#youtube tales of midnight

[thepiratefish]

MvT SHIP NAMES!!

Tayrun x Kayla: Sci-Fantasy / Feild Journal

Benny x Champange: Sharpange / Dark Sharpange / Chartreuse / Bampange / Chenny / Dr.Mech / Mechosaur

Vasillia x Heath: Thundercat / Jaguars Bolt

Kate x Mara: Strays / Anemone Flowers / Demon Blade

Kate x Sterling: Starlight / Comets / Battleflame / Unkillable Retrievers

Ulitus x derrible: Sea-Beast / Captians Recruit / Captians Salt Divinebeast / Bookbeast

Fear x Dresden: Withered Viloets / Dead spark

(Inspired by Moon-pizzaV) Benny x Champange x Harold: Comedic Timing / Bickering Flowers / Commercial Break

Kate x Sterling x Mara: Camping / Starlight Sky

Mara x Astra: Hate noise

Astra x Kate x Mara: Midnight Tradgedy

Dresden x Jack bright / Sir Jack bright Cavern Chaos / Bright in darkness / Glowstone / Rock Metal

Alexsis x Dresden: Rocky road / Ragdoll

Jake x Anna: Greenlink

Heath x Voslo:

LightningCrafts

Clayton x Bustar:

Snow Leopard

Harold x Champange:

Whisky

dresden x psychoperdillect

Dresdil / Quartz TV / Dresdillect

[its-your-girl-geekerella]

Did y'all know about Last Midnight?

Apparently there was a lyric change in Last Midnight in Into the Woods, and I had no idea. I'm listening to this TXST Musical Theatre rendition of the sing, and I was caught completely off guard.

She's singing to the Baker's baby?? And then at the end she gives reason for her departure?

I like the lyrics, they're just not what I'm used to.

What do you think: OG lyrics or new ones?

[innervoiceartblog]

Midnight tales

Music and painting by Arseniy Lapin

[thattowntertainment]

Oh dang, it’s October 14th! That means today’s video is Midnight Scenes: The Highway!

https://youtu.be/l2Ov3gCrjjE?si=8DdE1SEHtzZ3gah3

[yanmuffins]

SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?  

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.  

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits to fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.  

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake. 

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages and castles so far they nearly fade into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered regardless. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

[moosha-mushroom]

Media I imagine different fiction podcasts in instead of the media of being a podcast.

TMA: A selection of volumes, relating to the fears, each with those removable covers. Those covers has a victim or two, and then underneath the cover is a really detailed cover. The paper is decoratively ripped, with a kind of scraggly font, and each has a foreword and ‘author’s note’ from Jonathan Sims.

Malevolent: A really gritty graphic novel with deadly detail in each panel, and very little color. Maybe a trinket on each important character has a color? Like Arthur’s eyes being yellow or Oscar’s collar having a blue sheen to it. The novels are long, dramatic, and intimate in a visceral way.

Welcome to Night Vale: Local 58 bullshit. A broadcast on television with low quality images and audio, tacky music, and a kind of 80’s aesthetic. Each episode the words WELCOME TO NIGHT VALE zoom onto the screen, the purple eye behind them. And each weather segment is an animated short by a different artist.

The Penumbra(Juno Steel): A webcomic. Hours spent scrolling downward a comic that has so much color and GEOMETRIC design. Juno and his curvy jaw, brown pie slice eyes, a cartoonishly high collar for his investigator jacket. Nureyev and his sharp square jaw, shimmering jewelry, and stick legs. Characters sticking out of the panels, fonts changing constantly, a little blue Juno that does his narration and *guitar theme plays* each time he appears.

Wolf 359: A classic comic. Issues month by month. Different special covers of the characters in extra dramatic poses or scenes. Even MORE panel breaking than Juno Steel. So MUCH onomatopoeia, even for small things like the clink of a panel or the disapproving hiss of Hilbert in the background. Geometric designs like Juno Steel, but less colorful. Like the superhero art style mixed with a more stylized look.

Midnight Burger: You pull up the Midnight Burger website. They have a hidden page that has a sort of script-comic thing going on, where the art is next to the writing. Small coded in notes from Leif sometimes pop up if you hold your arrow over the art. Links are attached to the parts where Effie and Zebulon play music, linking you to the music so you can listen to it while you read.

Desert Skies: An animated show. Indie, something you’d find on YouTube. The animation is bouncy and incorporates 3D animation alongside the 2D. Maybe the Sphere Movers have 3D models and the staff don’t? The credits are short because it was made by one guy. People are complaining about it on Twitter /j. People are making content farms about it. Everyone is pissed at Corson like they’re pissed at Jax.

The Amelia Project: A sort of simulation video game. You play as Arthur. You listen to their stories and draw pieces of the tale to invent their death. Every once in a while the game transitions to a point and click suspense game where you solve puzzles as Cole and Haines. Maybe there should even be an Operation-esque part of it where you work as Kozlowski.

Ghost Wax: A novel with a lot of pictures spliced in it. The stories are all in a single book, though the book is through Luca’s perspective— so he picks up on the ghost’s body language and Voncid’s reactions. The pictures are tarot cards with each victim as a card. Some are repeat cards— Lorem does not have a card at the end of the story. Nor does Our Home or Evening at the Ardent. The pictures are only white with black line art. No color whatsoever.

Kakos Industries: A company newsletter. Not a broadcast. A newspaper that arrives at your door and has big bold letters with the main story and pictures of the events that happen in the story as it goes. And the Sunday Comic page is full of employee shenanigans. Some innocent… some not.

I am losing my mind.

[markrosewater]

Maro’s Teaser for Wilds of Eldraine

Before previews for Wilds of Eldraine officially begin, I thought it would be fun to do another of my Duelist-style teasers where I give tiny hints of things to come. Note that I’m only giving you partial information. 

 First up, here are some things you can expect: 

 • a new type of token (at least done as a cohesive theme)

• a card that can activate to copy enchantments

• Adventures on a new permanent type

• an artifact that has two different artifact subtypes normally associated with artifact tokens

• a creature type from Alpha gets a draft archetype

• fairy tale Sagas

• multiple legendary Foods

• a new card with a lobotomy effect

• a creature with two triggers, one for artifacts entering the battlefield and one for enchantments

• a new mechanic that batches together three items that have been in the game since Alpha but never batched before

 Next, here are some rules text that will be showing up on cards: 

 • “If a permanent entering the battlefield causes a triggered ability of a permanent you control to trigger, that ability triggers an additional time.”

• “Look at the top twenty cards of your library.”

• “it produces three times as much of that mana instead.”

• “Sacrifice all Reflections you control.”

• “Creatures you control with +1/+1 counters on them have all activated abilities of all creature cards exiled with CARDNAME.”

• “have base power and toughness 4/4 and flying.”

• “exile up to one other non-Fox creature”

• “Land creatures you control”

• “Whenever you tap an untapped creature an opponent controls,”

• “X is 2 plus the number of cards in your graveyard that are instant cards, sorcery cards, and/or have an Adventure.”

 Here are some creature type lines from the set:

 • Creature – Mouse

• Creature – Rabbit Unicorn

• Creature – Faerie Shapeshifter

• Creature – Elf Fox Knight

• Creature – Giant Archer

• Creature – Plant Wurm

• Creature – Elemental Raccoon

• Legendary Creature – Rat Noble

• Legendary Creature – Vedalken Scout

• Legendary Creature – Human Warlock Bard

 Finally, here are some names in the set:

 • Candy Grapple

• Charming Scoundrel

• Food Fight

• Protective Parents

• Scream Puff

• Stroke of Midnight

• A Tale for the Ages

• Three Blind Mice

• Three Bowls of Porridge

• Up the Beanstalk

 Kickoff the preview season for Wilds of Eldraine with the debut on August 15th, at 10:00 AM PT on twitch.tv/Magic and our official YouTube channel. Catch up with our web fiction before the debut August 8th – 14th.

[of-sinners-and-seas]

OF SINNERS AND SEAS

A WIP INTRO

A story to be co-written by: @lady-grace-pens & @isabellebissonrouthier

STATUS: planning and outlining

GENRE: adult. high fantasy. dark fantasy. dark romance.

CW: some gore. strong language. sexual content.

VIBES: glaring eyes. statues. piracy. the vast expanse of the ocean. violence. sin. bloodshed. candles hungry for a midnight ritual. bruised knees. crystals. tarot cards. silent gods. gazing at your enemy through a pair of wine-stained eyes. bloody lips. hunger pangs and loneliness. black magic. cults. sacrifice. cannibalism. the bitter backwash of betrayal. music in the night being echoed by the wind. history aches while the future shrieks. casual affairs. being drunk and aimless and young.

THEMES: fate. prophecy. trust. purpose. cults. spirituality. identity.

Seven pirates. Seven deadly sins.

All vie for dominance over their fantastical world, thinking themselves to be as close to immortal as could be. But the question of what exactly they are remains elusive.

Magic drips from their fingertips: control over the sins that rule each of their lives. With fates and visions spinning through their minds, each of the Sins grapple violently with the questions of their purpose.

How far will they go to search for the truth? Maiming and torturing, fucking and fighting, killing for a single word from a silent goddess.

And how can they expect to maintain allies when only one can live in the end?

What began as a simple roleplay has spiralled into a sprawling, character-driven tale...

Welcome to OSAS.

—

Taglist: @the-inkwell-variable

Pinterest Board | YouTube Playlist

—

MEET THE SINS:

Envy | Pride | Lust | Greed | Wrath | Gluttony | Sloth

EXPLORE THE WORLDS:

Eiffel | Polarys & Lorallyn | Geldour |

[boyfhee]

⋆ NOW WE DATE ! · psh

CHAPTER SEVEN · ruin our friendship

SYNOPSIS · everyone knew you were sunghoon's biggest fan— or so you claimed to be— it didn't take a scientist to guess after your nonstop gushing about him during enhypen's debut. now, they didn't know you found him 'so babygirl' not until you accidentally tweeted it on your main.

warnings · food mentions + written part under the cut ( 1.02k )

the weverse live went smoother than expected. 

well, it’s not like you had been anticipating some sort of commotion or whatsoever, but you did expect random bouts of awkwardness every ten to fifteen minutes because first, both you and sunghoon lie slightly towards the introvert side of the myers-briggs type indicator; and second, you both are aware of everything that has went down between the two of you in past two to three days. moreover, being awkward is natural when you’re meeting someone for the first time— which is not exactly true because you did meet sunghoon at the backstage of music bank from nine months ago when iris and enhypen were promoting their respective albums, but if greeting each other in hallways counts as meeting people then you probably have already met three-fourth of the industry. 

“i kind of imagined you as someone who prefers vanilla or something, instead of chocolate,” and you certainly didn’t expect sunghoon to take you out of ice cream just three hours before midnight. 

“i like all the flavours but nothing tops chocolate,” you say before eating another spoonful from your cup. “i even did a commercial for melona as a kid, although it’s not chocolate. you can still find it on youtube, i guess,” singing wasn’t really your forte, unlike acting. you’ve had quite an active childhood from the ‘job’ point of you, for you always had a few commercial shoots here and there every few months. your career as an actress didn’t blow up until after you had debuted in iris. even as a childhood actress, you only had minor to second lead roles except one in ‘crushed,’ which accounts for your first main role and also is the drama that brought you into the spotlight before debut. 

you feel sunghoon smile as he unlocks his phone to switch to another playlist— it’s for both of you since one of his’ airpods is with you and listening to music while having ice cream sounds like a perfect date, as friends, of course. though, you’d be lying if you claim your heart didn’t do a little something when sunghoon offered you his airpods. “why did you ask me to get ice cream with you, though?” 

“i just wanted to spend some time with you,” a pause. you stop on your way, albeit a few steps ahead of him, turning around to look at sunghoon’s flustered face that was adorned by the dim streetlights. a series of silence follows, a string of fluttering gazes along with heartbeats that could be heard clearly if they get any louder. before you could say anything, sunghoon stuffs his phone back into his pocket out of panic. “wait— don’t get me wrong. i mean, you’re cool and fun to be around so, you know— please don’t misunderstand,” 

and a soft chuckle falls off your lips. “jeez, hoon, you’re all good,”

the comforting silence never leaves, it’s rather amusing to the two of you. considering everything that has happened so far, from your silly tweet to him assuming you’re dating jaemin and everything that he ends up blabbering in front of you, anyone would end up getting awkward. fortunately, that isn’t the case for him. perhaps, the heavens are on his side, and maybe that is all he needs to muster up the courage to say his next words. “to be completely honest, ice cream was an excuse because i was sort of hoping we’d get to know each other better,” 

“yeah, i’d love that,” your voice isn’t much louder than a whisper, but you know your words reached him anyway. the smile dancing on his face holds numerous tales, if one could notice closely. “by the way, you still didn’t tell me the thing that could potentially ruin our friendship,” 

“i did, didn’t i? i texted you,” 

“and you want me to believe that?” you scoff, remembering his response. even if it was supposed to be a coverup, you did find yourself too stunned to react at that moment. “i mean, i won’t judge you for the things you like to be called and all, but we both know what you said back then was a lie,” 

another pause, another session of silence trailing around along with the slight tension lingering in the air. you look at sunghoon and he’s looking anywhere but at you. one second, his eyes are on the ground. the next, they’re traversing places with his lips pressed into a thin line. it’s when you realise how difficult it is to read his expression, an exasperated sigh falls off his lips. “okay, i think i’m being annoying, so i won’t force you, even though i’m—”

“you’re not annoying. also, i don’t think i’m ready to tell you so wait for me till then, and i promise i’ll tell you when the right time comes,” and it’s embarrassing how easily his words can fluster you. “besides, i don’t want to ruin our friendship yet,” even if you think you have a faint idea of what he might be hiding, you’d dare not get ahead of yourself because at the end of day, you and sunghoon are just friends. sure, you do like him a little more than friends but you’re almost convinced that it’s just a silly little celebrity crush. it’s not the first time you’re fawning over a celebrity, even if it’s your first time being so crazily interested in someone, but you like to think it’s a stage between strangers and friends, and nothing more. 

“oh, by the way, um, there’s ice cream on your lips,” he points the corner of his mouth with his index finger, hoping it would give you an idea, but when you miss the spot after a couple of attempts, assorting to your phone’s front camera to get a clearer look, sunghoon finds himself taking the tissue from your hand, proceeding to wipe the ice cream off your lips himself, completely and terribly unable to hide the blush on his cheeks. and the moment you tried to tell yourself that you aren’t in love, is when you realised you already were. 

PREV · NEXT · MASTERLIST

n : need me a sunghoon, like rn .... also visgenes...visions + engene....iris and vision? yk u see w ur iris and ability to see is vision do u see the vision here bc that's the best i could come up with

[simply-whump]

Whump Lists & Gifs

I just reached 100 whump lists! What a journey!

Here are all the Whump Lists and Gifs I made. Don't hesitate to recommend me whumpy asian dramas ! I also take requests for lists and gifs (ask or DM).

GIFS LIBRARY >>> [ LINK ]

LISTS LIBRARY :

GENRES : Historical 👘 / Republican Era 🎩 / Modern 👔 / Military 🎖 / Investigation🚨 / Youth 🎓 / Sport ⚽️ / Action 💥 / Family 🏠 / Medical 🩺 / Rescue 🧯/ Supernatural ✨

My Favorites are in Bold - [ Total Lists made : 102 ]

Chinese Dramas >>> [ LINK ]

Korean Dramas :

Bad Thief, Good Thief 🚨/🏠

Cheer Up 🎓

Delivery Man 🚨/✨

Destined with You 👔/✨

Dr. Romantic Season 2 - S3 🩺

Exhuma [Movie] ✨

Gyeongseong Creature 💥/✨

King the Land 👔

Love 911 [Movie] 🧯/🩺

Lovely Runner 👔/✨

Love Next Door 👔

Love Tractor 👔

Missing : The Other Side Season 1 - S2 🚨/✨

Moving 💥/✨

My Country: The New Age 👘/💥

My Lovely Boxer ⚽️

My Lovely Liar 👔/✨

My Sweet Mobster 👔

Our Blooming Youth 👘

Perfect Marriage Revenge 👔/✨

Secret Reunion [Movie] 🚨/💥

See You in My 19th Life 👔/✨

Sh**ting Stars 👔

Tale of the Nine-Tailed 1938 🎩 /✨

The First Responders 🚨/🧯

The Forbidden Marriage 👘

The Heavenly Idol 👔/✨

The Secret Romantic Guesthouse 👘/💥

The Story of Park's Marriage Contract 👔/✨

The Uncanny Counter 2 💥/✨

Twinkling Watermelon 🎓/✨

Weak Hero Class 1 🎓/💥

Japanese Dramas :

High & Low Series 💥

Kei×Yaku: Abunai Aibou 🚨

Miman Keisatsu: Midnight Runner 🚨/💥

Thai Dramas :

Century of Love ✨

Chains of Heart 💥

My Stand-In 👔/✨

Naughty Babe 👔

Pit Babe ✨

The Sign 💥/✨

Btw, I also have a youtube channel where I do some asian dramas montages. It is not whump related but if you want to check it out it's here >> LINK

[ellethespaceunicorn]

Oxytocin

Title: Oxytocin

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors – DNI

Fandom: Knives Out AU

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Older!Black!Fem!OFC (Ivy Kensington)

Word Count: 3.1K

Summary: At a New Year’s Eve party, Ransom Drysdale’s life is forever changed by a chance meeting with Ivy Kensington. 

Warnings: age gap (Ivy is 38, Ransom is 19 in flashbacks), Mommy kink, Mommy Domme/baby boy, dry humping, orgasm denial, mention of virginity, aftercare, size kink, oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing

A/N: My tiles for @thebasementspouses VOTM Ransom Drysdale BINGO were: dry humping, mommy kink, orgasm denial, virginity, size kink. Submission for @the-slumberparty’s Eight Types of Love February 2024 Sleepover Challenge(Pragma – longstanding love). Thank you to @peyton-warren for the beta, you saved me from myself!

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

YouTube Music playlist is here.

Spotify playlist is here.

My Masterlist

From the moment he laid eyes on her, Ransom’s world stopped. The sound of her laughter, the glow of her chestnut skin, the way her deep brown irises held his focus; he couldn’t choose his favorite of her attributes. He watched as she commanded the attention of the room as she regaled her guests with tales of her various adventures traveling the globe.

He was only nineteen when he met her that New Year’s Eve night. Ivy Kensington. She was thirty-eight and newly divorced. The poor bastard that let her slip through his fingers must be insane, Ransom thought to himself. He loved how lively she was, as if divorce was exactly what she needed to feel alive.

He doesn’t know what possessed him that night to walk right up to her but, God help him, he thanks his lucky stars that he did. As he approached her, his hopes were high. Until she noticed him, turning to acknowledge the younger man. When he went to open his mouth, it flopped open and then closed after several seconds of awkward silence.

A grin spread across her face before she spoke, “You have got to be Linda and Richard’s son. Handsome like your father, and venturesome just like your mother. Now, what did you walk all the way over here for? Looked like you were about to say something interesting,” she teased, a hand going to her hip as she shifted on her feet.

“Ransom. That’s my name. Uh, I just…what I mean to say is, um-”

“Slow down, baby boy,” she soothed, stopping him mid-ramble to step closer so she could hold his chin between her manicured thumb and forefinger, “What did you want to say, Ransom?”

Her gaze drew him in, and he instantly felt at ease, gaining his voice back. “I wanted to know if you had plans for midnight, Mrs. Kensington. You know, the kiss?” he asks, voice trembling only slightly.

“It’s Ms. Kensington. You want to be my midnight kiss?” she questioned, tilting her head to the side as she looked up at him, “That is very bold of you to ask, especially coming from a virgin,” she said matter-of-factly.

His eyes widened and his brows shot up his forehead at the mention of his still intact virginity. Up to this point, no one knew he’d never been laid. He’d had his share of kissing, sure. Every time he wanted to go the distance, it never panned out. But how could she tell?

“You’re wondering how I know. You just have that look about you. Not necessarily innocent, more like naïve. And damn lucky that I don’t already have a kiss lined up. Meet me up there at midnight,” she instructed, peeking up the stairs to the area overlooking the party.

All Ransom could do was nod, for fear that opening his mouth would be a repeat of his earlier blunder.

“Now, shoo. I have other guests to entertain, and that precious face of yours will surely divert my attention,” she insisted, her hand patting his baby-faced cheek as she walked around him.

Ransom was left gobsmacked. He succeeded at talking to a woman. Well, he only succeeded with her help, but he’s not gonna mention that if anyone asks. For all intents and purposes, he’s arranged a secret rendezvous with an older woman. No elaboration was necessary, according to him at least.

For the next few hours, Ransom not-so-sneakily kept an eye on wherever Ivy went. He wouldn’t call it stalking her. He was just protecting his interests. He watched as man after man came up to Ivy, crowding her personal space. Ransom was seething quite visibly until he saw how elegantly she dispatched each potential suitor, politely letting them down and sending a look his way to let him know she saw him in the crowd.

He stopped sneering as much after that. She could handle herself just fine without him lurking. He knew that now, but it didn’t stop his eyes from searching for her the rest of the night. 

As 9 turned into 10 and 10 turned into 11, he busied himself with sitting on one of the exquisite phthalo green velvet couches in the parlor. He looked at all the knickknacks that Ivy must have picked up on various excursions around the world. For a moment, he felt like he may be underwhelming to such an amazing woman. But he let that thought die as people started to count down from ten in the other room.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, taking the long staircase two steps at a time to get to the top where Ivy stands waiting for him. Standing in front of her, his focus tied to her and only her. As the partygoers counted down to 1, his hand snaked around her shorter form and pulled her close.

Their breaths mingled; body heat was shared between them. The instant their lips met; it was over. As if the entire party vanished, neither of them tried to keep the kiss innocent. Deepening the kiss, Ransom used his tongue to massage hers, eliciting a deep rumbling moan out of her as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Emboldened by his position, he let his hand slide down past the small of her back to her ample backside. Giving it a healthy squeeze, he sighed into the kiss when she tangled her fingers in his hair.

As Ivy broke the kiss, she rested her forehead against his as they both caught their breath. Ivy lifted her head and smiled as she saw her garnet-toned lipstick smeared across his lips. He looked thoroughly debauched between the makeup on his face and the state of his hair. This simply would not do.

At his furrowed brow, she removed herself from his embrace and took his hand in hers. Pulling him down the long hallway, they entered the master bedroom and made their way to the attached bathroom. He finally caught his reflection in the mirror as she grabbed a makeup wipe from the cabinet. She cleaned his face while holding his jaw as if she thought he would try and escape from her grip. His gaze stayed on her face the entire time.

It had been so long since someone cared for him in this way. He watched as she threw away the wipe in the trash and finger-combed through his hair, making him presentable once again. In a flash, he was in a trance, something he couldn’t put a finger on. He felt so safe with Ivy like she could tell him to do anything, and he would do it without question. He was so deep into subspace that he barely registered Ivy calling his name as he blankly stared at her.

“Ransom? Talk to me, baby,” she encouraged, the back of her hand sweeping down his cheek. His eyes closed as she administered the simple yet desirable touch. 

His mouth opened as his tongue darted out to wet his lips, but no words followed his actions. Ivy guided him back to the bedroom to sit down on the King-sized bed. All the while, he remained focused on her. 

“Alright, baby boy, you gotta help me out here. Where did you go? Come on back to Mommy,” she prodded, surprised when Ransom bit his lip at her use of the word Mommy. Her eyes grew dark, and she understood instantly what he needed from her.

She instructed him to lay back on the bed and he did so promptly. The tent in his pants highlighted his arousal as she climbed over his lap. His hands moved on their own to pull her hips flush with his, but she swatted them away.

“Ask for permission to touch Mommy, baby boy,” she directed, her hands ghosting over his chest as he breathed shallowly.

“May I please touch you, Mommy?” he begged, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

“After being so polite, how can I say no to my baby boy?” she conceded, reaching up to let the top of her dress down so her breasts could spill out, “You may touch Mommy, baby.”

“Thank you, Mommy,” he mewled, gripping one breast in each hand as she sat down on his clothed cock. 

She felt his length and girth with how hard he was. He felt the heat coming from her pussy as she ground into him. They both felt the intensity in the air surrounding them. When Ivy leaned down to let Ransom suckle her breast, he did so with a little too much enthusiasm at first. Once he got into a rhythm, he relished that he was able to pull soft whines from her.

Soon enough, he began to feel the tightening chokehold of his impending orgasm. He stopped sucking on her tits and chased after his inevitable end. But he was interrupted by Ivy’s words and the abrupt halt of her hips.

“Baby boy, if you want to cum tonight, you’re gonna need to make Mommy cum first. Is that understood?” she challenged.

“Yes, Mommy,” he sputtered, groaning when she started to grind into him again.

She rode him like her life depended on it, and honestly, when an orgasm was on the horizon, it felt pretty on the nose. He watched her face as she succumbed to the continuous poking of the tip of his dick into her swollen nub. He coveted the way her legs tightened around him, imagining what it would feel like to be inside her when she cums.

That thought proved to be overwhelming and while she was coming down from her high, he followed right after her. Like waves crashing into a pier, his climax washed over him. White-hot heat rushed through his cock as it spilled his jizz inside his pants. Ivy, in all her glory, never stopped riding him as he came. Even as it became too much and he whimpered for her to stop, she only slowed down. She enjoyed it so much, watching him fall apart under her.

As a tear escaped his eye, she let up on her cruel punishment of his overworked length. She removed herself from his lap and crawled up the bed to take him in her arms. His breathing had calmed down and he laid his head against her chest, idly sucking on one nipple as he lay there. He looked up into her eyes and she smiled down at him, effortlessly putting him at ease. 

They stayed that way until Ransom started to squirm in her arms, surely not enjoying the way his cum was starting to dry against his skin. She cleaned him up in the bathroom, her mouth gaping open when she finally caught sight of the sheer size of his cock. If she was ever going to get to ride it, she would need a lot of prep. He put a hand over hers when she unconsciously began to pump his soft penis.

She thought he had been trying to get her to stop but was surprised when he only wanted to change the pace of her hand. He threw his head back when she tightened her fist and knelt in front of him. Watching her through heavy-lidded eyes, he babbled nonsense for a moment until his balls drew up and he shot milky ropes into her waiting mouth. His hands went to her shoulders and unsteady legs doing their best to hold him up after blowing his load twice.

He had heard of post-nut clarity, but he was experiencing something completely different. Perhaps akin to love, but not as deep. He watched as she swallowed, warmth spreading through his chest. Maybe he was wrong, feeling more and more entranced by Ivy with every second they spent together.

She fixed her dress and her lipstick, leaving the red smudges on his cock with a smile as she zipped him up. She took him further down the hall to a hidden stairwell that led into the kitchen. They had evaded any prying eyes from partygoers, making it seem like they had been in this room the whole time.

Famished from earlier activities, they munched on hors d’oeurves and made comfortable small talk. All earlier nervousness was a distant memory as they laughed and carried on like two lovesick teenagers.

Well, like one lovesick teenager and a grown-ass woman. At this point, age was nothing but a number. A number that neither of them cared about. They exchanged numbers, making a point to see one another again.

Eventually, they made it back into the party. Ivy made sure to say a lengthy farewell to Ransom’s parents, praising them for raising such a gentleman much to the shock of Richard and Linda, but they recovered gracefully. Shortly thereafter, the Drysdales made their exit.

During the car ride home, Richard joked that Ransom had a schoolboy crush on Ivy. ‘If they only knew,’ he thought to himself.

Over the rest of his winter break from college, Ransom spent more and more time with Ivy where she taught him tip after hint after trick about pleasing a woman. It was less out of the goodness of her heart and more about the kismet between them. She enjoyed his banter as much as his body. He loved coming to her place for a home-cooked meal and the company of a woman who thought the world of him.

When the winter break ended, Ransom spent his last night in town with Ivy. Of course, his parents showed barely any interest in the fact that he was leaving early or who he was spending his time with. In their eyes, he was not only an adult, but also no longer their problem. 

Ransom had hoped that finally, Ivy would let him make love to her. But she felt a strange sense of moral obligation when it came to him losing his virginity. As much as she wanted to be his first, she didn’t want him to get even more attached to her. She knew he was in love, and if she let herself follow him, it would not end pretty. Better to end their little doomed romance now, before either of them could get hurt.

Explaining all of this to him went better than she expected. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, jaw tightening as he looked away from Ivy. She counted to five before reaching a hand to his shoulder, surprised when his hand covered hers. 

Unshed tears shone in his eyes when he turned to look back at her again. Maintaining eye contact, he brought her hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of her knuckles. He still relished the way her breath caught in her throat when he showered her with affection.

“No matter what happens, just remember this moment. It’s just us here, no one else. If this is the last moment we share, let’s make it worth it,” he pressed, praying for all the world that she would change her mind.

“Ransom, this isn’t exactly easy for me. I want you, please know that. But you deserve to have a relationship with someone. Perhaps, someone closer to your age. Someone with shared experiences. I would only be holding you back. That is my honest opinion,” she sniffed, continuing to reluctantly push him away.

“I won’t ever stop wanting you. You make me feel things I never thought were possible. I just wish I could give you a fraction of what you give me,” he lamented.

“Trust me, you have made an impact on my life. Who knows? Maybe one day down the line, we could get together and get a cup of coffee and laugh about this,” she hinted, hoping he would take her olive branch.

“I hope we can. I’m gonna hold you to it,” he beamed, a grin painting his features and replacing the sad look he once wore, “I should get going, I guess.”

“I’ll walk you out,” she said, standing and letting him lead the way. 

She wasn’t surprised at all when he kissed her neck while hugging her. Nor when he predictably trailed kisses over her jaw and up to her lips. But she couldn’t hold back her delight when he nibbled at her bottom lip and soothed away the sting with his tongue.

For a moment, when he leaned back from her, they just looked into each other’s eyes. Nothing was said because words were unnecessary at this point. Every moment, every kiss, every shared laugh was worth it to be able to share this last long gaze.

As soon as Ivy closed the door behind Ransom, she slumped to the floor and cried her eyes out.

That night, as he drove home from Ivy’s estate, Ransom shed tears all the way back to his dorm room. 

17 Years Later

Ransom is in town for a New Year’s Eve party thrown by his grandfather. He’s grown to loathe the damned holiday and it’s not a wonder why. He’s only there to make an appearance and swiftly leave before having to make awkward small talk with his parents. While sneaking into the kitchen to find the secret stash of cookies, he overhears a sound he hasn’t heard in so long but would recognize it anywhere.

He follows the source of the laughter and is astounded to see her standing and speaking to his grandfather. Entering the living room fully, he clears his throat and they both look at him. The look on Ivy’s face of pleased anticipation threw gasoline on a fire in his soul that he thought had long gone out.

“Ivy Kensington, I’d like to introduce you to my oldest grandson. Ransom Drysdale, meet Ivy,” Harlan remarks, not knowing that these two are very well-acquainted already. Harlan excuses himself, leaving them alone in the room.

“Ransom, I-”

“You look amazing,” he blurts, cutting her off before she can say anything.

They share a laugh, a moment of excitement and comfort between them. Staring into each other’s eyes told them everything they needed to know. 

And as the partygoers start to count down from 10, they realize they have been sitting in the living room for hours exchanging stories of the past and what they were up to now. The worries they had once upon a time were all gone. All that was left was the sliver of opportunity that wafted in the air once they shared a kiss.

The passion was there as if it was still so many years ago. As if Ransom didn’t have laugh lines or crow’s feet when he smiled. As if Ivy wasn’t sporting a few perfectly groomed grey hairs sprouting about in her curls. As if that final goodbye wasn’t all that final.

And that was as good a place as any to start.

A/N: OK so this was my first time writing Ransom and I made him kinda soft as puppy toes in most of this. I hope you enjoy it.

**Tag List**

@blackwood4stucky @peyton-warren

Let me know if you wanna be added (or removed) 😁

[g5mlp]

Two new songs "Find My Way Right Back" and "Better Together" will be released today on midnight local time, August 30, 2024. These will be released in the new YouTube music playlist "The Best of Tell Your Tale", which consists 15 songs from Make Your Mark and Tell Your Tale.

Better Together is a completely new song, while Find My Way Right Back is the Allura song that was previously leaked before.

[bitterkarella]

Midnight Pals: Not Mad

Matt Shaw: Submitted for the approval of the Midnight Society, I call this the tale of the saucy gallimaufry Shaw: or as you americans might call it Shaw: the wet vagina Shaw: you think that sounds good huh? Shaw: well just wait til you see the dedication

Shaw: i'd like to dedicate this book to the youtube critic who gave me a one star review Shaw: by the way i am not mad Shaw: don't put it in the newspaper that i'm mad

Shaw: so apparently this youtube critic says i'm not supposed to write stories from a womans perspective Shaw: oh you think you can stop me, all powerful youtube critic? Shaw: I DO WHAT I WANT!

Shaw: I'm so not mad at that trout Shaw: which is apparently an insult we use here in Britain Poe: oh no he's posting through it Barker: posting through it? Barker: he's writing a whole book through it Shaw: AND ANOTHER THING Shaw: i'm not even mad Shaw: in fact i'm laughing

Shaw: so the all-powerful youtube critic is trying to silence me but as a fearless truth teller i cannot be silenced Shaw: i cannot ever be silenced Shaw: even when it might be in my best interest to shut up Shaw: i refuse to yield! Shaw: here i stand, i can do no other!

Shaw: so anyway i wrote a book that that youtube critic is definitely not gonna read Barker: oh look she posted a comment about how she's not gonna read it Shaw: Poe: clive don't tell him that Barker: why not? he said it himself Poe: you know what you're doing clive

Shaw: she says she's not going to read the book?! Shaw: that's fine Shaw: that's totally fine Shaw: I am not mad Shaw: guess she's too scared to come on my podcast Barker: oh you have a podcast? that's unexpected Poe: clive

Shaw: women say men shouldn't write sex scenes Shaw: but actually i'm pretty good at it Shaw: how do i know? Shaw: women send me pictures of themselves masturbating to my sex scenes Shaw: like all the time

Shaw: here's a photo of me posing with some of the pictures that women send me of themselves masturbating Shaw: the pictures of women masturbating are right outside of frame

[rrcraft-and-lore]

The Doors of Midnight (from @torbooks and @gollancz) virtual tour kicks off tomorrow!

June 27 & 28 - We've got @FantasyBookCrit dropping a Q&A and The 8 Dragonslayer Myths You Didn't Know About - Listicle

June 29 - Liver interview with @KaysHiddenShelf at 12pm ET.

July 1 - Ch. 1 Excerpt - FanFiAddict, Before We Go Blog, SFF Insiders & Fantasy Book Critic

July 10 - The Essential Hero's Toolkit - Listicle on FanFiAddict

July 11 - Tales from the Bridge Podcast

July 13 - JCM Berne live interview at 3pm ET

July 17 - Text Q&A on JamReads

July 19 - Storyline Sessions Podcast

July 20 - Page Chewing Podcast live interview at 7pm ET

July 24 - People Behind the Pages w/ Nicholas W. Fuller live interview at 9pm ET

July 25 - Text Q&A on SFF Insiders

July 26 - 5 Famous Temptresses Across Myths - Listicle on SFF Insiders

July 30 - Julianna Caro video interview

July 31 - Bald&Balding live interview at 7pm ET

August 2 - A History of Impenetrable Heroes - Essay on Grimdark Magazine

August 5 - Text Q&A on Fiction Fans Podcast Blog

August 6 - Late Night Talk with Stephen Aryan (the Age of Darkness, and the Age of Dread trilogies, The Judas Blossom)

August 7 - Under the Radar SFF Podcast

August 8 - Text Q&A on Before We Go Blog

August 9 5 Comparative Tales of Lovers Lost - Listicle on Before We Go Blog

August 11 - The Fantasy & Sci-Fi Fanatic's Podcast

August 13 - OWWR Pod and Launch Party Livestread feat. Jim Butcher and Michael Mammy on FanFiAddict (Youtube) and SFF Insiders (Twitter/X) at 7pm ET

August 19 - Lisa does Life & Not So Secret Bookaholic live interview at 2pm ET

August 21 - BellTube live interview at 9pm

Want to buy something special:

If you're in the US and would like a signed hardcovers, @Loyaltybooks is running a signed book pre order campaign!

If you're still not convinced, see what other authors have said about The First Binding and The Doors of Midnight!

[aliteraryprincess]

February 2024 Wrap Up

Why is it that February always seems to last forever? It's got to be one of my least favorite months, although it does mark the anniversary of me meeting my husband, so at least there's that. We've known each other five years!

Books Read: 6

This was a good reading month. Cecilia is my favorite of the month (and frankly should count for three books since it's so huge). The Margaret Oliphant biography is my least favorite, although I didn't hate it or anything. It was definitely less condescending and obnoxious than the one I read back in November that made me want to fight the authors (unfortunately I can't; they're dead). But it was still a little condescending and Williams referred to Oliphant as Margaret throughout, which irritated me. Ones marked with ® are rereads.

Margaret Oliphant: A Critical Biography by Merryn Williams - 3 stars

Salem Chapel by Margaret Oliphant - 4 stars ®

Heartstopper Vol. 5 by Alice Oseman - 5 stars

A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid - 5 stars

Cecilia by Frances Burney - 5 stars

The Villa by Rachel Hawkins - 4 stars

On Tumblr:

Look, I'm posting photos again! I'm trying to post pictures of my fairy tale retellings on Fridays as a small continuation of Fairy Tale Friday. My favorite thing about writing those posts for my blog was taking the photos, and I would still like to do that even though I've moved the feature onto YouTube.

January 2024 Wrap Up

Book Photography: The Night Dance by Suzanne Weyn

Book Photography: Midnight Pearls by Debbie Viguié

Book Quotes: A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid

Book Quotes: A Study in Drowning by Ava Reid

Reblogged: Horror Recommendations for a Teen

On YouTube:

And we've got a fair amount here, including an hour long ramble about The Chronicles of Narnia!

January Wrap Up | 9 books for the start of 2024!

Rereading The Chronicles of Narnia as an Adult | Remember December Rereadathon

A #FebRegency Currently Reading 2/12/24

The #FebRegency Tag

March TBR | (Middle)March of the Mammoths!

What I Read for My PhD in English Literature | 19th-Century American Literature

[best-of-basslines]

Song Masterpost

[I was planning on linking all the songs to versions on Youtube, but apparently it goes over the number of links allowed on a post. Instead, the songs will be linked on each poll.]

Talk Talk - "It's My Life"

Kajagoogoo - “Too Shy”

The Beach Boys - “Good Vibrations”

Rush - “New World Man”

Cream - “Spoonful”

The Police - “Message in a Bottle”

Jackson 5 - “I Want You Back”

Diana Ross - “I’m Coming Out”

Diana Ross and the Supremes - “What Becomes of the Brokenhearted”

The Supremes - “You Can’t Hurry Love”

The Jam - “Town Called Malice”

David Essex - “Rock On”

Radiohead - “15 Step” | “Paranoid Android”

Michael Jackson - “Thriller” | “Billie Jean”

Elton John - “Dirty Little Girl”

Angra - “Nothing to Say”

Serú Girán - “La Grase de las Capitales”

Os Mutantes - “Ando Meio Desligado”

Bill Withers - “Lovely Day”

Blur - “Girls and Boys”

Sly and the Family Stone - “Thank You (Falettinme be Mice Elf Again)”

Charles Wright and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band - “Express Yourself”

Jr. Walker and the All Stars - “(I’m a) Road Runner”

Marvin Gaye - “I Heard it through the Grapevine” | “Midnight Lady”

Marvin Gaye and Tammi Tarrell - “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough”

Red Hot Chili Peppers - “Higher Ground” | “Snow (Hey Oh)” | “Give It Away”

Primus - “My Name is Mud” | “Is it Luck?” | “Lacquer Head”

Beck - “Go It Alone”

The Fabs - “That’s the Bag I’m In”

The Shapes - “College Girls”

Herbie Hancock - “Chameleon”

Pink Floyd - “Money”

Rasputina - “Secret Message”

Madonna - “Material Girl”

Was (Not Was) - “Walk the Dinosaur”

Lemon Demon - “Jaws”

Creedence Clearwater Revival - “Have You Ever Seen the Rain?”

Steve Miller Band - “The Joker”

Violent Femmes - “Blister in the Sun”

War - “Low Rider”

Poppy - “Motorbike”

Tokyo Jihen (Tokyo Incidents) - “Noudouteki”

Graham Central Station- “Hair”

Oingo Boingo - “Dead Man’s Party”

Vulf Peck - “Deantown”

Iroha (feat. Rin Kagamine) - “Meltdown”

Labi Siffre - “I Got The…”

Deep Purple - “Space Truckin’”

The Breeders - “Cannonball”

Earth Wind and Fire - “Let’s Groove”

Parliament - “Give Up the Funk”

Liquid Liquid - “Cavern”

Melle Mel - “White Lines (Don’t Do It)”

Tiger Army - “Cupid’s Victim”

Limp Bizkit - “Nookie”

White Zombie - “Black Sunshine”

Alice in Chains - “Rooster”

Pearl Jam - “Daughter”

Norah Jones - “Cold Cold Heart”

Joy Division - “Transmissions” | “Disorder”

Metallica - “Orion”

Anthrax - “Caught in a Mosh”

Muse - “Hysteria” | “Plug in Baby” | “Futurism”

Arctic Monkeys - “Fake Tales of San Francisco” | “A Certain Romance” | “Dancing Shoes”

Bauhaus - “Double Dare” | “Kick in the Eye”

Chic - “Good Times” | “Everybody Dance”

Royal Blood - “Better Strangers”

Fleetwood Mac - “The Chain”

Iron Maiden - “Aces High”

The Damned - “Neat Neat Neat”

The Smiths - “Barbarism Begins at Home”

New Order - “Age of Consent”

Talking Heads - “Psycho Killer”

Romeo Void - “Never Say Never”

Cocteau Twins - “The Hollow Men”

Rage Against the Machine - “Killing in the Name” | “Bulls on Parade”

Dance Gavin Dance - “Don’t Tell Dave”

Queen - “Another One Bites the Dust” | “Dragon Attack”

Gorillaz - “Feel Good Inc.”

Megadeth - “Peace Sells”

Korn - “Got the Life”

Pantera - “Cowboys from Hell”

Queen + David Bowie - “Under Pressure”

Stevie Wonder - “Superstition”

Shiina Ringi - “Koufukuron (Etsuraku-hen)”

The Temptations - “My Girl”

Paramore - “Ain’t it Fun”

Måneskin - “For Your Love”

The Seatbelts - “Tank!”

Cake - “The Distance”

Gloria Gaynor - “I Will Survive”

Miles Davis - “Bitches Brew”

The Fall - “I Feel Voxish”

Public Image Ltd - “Swan Lake (Death Disco)”

Thelma Houston - “Don’t Leave Me This Way”

Killdozer - “King of Sex”

The Beatles - “Hey Bulldog” | “I Want You (She’s so Heavy)” | “Lady Madonna” | “Dear Prudence” | “I Will”

Wings - “Silly Love Songs”

Lou Reed - “Walk on the Wild Side”

White Stripes - “Seven Nation Army”

Gang of Youths - “Achilles Come Down”

AJR - “Sober Up”

Duran Duran - “Rio”

The Who - “Baba O’Riley” | “Getting in Tune”

Yes - “Roundabout”

Led Zeppelin - “Ramble On” | “Dazed and Confused”

The Cure - “Lovesong” | “The Lovecats”