cameras see it from every angle, waving and winking as the booming chorus of Glory, Glory, Hallelujah faded into the background. “And we’re back, folks!” she said. Her voice was light and airy, like a rich pastry or a strong dose of anesthetics. “In case you’ve been living under a rock for these past few years, I’m Sunny Roosevelt: winner of Miss Vtuber North America 206X, named ‘America’s Cloth Mother’ by the GLN Worldwide Weekly, and now, your president!” The ‘living under a rock’ comment wasn’t a rhetorical gesture; a non-negligible amount of people in the former USA had spent the past few years under some form of rock, whether that was an apocalypse bunker, abandoned basement, or literal rock. “Folks, I know it’s been a rough couple decades for America. There was mass infrastructure failure, natural disasters, zombie COVID, falling real estate prices, and I’m pretty sure most of Florida’s still underwater. But that - ends - here!” she thumped her fist on the podium. “Because I love America. I love America so much I am kissing America with tongue. To all my loyal voters, followers, and subscribers, my promise to you, now that I’m here…” her eyes narrowed and slanted sharply as she gripped the podium and leaned closer. “...big things are coming.”

#finally wrote an introduction for Sunny that I'm satisfied with #heaven is falling #sunny roosevelt

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changes · 2 months ago

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Thursday, September 26th, 2024

🌟 New

We’ve launched new search operators that work on all platforms so you can find the exact post you’re looking for.

You can now mute the unread count from a joined community via the meatballs menu at the top-right of the community.

Community admins can now allow moderators to invite new members too. Check out your community’s settings!

The ability to search for communities on web is rolled out to everyone. There’s a new dropdown option on search that lets you browse communities related to your search term on the web (this will be in the apps with the next update), and there’s a new “Related Communities” section in the sidebar on the web.

We’re recommending communities for folks who have already joined communities in more places, including a new carousel in For You.

Backdating posts has always had the potential to act in unexpected ways, so we’ve added new warnings about this.

🛠 Fixed

Ads in the iOS app no longer interrupt your background audio. Please update to version 36.4 for the fix.

When leaving a longer reply on desktop web in certain cases or mobile web on Android devices, the cursor will no longer jump up unexpectedly in the text area.

Custom domain verification emails were briefly not being sent September 18th. This was fixed and all pending verification emails were re-sent.

🚧 Ongoing

No ongoing incidents to speak of right now.

🌱 Upcoming

No upcoming launches to announce today.

Experiencing an issue? Check for Known Issues and file a Support Request if you have something new. We’ll get back to you as soon as we can!

Want to share your feedback about something? Check out our Work in Progress blog and start a discussion with other users.

Wanna support Tumblr directly with some money? Check out Premium and the Supporter badge in TumblrMart!

#tumblr update

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snapghoul · 3 months ago

Note

Okay snap as we can I did not get my phone taken lol *looks at notes* so how did the boys confess there feelings for there crush

We’ll do Jake first.

Maybe I just wanna be Yours

For once it was Jake who was snug in his perch and Bradley took the leap.

Warnings: mention of homophobia

Song: I wanna be yours - arctic monkeys

Tyler was animatedly jumping around with Kate in the near wheat field just outside the diner, they were excited about the cloud formation in the distance, leaving Jake and Bradley to themselves in a quiet corner booth.

Jake fidgeted with his coffee cup, his gaze fixed on the window where the sky seemed to boil with energy. Bradley sat across from him, calm and composed, though his eyes betrayed a hint of curiosity.

“Bradley,” Jake began, finally alone with his wingman after two days of unrelenting tension. The endless game with Tyler had left him on edge, watching as Bradley seemed more focused on Tyler than on him. Jake could hardly stand it any longer. He wanted to be the center of Bradley’s attention, not a background character in Tyler’s show.

Bradley leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. “Yeah? What’s up?”

Jake’s breath hitched, and he hesitated. “So… how are you liking Oklahoma?”

He winced inwardly, frustrated with himself for not directly addressing what was really bothering him. He wanted to ask if Bradley was into Tyler.

Bradley’s gaze met his with a knowing look. “Oklahoma’s nice, but it doesn’t quite measure up to Cali.” He smiled gently, sensing Jake’s hesitation. “But I can tell that’s not really what you’re trying to get at, is it?”

Jake cursed silently. Bradley always had a knack for seeing through him.

Bradley’s eyes remained encouraging, urging him to speak. “Just say it, Jake.”

Taking a deep breath, Jake found a surge of courage. “Tyler. All you’ve been talking about lately is Tyler… you—”

“No.” Bradley cut him off, a smirk playing on his lips. He’d been expecting this moment, and Jake had actually lasted two days longer than he’d bet on. “I owe Kate twenty bucks, by the way.”

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise, his mouth opening as if to protest. “But—”

Bradley shook his head, still smiling. “Nah, Tyler’s a great guy, but he’s not my type. Too nice for me, honestly. I like a little more edge.”

Jake felt a rush of protectiveness for his brother, though he could tell Bradley wasn’t being rude—just honest. He was about to defend Tyler when Bradley continued.

“Yeah, but his brother? Now that’s different. I like that sass of his, the kind that gets under my skin but also makes him interesting. Can’t have him without that ego.”

Jake was stunned into silence, his heart racing. He’d come here to lay his feelings on the line, and now he was caught off guard by Bradley’s unexpected admission. He was frozen, unsure of how to respond.

“You two weren’t very subtle with your game, so Kate and I decided to have some fun with it,” Bradley said with a smirk. “Trust me, I’ve felt the same way for a while… since, you know, our first breakup.” His smile was wistful, revealing the lingering affection he’d harbored.

Jake was left speechless, his mind reeling.

Bradley chuckled. “I’d kiss you right now, but given where we are, I’m not sure it’s the safest move. Some folks around here might not be too accepting, especially since we’re Tyler’s guests.”

Jake’s heart raced, caught between relief and exhilaration.

“But when we get back to Ms. Carter’s,” Bradley continued, “or when we head out for Texas, I’ll definitely make sure to make up for it.” He flashed a playful grin that made Jake feel as though he was spinning, caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

#seresin twins #sereshaw #twisters #tyler owens #glen powell #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #glen powell tyler owens #twisters movie #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #hangman x rooster #jake seresin

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hannahssimblr · 4 months ago

Text

“That bit is upside down,” Jen chews her lip, holding two halves of a tent pole. “Or is it? I don’t know. Maybe you were right.”

“I have no clue, to be honest.” I hold my hands up in surrender and back away from the crumpled heap that is our shared tent for the weekend, the sight of which fills me with increasing dread. “You know what I’m like. I can’t do stuff like this.”

“Like read?” She scrutinises the crumpled instruction sheet for the tenth time. “This shouldn’t be so hard for us. Do you think we should have been assessed in school?”

“For a learning difficulty? What? No. There weren’t classes for this kind of complicated stuff. It’s not our fault.”

“It’s piss easy,” Shane comments. He assembled both his tent and Claire’s and Evie’s in the time it took Jen and me to wrestle our tent parts from the bag. “You put the poles together, thread them through the tarp, and stick the pins in the ground. What’s the matter with ye?”

“Dunno. We’re just fucking stupid, I suppose.”

“Push over, I’ll do it.”

Jen lets the poles roll off her palm onto the ground and we let him, watching uselessly as he slots the poles together with some sort of insane, military efficiency and has the whole thing standing neatly, our perfect, nylon dome, in about two minutes flat.

“Thanks,” I say.

Jen echoes. “Yeah, jeez, cheers for that.”

“Do you ever think the real world is, like, going to come and bite ye in the arses?” Shane wonders, wiping the sweat from his face with the hem of his t-shirt. “When you go off and start living on your own, I mean. Do you ever worry you won’t be able to hack it?”

I look at Jen, and she at me. I shrug. “I’m moving to a city, like, do you think there’ll be wilderness excursions there, or something?”

“You might eventually need to read instructions, is all.”

I grin. “Someone else can do it for me.”

“Right, yeah.” his brow furrows. “I’m just saying, like, you might get a bit of a shock when you’re out there on your own.”

“I’ve been alone though,” I argue. “It’s not like my parents do everything for me. I’m not one of those kids who was-”

“Yeah, not with all things, just some things. Like, what if you ever needed to earn your own money, to get a job in a restaurant or something? Do you not think you’d need a bit of know-how, a bit of practical experience?”

I scoff. “Why would I need to do that?”

“Because sometimes people have to work.” I hate the way he’s saying it, and feel my body stiffen like hackles are rising along my spine. Of course, Shane is going on about this. Proper job this, practical experience that.

This is the tone that accompanies every tactful reminder that he comes from a hardworking family and I, apparently, do not. Like my parents’ academic backgrounds lessen their credibility. Like it makes them snobbier, lazier, more willing to sneer at ordinary folk. What's true for them does not automatically extend to me. To think so is an insult.

Shane’s dad is the head chef in some hotel in Tullamore, his mother a florist who works seven days a week, and they have drilled into him and Kelly their extraordinary, frankly ridiculous work ethic. They think it’s normal, aspirational even, to get up at five in the morning for some mundane job. But I know something with more truth to it: that there’s merit in taking it easy, with relaxing, sleeping in, and spending time with the things you enjoy. And, by the way, what does all of this have to do with a tent?

I plaster on my best laid back smile and drop a hand onto his shoulder.

“This is a boring conversation.” I insist, in the hopes that I will embarrass him out of putting me through this conversation. “Let’s grab a few drinks, yeah? Talking about future stuff should be off-limits for the weekend.”

He shrugs. “I suppose, yeah. I’ll drop it.”

“Thanks, mate.”

I amble over to where the girls hang out on the grass and join them, getting Claire to pass me of the drinks we smuggled through among an inaccessible pile of socks and underwear at the bottom of her bag. I crack it open and swish the beer around my mouth. It’s warm, horrible, but it’s wonderful in another way. It’s the most authentic experience possible. Here I am, in a field, drinking warm beer with the sun on my face. Carefree, with the rhythmic beat from the main stage pulsing through the earth beneath me. I could get used to things being simple.

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2010 #he's spoiled #lets not forget #the boy cannot work #an ick #(i still love him)

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staybabblingbaby · 3 months ago

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Soulmate Garden AU Ch.1 (Dahlia) a2 d5

[Caution: These are not full fics, or even full parts of fics for some, these are part of my writing progress archive!]

Concept: Growing up, you knew Soulmates weren't all that they cracked up to be. So when, on your 18th birthday, your skin is painted with a garden of flower buds, you resolve to hide it from everyone. Who had ever heard of someone with 8 soulmates, anyway?

Or; Reader has 8 soulmates and no issue avoiding all of them. It's up to SKZ to show her that while every soulbond might not be made of fairy tales, theirs certainly could be.

Word Count: 5,368

Notes: My friend Tiny said this was very Wattpad era of me, so I'm so sorry that I'm cringe, guys. She also said she loved it and I am also p satisfied w it, so. Celebrations! It's also fucking long for me, like damn. Chill. I do have some disclaimers abt this tho. 1) I have never been to a k-pop concert, I am doing my best working off of what videos, vlogs, blogs, and Quora and Reddit answers for this. I'm very sorry if it's horribly inaccurate. Also it's idealized so it'd gonna be inaccurate 2) Covid never happened in this universe! Send-offs for everyone!

Dividers by @saradika

Warnings: She/Her Reader, sort of dissociating? ish?

Leave me comments or questions or anything! Love hearing from folks <3

Masterlist <3 | Prev Part | Next Part

“Yes, Ma, I promise I’m doing just fine,” You grunt into your phone, tucking the device between your cheek and shoulder as you juggle your groceries and try to dig out your keys, “No one has tried to mug me, I’m eating well, and the job is the same as the last time you called.”

You manage to both open your door and kick it shut as your mother replies, “I just worry about you dear. You’re so far away from us now, what if you need help?”

You waddle to your kitchen counter to offload your burdens, stretching your cramping fingers out as you go to properly hold your phone again.

“I know, Ma, but I’m sure I’ll make some friends with time and then they can help me out.” you finally reply with a sigh. You begin the arduous task of actually putting your groceries away, resigned to the fate of a functional adult.

You hear your sister bark out a laugh in the background. It’s possibly about hearing ‘you’ and ‘friends’ in the same sentence (Which, ouch. True, but ouch). You magnanimously ignore her.

“Honey, I love you, but it’s been almost a year. You have yet to tell me about a single friend.” Your Mom retorts. Again, ouch.

“I have Taylor!” You defend, slamming your fridge shut with a pout.

“Your roommate doesn’t count!” Your little sister taunts from the background. You hear your mother shush her but her agreement is implied when she doesn’t correct the little gremlin.

“He so does!” You argue, “We hang out in contexts that are not work or school, we eat meals together, and we’re even going to a concert this weekend! That’s friends! That’s best friends, even.” You sound a bit pathetic even to yourself, but the day your sister wins over you is the day you die.

“That’s a friendly roommate,” Is your sister’s amused response, “I bet you don’t even know what his favorite color is.” Your silence is answer enough, and she cracks up, laughing so hard that you hear a muted thump as she falls off of whatever furniture she’d been occupying.

Guess you’re dying today.

Your mother changes the subject to the goings-on of your hometown while your sister asphyxiates in the background. You’ve only been away for a little under a year now, but as you listen to her talk about which of your littlest cousins are starting school and which of your relatives are causing drama, you realize that it’s already been a little under a year.

You flop onto your couch as your mom babbles away, holding back an existential crisis.

Your fingers begin tracing the long-since memorized lines of your soulmark over your clothes as you ponder the passing of time, fully zoned out of your mother’s gossip. Your sister seems to catch on to your long silence, interrupting you mother to pester you into giving her more material to taunt you over.

“What concert are you going to, anyway?” She questions.

“Oh, it’s a K-Pop group called Stray Kids,” You tell her. You can practically feel her interest shrivel up and die as soon as you say K-Pop, bless her elitist, snobby, little heart. “Taylor likes them a lot, and his boyfriend dumped him last month, so I got some good tickets to cheer him up.”

Your mother coos at you briefly before your sister overtakes the conversation again, “Are they even good?” You can hear the sneer in her voice as she falls into Music Snob (tm) mode, so you roll your eyes when you reply.

“They’re fun to dance to when I’m doing chores, so that’s good enough for me.”

“You can’t even understand them.” She complains.

“I can, actually.” You inform her primly, “My language elective was Korean. I took the whole course.”

“You’re a weirdo.”

“Tell that to my sweet, sweet, degree, kiddo.” It’s finally your turn to taunt.

“Whatever, you’re not even going with a friend, just your roommate. How fun could it be?” She pouts back.

“I told you, we are friends! Best friends, even!”

“You still don’t know his favorite color.” She retorts smugly.

“I know his favorite flower, that’s gotta count for something!” Your mother hums in agreement, and you picture her watching your bickering like a tennis match, assigning points in her head.

“It doesn’t, because you know everyone’s favorite flower! You know the mail guy’s favorite flower! It’s like an obsession.” You picture your sister rolling her eyes at you, exasperation pouring off of her. The image makes you grin as you reply.

“Only if it’s still Jim. I haven’t been around to ask anyone new.” You point out. Reasonably, you think, but for some reason your sister lets out a loud groan of annoyance and you hear her exaggerated stomps ass she removes herself from your presence. Your mother lets out an amused little huff and you imagine you’ve won the tennis match in her head.

No death for you today. Score!

Your mom yaps with you for a little longer, before finally bidding you farewell, telling you that you should call more often (like you don’t chat literally every Friday afternoon like clockwork), tell your dad to come home soon if you happen to call him (you won’t. He won’t either), and tell her all about how the concert goes next week. You promise to do that one easily.

When she hangs up, you’re left with the ringing silence of an empty apartment. Moving to LA has been a quieter experience than you’re used to in general, for many reasons. Sure, the city itself is louder than your little suburb by miles, but life has been... More peaceful, since. Quieter.

It still makes you uneasy, even 10 months later.

You get up from the couch and drift off to your room like a ghost, opening Spotify on your way. The opening notes of Ruth B’s Lost Boy and a something nauseous swirling in your gut is all that follows you.

On concert morning, you’re woken up bright and early by your air-horn of a roommate slamming your door open.

“Concert daaaaaaaaay~” He trills at you from the doorway. You don’t even open your eyes when you roll over and throw a pillow at him in protest. A soft ‘oof’ tells you that you hit your mark for once. Nice.

“Nice shot!” Taylor cheers, “But now I have your ammo, so it’s up time.”

You roll over again, taking the edge of your blanket with you and tossing it over your head. You pull a stuffed animal under with you, and curl tightly around it.

“Nmf gmf.” You grumble at him through a mouthful of fluff.

“Nuh-uh!” Taylor tuts, already fluent in Morning Grumble, “We gotta get up. There’s food to be eaten, outfits to put on, and lines to beat!”

You let out a long, agonized, groan, but obligingly roll over and starfish out with childish protest. Taylor waits until you open your eyes to glare at his annoyingly cheerful blond bedhead before he leaves your doorway with a sunny smile. Smug bastard.

He leaves your door open too, the shit, allowing the sweet smell of french toast and eggs to drift into your room. You sit up with a whiney groan, scrubbing harshly at your face.

You’d forgive him this time. Just for the french toast.

You lean over to grab your phone from your bedside table, just waking the screen to check the time. When the numbers register you lay right the way back down with another long wail of protest.

Four in the morning. That french toast had better be fucking good.

You eventually stumble into the kitchen and are promptly handed a very large and very welcomed cup of coffee. Taylor hands you a plate piled high with french toast and eggs, fruits and toppings already out, before you can even try to start bitching at him.

You take in the spread with a furrowed brow, before slowly lifting your head to pin Taylor with a suspicious stare.

“My dude, it is four in the morning. How?”

Taylor just shrugs at you. “Couldn’t sleep. Too excited.”

You nod slowly at him. “I’ll drive. You’re napping in the car.”

This triggers a round of outraged whining from your sleep-deprived roommate, which you cull by pointing out that headaches and concerts are an awful combo. He subsides but insists he’ll be even more excited in the car, since it’s closer to concert time. You tell him to do it anyway.

“Why are we up so early in the first place?” You complain as you drain the last dregs of your drink. “The concert isn’t for, like, fifteen hours.”

“The concert is only fifteen hours away! Countdowns have already started, mark my words!” Taylor counters, “You got us Soundcheck tickets! VIP! We have to take advantage! I want the entire experience. Freebies, insane merch lines, sponsor booths, everything.” He gets more and more incensed as he goes on, leaning farther over the table, his shirt almost dragging in the puddles of syrup on his plate.

You raise your hands in surrender to his wild-eyed look. “Whatever,” You concede, “You’re the boss, this is your day.”

Taylor nods in satisfaction, leaning back. You notice that he actually does take some syrup with him as he re-seats himself. “As it should be.” Is his prim reply.

You sort of just laugh at him, and your routine of friendly bickering continues as the two of you make quick work of fixing up the kitchen.

You two split off to get ready, Taylor demanding a leave time of 6am sharp. You do your best to appease him, dressing up enough to say you put effort in, but paying mind to comfort over style. You’re putting the last touches on your eye liner when Taylor barges in.

You give him a stink eye for not knocking, which he blissfully ignores as he looks over you top to bottom. He summarily declares you “Good, but not good enough” and stampedes over to raid your closet.

At this point in your cohabitation you’ve learned to just let him do his thing when he gets like this. He doesn’t let you dress yourself when you go clubbing with his friends either, the jerk. Your fashion sense is perfectly acceptable, thank-you-very-much.

He tells you you’re being assigned a bias for today based on your wardrobe as he tosses you a white and navy stripped polo shirt and some navy sweatpants with racer strips on the side. He pulls up a reference photo on your phone and tells you to accessorize while he goes to find an appropriate tie from his stash for you.

Looking at the picture of Han Jisung on your screen, you admit that the outfit is pretty close already. You decide to leave the polo’s buttons undone, grabbing a white camisole to put on under. Your accessories take a bit longer, and you can’t see the shoes to match those, but Taylor seems satisfied enough when he comes back.

He hands you a tie and a handful of pins to complete your look and begins pushing you out the door before you can even put them on properly. When you protest this he insists that the two of you are running late, despite the concert still being more than 13 hours away.

You do, in fact, make him sleep in the car. He does not appreciate this, but early morning traffic can lull even the most dutiful of soldiers to sleep. He’s somehow even more chipper than usual when he wakes up, despite being groggy and bleary-eyed.

The crowd, when the two of you arrive, isn’t as big as you were expecting it to be. With all of Taylor’s rushing, you’d expected to barely be able to see the doors. The merch booth he was so excited about isn’t even open yet, and he settles the two of you into the line to enter the venue instead of camping there.

It’s immediately obvious who the extrovert between the two of you is, Taylor’s bouncy blond head beginning to duck and weave among the small crowd as soon as you claim your spot, laughs and excited exchanges popping up wherever he stopped. You, on the other hand, stay exactly where you’d been left and fiddle around on your phone, Taylor’s clear backpack abandoned in your arms.

You’re pretty sure this is purposeful on his part. You know each other well enough by now that he’s well aware of your tendency to stay planted once you’re settled. You’re definitely being used to stake out your spot. You steal one of his granola bars as payment for your services.

An hour or so drags through, and Taylor has thoroughly befriended most of the people around you. Once he’s decided that it’s about time to line up for some of the merch booths, Taylor leaves you in the tender care of the other fans as he goes to stake out a spot. He gracefully accepts both your wallet and your request of “a t-shirt and something they can sign”

The group of four people behind you, in particular, take his (only semi-joking) request of “take care of my introvert for me” seriously.

“So are you a Han bias?” One asks you as Taylor prances off. Her outfit is majority blue, little Bbokari (You can admit that the little characters charm you. You probably know their names better than the Stray Kids themselves) hair clips and keychains decorating her person.

You look down at yourself and then back up at her, almost having forgotten that you were dressed up as him. “Ah, no. Taylor, my friend, dressed me this morning. We’re here for him today. Though, he did say Han was my assigned bias today.” You laugh nervously, hoping they don’t judge your lack of knowledge.

Thankfully none of them seem discouraged by your response, giggling along with your little joke. In fact one of them, dressed head to toe in merch, seems almost excited by the prospect.

“Are you a baby Stay then?” She asks you with sparkling eyes. You wave your hands in front of yourself a bit defensively.

“Ah, no. I wouldn’t go that far. I like their music when Taylor plays it around the apartment, but I wouldn’t consider myself part of the fandom. This is actually my first k-pop experience in general.” You explain, “When I say we’re here for him, I mean I am here in total ignorance.”

Another girl, dressed in a loud assortment of colors you vaguely recognize from the music video Taylor had on loop in your living room for a week and a half when it dropped, lets out a low whistle. “Throwing you right into the deep end, huh? Hardcore.”

The group of you laugh a bit, the only guy in their group agreeing with, “Well if you’re not a fan now, you will be when you leave. Their performances are amazing, honestly.”

You absorb the gushing with an open heart, truly hoping for that to be the case. You take this opportunity to take the spotlight off of yourself.

“Oh, have you guys been to a Stray Kids concert before? It’s Taylor’s first.”

That question is the key to the floodgates, and you end up spending the next 3 and a half hours waiting for Taylor’s return (with text updates from the man himself, assuring you that he is still where he’s supposed to be) being regaled with tales of concerts, events, and comebacks past. You feel a bit like you’re getting a crash course in all things Stray Kids, phones often popping out to show you clips, fancams, and photos.

It makes you smile, feeling very included and welcomed as you occasionally pepper in a question or two to keep them going. It’s just like dinners at the apartment with Taylor, him unloading his stress through fandom, and you unloading yours through listening to his ramblings.

This is exactly why you came with him today.

Taylor makes his return loaded down with goodies both purchased and gifted by other fans, to which you welcome him by cheering loudly. This triggers your new group to do the same. Somehow, the five of you cheering leads to a large portion of the early crowd, which had grown by the hour, cheering with you.

You feel a bit shy at the power you apparently hold, and laugh about it with your new friends.

Eventually Taylor and Merch Girl (you hadn’t managed to catch any of their names, you realize belatedly. It’d be too awkward to ask now. You resolve to simply Not Address Them) split off to do more rounds among other fans, distributing their own freebies.

You hadn’t even realized Taylor had made freebies. You’re also not sure how he found the time. Love finds a way, you suppose.

The other group’s Token Guy Friend (who will always been Token Guy to you, so sorry Token Guy) passes the conversation back to you. Not appreciated, Token Guy.

You can’t be all that mad though, as he shuffles through his bag to produce a piece of paper and a chisel-tipped sharpie. He passes the items to you with a grin.

“If you’re close to the stage you should have a sign! You might get an interaction that way!” He enthuses. The remaining girls cheer at the idea, sighing over the possibility of you getting an interaction at your very first concert.

You hold back correcting them that it’s just your first k-pop concert. You’re sure that’s what they mean anyways, as the experience so far has been quite different from your usual.

You look at the items in your hand, and then back at him. He offers to let you use his back to write on. You once again stare between his meticulous outfit and the sharpie in your hand. You are so not going to ruin someone’s day with what was supposed to be a kind gesture.

You motion for him to wait a moment and dig around in your own bag for a moment, the seat cushion Taylor had insisted you bring slapping you incessantly from where it hangs as you shuffle both your shoulder bag and Taylor’s backpack around. Eventually you manage to pull out your travel first aid kit, pulling a gauze pad from it.

You unclip the seat cushion from your bag and place it on the ground, motioning for Token Guy to kneel. He does so bemusedly.

“I’m gonna make it fancy,” You inform him, “those random calligraphy classes from high-school aren’t going to fail me today.” He makes a noise of assent and you’re crowding over his bent back, unfurling the gauze pad to make a barrier between the paper and his shirt.

He and the girls make their conversation around you as you sink into concentration. It’s very difficult to make nice, even, lines on an uneven surface like a back, and you have to keep gently slapping Token Guy’s shoulder when he laughs to remind him not to move.

Taylor and Merch Girl have returned by the time you finish your sign, Taylor laughingly cautioning any of them from breaking your concentration for anything less than Token Guy’s health. Unless they wanted to face your Wrath(tm), of course.

His advice seems to have been heeded, because by the time you tune back into the outside world you have a sign with very pretty (and most importantly - legible) calligraphy that reads:

[HAN! You’ve been assigned as my bias today! Make me fall for you?]

You even took the time to add Korean translations in smaller script beneath each line. You also take the time to admire your own foresight for laying out the gauze pad, small black marks littering it’s surface. Token Guy seems equally impressed when he looks at it, before taking the initiative to trash both it and the wrapper for you.

Merch Girl reads your sign when you proudly hold it in front of yourself and cackles.

“So that’s why he really brought you along, huh?” She teases, elbowing Taylor like they’re old friends. He has that effect on people. “She can talk to them for you if the Aussie line isn’t around.” Taylor gives a sheepish laugh and a faux-guilty shrug.

“That, and she bought the tickets. I couldn’t leave her behind if I tried.” He pokes at you as he speaks, mirth dancing in his eyes. Laughter erupts around the group as you shout your offence, making to start roughhousing with him like you do your sister.

The time passes joyously this way until the doors finally open to begin letting people in for sound check.

You’re not gonna lie, you’re already super tired and peopled out. Luckily, Taylor had clocked you flagging before even you had, and sent you to sit in “introvert time out” on your cushion in a shaded spot away from the crowd. So you could make it through sound check and the actual concert. Probably.

You and Taylor pass through security unscathed, having already eaten or trashed any snacks or drinks you’d brought with you, and having not bothered bringing much else. Both of your bags were just full of merch and freebies at this point.

Once you actually enter the venue you take the lead, dragging Taylor by the wrist to your seats. You’re actually super excited to show him the seats you’d gotten, having kept anything beyond ‘soundcheck’ a secret.

Taylor is already vibrating with excitement as you lead him to the floor seats. He’s nearly trembling as you lead him right up the center, past rows and rows of little white chairs erected for the reserved seating tickets. When you finally sit him down right in front of the thrust stage, plopping into the seat beside him with satisfaction, he turns to you with saucer-wide eyes.

“Noo...” He whispers.

“Oh, yes.” You return, blessing him with a grin and little eyebrow wiggle.

Taylor basically tackles you in a hug, almost knocking you into the person next to you, and squeals his thanks so loudly that you’re sure the entire stadium hears. When he’s done thanking you he pulls back, hands on your shoulders, with the most deadly serious eyes you had ever seen on him.

“I would die for you.” He intones lowly. You crack first, the two of you breaking into a giggle fit that was almost concerning with it’s intensity. When the two of you calm down and turn to settle and sit properly, he nudges your shoulder with his.

“Seriously,” He says, eyes soft, “You’re the best ever. You need anything from today on? I’m your guy.”

You chuckle at him, nudging him back, “Do my dishes for the next month, then.” You tease.

He rears back, hands up in joking surrender, “Woah, woah! Let’s not go that far! I meant if you needed to escape from the mob or something, not chores.” He gives an exaggerated shudder before breaking into his usual silly grin.

The two of you spend the next however long indulging in familiar banter, waving at the group of fans you’d made friends with outside when you spotted them not terribly far away, and generally recharging your batteries for the concert. Taylor eventually moves on to talking to the people around you, and you rest your head on his shoulder.

You close your eyes for just a moment, trying to turn the lights off in your brain for a bit. You really needed the music to start soon, you were going to fall asleep.

Almost as if in answer to your prayers, the group begins trickling on stage for sound check.

To be honest, both soundcheck and the concert pass in a blur for you.

Once things kick off, you’re swept away in a wave of cheers, music, and lights. You hadn’t expected front row seats to be quite as intense as they were, but you made a note to yourself to not book such tickets for yourself in the future.

You couldn’t really handle it.

Still, Taylor seems to have the time of his life, and you manage to immerse yourself in the concert enough to shake your sign at Han when he passes by, earning yourself a wink and a cheek heart. Taylor was nearly euphoric at having caught the interaction with his phone camera.

By the time it’s over, you’re fairly sure you had a good time, but also 100% sure that you were completely overwhelmed. Taylor manages to drag you to the send off that you paid for spots at anyway. Curse his charming, sunny demeanor.

You can’t really process how it happened at this point, but you end up practically pinned to the railing of the barricade at the send-off location, separated from Taylor, and clinging to your façade of an excited fan with a white knuckled grip. You have three things on you to get signed, and a mission from Taylor to get all three scribbled on.

Your sign for Han, a ballcap Taylor had customized, and a Lee Know photocard Taylor had entrusted to you with a gravity you weren’t sure it warranted. He had, like, three of the same one.

You try to drum up the determination to see your mission through, but find it difficult to dredge up any will at all.

Time waits for no man, however, and soon enough the members begin making their way through, delivering high-fives, autographs, and aegyo as they pass through. You end up squished almost violently to the railing, ducking a bit and making yourself as small as possible as hands, phones, and items all get waved around and over you.

You’re not sure you like send-off.

There’s so many noises and sights and smells that you have a really hard time keeping track of which member is where. Plus, you’re still a lot overwhelmed from lining up before dawn and the concert itself. You’re tired, you’re cranky, and you want to go home.

At some point Lee Know must pass by you, and you must have presented the photocard properly, because you have a signed one now. That’s cool. The faster you get the requested autographs, the faster you can leave.

Bangchan spawns in front of you from the aether, from your point of view. You may be a bit more out of it than you’d like to admit. Still, you dutifully hold out your ballcap for him to sign, exchanging post-concert niceties on pure autopilot.

Because you’re not all that present at the moment, or maybe because all you’d had was your breakfast and some granola bars in the last 13 hours, you don’t hold your balance the way you should when someone shoves at you from behind. You catch yourself on the railing, but you dropped the freshly signed cap.

Bangchan kindly stoops to pick it up for you, and you thank him. A couple of things happen very quickly at that point.

1) Unlike the first two exchanges of the cap, because of the awkward and quick nature of Bangchan’s action, it is no longer being handed to you with lots of space between your hand and his.

2) You’re still being jostled around. No matter how much you brace for the impact of the bodies surrounding you, you couldn’t possibly keep totally still.

3) These two things have a consequence. Your hand brushes Chan’s as he hands you the cap.

The world stops for you for a moment, as pins and needles stab into dozens of familiar spots all across your lower abdomen. You freeze, dumb, awkward, overwhelmed smile plastered to your face as Bangchan turns away from you.

The pain isn’t that bad, really, more like a bad period cramp mixed with a sleeping limb waking up. Still, you curl your arm around your stomach, and your body bows with the motion. As if you could protect your reality from shattering and reshaping itself in front of you.

Static fills your ears and your poor, overloaded, brain throbs with the beginnings of a migraine.

Bangchan is your soulmate.

International k-pop sensation Bangchan is one of your eight soulmates.

Bangchan is part of a group with eight members.

Your soulmate is already moving away from you, your minor interaction just a footnote of his day, the tingling pain of your soulmate bond awakening probably blending in with a thousand other minor aches and pains from a very physically intense day for him.

You come back to clarity with the resolve that you’d like it to stay that way.

With a sense of urgency, you look around the crowd you’re part of, noting distinct faces and colors for the first time. You’re not really sure what you’re looking for until you spot it, and suddenly your escape plan is fully formed.

There, just a couple shoves and elbow throws away, is Blue Bbokari Girl from this morning.

You struggle your way over, people falling into the space you’d left at the railing like a pack of hyenas on fresh meat. When you reach her you the gently at her sleeve to get her attention.

She turns to you with confusion first, a bright greeting next, and finally a concerned scrunch of her brow as she takes in your hunched form.

“Hey, I’m feeling kind of sick, can you help me get out of the crowd?” You’re sure you look convincingly pathetic and weak as you plead with her. If only because you really did feel pathetic and weak at the moment.

“Oh, of course, hun! Just a moment.” She begins to crane her neck around to scan the crowd like you’d done moments prior. You feel a bit bad for interrupting her night like this, but as she calls out to someone behind her, you’re more thankful than anything.

Blue Bbokari Girl successfully gets the attention of someone you don’t recognize, and a quick summary of, “She’s sick, help her leave!” shouted over the crowd has you being passed through the crowd unmolested.

You find yourself enveloped in a chain of fans, one passing you to another, pausing, and calling on someone else to pass you to until you’ve finally stumbled free of the send-off mob.

Feeling a bit like you’d just been spat out of the maw of a great creature, you look back at the rustling crowd, now looking like it had never been disturbed at all.

The last lady who had finally freed you, an older woman with a Jiniret picket, eyes you with concern as you put you back to the nearest wall and slide down it.

“Will you be okay, sweetie?” She questions you worriedly, “Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

You smile weakly at her and assure her that you just have to get ahold of your roommate and he’d get you home safe and sound. She tries to insist on waiting with you, but you persuade her to return to the crowd with promises that you’d make your way to a bathroom or security guard once the worst of your vertigo had passed.

You watch her return with morbid fascination, amazed when she just sort of gets absorbed back into the mass of people. Almost like it ate her. You once again marvel at making it out of such a thing unscathed.

Truth be told, your stomach was only sore and tender this point, the sharp, needle-point pains long gone. Still, you take a moment to bring your knees to your chest, just breathing as you press your forehead to them. If anyone were to look at you then, you wonder what they’d think of you curled up on the floor and trembling like your dog had just died.

You hope they’d view you with kindness.

After giving yourself a moment to just feel, though you couldn’t tell anyone what you had felt, you gather yourself enough to totter to your feet and drag yourself to the nearest bathroom. You text Taylor as you go.

[Hey. Felt sick, in bathroom rn. lmk when we can leave pls?]

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