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djarrex · 3 years

Note

Howie + Rex sandwich you say? Oh, I'm listening. 👀

Kendra I am SO GLAD you bring it up because !!!!!! lemme tell you :’)

Quick lil summary: Howie finds out about the relationship you have with Rex, but that only encourages the sinful idea that pops in your head.

|| Captain Howzer x f!reader x Captain Rex || 18+ only!!! unprotected piv, creampie, cumshot, teasing, vaginal fingering, spanking, licking, hair pulling, oral (m receiving). boy oh boy this is... yeah. 2.4k words of pure filth tbh. (also: minor tbb spoilers because, well, Howzer) and who knows, maybe there will be a part 2? We love Howie in this house ♡

***

Two identical pairs of darkening, golden eyes watch as you saunter over to them - their gazes lustful and voracious. It's nerve-wracking, the prospect of being shared between two captivating soldiers like Rex and Howie. Although, it was kind of your idea in the first place - the two captains had no rebuttal, no qualms, no argument as to why not.

For the most part, your little relationship with Rex has been kept a secret. You'd been working closely with Captain Howzer from the start of the Republic occupation on Ryloth, which was about a cycle or so ago. Then he started becoming a little suspicious about Rex's random, unannounced visits to the Twi'lek populated planet, and soon after, the loth cat was out of the bag. The high probability of Howie finding out about the two of you was never something that overly worried you, because quite honestly, they're more similar than they may realize. You knew he wouldn't report you two, and you were correct in that assumption. What you did not expect, though, was for your own mind to turn the corner to such a dark and filthy place when you had nervously suggested giving Howie some first-hand experience in the physical aspects of you and Rex's relationship.

“Look at her, Captain,” Howzer says with a dark chuckle while palming himself over his blacks. His eyes rove over your body, totally blatant and eager as he continues, “Such pretty lips... I wonder what she can do with them, but I’m sure you already know all about it.” Rex smirks at that little jab, nodding in agreement and keeping his gaze on you; you’re standing in front of them, front and center, completely bare - a wanting, waiting meal for their hungry eyes to feast upon.

“You’re right, Captain, I know just how well she can put those pretty lips to use.” Rex lifts a hand, reaching towards you and you tentatively grab it; he pulls you stand between his parted legs, softening his expression for the moment while searching your eyes for any signs of hesitation. “What do you say, cyare? You wanna show Captain Howzer what you can do with those perfect lips of yours?” Hearing them refer to each other as “Captain” in this back-and-forth power trip has your cunt tingling and clit throbbing - this is going to be fun. Rex notes the sly smile curling at the corner of your mouth - wordlessly telling him all he needs to know. Your eyes flick over to the other captain as a surge of confidence washes over you; you nod slowly, squeezing Rex’s hand in yours before retracting and taking the two steps to stand directly in front of Howie. His hair is tidy in that brushed-up style he so often sports, and all you want to do is yank and tug to where it’s beyond repair.

“Where do you want me, Captain?” you breathe out while lightly brushing your nails through his buzzed undercut, just above his ear. The quiet groan that falls from his lips only encourages you as you press your nails just a little harder into his scalp. You’re lost in Howie’s eyes with the way he peers up at you more desperate than before. His teeth peek out as he takes his lip between them - his eyes glued to the way you so subtly run your tongue across your bottom lip while continuing to run your nails through his prickly, buzzed hair. He’s so pretty - staring up at you like this all while is cock grows harder and harder in the confines of his blacks. The scar on his cheek is the next thing to draw your attention - it’s unique, a sign of a warrior, a sign of surviving battle. Howie must not have been wearing his teal-accented bucket in one, unfortunate instance to have acquired such an interesting facial scar, and for some reason that image has your knees getting weaker the longer you stand in front of him. The scar looks pretty, engrained into his cheek this way - it adds to his already striking features, making him even more breathtaking. The same goes for the smaller, matching one on his chin, just below his adorable pout. You want to taste him, feel him on your tongue, feel it on your tongue. Fuck, you want to do it...

So you do.

Before you can even register acting upon such a wild desire, you’re leaning forward - Howie’s eyes widening as your tongue sticks out and lands flat against the sharp curve of his jaw. Slowly, you begin applying a good amount of pressure with your tongue before moving upwards and gliding across his scar - the little divots along the thin, destroyed tissue tickles your taste buds. He shutters as another low groan falls so effortlessly from his parted lips - a sound you desperately want to hear more of. Upon standing back up you notice the faint shimmer along his cheek and how he goes back to biting his lip in that way that's sending spiraling desire throughout your body.

Rex clears his throat suddenly, deliberately, breaking your little trance.

“Captain,” Rex barks while grabbing your hand and pulling you away. “She asked you a question,” he so matter-of-factly reminds his entranced vod.

“Right.” Howie blinks and shakes his head before turning to point at the center of the mattress - you mentally take an educated guess as to where the lads want you positioned for them. “Pretty thing,” he coos. “Why don’t you get on your hands and knees right there in the middle of the bed, hm?” Nearly tripping on Rex’s feet, you dart onto the mattress, positioning yourself so that you’re facing the wall and your ass is angled the way you know they’ll appreciate. Simultaneous chuckles erupt from both of them, no doubt aimed at the eager way your hips rock back and forth so impatiently.

After a few moments of undressing, Howie climbs onto the bed and shuffles on his knees to move in front of you - his cock now free of its prison and jutting out just inches from your glistening lips; you’re practically drooling at the sight. It's his turn to rake his fingers through your hair; as soon as his blunt nails make that first scrape along your scalp, you whimper aloud and he just grins.

"So, so pretty," he murmurs while tracing your lips with the bulbous head of his cock - the dribble of precum catching at the slit of your mouth. "Open up, gorgeous." You do - letting your jaw slack, allowing him to push in as deep as he'd like. The same fingers combing through your hair now travel to the back of your head - threading between your roots and gripping at your scalp firmly. He slowly begins inching into the warm cavern of your mouth, groaning every time your tongue involuntarily swipes along his girth as it pushes towards the back of your throat. Your lips tighten around him when he begins his languid thrusts, and you do your best to keep your gaze up and at him while engulfing nearly every last centimeter of his throbbing cock. With one hand in your hair and the other caressing your cheek, you’re being held in place while he makes you swallow him whole - your own hands pressing into the mattress with the single job of keeping you up and balanced.

Howie is so achingly beautiful in this moment - his now unkempt, thick strands of hair hanging over his forehead, resting carelessly just above his furrowed brow and squeezed-shut eyelids. His jaw is hanging wide open, allowing the deep, gargled noises of pleasure to filter through. Watching Howie like this, and hearing him - it’s making you clench hard around nothing, even more so than before.

"Captain," Rex calls from behind you. Howie’s eyes snap open, now looking in the direction of where Rex is surely ridding himself of the rest of his garb out of your sight. It's clear to you that non-verbal communication ensues between the two of them as Howie picks up the pace; the sudden dip in the mattress at your feet from the weight of Rex joining you excites you. As if Rex can read your mind, he slowly swipes a finger through your folds - gathering the evidence of your arousal and spreading it around before prodding at your hole. You moan - a deep hum erupting from your center that is muffled by every thrust of Howie’s hips, making him echo you from the feeling of those vibrations buzzing through his cock. His thumb brushes the apple of your cheek as drool seeps from the weakening seal of your lips, descending down like syrup and onto the sheets beneath you.

“F-mmm- is she wet, Rex?” Again, you whimper with your lips loosely enclosed around his cock when Rex continues fumbling around in your folds - you can hear how wet you are, even over the dull gargling sound of your throat getting hammered. “Whatever you’re - mmph - doing back there, keep d-doing it. I’m - shit - gonna cum on this pretty little face.”

Wordless, Rex slides two fingers into your molten entrance - turning the pair back and forth while slowly pumping them in and out. You’re so worked up that your body is already screaming for that release, and you feel it building up quicker than you have time to realize. That familiar tingling sensation burns through your lower stomach, and only intensifies when Rex curls his fingers and quickens their pace - rapidly hitting that glorious spongey spot along your walls that you're never able to hit going solo. Your muffled squeal has Howie growling and pulling your hair tighter than before as he pops you off of him before taking his drool-coated cock in hand, working himself that last little bit with the help of a firm grip and quick motions at the head. You’re trying to catch your breath and Rex continues to finger-fuck you through it all, and seconds later, your cheek is being splashed with spurts of thick, tepid release. Instinctively, your tongue pokes out and catches the tangy spend that’s painted around your lips - letting out a sinful sound of approval.

“There you go, pretty thing,” Howie says with a smirk while leaning down to be eye level with you and pinching your spit-soaked chin between his fingers - turning your head slightly to the right as he admires his work. “Since you like my scar so much-” he chuckles darkly while rubbing your bottom lip with his wet thumb before guiding it into your mouth, “-now you have a little something to match.”

It takes you an embarrassing amount of time to catch on to what Howie was implying - it hits you but disappears within seconds because Rex has lined himself up behind you and slid into your wet walls all in one fluid motion. You mewl in both shock and pleasure - Howie opting to keep his thick thumb secure between your lips with his fingers clamping under your chin to keep your jaw closed around him.

“Suck,” the man in front of you commands, his eyes narrowing beneath his untidy hair. You’re unable to process anything of the sorts - totally unable to form any coherent thought with the way Rex’s hips are smacking so loudly against the meat of your ass and the feeling of him prodding at your cervix, making your body wince with each hit. The flesh surrounding your hips fall victim to a bruising grip - Rex holds you steady while fucking you so hard and deep that you’re practically choking for air.

Suddenly Howie rips his thumb from you and traces it along your cheek - collecting the thick release coating your skin and bringing it back between your lips. You’re panting and moaning and trying to lick up everything Howie offers to you - trying to be good for him. Peeking down quickly you see how he’s already hard again, his cock bobbing with each beat of his heart, and that makes your mouth water for more. He must’ve noticed how your glossy eyes are glued so shamelessly to his groin, staring hungrily at his revived member from the dark curls at the base to the swollen head, when he starts to pump himself at his own leisure.

“No, pretty thing,” he shakes his head and makes you look into his eyes with the fingers still cradling your jaw. “I want what the Captain’s having.”

Rex’s grunts become louder, more desperate, as he approaches his climax. You’re right there yourself, whining and whimpering while looking into Howie’s eyes as Rex pounds you into the next system. Howie is just sitting patiently on his haunches, relaxed and pumping himself to the sight and sound of you getting railed from behind. You clamp around Rex’s cock with a shout, and seconds later he stills his hips as his pulsating length spits its release into your strangling walls - that warmth blooming deep inside you making you shutter and moan from the sensation.

“Shit, Howzer, come take a look at this,” Rex calls him over from behind you as he eases himself out of your clenching cunt. Howie climbs off the bed and disappears from your vision - leaving you to stare at the paint peeling off the dull wall, miraculously still holding yourself up on shaky hands. A quick slap on your ass has you rocking forward - low groans coming from the men staring at your puffy folds behind you. “Cyare, tell your Howie how beautiful this tight little pussy looks with my cum dripping out of her.” Your face burns at Rex’s filthy command but you’re too far in this to care.

“I- I look beautiful with Rex’s cum dripping out of me, Howie.” You’re shocked at how effortlessly those words fell from your swollen lips - but fuck, you love it, and the men’s shared mumbles of filthy praise only egg you on.

“Fuck, what a good girl she is, Captain, but I believe it’s my turn now, hm?” Howie’s voice is firm yet careful - he knows who you truly belong to.

“Cyare.” Rex steps into frame with his shimmering, semi-hard cock in hand. Your eyes lock with his, and his expression hardens. “I want to hear you beg your Howie to fuck your tight little pussy.”

***

Tags! Please fill out my form if you wanna be added ♡ This time I’ll go ahead and link my masterlist on here, too.

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#YIKES here it IS #I told y'all #I hope you didn't think I was lying #all aboard the filth train™ choo choo #you will not get an apology from me muahaha #Captain Howzer #Captain Rex #captain howzer x reader #captain rex x reader #captain howzer smut #captain rex smut #djarrex writes #18+#tbb spoilers #the bad batch #howzer x reader x rex #rex + howzer sandwich anyone?

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amiscreations · 2 years

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Golden Years

(A Def Leppard Crack Fic)

Happy Birthday to the one and only @i-dont-want-your-hysteria ! as a lil gift, I wanted to dedicate my first ever fic to you! Thank you so much for inspiring me to write this, and thank you for answering all of my annoying questions😂 (historical accuracy is key ofc) thanks for everything you do for this amazing lil fandom, you rock!

Notes: This is almost entirely based on the Party episode of the show Black Books, so if you've seen that this will be very familiar! Also this is just a crack fic, so don't take it too seriously, its just a lil bit of fun. It's not an x reader or anything, so the boys are the main characters!

I've proofread this so many times, but I am dyslexic, so I apologise for any errors!

also while I tried my best to make it historically accurate, some facts may not be just for the sake of the story.

Warnings: Alcohol use is a big factor in this story, so if that makes you uncomfy, this might not be the fic for you. (please drink responsibly my loves!) there's also some sex references and language, but everything is PG-13.

Word Count: 11,512 (yes this is a long one! get cosy and bring snacks!)

Setting: The Def Leppard House, Dublin, Ireland, summer 1984

***

Part 1

Since their tour with Billy Squier ended, it had become hard to tell the days apart. Sure the same could be said for the buzz and excitement of waking up in a new city and performing in front of thousands every night, but staying at home, getting drunk looking at the same four walls was a new, burnt out low. The momentum they had built up over the years of rapid recording and touring and more recording and touring was slowly coming to a standstill, and was slowly turning into pressure: pressure to release something bigger, better and louder than anything they'd done before. They dealt with this, of course, like any other sane band would: by getting wasted. Every day. Attempting to use their drunken stupors as a means to generate new lyrics.

Inspiration, however, came few and far between, especially when any semblance of a workday had vanished, each day and night blurring into one endless stream. Though there were some nights, that started just like any other, which would stand out just that little bit more in their hysterical lifestyle.

“Have you come up with anything spectacular yet?” asked Sav tiredly, just as Joe ripped a page out of his notebook. The pair of them were sitting at opposite ends of their worn out sofa with their feet on the cushions. Sav had his acoustic bass across his chest, and was playing random bass lines, new and old.

“What does it look like?” Joe scrunched up the page and hurled it across the room, aiming for the bin, but hitting Rick in the process. The drummer was sitting in an armchair opposite, tapping his hands and feet to non-existent music.

“Oi!” he exclaimed. “I was right in the zone there!” He threw the paper ball back at Joe, but missed. The dreary silence resumed, and was only broken by the sound of Sav’s bass. It was a little out of tune, and despite how much he adjusted the tuning pegs, he never got it to sound quite right.

This seemed to last all afternoon, into the evening. It was only the arrival of the Terror Twins, and yet another one of their shopping hauls, that had any hope of livening up the impending night, which looked like it was going to be a continuation of what they were already doing: sitting around, doing nothing, while getting hammered.

Steve and Phil’s cargo seemed to mostly consist of cheap wine. Joe noticed that Steve looked a little extra happy with himself, and almost immediately after, clocked the cause: the guitarist was sporting a shiny new red leather jacket. The Twin’s cheerful conversation came to a halt when they saw the state of their bandmates. It was not a sight to be proud of, but unfortunately it was one that Phil and Steve were quite used to.

“You're not still trying to write that song are you?” Phil grabbed both of Joe's shoulders from behind. “It's Friday night, you three should have stopped working hours ago!”

“I'd hardly call sitting on a couch writing a single word every few hours ‘working’” Sav sighed, and put his bass down, propping it up beside the sofa.

“Shit it's Friday night?” said Rick, jumping forward in his chair. “Shouldn't we, I dunno, celebrate? What do normal people do on Friday nights?”

“Pretty much the same as we do every night mate: Drink heavily and argue” Joe chuckled. “It was Friday night last week, it will be Friday night next week and every bloody week until the sun explodes. Why is today any different?”

“Always the optimist, aren't ya Joe?” Sav smiled with a hint of sarcasm.

Phil stood in the middle of the room, with his hands on his hips. “Well I think we should do something fun. Let's use that as an excuse to go out. I know of a party we could go to. Either way, if I have to spend another night in this house I'll go crazy.”

“Crazier, you mean!” Steve joined his terror twin in the middle of the room. “Yeah you lot are no fun anymore. Besides, I wanna show off my jacket, it's cool isn't it?” He held out his arms and admired the leather.

“Also,” continued phil. “We need an excuse to open this wine!” He picked up the bag he'd been carrying and took out five bottles, placing them on the coffee table. Steve gestured to them as if they were some sort of ancient artefacts, desperately trying to liven up the mood.

“Since when have you ever needed an excuse to open up a bottle of wine?” Sav examined a bottle. “Especially one I could get for dirt cheap from round the corner whenever I want?”

“Since now! Do I have to remind you that it's Friday night?” The guitarist picked up a bottle and uncorked it, pouring it into the empty glasses that were already on the table.

“I think my jacket deserves a toast!” Steve eagerly picked up a glass.

“To looking cool!” announced Phil, and clincked his glass with Steve’s. The other three mumbled in agreement and took a gulp from their own glasses.

Perhaps it was the boredom, or the monotony of the past few months, but Joe couldn't help but be slightly jealous of Steve, who was still happily admiring his new red jacket. Especially when he had something of his own to show off. Something that he was surprised none of the boys had pointed out before.

“Notice anything different about me?” the singer blurted out. He stood up suddenly, turning round as if he was showing off his outfit, which happened to be nothing unusual. Still the same T-shirt and jeans combo. The others stared at him blankly.

“Your ears are bigger?” joked Rick with a fake genuine interest.

“You showered?” added phil.

“No, I know: you’ve finally run out of sex appeal, I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while buddy,” Sav said with a cheeky smile.

Joe cut an icy look at the bassist, and pointed to his head in frustration. “My hair!”

A chorus of “oh” came from his bandmates.

“I got it cut yesterday! I wanted to look just like David Bowie, short on top, long at the back. My old hair just wasn't… rock and roll enough. Maybe feeling like a rockstar will help me write better songs.”

The others just stared at him blankly, having had this exact talk from him when he got rid of his curly perm a few years back.

“Look!” Joe ruffled his fingers through his new hair, fluffing it up. It was clear that he had put more than the usual amount of hairspray in it. “Aren't I just the epitome of a rock god? I can't believe you idiots didn't notice.”

“Yeah you're a vision,” said Phil flatly. “Now! Who's up for some fun tonight then?”

Joe flopped back down onto the sofa. “Well if we do go out somewhere, it would need to be a place where my good looks are actually appreciated. They are wasted on you boys. Though I'm still all in favour of staying in and getting drunk on this wine.” Joe picked up the open bottle and started sipping it straight.

“Well, I know just the thing!” said Phil excitedly. “The party! it's being hosted by one of Peter’s friends a few blocks away, he mentioned it a few days ago. It's perfect!”

“I can show everyone my new jacket too,” added Steve, twirling it round with a beaming smile.

Rick bounced up from his chair and stood with the twins. “Yeah I'm up for a party, why not? It'll get me out of this shithole for a start.” He seemed to be dressed for the apparent occasion too. His usual attire in the summer months mostly consisted of nothing but shorts, as, being a drummer, excessive clothes proved to be restrictive. Today however, he was wearing a white t-shirt and jeans.

Joe and Sav stayed put. Joe had turned to lie on his front, hiding his face in the sofa.

“Are you sure there's nothing else we can do?” His words muffled through a pillow.

One by one the boys started suggesting different activities. Cinema, bowling, local gig, you name it, they said it. Though, every single suggestion was shot down or laughed at by at least one of them. That was, until joe suggested something completely unexpected:

“We could sit in the garden?”

One by one, the bandmates nodded, grabbed the wine, and headed out to the garden. It was a warm night, and the sound of the water crashing in the nearby bay was always relaxing. As they filed out onto the patio, however, they were instantly hit with memories of the chaos that had taken place there a mere few days ago: they'd hosted what was supposed to be a small gathering of their own for the Fourth of July, but as more and more strangers arrived, it turned out to be a much, much larger party. Fourth of July festivities were few and far between in Dublin, it seemed, so those that did want to celebrate flocked to the nearest gathering without hesitation.

It was common knowledge within the music scene that Def Leppard threw parties that rivalled even those of Mötley Crüe, they were just much more discreet with them. This party was no exception: The garden looked like a bomb had hit it. Random debris strewn over the lawn, any unbroken furniture sported graffiti, countless bottles and cans were dotted about, giving their own stash a run for its money. Not to mention the firepit was an absolute sooty mess, dotted with singed papers and unused bits of cardboard.

They stood there for a minute taking in the scene before them.

“Well who’s cleaning all this up?” Sav shrugged.

“Shit, I forgot that was in our garden,” Joe admitted guiltily.

They trudged back onto the house, leaving the mess as they found it. Out of sight, out of mind, right?

As they sat back down in the living room, it looked like they’d hit a dead end, and would be spending yet another night staying in and getting drunk on their own cheap alcohol.

“Right,” Joe waved his hands assertively. “You don't want to sit in the garden, I'd say we finish these bottles, get wasted and call it a night.” he took a swig from the now half empty bottle from before.

This gave Rick an idea. While Joe was busy necking large gulps of wine, the drummer grabbed the four unopened bottles from the table, and hid them behind his chair. While Sav didn't seem to notice, Steve and Phil caught on, and silently approved of the plan unfolding, looking for any excuse to cause a little terror.

“Which bottles?” Steve tested, with a hint of glee in his voice.

“The ones… wait, I could have sworn…?” Joe eyed the table where the bottles were.

“Bless him he's off his face already,” Phil joked. “You know where there is more wine though? The party! Come on guys, it will be fun.”

Sav looked up, and eyed the guitarist with a quizzical look. “You know, I'm picking up a certain keenness from you about going to this party. There wouldn't be any other reason you want to go, is there?”

“Absolutely not!” argued Phil. Sav raised his eyebrows at him, keeping firm eye contact.

“Ok there might be a girl…” admitted Phil sheepishly. He now had the room's full attention.

“I bloody knew it!” said Joe, who sat up with a sudden eagerness about him.

“Who is this girl then?” Rick smirked, a cheeky smile plastered across his face.

“Rosie,” said Phil, who was now looking at the floor, a kind shyness seemed to have come over him. “I met her a few nights ago in a pub. Peter actually introduced us. That was also when he told me about the party.”

“Oooh Phil has a crush!” his terror twin teased, hugging him from behind.

“Get off!” Phil wriggled out of Steve's arms, while trying and failing to hold back his laughter. His face had turned a light shade of pink.

“Right,” Joe suddenly said. “I'll tell you what, we are going to this party, I need to see who this girl is for myself, and make sure she's not just another groupie who wants to get into the pants of the first rockstar she sees.” dodging Phil’s stuttered protests, he clumsily vaulted over the back of the sofa, grabbed his jacket and stood by the door. It was obvious to everyone that Joe was more than a little jealous now, being the raging extrovert he was, though he was doing his very best to hide it. He gestured for Rick, Steve and Phil to join him.

“What about him?” Rick pointed to Sav, who was peering over the sofa.

“You coming, mate?” Joe asked.

“Nah.” shrugged Sav. his curly mane disappearing back onto the sofa.

“Ok, well have fun freezing to death in your room, and you'll have to babysit us when we all roll in drunk.”

After a few moments of thought, the bassist rolled off the sofa, and reluctantly joined the group, grabbing his own jacket. “Well what are we waiting for?”

Just as Joe went to open the door, Phil ran upstairs, shouting; “hold on!” The rest of them stood there perplexed until he returned with a handful of old guitar pics.

“Explain?” said Joe, who had a look of genuine confusion on his face.

“It's stuff to leave behind!” explained Phil, as if this was common knowledge. “You know, near to Rosie! She'll find them after I've gone, and it would give me a perfect excuse to call her!”

His excitement didn't seem to rub off on the others, and they just looked at him as confused as before. Phil, still proud of his little idea, carefully put his collection of pics into his pockets.

“Alright, lover boy, can we just get going already before I change my mind?” Joe rolled his eyes and opened the door.

“Yup!” Rick exclaimed. “Steve, get the wine!” Steve happily did what he was told, he ran back to the living room and grabbed the bottles of wine Rick had hidden earlier.

“What..? Lies! Sabotage! Betrayal-” Joe shouted while being pushed out of the door by Phil. “I knew we had more wine! You bastards!”

Steve sprinted back, a bottle of wine under each arm, and one in each hand. Phil quickly closed the door behind them.

***

Part 2:

The Leppard house was still and quiet. It had remained that way for the majority of the night, well into the early hours of the morning. That was until the peaceful silence was broken by muffled voices outside, which grew in volume as they approached the house.

These voices were loudly (and very drunkenly) singing Queen’s Somebody to Love, complete with out-of-tune acapella guitars and drums. The discordant chanting was only broken by the sound of a shoe, or possibly a clumsy guitarist, making contact with a metal bin, and a neighbour down the street yelling at the boys to “pack it in for God’s sake!”

This prompted the song to turn into an ensemble of “shut up!”, as one of the voices tried to unlock the door.

“The key won’t… go in the thing..!”

“Joe- Joe you're using your finger.”

“Oh yeah, shit.”

The keys jingled in the lock for a few seconds, before the door to the once peaceful house was opened again, letting five very drunk, very scruffy Leppards stumble in. The cosy, sepia-toned darkness of the once empty house was interrupted by one of them switching on the light, piercing their intoxicated heads.

Joe’s trendy new mullet was an absolute state, and definitely not looking very Bowie-esque. Steve ambled in after Joe. He seemed to have lost anything he’d had on under his red jacket, which of course, he was still proudly wearing. His trousers were replaced by a pair of the small Union Jack shorts. A still-singing Phil had his arm around Steve, somewhat relying on him for balance. His shirt that was once buttoned was now completely open. They were closely followed by Sav, who was sporting a large plaster on his left hand. Rick had red wine all down his front, which could have easily been mistaken for blood from a distance. The band wandered around the living room until they either found a spot to lean on, or, in The Twins case, started dancing on the spot to non existent music.

Each of them was sipping on a different, fancy liquor, taken from the party, the wine bottles from before were long gone, apart from the one that Joe had been drinking before, which had remained on the table.

Phil’s bottle was a tall, thin cuboid containing a bright blue liquid. Joe, Sav and Rick had oval shaped bottles, each containing a slightly different shade of red. Steve had a square bottle, which contained a brown, bitter looking substance. Each drink was incredibly strong, but they were too expensive to pass up, and the boys were too drunk to notice. They each kept a firm grip on their respective beverages.

“My hair…” Joe hiccuped. “Does my hair look ok?” he ran his fingers through it, making it look even messier than before.

“Yeah, yeah sensational, mate,” Phil said, looking in the opposite direction.

“I told ya about ‘Hair Power’,” Joe explained to no one in particular. “Three women asked for my number tonight…” he confidently held up two fingers, before taking another sip of his liquor.

“Joe, your number is our number,” Sav jumped onto the sofa, keeping his bandaged hand elevated. “We only have one phone in this house, remember?”

“Well I guess I'll just have to be the one who answers the phone for the foreseeable!”

“Fine by me, I hate answering the phone.”

“Look at us!” Steve slurred from across the room. “We're dancing!”

Sure enough, he and Phil were doing a dance of sorts. A type of dance you would only do in the late, late hours of a wedding reception. The type of dance that involves you standing in the same spot, moving your arms and hips around aimlessly. Had Joe been sober, he would have laughed in their faces, however it would be a long time until that was a reality, so instead pointed out:

“Ha! But there's no music!”

“Go on then, sing us something!” encouraged Phil. “You are our singer after all.”

Joe toppled down onto the sofa next to Sav. “Sing it yourself!”

“Alright then!” and as if it was living proof that Phil and Steve did in fact share a single brain cell, they both burst out into a very tipsy duet of Honky Cat. It went surprisingly well with their impromptu choreography. Once they got to the chorus, Rick and Joe couldn't help but join in, adding to the amalgamation of voices that always worked so well on stage. Even in their drunkenness, they found a way to harmonise. Sav, meanwhile, grabbed his acoustic bass, which he’d propped up against the sofa before they left, and began strumming out the bassline. The terror twins still dancing like before.

As the song went to repeat, however, Steve stopped singing, which led to the others to quickly fade out as well. Sav put his bass back where he’d found it.

“Why don't we…” Steve burped a little, “have a dancing competition?”

“Yeah yeah!” Phil excitedly agreed. “But… but for that we need proper music…”

Without a second thought, the guitarist knelt down with a thud in front of the case of records, and grabbed the first one he could find, which happened to be a copy of Deep Purple’s Machine Head. He placed it onto the record machine as carefully as the units of alcohol in his system would let him. He turned the speakers right up just as Highway Star began to play. Being musicians, you can bet they had one of the best sound systems money could buy. They could feel the bass drum in their chests and Ian Gillan’s vocals were piercing as ever. If they’d closed their eyes, they might as well have been front row at a concert.

With the building intro now blaring, Phil grabbed Steve by the arm and dragged him into the middle of the room. He happily obliged, and they both started dancing to the music like their lives depended on it. This was no wedding reception two-step now, this was a dance that involved the wild flailing of all four limbs. This was the type of dance you would see in the pit in front of Mötorhead or Iron Maiden. All personal safety abandoned. Just a pure release of energy.

After a verse or so of this, Joe decided that the Terror Twins’ reign on the dance floor had gone on for too long, or maybe it was because, for once, the attention was not on him. “That's rubbish!” Joe announced, through a series of hiccups. “I could do way better than that!”

Despite shouting, his voice was barely audible over the music. Just before he could show off his dancing skills, however, Sav jumped up.

“Nah you're dancing embarrassed us at the party.” he shouted. “I bet you can't do this…”

And just like that, the usually composed bassist joined the Twins. Instead of dancing, Sav opted for jumping and thrashing his limbs about in midair. Rick burst out laughing (it was a ridiculous, and somewhat rare sight, indeed), and accompanied him to the homemade dance floor, copying Sav's jumping.

Joe, now being the only one not dancing, decided he didn't want to be shown up, and wanted to prove to the others that his dancing was not, infact, embarrassing.

“Why- why would I want to do that? Why would I want to do that when I could do this…” and he was off. He took off around the room, jumping about like a gymnast. Except, of course, with much less finesse. He travelled around the ‘dance floor’, skipping and attempting cartwheels, between various floppy jumps. Of course, he had to include his famous air-splits, using the sofa as a launchpad.

And before they knew it, the living room descended into chaos. All five Leppards were flailing about wildly to the roaring Highway Star in the background. It really was a sight to behold. As Ritchie Blackmore’s second iconic guitar solo rang out, the Leppard guitarists couldn't help but headbang along, frantically playing the air guitar. They ‘played’ just like they did on the Pyro tour: leaning on each other's backs. But the constant movement, and the fact that Deep Purple was somewhat heavier than most Leppard tracks, meant this proved to be a challenge and they ended up crashing to the floor in a laughing heap. Only to get right back up again and repeat the process.

They danced right up until Ian Pace’s last drum run, after which Steve turned off the record player, and collapsed face-first onto the sofa, Phil flopping down right on top of him. The others crumpled into the nearest seat available, which for Rick happened to be the floor, on which he laid out like a starfish. For a full minute, all they could do was catch their breath, panting heavily. For just over six minutes, they may as well have been teenagers back on the Sunset Strip, taking in the vivacious excitement of a late night club crawl.

Despite this, as soon as Steve flicked the switch of the record machine, the walls of their Dublin residence swirled quickly back into view, obscured only by the stars in their eyes from the lack of oxygen.

“We…” gasped a very out of breath Joe. “We… are so… out of shape… how we did that every night on tour… I will never know.”

The wheezing continued, and Joe looked for some hydration, which inevitably came in the form of his red liquor. The others seemed to have found theirs again too, and had gone back to sipping them.

“It's not everyday you get to raid a cellar of fancy liquor! Good on Peter for tipping us off,” Joe, still out of breath, took another sip from his bottle. “What is this anyway? It's like… cherry-flavoured antifreeze.” he grimaced as the spirit burned his throat. He gestured to Phil: “What's yours?”

“Ah yes, because stealing expensive alcohol from the fancy houses is the best way to make friends in this neighbourhood.” The guitarist laughed and took a swig from his own bottle, the bright blue liquid in it looked almost fluorescent. “Couldn't tell ya what this is though…” he glanced at the label. “‘S’all in bloody Italian… though, I am getting notes of almond, must be a sort of Amaretto… but blue?”

“You're lucky you didn't have to go into that cellar with us though,” Rick pointed out to Phil, who had snuck off with his mysterious date shortly after they’d arrived. “It was real creepy, there were massive spiders in there too, one even fell on Joe's head! Ha! He screamed like a girl!”

“I did not!” Joe glared at Rick. “It's not like I'm scared of spiders or anything, the bastard just wouldn't come off.” he chuckled nervously. “At least it didn't ruin my hair.”

The others tried not to smile and hummed in agreement. They’d rather not reveal just how much damage the spider (which may have just been made up by a mischievous Terror Twin) had done to Joe’s hair. Or perhaps it was more his frenzied attempts to remove it. Either way, the copious amounts of hairspray held his new ‘style’ firmly in position.

“What about you?” Joe motioned to Sav, who was still very much feeling the effects of their dance competition, but silently satisfied at the sight of Joe's hair.

“Hmmm,” he looked at the label, and took a sip. “Sweet… but nutty, I think it's passion fruit.”

“Ooh, let's try some!” said Joe eagerly. “Go on, pour some out.”

“No!” Sav grumbled, hugging his red bottle. “You’d hate it anyway. You've got your own, I wanna get blind drunk.” and with that he gulped down as much as he could, before the burning in his throat became unbearable, causing him to cough.

“Oh come on,” piped up Rick. “It sounds nice.” The drummer attempted to grab it from Sav’s hands from the floor, however the bassist was adamant on finishing the drink alone, and turned to face the backrest of the sofa, using himself to shield it from the prying hands of Rick. After a few hapless swipes, Rick gave up and returned to laying on the floor.

“You'll regret it tomorrow,” taunted Joe. Sav returned to his original position, and took another sip in response.

“I think we all will, mate,” said Phil. “Aw man, I didn't want to leave that party, I was having fun.”

“Yeah well I wasn't,” said Joe. “It was too crowded, and it was too dark, and the bathroom was too bright. The drinks were shitty and the food was cold. It was everything I expected and less. I told you we should have stayed in. I'm never going outside again unless I need someplace to throw up.”

The others just rolled their eyes at the singer’s speech, having heard a variation of it every time they did something that involved leaving the house. Joe did in fact have fun at the party, much like his friends. At this point, it was common knowledge that he thrived in social settings like that. But the alcohol usually got the better of him afterwards, clouding his judgement and casting a veil of melancholy over what was otherwise a lively, fun night out.

“You had a bad time?” said Sav. “Aren't you going to apologise for my hand?” he sloppily held up his bandaged hand in the air.

“Huh?” Joe mumbled.

“Well,” Sav haphazardly began to recount. “You said the food was cold, but you forget this amazing thing you can do to food to make it, ya know, not cold. See because I actually have some common sense-” the bassist tapped his head, his uninjured hand disappearing into his frizzy hair as he did so. “I had the great idea to put food, get this, in the toaster!”

“I'm sorry, what are you on about?” said Joe. “What does this have to do with me?”

“Let me finish! Anyway don't act like you don't remember,” continued Sav. “Just as I took the delicious warm toast out of the toaster. A certain Mr Elliott-” he widened his eyes at Joe, “-decides it's a great idea to barge into the kitchen and put me in a headlock, ya know, as ya do. I suppose to show off to all his friends that he is in fact… oh what's the word? Oh yeah, an idiot. ‘Oh yeah pick on the quiet one! What a great and original idea!’ and of course, since there was no way I could have predicted this strange turn of events, my hand slipped, and well…” he waved around his injured hand.

“Well how could I have possibly known that you were making toast?” protested joe.

“You do have these things called eyes, you know,” Sav shot back, using his good hand to pull back the lids of his right eye. “Anyway Joe, what happened to your hair?” he smirked.

“What about my hair?” Joe said cautiously.

“Oh nothing, nothing.” It was almost too much fun. Quickly changing the subject, as to not arouse suspicion, Sav reached down and patted Rick on the chest. “What happened to you? Why’d ya look like Carrie?”

“Oh this?” Rick looked down at his wine stained front. “Well, it's funny you say that, because me and this group of girls got talking about films, right, and one of them said how she saw the film Alien, and apparently had nightmares for months about the scene where the creature bursts out of that guy. You guys know the scene right?” the guys murmured in agreement.

“Well, the girl who was with her had no clue what I was on about, and she also happened to have a small dog with her, which I thought looked a bit like an alien, you know the ones with the big eyes that look like they want to murder you? As it jumped out of her handbag - yes it was that small, can you believe it? Anyway, it gave me an idea. I laid down on the floor, kinda like I am now, but pretending to be in pain. Through my fake… pain noises… I picked up the dog, put it in my shirt, and lifted it out again, and perfectly demonstrated the scene. But then I thought of a way to make it even more realistic, so I grabbed the glass of red wine the girl was holding, and poured it on my chest, where the ‘alien’ had come out of!”

“Oh my God, you poured wine on the dog?” said Steve in horror.

“No no of course not,” Rick reassured him. “The girl grabbed him from me before I could do anything else. Kinda glad she did too, as the thing looked like it was gonna kill me.”

“And I don't bloody blame it,” said joe. “So why exactly did you decide to recreate that gruesome scene again?”

“I dunno, made me look cool I guess,” Rick admitted. “Anyway, enough about me, where's all your clothes gone, Clark?”

“Excuse me,” said Steve. “But I think you'll find that this jacket is the only thing I'll ever need to wear again. It's the ultimate piece of clothing, you lot wouldn’t understand. Everything else I was wearing was just a distraction.” He got up from underneath Phil, who was still laying on top of him, and did a very wobbly twirl, once again showing off the jacket. He took a sip of his dark liquor, and flopped back down on the sofa. Phil laid his head in his terror twin’s lap.

“What about the shorts?” pointed out Sav. “I don't remember you bringing them to the party?”

“I must have been wearing them under my jeans, I suppose. Sometimes I like to wear them, ya know, reminds me of being on tour.” A reminiscent look came over Steve's eyes. The others could see where he was coming from.

The sense of routine that they’d had on tour was one of the things they missed most, and one of the reasons they couldn't get anything done in, and almost dreaded these down periods. Tonight was a perfect demonstration of that: no curfew, no alarm, just an endless stream of drunken consciousness with no stage lights or cheering audience to break it. Steve's little statement seemed to have thrown them all even further back into reality. And they fell back into a sullenness. The only noise being the sloshing of liquor bottles being brought to mouths.

Joe was the first to speak: “so, Phil, how’d it go with Rosie?” He raised his eyebrows, emphasising that last word. “You got your chance with her, what’d you talk about?”

“Uh nothing really,” mumbled Phil quickly. Joe immediately sensed there was more to this conversation, having caught glimpses of the pair talking for the duration of the night.

“Come on, I wanna know,” Joe pushed.

“Oh, it doesn't matter.”

Joe had heard this before, and knew exactly what Phil had talked about. “Phillip Collen please tell me you did not bore that poor girl to death about guitars for the whole party?”

“What was I supposed to do?” protested Phil. “It's the only topic I can speak about when I'm nervous. I'm good at guitars. I know guitars. I've dedicated the better part of my life studying them and all the gadgets that go with them, you guys know that. I wanted her to be impressed. Oh I don't know.” he crossed his arms in frustration. Steve patted him on the head in an attempt to comfort his friend.

After a slight pause, Joe pointed out: “So, you were nervous? Wow, you must really like her.”

“Yes!” Phil threw his hands up in admittance. “And, you know, I really think she likes me. That's why I wanted to get everything right.”

“Nevermind,” said Joe. “You probably left her a trail of guitar pics for her to follow you home with. How did your little plan work anyway?”

“No you see, it didn't work,” explained Phil, who was beginning to sound genuinely upset. “Every time I dropped one, she would pick it right back up. My pockets are still full of them.'' Sure enough, he dove his hands into his pockets and took out all of the pics he'd so confidently brought to the party hours ago. Not knowing what to do with them all now, he spilled them from his hands onto the floor.

“She kept following me everywhere. Not that that's a bad thing, mind, but it now means I don't have an excuse to call her. And she doesn't have an excuse to call me! Oh God, I forgot to ask her for her number! Oh I really have messed this one up, the one time I actually make a connection with someone and I blow it.” he went back to sulking. Steve absent-mindedly played with Phil's hair.

“Don't worry, mate,” Joe tried to console his friend. “I'm sure there will be other girls. Besides, we’ll be on tour again before you know it, they'll be throwing themselves at ya!” Joe reassured him, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Despite this, his attempt at cheering him up failed, as his face remained as frigid as ever, as if a storm cloud hung over him.

“I doubt it,” Phil lamented. “Not like Rosie. There was definitely a spark there I'm telling you. She was not just another bird you'd meet backstage and forget about thirty seconds later. I really felt like she could be The One.”

This was another example of a conversation that was often had between the Leppards, but it was one that they treated with sensitivity. Their lifestyle practically guaranteed being surrounded by women who wanted to be with them, whether they liked it or not. But this meant that flames like Phil seemed to have found that night were few and far between. So when they did come across one, they held onto it with all their might. Besides, who were they to say that Rosie wasn't Phil’s ‘One’?

***

Part 3

“Well I'll tell ya what,” said Joe, in a desperate attempt to lighten the rapidly darkening tone of the night. “We dont need girls to keep us going. We have each other.”

“Cheers, Joe,” Phil desperately fought a smile. The others chuckled lightly.

“You know,” Steve started. “We may not be lucky with girls, but I'll tell you the one thing we will always have: music! Seriously, I never believed in love at first sight until I heard Physical Graffiti. I don't know how Page did it, but he really captivated fifteen year old me. I wouldn't be playing onstage with you lot if it wasn't for Zeppelin, that's for sure.”

“Oooh looks like Phils not the only one with a crush,” teased Rick.

“Shut up!” laughed steve. “You can't tell me I'm wrong though, we wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for our love for music. Led Zeppelin was my first love, there I said it. Make fun all you want, but they've done more for me than any girl ever has.”

“He's got a point, you know,” agreed Sav. “If it wasn't for me hearing Queen for the first time, I'd probably still be in that miserable factory, kicking about a football at night just to sweat off the stress of the day. I love you Queen!” Sav blew a kiss to the ceiling.

“Everyones a romantic aren't they?” Rick rolled his eyes with a smile. “Though since we’re confessing our undying love to our heroes, I gotta agree with Steve and say that The Zep is one of my all time favourites. Watching John Bonham do what he does best? Ok maybe I do love that man. But I mean, which young drummer didn't want to be just like John Bonham? Come on Phil, who was your first love? Your real first love?”

Phil took a thoughtful sip of his blue liquor. “Aw man, where do I start? Queen and Zeppelin, obviously, but then you've also got the likes of Van Halen? Man, I wish I could do what Eddie does. Oh but then there's AC/DC? Malcolm and Angus have gotta be one of the best guitar duos out there. No offence Steve…”

“Oh no, I fully agree, mate,” Steve continued to play with Phil's hair.

“Aerosmith, Prince…” Phil went on. “Oh and how could I forget? The Police! Oh and Billy Idol! I- I love them all ok? Call me a slut, but I've had love affairs with so many bands, we’d be here all day. Come on Joe, which bands were your first loves? And don't lecture us about Mott the Hoople again, we know!”

“Well that doesn't mean I can't say Ian Hunters Overnight Angels! Ian Hunter is my one and only.” Joe put his hand on his chest proudly. “Though of course there's T-Rex, Bowie-” he flicked his still messy mullet, “and of course Zep and Queen. Whoever it was that inspired you to be here today, as long as you have a copy of their music, they ain't going anywhere.”

“Cheers to that!” Steve held up his brown liquor bottle. The others happily did the same, mumbling their own cheers.

“Though, I could tell you about my first heartbreak,” Joe reclined back onto the sofa.

Sav eyed him. “Joe, if you mean that girl you met in LA, I told you she-”

“No no I mean in terms of music!” Joe corrected. “I'm well over her. Anyway, my parents got me a copy of The Sex Pistols’ Never Mind the Bollocks for Christmas back in ‘77, you’d remember, Sav. It was the one album I just could not get my hands on that year. It was sold out everywhere I looked. So opening it that morning was just a great experience. The sleeve was even signed by all the guys. There was a signed poster, and a handwritten note in it too. I have no idea how or where my parents even got it, but lets just say the soundtrack to Christmas ‘77 was just Sex Pistols on repeat. It's just one of my favourite memories, and the album will always be special to me. I remember my dad joked that in ten years time it would be worth a fortune, what with it being signed and everything, but to me, as soon as I opened it, it was already priceless.”

It was now Joe’s turn to sulk. The light in his green eyes dimmed. “But, on the AC/DC tour, I have no idea how, but I lost it, to this day no one knows where it went. I knew I shouldn't have taken it with me. But it was a little piece of home, and at that point we were all pretty new to this touring business. I’d never even really left Sheffield before that. The record even inspired a lot of the stuff we played on that tour. Hell, it inspired stuff we play now. I just needed it with me. Of course I could just get another copy, which I have done. But it's not the same. The copy my parents got me was irreplaceable. It was my copy. Johnny Thunders said ‘you can't put your arms around a memory’ but while I had that record, I sure could. So yeah, I guess that's the story of my first proper breakup.”

He got up from the sofa and sighed. “I need some water.” and with that he wandered into the kitchen, leaning on any available surface for balance. The others remained unmoving in their respective positions.

Phil was the first to break the silence. “Aw man, I never knew about that. I bet the guy was a right state when he lost it, it sounds like it was really important to him.”

“The saddest part is,” Steve took a swig from his bottle, and looked in the direction Joe had headed, and then back at the group. “He didn't actually lose it, me and Pete broke it.”

“Wait… what?” Phil spluttered. “Don't joke about this, Clark, Joe really seemed upset about it.”

“No no, it's true,” Sav slowly nodded. “Tell him Steve.”

“Well, and you gotta hear me out on this, it wasn't entirely my fault,” Steve put his bottle on the table, and began to recount the story. “Like Joe said, it was the AC/DC tour, so you weren't with us yet, so of course you couldn't have known. But, and again I'm not exactly proud of this, one time, Pete had had a little too much to drink, though what's new? Anyway, while we were on the road, I don't remember where to, Pete decided to go through all of the records we had on the bus, and give them one-star reviews. Why? I don't know, I guess he was just in a bad mood, and wanted to provide us with some entertainment.”

“Stop trying to make him seem like the bad guy,” warned Rick. “You were both in the wrong, get on with it.”

Steve paused for a minute, and continued his story. “Ok, ok, well basically, Pete got to Joe’s copy of Nevermind the Bollocks and started chatting shit about it, and Johnny and Sid, as if they weren't some of the most influential Punk musicians? Anyway, the guy was drunk, and on a moving bus, so he was bound to damage the record in some way or another. So I’d had enough of his stupid reviews and tried to take it off him, knowing that Joe would have gone mad if he saw him holding his record so carelessly.”

“Joe was asleep by the way,” said Sav. “Me and Rick were trying to sleep too, but Pete was very obnoxious that day. I'm surprised Joe slept through it if I'm honest. Anyway, Steve, you tried to take it off him?”

The guitarist continued. His voice lowered. “Yeah, so of course, Pete was off his face, so he wouldn't just let the thing go without a fight. I'll admit I'd had a couple too, but I still had some sense. To cut a long story short, we ended up in a sort of tug of war. I promise I didn't mean to, but with Pete being difficult, and a moving bus? The bloody record snapped right in half, bending the sleeve and all.”

“Fuck…” Phil slowly said, after a long pause. “So… what did you do with it?”

“Well this is where I was the stupid one,” admitted Steve. “I know, I know I should have just told him what happened, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, knowing how much the record meant to him. I felt like there would be less tension if I just… got rid of the evidence. So I opened one of the bus windows and just bloody chucked it out. There wasn't any traffic around or anything, and the road was just surrounded by trees. I couldn't think of anything else to do.”

Phil just laid there motionless, trying to take in Steve’s story. He couldn't quite believe it.

“It’s true mate,” Sav broke the tension. As if he read Phil’s mind. “Me and Rick saw the whole thing. In fact, now that you know, Joe is the only one of us who doesn't. Clark swore us all to secrecy. We told Joe he must have left it at a venue or something as a cover.”

“Please don't tell him,'' Steve sounded serious now. “Please. What he doesn't know can't hurt, and besides, when does find out, I want it to come from me. I'll tell him eventually.”

Phil thought it was highly unethical to keep a secret like this, especially after Joe practically poured his heart out over that record. But, as always, he trusted his Terror Twin.

“Ok, ok I won’t tell him. Don't worry.”

“Cheers mate,” Steve patted Phil’s head affectionately, just as they heard Joe’s clumsy footsteps coming from the kitchen. Steve, Rick and Sav went back to their drinks, as if the huge secret hadn’t just been revealed. Phil, on the other hand, could not get the story out of his head.

Joe, who returned holding a pack of cards, tossed himself back onto the sofa. “Anyone want a game of Poker? I still don't know how to play it properly, but we're all wasted, it makes it more fun. No prizes, just forfeits. And for God’s sake can we get some music on!”

“Sounds good to me!” Sav sat forward. The others followed his lead, and gathered around the table as Joe dealt out the cards. Rick went over to the record player and replaced Machine Head with David Bowie’s Station To Station. Rick made sure to turn the speakers down to a more comfortable level, so as to not blast the room with the full volume from their dance competition.

They played several short games, with surprisingly few arguments considering the amount they’d drunk that night. The opening track of their background music perfectly reflected their changing mood throughout their poker games. A little tense at first, but eventually they let loose and got into the groove of things. A few games in, just as Golden Years began to play, they’d basically abandoned the rules. Not that anyone protested, if anything it made for a more interesting little tournament. In a broad retrospect, the track fit the scene perfectly.

Sav seemed to have a knack for the game, and won three in a row easily. They devised a plan where whoever had the lowest hand at the end had to do a forfeit, instead of betting. This led to some pretty interesting scenes: Rick had to play a round upside down (he opted for the sloppy headstand approach) and Joe had to play two rounds speaking in only Monty Python quotes. As well as this, some new rules were introduced around the house as a result of losing: Phil, having lost the first game, had to answer the door for the next month and Steve had to do all the washing up for a week.

“Ha! I win!” Joe threw down his hand of cards. His sentence of Python quotes had ended a game ago. As well as this, after a few repeats, Station’s A-side had run its course once again. Joe’s hand consisted of three Fives, a Jack and The Chariot.

“Hmm, another Tarot,” Phil observed. They seemed to have been mixed in with the playing cards, and cropped up throughout their games. “But, my friend, that's only Three of a Kind, I'm sitting on a modest Four of a Kind!” He fanned out his cards to reveal four Queens. The others rolled their eyes, their hands clearly not high enough to beat Phil’s.

“Oh bollocks!” Joe put his head in his hands playfully.

“Ha you lost!” Rick teased.

Those two statements suddenly reminded Phil of the story that just unfolded. “I lost my copy of Never Mind the Bollocks” Joe's voice played over in his head. He couldn't help picturing the scene that Steve had just described.

He lost his record just like he lost the game, oh Steve, Phil couldn't help but think.

“What?” Joe shot Phil a puzzled look.

“What?”

“What's me losing my record got to do with Steve?”

Phil’s heart dropped to his stomach. He realised he’d thought that last thought out loud. In his panic, his brain seemed to go into overdrive, and before he knew it he was speaking again:

“Your record… it- it got broken…” the words spilled out before Phil could stop them. “It- it was an accident though…” He desperately tried to save himself.

“SHHHH!” Sav and Rick waved their hands vigorously, despite knowing it was already too late. What with their collective impaired judgement.

“What do you mean my record got broken?” Joe’s voice became hesitant. “No, this lot told me, I must have left it at a venue back on the tour. I can't think of anywhere else I would have left it. And wait, how does Steve fit into this again?”

There was no point denying it now. Despite Phil’s best efforts, the secret was out. “Look, I- I didn’t want you to find out like this, I- I’m sorry…”

Joe cut Phil off, and turned his gaze to Steve, whose face was drained of colour. “What's he on about?”

Steve took a moment to collect his thoughts, a sudden, searing tension grew in those few seconds. “Ok, first of all, I was going to tell you at some point, it just never came up. Second, it wasn't entirely my fault. Please just hear me out on this…” the guitarist then cautiously retold the story he had recounted to Phil moments earlier, desperately avoiding eye contact with Joe, who was sitting with his elbows on his knees, looking at the floor.

“...I'm so sorry Joe I really am,” Steve finished the story. “And I know Pete felt bad about it as well.”

Joe continued to sit there in silence for a bit, unmoving. He then looked at Steve with a straight, yet defeated face. “I don't believe you.” he scoffed.

“He's telling the truth mate,” Sav sighed. “Why would we joke about something like this? Besides, what more proof do you want? To drive back to the exact location Steve chucked it?”

The secret was out. Joe had no reason not to believe his friends, when he spoke, his voice was level, trying to make sense of this revelation. “So you've known this whole time?” He turned his head to Sav.

“I'm afraid so. Rick also knows. Oh and Peter, I told him as well. And Mutt. Oh and it's an anecdote I like to tell when drunk at parties if your name comes up. Which is quite often considering you are our lead singer and frontman.”

“Anyone for another game of cards?” Rick desperately tried to lighten the mood. However, his efforts were ignored entirely. Throughout this entire exchange, Joe remained surprisingly calm.

“Well, maybe I've been holding onto some secrets about you lot,” he boasted. “Maybe I have a few little facts I've collected over the years.”

“Blackjack anyone?” Rick dealt out cards to no avail. Joe continued as if he hadn't heard.

“Steve, I bet you didn't know that Sav here is actually a divorcee,” Joe now had a wicked smile on his face, he was going to enjoy this.

“Wait, no that's not entirely true-” Sav tried to protest, but Joe was on a roll with this already.

“Remember that girl he met in Vegas a few months back? Well, he got married to her that evening! Can you believe it? That's where he disappeared to! Where’s the girl now, you ask? She only bloody married him on a dare didn't she? Of course she divorced him straight after, and sodded right off. But hey! What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, right?”

Sav just sat there, eyes wide, the others staring at him with a similar expression. Joe however, still had more dirt to spill:

“But Sav, I bet you didn't know that Phil once spent all night talking to a girl at the bar. He'd had a few too many, and so had the girl. Your usual stuff right? Well, it turns out that this lovely, lovely girl Phil spent all night chatting up was actually just a bloke with long hair and eyeliner. A Vince Neil, Mike Monroe type, if you will. How he didn't notice the guy's lower voice I will never know.. or maybe… Phil, do you have something to tell us?”

“Oh shut up, sh- he! He was just very quiet!” Phil spluttered. “And it was dark, and loud, and I was drunk. What was I supposed to do?”

“Yeah yeah that's what they all say,” teased Joe, who was enjoying this a little too much. Steve was laughing behind his hand.

“You think that's funny?” Joe continued. “Well Steve once stole all of Rick’s clothes while he was in the shower. The usual terror twin shenanigans. You guys remember our poor drummer running round that venue naked right?”

“That was you?!” Rick exclaimed angrily. “You wanker!” He threw the empty card box at Steve, hitting him square on the head.

“Ow!” Steve was trying to hold back his laughter. “I'm sorry about that alright! Though it was pretty funny.”

“Let's just say it's lucky there wasn't anyone around…” the drummer scowled at Steve. “Anyway,” Rick turned to glare at Joe. “Sav, Roger Taylor did reply to your letter, but Joe here accidentally put it on that bonfire we had on the Fourth of July. in fact, you could probably still see remnants of it out there now.”

Rick kept his eyes fixed on Joe’s, a smug smile crept across his face. Sav also looked at Joe, but with much more ice.

“You what?” he exclaimed. “Did we not just have a conversation about how Roger Taylor is one of my heroes? You don't just burn stuff like that!”

At this point, secrets were being spilled left right and centre, by anyone, about anyone sitting in that room. It turns out, that despite living close together on the road for months at a time, there was a surprising amount that the guys didn't know about each other. And until now, they'd hoped to keep it that way.

According to Sav, it was Phil and Steve secretly taking out Joe’s boat one night that landed it a huge scratch on it’s side. Joe had been under the impression that he must have done it himself without knowing, and was scared to take it out for fear of scratching it further.

Steve revealed that it was Rick who had taken the strings off of every single one of Sav’s basses a few weeks ago. Apparently he got so stoned one night, and needed wire for a sculpture he “just needed” to make. Thick bass strings seemed like the perfect alternative. Rick then revealed that Joe, who was also stoned, threw them in the bin because “the sculptures were rubbish”. It took a good few days for Sav to replace the strings, and tune them to how they were before.

After several long minutes of these back and forth digs, Rick suddenly got up without another word. He walked across the living room, and up the stairs. The others watched him in stunned silence. Had he had enough? Their thoughts were answered when he came back down the stairs after a few strained seconds. As he walked back across the room, they saw he was holding something. It was a hand mirror. Rick turned to stand in front of Joe.

“By the way, you went to the party looking like this:” Rick held up the mirror to Joe, who took one look, and recoiled back into the sofa.

“I what-!? Aah!” the singer gasped, sounding genuinely scared, and frantically adjusted his messy hair, to no avail.

“Ah, vanity was always your one weakness,” Rick smiled proudly to himself, and sat back down in his original position. The silence in the room returned once again, everyone now ruminating over their spilt secrets.

“Well I think that covers everything,” Sav went back to his liquor, and slumped back into the sofa.

***

Part 4

Just as the air seemed to clear, there was a knock at the door. The guys looked at eachother, puzzled over who could possibly be needing them at this hour.

“I guess I'm getting it,” Phil was true to his forfeit from earlier. He slowly made his way to the door, rubbing his face. But his tired body language instantly turned to nerves as he opened the door, and saw who was on the other side.

It was Rosie. She looked tired herself, having probably come straight from the party, but her face was shy and smiley, framed by feathery blonde bangs. She wore a purple cardigan over a faded Aerosmith T-shirt, which was tucked into a light blue midi skirt.

Though the boys had seen her briefly at the party, they only noticed now how Phil was right: she didn't look like the typical type of girl you'd see backstage. Seeing her shy smile, and sparkling brown eyes looking up at Phil made them think that he'd been right about this evening with her.

“Rosie! Hi!” Phil mirrored her shyness, and for once, didn't seem to know what to say.

“Hi…hi!” Rosie chuckled nervously.

“Hi!”

“I- I wanted to return something you left behind.” her nerves seemed to dissipate, and Phil could sense an excitement in her voice. His eyes lit up.

“Really? I- I left something behind?” he thought back to his numerous failed attempts with the guitar pics.

“Yeah,” Rosie reached into her shoulder bag quickly, and pulled out an empty wine bottle. “You brought this bottle to the party! I remember you saying something about you guys keeping all of your bottles. I couldn't find any of the others you brought, though, sorry!” She handed Phil the bottle.

“Oh right, thanks!” Although the others couldn't see from a distance, it was clear that Phil was blushing.

“I thought you could add it to your collection, to, you know, remember tonight. So I asked Peter where you lived, and- oh but I can see you're busy! I’m sorry-” She noticed the rest of the band and their apparent card game.

“No no, it's ok!” Phil gently took her shoulder, encouraging her to come in. “Thanks for bringing the bottle round! It's great that you- you came round… with… it,” they were both nervous, but Phil was letting his nerves get the better of him. Joe was undeniably still slightly jealous, but he also didn't want to see his friend mess this up, so put his pride aside.

“Offer her something, you fool,” Joe said with his back to the pair, the others, however, were watching them like hawks.

“Oh yeah, um,” Phil attempted to sound casual. “Would you like a drink? We have tea, coffee or- or Bailey’s or- or I could make a cocktail, you know like-”

Rosie quickly stood on her tiptoes and kissed Phil on the cheek, cutting him off. “Teas’ fine!” she smiled, sensing Phil’s nerves fade.

“Tea! Coming right up!” Phil practically skipped into the kitchen, which caused Joe to silently cringe. The rest of the guys just smiled.

“I'll help you make it!” Rosie dashed after him. Not two seconds after she disappeared into the kitchen, the pair could be heard giggling together. It made the others suddenly doubt their chances of getting any tea of their own. A few minutes, and no tea later, they heard the pair run quietly upstairs, still giggling.

While Joe sat there with a straight face, Steve was still smiling to himself. “Aww good for Phil, yeah I saw them together at the party, she really likes him.” he finished off the last of his brown liquor, his face turned more serious. “Look, Joe, I really am sorry about your record, I know how much it meant to you, and I should have said something sooner. I'll try and make it up to you somehow.”

Joe smiled and shook his head quickly. “Don't worry about it mate. I still have a copy of the songs, they hold the memories too, just not in a physical form is all. What did I say earlier? ‘Whoever it was that inspired you to be here today, as long as you have a copy of their music, they ain't going anywhere.’”

“Yeah, something like that,” Steve's smile returned.

“Perhaps I could wear a Sex Pistols shirt or something on the next tour, it could be a sort of in-joke,” Joe chuckled. “Anyway, the best present I ever received was the money my parents somehow scraped together for us to record the EP. We can be inspired by as many records as we want, but at the end of the day, where would we be without that?”

“Yeah I guess you're right.”

Without Phil, the room was quiet. But not the good type of quiet, where you could just sit and enjoy the company of others, it was the strained sort of quiet that meant the conversation was beginning to dissolve into ‘right, I'm going to bed’. But for some reason Joe didn't want the night to end, realising only now that perhaps, he didn't take in and enjoy it enough.

“Stay for a drink won't you?” he picked up his liquor bottle, which was down to its last few drops.

“Nah I think I'm going to call it a night,'' Steve said the statement Joe had been dreading. He got up and stretched tiredly. Without another word, he slowly made his way upstairs.

Joe looked at Rick, who turned out to be asleep on the floor. How long he’d been asleep was a mystery.

“Just you and me then,” he nodded to Sav, but knew the response he'd get.

“Nah, I’ve gotta get my beauty sleep,” the bassist put his red liquor on the table, which was still about a quarter full. “I've got a date tomorrow, I've got to look pretty.” he laid himself out on the sofa, using Joe as a footrest.

Joe couldn't help but double take at Sav’s last statement. “You have a date? When did this happen?”

Sav’s eyes were now firmly closed, but he was still conscious, for now. “I got talking to a girl at the party, right before I burned my hand. I never said that the toast was for me, the girl I was with, her name was Joy if you must know, was hungry, but fancied something hot instead of cold party food. I wanted to be all noble for once and make something for her. But we all know how that ended. Anyway, you know I don't eat gluten, it gives me indigestion.”

With that, Sav fell asleep, dead to the world in seconds.

And then there was one. Joe thought he might as well go up to bed, and attempt to get at least a half decent couple of hours of sleep. As he got to his feet, the room began to spin, his alcohol intake of the night finally catching up with him in that moment. Squinting his eyes, he grabbed two blankets from behind the sofa, and put one over Rick, and one over Sav. Just before he left, he noticed Sav’s bottle still had some spirit left in it, and thought back to earlier when he’d wanted to try some. Seeing that Sav was unconscious, Joe picked up the bottle and took a sip, adding yet more fuel to the inevitable hangover he would have the next morning.

As he put the bottle down, he grimaced, the taste sending a shudder through his whole body. This was much stronger stuff than he’d been drinking, and how Sav had been drinking this so casually throughout the night was a mystery, though it was no wonder why he didn't want to share it. He'd done Joe a favour, if anything, by saving him from the inescapable tauntings of “lightweight!”

While Joe made a promise to himself to forgive and forget the incident with the record, he still couldn't help but think that he could have done something to prevent it, and that he shouldn't have been so careless with such a precious item. He went over to the phone and dialled Peter's number. Peter, of course, was either fast asleep, or still at the party, or both, so there was no hope of an answer at this hour. As it went to voicemail, Joe realised he could barely string together a sentence, much less think clear:

“Next time… we go on tour, I- I want a separate bus… just for my records. Oh, and a Sex Pistols shirt, yeah I know what happened witht the record, the boys confessed. Ok, alrighty then, bye bye.” It took him a few tries to hang the receiver up. After he’d done so, he trudged up the stairs to his room.

As he passed Phil’s room, however, he could still hear the pair giggling. Joe could already feel his hangover setting in, and just wanted some sleep after the rollercoaster of a night. He feebly knocked on the door.

“Keep it down will you?” he groaned. And went into his own room. He crashed out on top of the duvet, not even bothering to take off his clothes. Just as he was getting comfy, Phil, who was wearing a grey dressing gown, poked his head around the door.

“Did you want anything Joe?” he asked innocently.

“I just… I just don't want to hear any noises, ok?”

Phil nodded thoughtfully and left, only returning a minute later to silently place something at the end of Joe’s bed, tiptoe out, and close the door behind him.

Joe groggily looked to see what mysterious gift Phil had given him. When he saw what it was, he rolled his eyes for the final time that night. It was a pair of Rick's ear defenders that he used when practising drums. Joe figured that Phil really had struck gold with Rosie.

He was too tired to bother putting them on, or maybe he just didn't want Phil to get the last laugh. He listened to the giggling for a few more seconds, and just before he drifted off he thought to himself: “I'm never partying again,” just as the first beams of day began to break through his window.

The night was already becoming a blur, and most of it would be forgotten by the time he woke up. The series of blotchy images of Steve showing off his new jacket, dancing to Highway Star and conversations about musical heroes would quickly become just another memory of another Friday night. Not a specific Friday night, as there had been many before and would inevitably be more like this to come, which would eventually haze into future nostalgia. This was a mere footnote that would be lost in the whirlwind of what was on the horizon, but there would always be something so magical about spending these precious, lazy nights with best friends.

***

#this was so much fun to write you guys!#I hope you enjoyed!#I already have ideas for more pics like this sjfjfhss #ik I said this was a crack fic but its kinda sappy in places oop #but in a good way tho #gotta make it a rollercoaster of emotions #Spotify

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awanderingdeal · 3 years

Text

The Best Kind of Spa Day

Lily and Natalie and a weekend at the spa...what more do you need? This story will probably be two or three chapters long. This first chapter is (as seems to be becoming a tradition) mainly smut with a sprinkling of feelings thrown in for good luck. There will be more fluff to follow. This is a poly relationship and there will be some background Jily/O’Darwin.

Rating: Explicit CW: Explicit F/F sex

Please message me if you feel other content warning should be added.

All future chapters can be found on my masterlist

And finally...but very importantly...thank you to @lumosinlove for the creation of the most wonderful Natalie Darcy and the sweater weather universe.

Natalie sauntered out of the bathroom, her damp hair piled on into a towel. “Oh,” she heard a shocked James say from the screen of Lily’s phone.

“What is it?” Lily asked, her head turning to follow his gaze. “Oh,” her tone almost identical to her husband’s as she took in sight of Natalie standing there in only her underwear.

Natalie cocked her head slightly, smiling and giving a little wave. “Hey James.”

“Hey Nat,” James said, a blush creeping across his cheeks. “My wife is a very lucky lady.”

“I’m the lucky one. Don’t worry. I’ll have her back to you soon.” Natalie replied, crawling onto the bed and leaning her head on Lily’s shoulder. “Massage is in an hour. I thought you might want to have a little fun first?” Natalie spoke quietly into her ear.

It was Lily’s turn to blush. “Give me 5 minutes to finish with J and then I’m all yours.”

“Sure thing, beautiful.”

Natalie flopped backward onto the bed, taking out her own phone. She was so engrossed in trading banter with Alex and Kasey that she jumped when Lily slipped the device out of her hands and chucked it to the side.

“You were saying something about fun?” Lily raised an eyebrow cunningly, straddling Natalie’s waist.

“Mmm. Yes. I have a few ideas in mind,” Natalie smirked cheekily. She placed her hands on Lily’s hips, thumb tenderly swiping over the bone before flipping the pair over.

Lily squealed as her back hit the mattress. She reached up to Natalie, unwrapping the towel and letting Natalie’s waves fall down her back, “do tell.”

“How about I show you instead?” Natalie quipped, bending to press her lips against Lily’s. They were soft and tasted slightly of chapstick. She pressed gentle kisses along Lily’s jaw until she reached her earlobe, catching the skin between her teeth. “Want to try the double today?” she breathed.

Natalie had shown Lily the toy earlier and her eyes had widened, a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. “I’ll make sure it’s good for you, I promise. And if you don’t like then we can stop and I’ll help you come on my fingers.”

Lily arched her back, hands splayed across Natalie’s stomach. “Yes, I want to try.” she nodded eagerly.

“First, let’s see if I can rival that husband of yours,” Natalie cooed, swiveling around and pulling the skirt that Lily was wearing above her hips before sliding her underwear down her legs. She brushed her fingers down Lily’s thighs, just barely making contact, then slowly creeping them back up. “May I?” Natalie asked, hovering over the crease of Lily’s thigh. She felt Lily nod behind her. “I can’t hear you, Lils,” she teased playfully, wanting to hear Lily say the words.

“Yes. Please. Do it.” Lily rushed out.

Natalie dragged a thumb through Lily’s folds, her tongue matching the movement, teasing the sensitive skin. Lily’s whine encouraged her to continue. She worked her tongue inside, thrusting a few times before letting herself enjoy the taste. She lapped and sucked with a practised ease, repeating the actions that drew the loudest moans from Lily multiple times. With a hitch of Lily’s breath, Natalie brought two fingers to her clit, circling it in time with her tongue.

Lily wailed as her orgasm hit her but Natalie didn’t let up; sucking, licking, thrusting her through it and into another. When her muscles had stopped contracting the second time Natalie pulled back, turning to face Lily again. “The best snack,” she laughed, knowing her words were cringe worthy.

Lily smacked her leg weakly. “You’re ridiculous,” she commented, her arm flopping back by her side. “I think you broke me. I can’t move,” she said.

Natalie slid off Lily’s hips, laying down next to her, “do you need a rest?”

Lily nodded, “I don’t think I can come again before that massage.” She rolled onto her side, leaning her head on her arm, fingers dancing over the tanned skin peeking out from Natalie’s bra. “We could play with the double later? I’d like to try out that harness though?” she mused.

Natalie took a lock of Lily’s hair, wrapping the strand between her fingers. “Yeah? That’d be nice. We’ve got a bit of time, no rush.”

Lily hummed, hands snaking around to the clasp of Natalie’s bra unclipping it easily. “That’s good. I love just touching you.” True to her word, Lily’s hands roamed Natalie’s bare skin, kisses following her fingers. Her tongue teased Natalie’s nipples, working them into hard nubs.

Natalie wriggled with pleasure, occasionally giving a soft of contentedness, her back arching slightly into the sensations but mostly letting Lily take her time. Moments before she thought she was going to have to say something Lily’s hands travelled down her stomach, slowing over the tattoo inked around her belly button before slipping under the band of her thong. Lily’s fingers played with her lazily, gliding between her folds, spreading the pool of moisture gathering between her legs over her clit until Natalie’s breaths were coming in quick pants, “Lils.”

Lily rolled onto her knees, dropping a couple of gentle kisses to Natalie’s collarbone before sitting back. “Take these off for me, I’ll be right back.” she said, the pad of her thumb tracing along Natalie’s hip and tugging gentle on underwear. She slid off the bed, quickly stripping off her own clothes before taking the harness and dildo from where Natalie had stashed it earlier. It took her a minute but she managed to get her legs into the right holes and tighten the buckles until it sat snugly in place. She watched the toy bob slightly when she wriggled her hips.

“Having fun over there?” Natalie laughed, lying naked on the bed with her arm tucked behind her head.

Lily smiled, suddenly a little shy, “I like it more than I imagined.”

Natalie’s features softened a little, moving to stretch her hand out towards Lily. “You’ve never used one before?”

Lily shook her head. “I mean, I’ve been on the receiving end multiple times,” she took the offered hand, allowing herself to be pulled forward until she was sitting on the edge on the bed. “I always wanted to do it with James first but he hasn’t been in the mood for it yet.”

Natalie turned onto her side, leaning on her free hand, her eyes searching Lily’s, “Are you sure that you want to do this now?” she asked, squeezing Lily’s hand gently. “Your fingers are magic, Lilypad. We can always carry on with what you started? Or we can stop completely. We only do things if we both want to do them, you know that.”

“I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it and I know that James feels pressured if he thinks I’m waiting for him to try something new and I don’t want that, you know?” Lily returned Natalie’s squeeze, breathing out long and slow, thinking about her words carefully. “I want him to want it in his own time, if ever. And it’s not going to make it any less special the first time with him even if I’ve done it a thousand times before. So yes, I’m sure.”

Natalie would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a bit turned on by the conviction in Lily’s voice. “Well, in that case I am on board too. Why don’t you show me what you’ve got?” she said, flicking the head of the dildo before lying back on the bed, spreading her legs slightly.

Lily leaned down, kissing Natalie firmly before knocking her legs apart a little more and sitting between them. She glanced over at the clock on the bedside table. 30 minutes until their appointment. She had time to do this properly. Lily grabbed one of the spare pillows, using it to lift Natalie’s hips and she was kissing her again, between her thighs this time, before slipping a finger into her, then two.

Natalie met the slow thrusts, relaxing around them and letting Lily in deeper. “Do that again,” she gasped as Lily crooked her fingers, finding the spot she was searching for.

“Bossy,” Lily teased gently, but did as was asked, revelling in the grateful whimper that followed. She pressed a kiss to the hollow of Natalie’s throat, adding a third finger with the next push into the tight heat.

Natalie pushed herself up, her free hand grasping at Lily’s jaw and crashing their lips together. It was barely a kiss; Natalie panting heavily into Lily’s mouth. She let out a long whine when Lily let her fingers slip from inside her and pushed Natalie back onto the bed.

Lily let herself look at Natalie for a moment, her lips swollen from where she’d grasped them between her teeth and her cheeks tinged pink, “all for me.” She leaned over Natalie, bending her head so her mouth was close to Natalie’s ear; her warm breath making the blonde shiver. “I’m going to fuck you now,” Lily said.

Natalie grinned, wrapping her fingers around the dildo strapped to Lily’s hips and pumping it twice. “I love when you talk dirty to me,” she laughed.

Lily sat back, crossing her arms across her chest giving a small pout, “carry on being mean to me and I won’t do anything to you.”

Natalie pulled herself into a sitting position, her hands resting on Lily’s waist and nipping her teeth at Lily’s nose, “I’m sorry, you’re just too cute,” Natalie teased, kissing along the freckles painted across Lily’s cheeks. “Can I ride you?” she hummed.

Lily smacked Natalie’s arm gently but her mouth spread into a smile, “I’m not going to say no to that.”

“Lie down for me then, Lilypad.”

Natalie wasted no time sinking smoothly onto the hard length once Lily was spread on the bed, rocking into the toy, before lifting herself back up. Lily’s mouth fell open, not expecting the pressure on her clit every time Natalie’s hips met hers. Her hands flew up to grip Natalie’s ass, helping her set the steady rhythm, meeting her with each thrust. The pleasure was pulled out of her, a soft refrain of “Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,” as she teetered on the edge. It was almost painful and then she was falling into it, her toes curling and the air being dragged from her lungs in gasps.

Natalie carried on riding Lily, hands grasping at her waist seeking better leverage. Three or four more thrusts and Natalie was pressing her forehead against Lily’s, her fingers working fast against her clit as she let the waves of pleasures pass over her.

“Fuck Lils, that was incredible,” Natalie panted as she eased herself off the length and flopped down next to Lily.

“It really was.” Lily shuffled closer, tangling their legs together, “So much for not coming again.” she giggled, glancing over at the clock. They had 11 minutes until they needed to be downstairs. “We should take a shower,” she sighed, not really wanting to move.

“Shower sounds good,” Natalie said.

“Alone,” Lily deadpanned, but her lips contorted into a smile that ruined the façade.

“It’ll be quicker to share,” Natalie protested. “I’ll be good. I promise,” she added, wrapping her pinkie around Lily’s before giving her a quick kiss and climbing off the bed.

“I’m blaming you if we are late,” Lily replied as she followed Natalie into the bathroom.

They didn’t quite keep their hands to themselves but they managed to keep the contact functional, Natalie spreading soap over Lily’s pale skin before letting her return the favor. Soon, they were stepping out from under the warmth of the water and drying off.

“I’m going to put my bikini on,” Lily said as she was wrapping the fluffy towel around her. “I think I’ll go for a swim after the massage. Want to join me?”

“I’ll pass. I’ve already washed this once today,” Natalie said, her fingers quickly weaving her still slightly damp hair into a braid. “But I think I’ll sit in the hot tub and enjoy the view,” she added with a smirk.

Lily laughed, shaking her head as she wandered back into the bedroom “Then dinner and then I thought we could do those -” she started to call out.

“Then we could come back to the room?” Natalie interrupted, leaning against the door frame.

“Insatiable,” Lily scoffed playfully, chucking the towel that had just been around her at Natalie, “ get dressed. We only have a couple of minutes.”

Natalie gave a cheeky smile in reply but headed over to the dresser that she’d unpacked her bikini into. “But seriously, Lilypad. If you just want to chill this evening that is fine. We’ve got two whole days to enjoy ourselves,” she said as she dressed quickly.

Lily hummed, stepping behind Natalie and dropping a brief kiss to the back of her shoulder, “Let’s just see how relaxed we are?” she suggested. “We can decide whether it’s facemasks or fucking later?”

“Facemasks or fucking?” Natalie snorted, leaning back to return the kiss, before stepping away to grab her backpack.

“I thought it was quite clever.” Lily said, taking Natalie’s hand as they left the room.

“You spend too much time with James.”

Lily bumped her arm against Natalie’s, “Oi.”

“Admit it. That man has the worst jokes,” Natalie raised an eyebrow.

“He really does.” Lily chuckled fondly. “I love him both despite it and because of it.”

Natalie swung their arms between them, “we all do. And I love you no matter how much his terrible sense of humour rubs off on you.”

Lily squeezed her hand, pressing a small kiss on Natalie’s jaw before they entered the waiting room for treatment areas only a few minutes late, “love you too.”

#Sweater Weather #lumosinlove #natalie darcy #background Jily #lily potter #background o'darwin

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logsfm · 3 years

Text

hey my loves ! i’m mia , 21 from the east coast ! i have not roleplayed in sheeeesh ... like five or six months ? but i am so excited to be here for opening with all of y’all . i spent like all morning trying to weed out this gal logan right here ... she’s a trip , that’s the best overall description i have for ya . anywho , lets get to the actual thing you’re here for her lil intro . also if you wanna mssg on discord here ya go 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐬 𝖜𝖍𝖔𝖗𝖊#7040 .

logan samara-de jaager was spotted in the fashion district adorning air force 1’s university blue , with some airpod pros on . they’re most likely listening to benz i know by kelvyn colt . you may know them as @delogan or as that bella hadid lookalike . their twenty fourth birthday just passed . while living in the upper east side , they’ve gained a bit of a reputation . they’re known to be querulous but on the other hand passionate . wonder if they’ll be the next person to hit the headlines . ( cisfemale / she/her + mia / twenty one / she/her ) + ( “ logan de jaager seen shoving ex in hotel footage during heated argument , not so sweet huh? ” / “ miss de jaager was spotted sneaking into ex beau’s apartment , what could she be up to? ” / “ sweet socialite or greedy trust fund baby ? milan de jaager publicly accuses daughter logan of stealing $1M … ” )

born into the true lap of luxury . the daughter of real estate magnate & high - profile attorney milan de jaager and his wife , british born socialite lana samara . the two of them held high favor within the 1% but were also able to find a perfect balance . they did a great job of separating personal life from the tabloids . it was rare to really know the happenings of their day to day . they had this particular kind of mystery to them , if you will .

it wasn’t long before lana began to instill the very same rhetoric she received as a child into her own . quality over quantity , was the motto . just not in the way you’d assume . the quality at which a de jaager presented themselves to you was much more important than than quantity of time you spent with them . looks ? they’re everything , in the de jaager household . time was simply a societal construct implemented to catch you on a bad day , for that very line of thinking they embodied being late . rushing out of the house to finish your make up in the car ? a literal sin in the eyes of her mother .

she was encouraged to take part in ballet and beauty pageants growing up . anything that could showcase how beautiful their daughter was lana and milan were on board for . personally logan hated ballet but she couldn’t deny she loved the applause the night of a showcase . she also couldn’t stand pageants but loved having all eyes on her as she went on stage .

it became quite clear as the years went on that her parents were much more like close friends to their daughter than like rule - instilling guardians . she would text them to dismiss her from school , get them to buy her & her friends alcohol for sleepovers / parties , was very much so that kid who got high with her parents . really anything you could do with your friends ? was fair game with logan & her folks .

at sixteen a friend of her moms who was going to be a designer for spring fashion week that year asked if logan would want to walk for him . she was quick to accept the offer and before she knew it she had multiple offers to walk in that years fall fashion weeks , because of how easy it came to her - though , she’s the first to admit she never really took modeling all that seriously .

it was just a year later that her way of life changed drastically , logan and her twin brother had been caught by paparazzi on a friends boat in the hamptons snorting a white substance , anyone with eyes knew exactly what the group of teenagers were doing . upon returning home the two received the crackdown of the century . their once friendly parents turned to strict jail like guardians . often reminded that they put the families reputation at stake . the pressure to be perfect was something logan had never had to deal with until now & she almost cracked under the pressure at every turn .

it wasn’t until she left for college that she was finally given some room to breathe , attending the university of florida was the best choice for what logan truly wanted to do with her life - become a sports analyst . growing up she was infatuated with sports & and would have been involved in much more than just cheerleading had her mom allowed for her to get so much as a speck of dirt on her . during her time in florida the paparazzi seemed to find her more often than not , something her parents often denounced both over the phone & in public . the longer she spent away from the upper east side the more she became america’s sweetheart & simultaneously a thorn in her parents side . she graduated from university in 2018 , only returning back to new york for the sake of work . she’d been offered a reporting job with espn , on top of taking up modeling gigs here & there when ever she felt necessary .

personality …

one thing is very true about the de jaager’s & is very much so the same for logan ; she is not to be trusted . she can be extremely charming when she wants to be . she could sell a bag of rocks to a beach & get a princess to sell her sole to sex work . she knows exactly what people want to hear & when they want to hear it and has no qualms about lying straight to someone’s face if it means she gets something out of it . in fact sometimes , she might lie to your face just for the sheer fun of being able to call you gullible .

she’s very much so a spoiled brat although she hates when anyone call her one , she feels like she has more layers to her than that broad term . hand in hand with that is her drama queen like tendencies , any situation were there is a simple solution she will find a way to blow vastly out of portion .

due to her mother’s heavy influence growing up , she can be rather vein & materialistic . catch her like “ i can’t date a garbage person ” to someone simply because they’re not as rich or known enough for her liking .

it’s rare that you’ll ever see her jump out of character . she’s very calculated & aware of who she is ( or who she needs to seem like ) so if you ever see her emotions getting the better of her , you’ve really broken her .

she’s the type to dabble in a little bit of anything ? she’s a rich nyc party girl who’s been partying well before anyone should have allowed her to so she’s done it all . you’d be kidding yourself to think you could surprise / scare logan on a wild night out .

she’s quick & creative with her sense of humor . she has both a crude / dry sense of humor , as well , and really just doesn’t find goofy things to be funny but more or less embarrassing ( so if she ever tells you you’re goofy , remember it’s not a compliment ) .

her upbringing & parents sentiment on tabloids once reflected massively on logan , but now she couldn’t quite care less about it all . after all she spends hours in front of cameras on a regular basis for work . although she does tend to shy away from people who she deems are hungry for fame or attention . she’s been used in the past for fame & will never let it happen again , plus she’s the type to lap up attention so she likes to have as little fame whores around her as possible , more shine for her .

when she isn’t being a total nightmare though she’s actually really fun to be around ? she’s playful & loves to keep the party alive . often can be found claiming “ i’m high on life ” although everyone saw the pictures , logan , we know what you’re really high on , girl .

very chatty girl , too . victim of foot - in - mouth syndrome , big time . she doesn’t try to be disloyal & spill people’s secrets ( or does she ? ) but she can’t help herself . if she has piping hot tea she’s gonna spill it because she doesn’t wanna burn herself .

very observant girl , who loves to people watch but her observations can sometimes get muddled when she starts judging people a little too hardcore .

she’s also a undercover couch potato & by that i mean if you give her an option to go out & do something she’ll never outwardly choose to stay home to watch netflix and snuggle up under the blankets but secretly she’s hoping & praying she gets a chance to do so .

plots ...

END THIS ( L.O.V.E ) / her first love . these two brought the absolute worst out of one another . they messed her up so much that she has a weird perspective on what love between two s/o’s should even feel like now . maybe they had another s/o at the same time as her & kinda just strung her on & when it came out were able to lie so much to her that she believed them . idk , in truth we could really plot something completely different as to what they did & inevitably what the breaking point was . maybe they broke up with her & had they not ended it maybe she would’ve still been okay with being in the relationship . idk i just feel like this one could be fun as hell . also they’d be the one whom she was caught arguing with in one of her headlines . ( 0 / 1 )

AFTER PARTY / this is a more reckless take of party buddies . im envisioning a group of people who when the parties over they all pull up to close by gulf course , indulge even more in their choices of substance , there is a naked gulf tournament going on , there are drunks driving golf carts , swerving and pouring bacardi all over the course . running from security when they pop up . it’s tradition at this point & if someone doesn’t come it’s almost disrespectful at this point . idk i just love the thought of this kinda vibe . ( 2 / ? )

SECRETS / okay so this one is messy . basically logan was very private for most of her life ( thanks mom & dad ) and during the early stages of highschool she lied to everyone saying she was a virgin . she told each one of these individuals that they were her first whether it be to make them fall for her “ innocence ” , want to chase after her , or whatever else we might be able to plot out . inevitably they compare notes at some point and find out that she’d been lying to them all . we can plot out how they confronted her i feel like we could make this real dramatic though . this would also be a backstory plot so , we can also plot out how things have transpired since for them . ( 0 / 3 or 4 )

BEST FRIEND / these two girls take best friends to the next level . they relate to one another on every level and are there for one another at all times . there is never a moment where they are competing with one another because they know that their #1 in there respective category . they are one another’s ultimate hype beasts . they truly embody chaotic goddess vibes . it’s like they were placed on this earth simply to be friends because they compliment one another that well . ( 0 / 1 )

LETS FALL IN LOVE FOR THE NIGHT / they are the one that’s there whenever she’s down . they have the ability to make her feel like they have some sort of old love whenever she’s around them . those feelings only last for the night though . they enjoy when she rambles on about sports or the novel she just recently read or really just anything she enjoys can put a smile on their face . they know better than to ever confuse what is going on between them though , they know that she’ll never be theirs . whether they’re okay with this or not we can definitely plot out . ( 0 / 1 )

MOANA / they are not a fan of logan . they see her for what she is : an attention seeking , spoiled brat and the fact that they don’t want anything to do with her makes her want them all the more . when they finally slept with her it was only to prove a point to her s/o at the time , to prove that she’s not the sweet girlfriend she claimed to be . basically they’re the person who outed her for being a ho ho ho but despite knowing that they outed her for that she still tries to hook up with them because they were the best she ever had . they often turn her down but after a while not even they can deny that they’re attracted to her . they still don’t fuck with her though . also i think it’d be cool if their were two of them & maybe they worked together to out her to her s/o that didn’t believe she was a cheater ( 0 / 2 ) also bring the s/o that they outed her to ( 0 / 1 )

ELEVEN / the type of relationship that is stuck in the grey area . they’re more than friends but they don’t necessarily admit to having feelings for one another . honestly they probably don’t even think they have feelings for one another . it’s a weird dynamic . they spend the most of their time together late at night . there meeting time ? 11pm . they go on wild joy rides to the beach . heads out of the sun roof as they let out a loud woo . the only thing accompanying them is a big bag of weed . sometimes they have deep talks , honestly they probably know more about one another than anyone else ? because of these adventurous of theirs . when they aren’t having deep talks they’re running across the beach aimlessly & rolling around in the sand with one another . it’s really just a very pure plot that i need in my life . ( 0 / 1 )

TRUST NOBODY / this is someone who used logan for fame / attention . they either became close friends or even started dating & they used everything they learned about her or what went on between them to relay back to a tabloid / would call paparazzi to come and take pictures of them together whenever they’d go out . ( 0 / 1 )

some other plot ideas i’d love to see : x , x , x , x , x , x , x , x , x , x , x .

#wealthyhq:intro #hellurrrr *

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thethirteenthcrow · 4 years

Text

The Shyan Shipping Society Writing Challenge ✍️💕

Hello dear shippers!

My name’s Zhalia, a fanfic writer on archive of our own. you might know me from my stripper!Ryan au, or the cinderella au or from the many comments i leave on your amazing works.

Since October, i’ve been hosting very lowkey writing challenges on the Shyan Shipping Society Discord server. and i figured, i’d let good ol’ tumblr get a piece of it!

this is a fun lil' challenge to practice your writing with random prompts!

(shout out to @helloitsvehere for making the amazing header here and sorry to keep bugging you on it but it looks really amazing now darling <3)

✨RULES✨

✧ the challenge is held at monthly, we don't want to pressure anyone too much and we want to give you enough time to work! on top of that, the minimum amount of words for this challenge is 50, which is a very low bar, it's no school, this is for fun!! also don't worry if you miss a month.

✧ from the day we set the prompt, you have one month to meet the challenge. with this, we request a chapter or a start. if a prompt inspires u to write more than a oneshot or one chapter, feel free to expand as much as you can outside the challenge! everyone is requested to post their submissions on the same day (so say we start at october 1st, then you're only allowed to submit your submissions on october 31st, no sooner). We then hope to announce the new prompt on, for example, november 1st to continue the cycle, but it may differ at times.

✧ There are no specifications to your writing. you may write however you like, a story, a description, a poem, anything is allowed. you're free to write in any rating, be it G or E-rated. we prefer M/E of course, cause we're thirsty like that. if you’re an artist, you’re free to join too! more elaboration in the FAQ below :D.

✧ if you have ideas for prompts, please DM me on Discord or mail me on [email protected] ! i love to hear em <3 (keep reading for more information on the challenge)

i can’t wait to see all your lovely works! i’m really stoked to see and chat with you and learn all that’s going around in your wonderful minds.

much love,

Zhalia💖

✨FAQ✨

o What is the Shyan Shipping Society (Server)?

The shipping society is a discord server owned by @bradpistachio where a bunch of shippers gather to chat about anything: their lives; the boys; other fanworks like fanfics and fanart; annoying antis; we have a writing lab to talk about your own works, and much more! The server is filled with amazing artists like madamecrimson, @helloitsvehere, @pizzacastella, sonzaishinai and many more. The server is an active and welcoming community. In the server, I also roll out the updates for this challenge and answer all your questions. Will we see you there?

o Do i need to join the server to post?

It's not required! The server is a lil' bonus, a place where you can talk with fellow shippers about anything, but also where i will be reminding you of the challenge. We have handful of channels dedicated to this writing challenge, so it might help you out. It's also easier for me to follow, and whenever you have questions i will reply faster there than anywhere else. But, again, it's not necessary.

o If i join the challenge once, am i required to join every month?

Most definitely not! You're free to join and leave whenever you want. Sometimes a prompt doesn't inspire you, or life dragged you away from writing and that's completely valid! This challenge is supposed to be a fun way to motivate you to express yoursef through your art, but it's not school so don't ever feel pressured :).

o What tags do i include, what are the ratings we work in?

There are no required ratings and/or tags for you to use. In general, the prompts are all focused on Shyan, but if you'd like to add Standrew as a background relationship, feel free!! If the prompt is Watcher-oriented, but you feel like you need a bit of that spice that Curly brings with him, i encourage you! On top of that, you're free to choose whichever ratings you feel fit best. Personally, i mostly live off of M- and E-rated fics, but if you're uncomfortable with graphic descriptions of anything, and would rather keep it a fluffy G-rated fic, then knock yourself out! I believe you know what's best for your work!

On the shipping server, the prompt will have a set of recommended tags, these are ideas i'd write the prompt in, but they aren't mandatory. If it says 'friends to lovers' but you'd rather write 'established relationship' then feel free! It's your work after all.

o Is there a minimum and/or maximum word count?

There is a minimum word count of 50 words right now, to show that you're seriously participating (i mean, wouldn't want "he smiled, they kissed, they fucked, the end" as a fic, right?). Your work does not have to be finished in order to fulfill the prompt, you can write one chapter, or one paragraph and edit it later when you have more time. If a prompt inspires you enough to write a long fic about it, don't feel pressured to finish it within a month! Take your time!! All we ask is for you to have written a start, and post that to the collection.

o i am no writer, but i’d love to make art for this in another way, is that possible?

Of course! originally the challenge was only made for writers, because the server was filled with a majority of writers. however, over the past few weeks we’ve had a handful of artists join our little community as well, people like sonza and @berakangkang. Sonza has blessed us by filling the October prompt as well, so if you’re an artist and you’d like to participate, please join! we love love love your art. honestly. the server goes wild on fanart.

o When do i post my submission?

Everyone who joins the challenge, posts their submission on the same day. This is the last 48 hours of a month - CET timezone. The next prompt will have been rolled out a day before we open submissions, so you can get familiar with it for a day or two before starting on it.

o I don't think i'll reach the deadline, now what?

You can contact me privately about this through our discord server - for fast replies - or via my email ([email protected]). I will open the collection for you so you can submit it later. Keep an eye on the deadline though, a challenge won't be reopened a month after the deadline.

o I have an amazing idea for a prompt, where do i submit it?

On the discord server, we have a channel named 'prompts-and-ideas' where some of these prompts even came from, you can submit them there and @ me so i'd know it's for the writing challenge.

If you don't have discord or don't want to join the server, you're free to mail me your idea with Shyan Shipping Society Prompt Idea as subject! I look forward to your ideas!

here’s the link to the parent collection on Archive Of Our Own, where you can always find the new prompts for the next months, and where you can post your work once i open the collection.

i can’t wait to see your works! i’m very excited to see what you all can come up with <3

ps,

this is the first time i host a writing challenge like this. i’m still learning my way around ao3′s function to make prompt meme challenges, and there may always be little bugs in the system, because i have but a small brain. i rely on carl-bot to remind me to post and open submissions and everything, to keep it running smoothly. i am trying my very best to make this fun for everyone. also i crave feedback, so if you have any comments, complaints, ideas, critique, please hit me up!!

oh and yeah i am very inactive on the tumblrs because i don’t uh catch the vibe of this platform but i’m trying. i’m trying. 👉👈

#shyan #we took an oath #skeptic believer #buzzfeed unclean #shyan shipping society #shyan shipping society writing challenge #fanfic #fanfics #archive of our own #archiveofourown #ao3 #writing challenge #please bear with me i have but a small brain #zhalia does a thing #zhalia's writing challenge #discord #discord server

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babysizedfics · 4 years

Note

Back at it again with a couple more HC prompts, which imma just dump in one, and you can pick which ones you want. Puddles with the kiddos, family baking sessions when both are regressed, Ro wanting attention whilst Logan is reading, so climbing all over his book, how their reactions to new stuffies differ, regressed versus non-regressed birthdays.... Etc... 👍

okokokokok buckle up everyone

Puddles:

this is the only one where i have to be like .. i don't think so :0 see virgil can get very nervous when it rains because he's so anxious about 'is it gonna storm? will there be thunder? will we be hit by lightning? will there be a flood? what if one of us slips and hurts our head??' that he just cannot relax enough to be able to jump around in puddles because 'WHAT IF I SLIP IM GONNA DIE' and the wetness on his skin sets off the wrong sensory feelings so jumping in muddy puddles is a no for him (as much as he loves peppa pig)

and roman is a fussy little thing, he may not care as much for his appearance when he's small but i think he will still be conscious enough to notice if he gets wet hair and muddy clothes - plus i feel like roman's mood is quite tied to the weather, on dark days he tends to fee a little more gloomy, ao again not sure about this especially if he wouldn't have his baby brother there with him

Baking:

OH BOY so roman is a great cook okay? like chef level he has honed his skills so that he can make romantic meals for handsome princes, but baking? nu uh, too technical, he ain't got time for that. Patton is the baker of the house and makes cookies and cupcakes way too often for Logan's liking (but secretly he loves them of course, he's just concerned for everybody's teeths) but both CGs will cook dinner when the boys are little

When the boys are regressed they're not allowed much in the kitchen anymore. after roman tried to make breakfast in bed for his CGs and started a very small but very real fire he has lost some kitchen rights (ficlet coming to you at some point perhaps) and is not allowed in the kitchen without at least one CG. even if he can switch so quickly between headspaces, he ends up either 1) too stubborn to come out of little space, or 2) a kittle bit clumsy when he comes out of it

but to make up for roman being upset by this slight loss of independence (he is a big kid after all) patton and he do weekly baking sessions! and there's always a theme. most recently they had animal crossing themed cupcakes, a little mermaid themed jello (not technically baking but roman wanted to but little fish gummies in the jelly), and... the next one is a secret because i might put it in chapter 7 (: in fact chapter 7 will feature the first instance of this tradition!!

virgil has pyrophobia (fear of fire) and so is never keen to be in the kitchen while there's food preparation going on (but he was allowed to help with the under the sea jello!!) so roman and pattons baking sessions are an excuse for mama and baby bonding time! the tradition didn't start until after virgil's separation anxiety from patton had eased up a little so luckily there's barely any tears

mama baby bonding time consists of but is not limited to: sitting on mama's lap, doing puzzles together, (vee trying to suck on a puzzle piece and crying when he's told not to), mama reading baby books to vee, vee touching all the textures and flaps in the baby books, snuggles

Ro wanting attention while Lo is reading:

this is 1000% canon!! later in the series logan will often be at work in his room and have the boys with him because patton is busy with something or another. they realise they really do need to keep working for thomas' sake but manage to integrate the boys' littlespaces into it. Eg. logan dangling baby plastic keys from one hand to amuse girgil while he's typing with the other

but when it's quiet time, when patton is in virgil's room because the baby is having a nap and papa wants to watch over him, when roman hasn't been little because he's been working or simply not in the mood earlier that day, when logan is just chilling, just reading a stephen hawking book in the living room, when he's literally just vibing, roman can and will launch himself into logan's lap sending the book flying and logan isn't allowed to tell him off because 'I'm little now! i want attention now!! hi mom!!!!'

New stuffies:

AHHHHHHHHH this this this is so so cute!!

roman never used to care much for soft toys before okay? before he was ever a little sure he appreciated disney action figures (he used them to block out scenes he wrote for theatre productions and screenplays and fanfiction) sure he always had a soft spot for Mrs Fluffybottom his childhood toy, but she always just sat on a shelf, he never fet the need to cuddle her or play with her

but when he realises he's little, when he starts playing with vee, when he sees how much vee cares about his soft animals, when patton and logan buy him a present to welcome him to the littlespace family and it's a golden teddy bear (soon to be named Aladdin) with big brown beady eyes and a satin crimson bow around its neck? yeah big kids love stuffies too

and now whenever roman is gifted a new toy (soft or otherwise) he essentially gets the zoomies!!! his brain is going a million miles a minute with all the game possibilities and with the excitement of NEW PRESENT!!! and with the happiness that his caregivers thought about him and he's been a good enough boy to deserve gifts?? yeah he's so so so excited he canNOT stand still he runs around the house for a whole hour flinging his new toy around (yeah he's a bit rough with them and there's been more than one torn limp or loose eye but he doesn't care it just shows how much they're loved!)

Now virgil: this boy is very very very emotionally attached to his stuffies. when he was a "dark side" he couldn't have much soft stuff because it just went against everything the household stood for and he couldn't risk the others finding out about how not-scary he really was, but he allowed himself a single stuffed rabbit that was easy to hide and that he loved with all of his being. it was his security blanket and his one item that could offer him comfort in a oanic attack and his only posession that he felt was true to him and not true to the scary facade he put up to scare thomas and the "light sides" into listening to him

without spoiling anything, that bunny was left in that house when he moved to the "light sides"

and in his new home virgil started collecting soft toys whenever he needed comfort. everytime he felt unwanted, every time he had an anxiety attack, everytime there was a thunderstorm predicted for the next week he would get himself a new soft toy because that was the only way he knew to comfort himself. needless to say he's got a pretty big collection now. you might think he became desensitized to new toys because of how many times he had gotten himself a new one, and you might be partly right.

that is until for the first time ever he is given a stuffie by someone else... when logan buys him a soft toy in apology for accidentally revealing his regression to everyone ((yes i am writing this fic!))

it wasn't really logan's fault, virgil should have been more aware he should have been more careful he should have hidden it all better but the logical side was guilt-ridden nonetheless. virgil hadn't expected much to be honest, the sincere apology was enough for him

but when logan blushed and shyly opened a box and handed him a black cat stuffie? virgil had to fight very very hard not to outright sob on the spot. he simply took it, thanked logan shakily, and prayed that logan didn't point out the fact that tears were falling onto the fluff of his new stuffed friend Jiji

now whenever he gets a new toy it's different than before - it's not because he's upset and needs comfort, it happens less often now but it's more special, it could be for a holiday or as a way of saying he's been very sweet or just because patton simply couldn't resist this one because look at its cute lil eyes! but each and everytime he knows when he is handed a new toy by one of his family members it really means 'i love you'

and he buries his face in its softness - it used to be to hide his tears, but now he just can't help but squeeze it tight and close and let the feeling of love wash over him

Birthdays:

yknow that episode of steven universe where steven wears a regal cape and a golden crown? yeah that's roman whether he's little or not

seriously this kid is very much the 'it's my birthweek!' type

lots of singing, lots of 'but i'm the birthday boy!!' to try to get thtings he really shouldn't be getting (like a third cookie) (and yes patton caves every single time) (patton is eventually banned from making decisions on romans behalf during his "birthweek")

there's not much difference at all between little romans birthday and big romans birthday, he's just an excitable boy whether he's a kiddo or not - this may or may not make the caregivers question whether maybe he actually was a little before virgil's regression was revealed

(irrelevant but patton definitely makes the pun 'you're a little? a little what? finish your sentences silly billy!')

virgil hates his birthday. hates it.

too much attention, too many things that could go wrong, too much pressure on it being a good day. what if his anxiety is bad that day? what if he doesn't want everyone watching him open presents? what if he's genuinely terrified that people think walking towards him with a big grin, singing at him, and carrying a cakeful of literal fire is a somehow a fun activity??

when he first moved into the house he made it very clear that he does not have a birthday so don't even try to throw him a party

naturally roman and patton were devastated, but after a failed attempt at getting virgil to enjoy his birthday they obeyed logan's request that they not try to push the idea on virgil any further

but the first birthday after they become a little family, it's a bit different

they don't push it, not at first, but virgil does wake up to patton already in his room and cooing at him adoringly , immediately sending him into his regressed headspace

then he's given a new soft toy. that wasn't so bad

then roman let him choose what disney film they watched. that wasnt bad either

then logan cuddled him for an hour and they might have fallen asleep together not noticing the smell of vanilla coming from the kitchen

then there was a new paci, a new rattle, another new soft toy, and cake cut up into tiny squares so he could nibble on it with his fingers

there was no loud singing no big surprises no bright lights or fire or anything else that he hated about birthdays

there was only love and toys and comfort. so virgil really didn't mind birthdays much after that

#wowie wow wow wow that was a lot i hope this is ok??#long post #all caps #food tw #pyrophobia tw #little/big concepts #agere virgil #little virgil #little roman #cg logan #cg patton #asks #anon #agedre roman

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wedreamedlove · 4 years

Photo

[Hairstyle]

"If it's for you then I can test it out."

Had this translation done already in the past so I just decided to heck with it and I'd move it over here.

NOTE: This is the JP version.

[Prank Date]

Recently, my company received a lot of projects and everyone was busy to the point of dizziness. It was the weekend today, but there was no time to sleep.

In addition, it was planned for Gu Meng and Han Ye to go to a film set today, but Gu Meng caught the stomach flu and wasn't able to go.

Because of that, I ended up going to the site instead of Gu Meng.

The shooting location was far from my house and transit was inconvenient. I had to wake up early.

MC: I need to get up... *yawn*.

I reached out to the old alarm clock beside my pillow and along the way pulled my phone, which was beside it, over to me.

Bai Qi: I heard about the site location from Han Ye. I'll send you. It'll be quicker that way.

I had received a text from Bai Qi. The time it was sent was midnight at 1:00 AM.

I replied immediately and my phone started vibrating within several seconds of my text being sent.

I answered the phone while rubbing my sleepy eyes.

Bai Qi: Why are you up already? You can sleep some more. I'll send you with Lil' Black and it'll take thirty minutes to reach the place.

MC: Sorry for not noticing your text. I woke up from my alarm clock.

Bai Qi: ......

Bai Qi: Then, take your time. Later, I'll bring you to the shop you always wanted to go to.

MC: You mean the breakfast special in that shop that's always crowded?

My drowsiness blew away instantly at Bai Qi's words and, at the same time, my stomach growled.

Bai Qi: Yeah, if we go now then we shouldn't need to line up.

Bai Qi: See you soon.

Like that, I went to the site location after having the breakfast special together with Bai Qi. When we arrived at the site, Han Ye waved at us in the distance.

I ate my long-desired breakfast special, arrived early and could prepare--- I encouraged myself with how "well begun is half done".

Bai Qi: Go ahead first. I'll find you after I park my bike.

MC: It's your day off though, you don't want to go home and rest?

Bai Qi: No need.

Bai Qi said that and straddled his bike before driving it to the parking lot.

MC: It's just like Bai Qi to be brusque like that.

This wasn't the first time Bai Qi had come to a film set. In particular, there were times he participated as a guest.

But I was sure this was his first time coming to the site of a prank show.

~~~

The filming in the morning proceeded without problems. If nothing continued to happen like this, we could probably pack up early.

Because we were filming a prank show, the atmosphere was lively even during break time.

Loud laughs could be heard frequently from here and there in the studio.

When I glanced over Bai Qi, who was sitting down, he firmly caught my gaze despite our distance.

MC: Is this a special agent's skill...?

I mumbled this in a quiet voice and was about to look away from Bai Qi when someone patted me on the shoulder from behind. I turned around and saw that it was the director of this prank show.

Director: Talking to yourself?

MC: Oh, no, is something wrong with the shoot?

Director: I was just bringing over some snacks.

I looked at the cream sandwich biscuits, which was used for pranks, held out in front of me and my face froze.

MC: Erm... the filling's been changed, right?

Director: It's fun because it's changed. If you guess right, then it's a prize! Go on and try.

This director was a big shot in this industry, so I wasn't able to refuse.

MC: Then... don't mind if I do.

Even if I looked at them closely, all the biscuits were the same and it didn't seem like anyone had touched them.

I picked one randomly and stuffed it into my mouth in one bite. Instantly, my face twisted in distress and I hunched over, coughing.

MC: Gugh... *coughing*! T-this is too spicy!

Bai Qi: What did you make her eat?

Bai Qi quickly stepped in between me and the director and the air became strained.

It wasn't just Bai Qi's actions but also his sharp glare that showed his mistrust and hostility towards the director.

The director, who had been grinning up to then, stiffened in front of Bai Qi.

I hurriedly pulled Bai Qi's arm and had him step back before explaining the situation.

MC: Don't misunderstand. I just overreacted a little bit...

MC: What I ate earlier was a matcha biscuit, but I pretended it was wasabi-flavored.

MC: I jumped on the theme of this show and wanted to tease the director...

Hearing this explanation, the director burst into laughter but there was no smile in Bai Qi's eyes.

MC: I'm sorry, sir. I caused some trouble.

Director: No, it's alright. However, I can see that Bai Qi here seems to care about you a lot.

The director said this and patted Bai Qi's shoulder, although Bai Qi was still baring his hostility. Then he continued as if he thought of something---

Director: Oh, I know! It must be some fate that we met here. Bai Qi, why don't you also try your luck?

Saying this, the director presented the biscuits to Bai Qi. Then, I witnessed him setting something up quickly and so I tried to stop Bai Qi in a panic.

MC: Bai Qi---

But before I could finish speaking, Bai Qi picked up a biscuit.

Bai Qi: Thanks.

Bai Qi tossed the entire biscuit into his mouth without giving me time to stop him.

Bai Qi: Not bad.

Director: No way! (small voice) I'm sure I secretly switched them to wasabi...

The director picked up a biscuit with a dubious expression and threw one into his own mouth.

In the next moment, a scream rang through the studio and everyone could see the director searching for water.

I knew Bai Qi liked spicy things, but I couldn't believe he was able to be this calm. Looking up at Bai Qi, who didn't even bat an eye, I asked him a question.

MC: Bai Qi... what you just ate, was it really wasabi-flavored?

Bai Qi: What else would it be? Let's go.

Bai Qi took my hand and, pushing through the crowd, brought me to the entrance of the film site.

MC: Where are we going?

Bai Qi: Lunch.

MC: We're still in the middle of shooting!

Bai Qi: Going by the atmosphere, I thought---

MC: We were just taking a short break.

I interrupted Bai Qi's words and plainly refused the invitation to lunch.

Then, half-pulling Bai Qi, I went into the dressing room.

MC: Wait here. I'll come get you when it's the lunch break.

Bai Qi: I can wait outside.

MC: The wind's strong and cold outside.

Bai Qi: Am I afraid of the wind?

MC: ... If you go from hot to cold all of a sudden, you'll catch a cold.

Bai Qi: Then I'll wait nearby like I was doing earlier.

MC: No! If you're close by then... I'll get distracted. So waiting here is the best!

Bai Qi gave up in the end at my firmness and refusal to budge and nodded.

The moment he nodded I felt like the corners of his mouth were raised.

~~~

It was two hours later when I returned to the dressing room again.

The shooting, which had gone smoothly up to then, hit a continuation of NGs from the director and everything was completely delayed.

MC: Bai Qi---

The instant I ran into the dressing room, not wanting to make Bai Qi wait any longer, my words caught in my throat.

Bai Qi was sleeping in the same position as when I left the room. Only, his head was tilted to the side and, having lost support, his forehead was pressed unnaturally against the back of a chair.

He must have been tired because, even though it was finally his day off, he was keeping me company at work.

Feeling apologetic, I quietly approached Bai Qi, trying not to wake him up.

His sleeping face wasn't that stern, but there was a small furrow between his brows.

MC: Is he having a bad dream?

I mumbled as if I was talking to myself and unconsciously reached out to touch the middle of Bai Qi's eyebrows. In that moment---

Before I could touch Bai Qi with my right hand, it was grabbed and stopped from moving.

MC: Ah---

Bai Qi's closed eyes snapped open and there was pressure in those honey-colored eyes.

His sharp gaze made me hold my breath and forget the pain in my hand.

Bai Qi: ... Oh, it's you.

Bai Qi released my hand and the tension throughout his body also disappeared.

Bai Qi: Sorry, that must have hurt.

It looked like that was Bai Qi's conditioned reflex. There was still a little sting and I lightly rubbed my arm.

MC: I'm OK. But did I wake you?

Bai Qi pressed a palm to his forehead and shook his head left and right.

Bai Qi: What were you doing just now?

Looking back at what I tried to do, my face instantly grew hot.

MC: Um, your head was leaning against the sofa and it messed up your hair, so I thought I'd try to fix it... mhm, yep.

I nodded vigorously and dodged the question.

It was the truth that, because Bai Qi's sleeping posture was unnatural, his short bangs became weird.

Bai Qi roughly combed through his hair with his fingers and smoothed it down, but the moment he took away his hand his bangs sprung up.

Bai Qi: It's better now, right?

MC: Haha. Bai Qi, your bangs are sticking up.

His bangs, which jumped straight up, tickled my curiosity.

MC: Come to think of it, did you also have this hairstyle when you entered the special forces?

Bai Qi: It wasn't this long.

I looked at the tools in the dressing room and suddenly thought up a good idea.

MC: Bai Qi... I want to see what you look like with your forehead showing.

When I said this, Bai Qi brushed his bangs up without hesitation.

Bai Qi: Here.

MC: Not like that. Sort of set like that for a longer time!

Bai Qi: ... What do you want to do?

I sat Bai Qi down in front of the mirror and, with the feeling of being a famous hair and makeup artist, grabbed a brush.

His short, dark brown hair was softer than it looked. A golden halo was made underneath the lights and it softened Bai Qi's outline.

MC: I wonder how long it's been since I brushed someone's hair.

Bai Qi: You've brushed other people's hair?

MC: Like my elementary school friends. I can't remember anything before then though...

MC: I might have brushed doll hair when I was much smaller.

Bai Qi: Is it your first time brushing hair this short?

MC: Yep, but leave it to me!

Bai Qi: Looking forward to it.

While we were talking, I smoothed down the sides of his hair and pushed his bangs up, creating a pompadour style.

Looking at Bai Qi in the mirror, I was at a loss for words. Because, even though it was just his forehead being exposed, it was like he became another person.

Bai Qi's masculine looks stood out even more, with a ruggedness, and there was a different coolness from before. I came back to myself after staring at him admiringly for a few seconds.

MC: H-how is it? I'm pretty skilled, right?

Bai Qi: ... Not bad.

Bai Qi glanced at the mirror and reluctantly answered.

Because Bai Qi agreed with me, a playfulness was lit in me.

MC: Why don't we put on this strawberry hair tie? I'm sure it'll be cute!

Bai Qi looked at the cute strawberry hair tie in my hand and fell silent for a second before he curtly replied.

Bai Qi: ... No.

MC: Haha---

Bai Qi placed his chin in his hand a little sullenly and gave the hair tie a sidelong glance while frowning.

Bai Qi: Are you doing this on purpose?

MC: Hahaha... don't look so scary. Smile, smile!

I put the hair tie on my own wrist and raised the corners of Bai Qi's mouth with my index fingers, making a smile.

Maybe he was going along with me, or maybe he really smiled, but Bai Qi's stiff expression softened and he gave a small chuckle.

Coupled with an unfamiliar hairstyle, this laughing Bai Qi wasn't like the one in my memories at all.

Bai Qi: Have you seen enough? If you're done, let's go get lunch.

Bai Qi stood up from his chair as he said this and stroked my head.

Bai Qi: I heard there's a well-known restaurant close to here. It'll take us ten minutes to get there.

I couldn't stand still upon hearing the mention of food. Bai Qi was familiar with how to direct my attention to something else.

However, even though I planned to have an enjoyable lunch with Bai Qi, a sudden trouble befell us.

To think such a thing would happen---

The tenth try also ended in failure.

In front of the door knob, which wouldn't turn no matter what, I had no choice but to accept the cruel reality.

MC: Bai Qi, are we...

Bai Qi: Mm.

Bai Qi calmly nodded without a change in his expression.

Bai Qi: We're locked in here.

~~~

MC: Is anyone there? Open the door! We're in the dressing room!

No matter how I shouted I couldn't even hear footsteps, to say nothing of a reply.

MC: I wonder if everyone went out for lunch...

MC: Oh, I know! We can just call someone and have them come!

I thought that and stuck my hand into my bag to search for my phone.

MC: Ah... My phone's in my jacket pocket which I left in the studio...

MC: Hey, Bai Qi, could you call Han Ye?

Bai Qi: ... No need.

MC: Huh? Why?

Bai Qi unlocked his own phone and handed it to me. I accepted it while feeling a little confused over what he meant with this.

Bai Qi: It's a prank.

MC: You mean they didn't go out for lunch and just forgot about us...?

I called Han Ye with Bai Qi's phone but it didn't even ring. Bai Qi's guess might have been right.

MC: Then... what should we do?

Bai Qi: It's just a door.

I had a bad feeling with those words. I could easily imagine the sight of Bai Qi kicking open the door.

MC: What do you... plan on doing?

Bai Qi didn't answer and returned to the sofa before relaxing like that.

Bai Qi: It'll open soon, so there's no need to worry.

MC: I've been locked in before back when I was an elementary student though. It was April Fool's that day, but I was locked in for a really long time...

MC: But I got my revenge the next year!

Bai Qi didn't broach the current situation, maybe to relax the tense air, and joined my topic.

Bai Qi: Do you like these sort of pranks and April Fool's things?

MC: Yup. It's fun to have different surprises every time. But during middle school...

MC: I think it was when I was in the first year, but the class beside us did a terrible prank and the kid who was pranked was sent to the hospital...

MC: After that, the teachers forbade us from doing pranks or having practical joke toys.

MC: Maybe it was the rebelliousness of youth, but...

MC: Everyone wore pigtails, which was against the rules, and went to school. Now that I think about it... it seems silly, huh.

I made a wry smile while immersing myself in the memories of the past.

Many things might not need a reason or meaning behind them. Because their existence itself was meaningful.

While I talked about these lighthearted memories, Bai Qi continued to stare at me quietly.

Although I was worried at the situation of being trapped, if he was here then I felt like anything could be solved.

Bai Qi: It's my turn then.

MC: Huh? What do you mean your turn?

Bai Qi: For me to tie your hair.

MC: Wha---!?

My arm was already pulled the moment I exclaimed and I was sat down in front of the mirror. I couldn't help but feel uneasy inwardly as I looked at Bai Qi through the mirror.

MC: Um, Bai Qi, you haven't done someone's hair before, right?

Bai Qi: Mhm, you're the first.

MC: Do you know how to tie hair?

Bai Qi: Nope.

I was speechless at Bai Qi's straight answer. And yet, why was he so full of confidence...

Before I knew it, Bai Qi returned his bangs to their original state. I turned around and revealed my uneasiness.

MC: Why are you---

Bai Qi: Shhh. Don't move. I can't guarantee a good result if you move around like that.

I turned my face back to the front at Bai Qi's "threat". I couldn't do anything but sit quietly in front of the mirror.

Bai Qi stood behind me and showed a wide, sly grin.

In his hands was the strawberry hair tie.

MC: That hair tie...!?

Bai Qi: It suits you more.

I looked at my own arm and the strawberry hair tie, which should have been there, was gone.

MC: When did you take it!?

Bai Qi: When you were panicking and crying.

MC: I didn't cry!

I looked back over my shoulder and his grin became larger.

Bai Qi: Alright, look at the mirror.

During our talk, Bai Qi had already finished tying up my hair.

Contrary to my expectations, the style Bai Qi made was pretty good.

Even though he was someone who would ask "What's a blowout?" though... I thought about what happened before and laughed out loud.

MC: Ahaha...!

Bai Qi: What? Is it that funny?

MC: No, I just remembered how you asked before "What's a blowout" on the chat...

MC: To think there was a stylist near me.

MC: If you went into the beauty industry, I'm sure you'd be a big success.

Bai Qi: ... If I really do have talent then it's because of you.

Bai Qi's eyes were smiling as he said this, but his tone was serious.

Inside the mirror, his warm gaze was directed at me. I felt embarrassed being looked at by those eyes.

MC: But... um, this hair style might be a bit childish.

Bai Qi: ... And yet you were trying to get me to wear it?

MC: Erm... sorry.

When I accepted my mistake and apologized honestly, Bai Qi undid my tied hair.

MC: Bai Qi---

I tried to stand up but Bai Qi lightly pressed down on my shoulders.

Bai Qi: Don't move.

Bai Qi: I'm going to do another hair style this time.

Not giving me the chance to refuse, Bai Qi began to brush my hair with a comb again.

For a short while, all I could hear in my ears was the sound of brushing hair. I even felt like time was passing in a sluggish manner.

Bai Qi's movements were slow and the rustle of my hair made a strange rhythm.

I don't know how much time passed before I came back to myself at Bai Qi's voice.

Bai Qi: Okay.

MC: ... Mm?

I had spaced out at some point and, at Bai Qi's voice, I returned my eyes to myself in the mirror.

Bai Qi: Is this still childish looking?

Illuminated by the warm lights, my reflection inside the mirror had a low ponytail. It was a sight I felt like I had seen somewhere before.

MC: This is...?

Bai Qi leaned down and placed his hands on the back of the chair, closing the distance between us.

Bai Qi: I wasn't there for your university, middle school, or elementary school years, and even the time before then.

Bai Qi's voice, as he stood behind me, came from right beside my ear.

Bai Qi: In my memories, there's only the sight of you in high school. At that time, your hair was longer than it is now.

I came to a sudden realization upon being told that. This low ponytail was certainly the trend during my high school years and it was also one of the hair styles I did.

Inside the mirror, Bai Qi came close enough to where I would bump into him if I turned my head.

MC: Bai Qi...

Bai Qi: But it doesn't matter. From here on, we have time to create new memories.

My words were interrupted by Bai Qi.

The orange color of the lights hid my reddened cheeks.

My heart pounded when I understood the meaning of Bai Qi's sincere words.

Bai Qi: Nervous?

Bai Qi asked this as if he could hear my heartbeat. His eyes looked as if he was enjoying this situation.

MC: You know why.

When I quietly protested, Bai Qi deliberately came closer and peered into my face. There was a smile on his lips.

Bai Qi: How about this then?

My nervous, embarrassed, and lost appearance was clearly reflected in Bai Qi's eyes.

It felt like my heart would leap out from my mouth. My eardrums were also matching my heartbeat and seemed to tremble.

My own heartbeat was so noisy that I couldn't hear anything else.

I also couldn't look away, close my eyes, or escape from here.

MC: Are you teasing me?

When I asked this firmly, Bai Qi's eyebrows rose in amusement and he closed the distance even more.

He was close enough that I could feel his breath and both the tip of our noses could brush.

Bai Qi: If that's what you want to think then sure.

Bai Qi: Let's see who can last longer.

MC: I... I won't lose!

Bai Qi tilted his head slightly and the distance between us continued to shrink even further. I became stubborn and so I still didn't pull back.

Our distance got closer and closer and closer... I could almost count the number of Bai Qi's eyelashes.

Then, in that moment, I heard a loud noise from the other side of the door---

The door opened.

At the same time, I could see a group of familiar staff members gathered in front of the door.

Staff A: Uh... um, we just came to unlock the door!

Staff B: Both of you, please continue! We didn't see anything!

Staff C: Erm... we'll leave your lunch outside the door. Don't mind us!

Bai Qi: ......

The door was closed again and the sound of their footsteps became distant.

My courage, which came from some unknown place, also went away.

Returning to my senses, I felt awkward remembering what had just happened.

I turned red and tried to push Bai Qi back, but instead I was tightly hugged.

MC: Bai Qi...

Bai Qi: Listen to me.

At Bai Qi's strong words, I felt a force from him right now which no one would seem to be able to stop.

Bai Qi: I rarely joke around with people.

The voice that vibrated in his chest sounded different from usual.

Maybe because I was enveloped in Bai Qi's arms, but it was slightly hard to breath. My face grew hotter.

I managed to open my mouth while being held by him.

MC: But just now... didn't you tease me a lot?

Bai Qi tried to stifle a laugh in the back of his throat, as if he was aware of that. Then the arms that were holding me tightened even more.

Bai Qi: Because it's you.

Bai Qi: Whether it was a joke, or a prank, or anything, it's up to you to decide.

Bai Qi: But I'll promise you this. There will never be lies between us.

Bai Qi: At the very least... I will never lie to you. No matter when.

~~~

DATE DIARY

In spite of it being the weekend I had to work. When I got up early, thinking about the time it'd take to travel, I realized that Bai Qi sent me a message late last night. He said he'd send me to the shooting site.

Today's recording was a prank show. I was dragged into a joke with the cookie sandwiches used for pranks by the director and his evil clutches crept to Bai Qi... but like the saying, "a crafty schemer drowns in his own scheme", the director was the one who ended up in the prank's trap because of Bai Qi's calm.

Bai Qi was dozing when I returned to the dressing room. I unconsciously reached out to him because his eyebrows were furrowed in his sleep but he woke up. I dodged his persistent question by saying I tried to fix his hair. Bai Qi was attractive in a different way than usual when his forehead was revealed after I messed with his hair.

Bai Qi and I were locked in the dressing room. I got worried and he said he'd tie my hair like he was calming me down. I couldn't believe he remembered my hair style from when I was in high school. By the time I realized it, Bai Qi's reflection in the mirror came closer and closer. My red face was hidden in the warm-colored lights, but Bai Qi might have noticed my pounding heart.

#mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #mlqc gavin #mlqc bai qi #my translations

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mnyg1800com · 5 years

Text

baby pink

a lil gift for you bub, @kookesprit ! thank you for being so nice and understanding and dealing with my shit and assholery 24/7, and i really hope this doesn’t disappoint (i am well aware my smut writing sucks but pls know i did try really hard ahsjfah)

disclaimer; daddy!jungkook, light choking derogatory, bondage, sensory play (blindfolding)

He was stressed. Jungkook was stressed. With the album release coming up, he was always reminded of the pressure on his shoulders. Just thinking about the future tour, fan meets, and performance gave him a headache. In a manner of maintaining a perfect body as well as memorizing all the different lyrics, choreographies, at the same time as keeping a healthy relationship with his friends and family was hard. Understandably, he is stressed.

It was past midnight, the whole neighborhood was sleeping. Except for you. you were waiting for Jungkook to come back home, knowing he would be arriving late(as he has been the past few weeks). So when the front door was slammed shut to signal his arrival, you didn’t flinch. It was normal, however, you did try to ask him to try and refrain from doing so, he completely forgot his promise since the next night he did it again.

“Baby?”

He called out to you, dropping his practice bag onto the living room couch. He could sense you were upstairs, considering the lights downstairs were all turned off.

You didn’t call back as you usually did. You were too busy making sure that everything was perfect. You could notice your boyfriend tensed shoulder’s a mile away and the eye bags under his eyes were even more noticeable than they have been in a while.

So, you lay under the covers with his favorite lingerie set adorning your body. The light pink wasn’t displayed in the light as you dimmed the lights in the room, the moonlight flowing through the curtains. After his continuous nights working and slaving away in the practice, you had decided that Jungkook should have some weight lifted off of his shoulder.

When you heard his feet padding against the staircase, you took a deep breath and gave yourself a boost of confidence, reminding yourself that Jungkook would enjoy the surprise. The door was opened softly, probably under the assumption you were asleep, and Jungkook entered the room. With the dim light shining on his face, you could see a soft smile on his face.

“Hey, Gguk, how was practice?” You asked as you usually would, still keeping your body under the covers. The loose black t-shirt he was wearing exposed his collarbone a little bit, the sliver of his beautiful skin made you bite your lip. He really wasn’t aware of how effortlessly attractive he was, and it was a dangerous feat he had.

“You know the usual, stressful and a lot of hard work,” he replied back. He walked to the drawers, discarding his shirt in the process of his walk. The muscles in his back were on your display and that’s when you pushed the covers aside. As he rummaged through the hangers, you wrapped your arms around his slim waist.

“Stressful, huh? I can only imagine how you and the boys are feeling right now,” your voice was soft, yet sultry. You made sure to leave any space, just pulling his bare back flush against your barely covered body.

He seemed to have recognized the familiar feeling of the lace against his back, slowly turning to you, his eyes had slowly blown wide, trailing over your figure. A smirk pulled on your lips at the reaction and you moved your arms from his waist to wrap around his neck. Slowly pulling him down, you connected your lips as your hands played with his hair. His response was immediate, pulling you closer by your waist.

“I know you’re stressed,” you whispered, “you know I can help you forget about those worries, daddy.”

There it was. The word he had been begging to hear after seeing you in your provocative outfit for only a few seconds. His eyes looked down to see your lashes flutter delicately as you looked down to his exposed torso. His dark gaze falls further down, taking in the image of you dressed in the lace once again. It was enough to push him to the edge.

“Wearing such a pretty little outfit, huh? You know how much I love this piece.” To exaggerate the meaning of his words, he let his hands trail over the little intricate details in the fabric. His fingers traced a certain pattern on your breast, moving slowly to feel every curve of your body. When he had reached the thin strap that wrapped around your waist, he smirked devilishly. With a single tug, your pelvic met his. A small gasp left your lips when you felt his semi-hard cock poke your stomach. Deciding to have more fun than planned for tonight, you teased him a bit.

"Really needy, huh, Jeon? You got it in you to please mr." You said with a smirk after getting over the initial shock. He has always hated that nickname, even though you used it out of affection. Why he hated it? You didn’t know, but in times like this, pissing him off with that nickname was still much more entertaining. It also meant rougher sex and you couldn’t complain to that.

“You know how I feel about that, baby girl,” his hand trailed up your torso, an annoyed, sarcastic smile on his face. His hand had settled on the base of your neck, not inching upwards one bit, but the expression he had on his face showed he wouldn’t hesitate to. “you know what the fuck to call me, so don’t test me, brat.”

He dropped to his knees, spreading your legs apart by your ankles. His hot breath hit your clothed core and it sent a shiver down your back. A smirk was on his lips as he gently dragged his tongue up the thin clothing, tasting your wetness that seeped through the flimsy material.

"And who do you think I am? When have I never pleased you?" A hum left his lips and, not giving you a second to react, he roughly pulled the lingerie aside, impatiently diving in to taste you on his tongue.

God, you couldn't describe how good Jungkook was to you. You were supposed to be the one treating him tonight, but unsurprisingly he flipped the tables. So instead, you were the moaning mess as you buried your hand in his black tuffs of hair, tugging at his strands to showcase your pleasure.

A soft mutter of his name encouraged him to become rougher, adding his index finger into the mix. While his tongue rolled over your clit, his fingers were stretching you open. He developed a pace of his fingers to be in sync with his tongue. The curl of his fingers along with the constant abuse of your sensitive clit has caused a knot to form in your stomach in record time.

The sound of your labored breathing was a significant sign of how close you were as well as how your hand tugged his head closer to your wet pussy. "Are you gonna come for daddy? Hm?" As he pulled away to look up at you with dark eyes, a trail of your juice was left on his chin. The epitome of lust and sex was how he looked at this moment. "You know the rules, brat."

"Please, please let me come, daddy. Your little brat wants to cum from the pleasure you're giving me," The familiar smirk returned on his lips, he loved hearing you beg for release. A wave of power always washed over him when you did so. A power he would always abuse over you.

He didn't speak another word, going back to lapping at your swollen bud. He waited, watching your expressions carefully before he completely pulled away, fingers and mouth far away from your aching core. His fingers were slick with your juices, which he licked at hungrily.

An aggravated sound left your lips, propping yourself up on your elbows in frustration. "Really? I followed the rules didn't I, Daddy?~"

Your words made a breathy chuckle leave his lips, "You think I'd let you come that easily? No fucking way, brat, we're just getting started."

The devilish smirk on his lips should've had you annoyed and frustrated with him, but you both knew how much you loved this. Him having complete control over your body, getting to decide himself as to when you get to feel the pleasure of releasing.

"Now, hands up against the headboard." His words were curt and you did as told, not wanting any punishment, especially since that knot in your stomach was still uncomfortably tight and waiting for some sort of relief.

He grabs two ties of his, restraining your wrists. They were tight enough so you couldn't get out and you could only imagine the purple blotches that would show a mere few days later. He pulled out a blindfold you two kept stored in your bedside drawer and tied it to cover your eyes.

His hands were light and swift, unclipping the restraint on the front of the lingerie. He also took care of the bottom piece, throwing the expensive material to lay someplace on the floor. You took a nervous gulp, hearing the sound of several things being moved about. Without warning, his hands spread your legs apart and you could practically feel his lustful gaze.

"You remember our safe word, yeah?"

A hum left your lips as you nodded your head.

"Good." He said quietly, positioning the small vibrator to your heated core. With one small push of his finger, the cool metal was inside you, your jaw dropping at the feeling. The vibrations went through your whole body, making you crave more.

"Da-Daddy, plea-"

His thumb pressed against the button on his small remote, smirking as he saw you thrash around slightly. "Now, now, I thought you could be patient for me? Don't tell me you can't?"

He placed soft kisses to your stomach all the way up the valley of your breasts. With a slight movement of his finger, the vibrations spiked up again. Whines left your lips and filled the almost silent room. Jungkook shamelessly stroked his hard cock, the whimpers and sounds leaving your lips making him almost regret not fucking you right then and there. Keyword - almost.

Turning the vibrations up one more notch, he dropped the remote onto the side of the bed. His hand grabbed one side of your face, keeping your mouth open. "Take it like a good slut. Please me with that pretty mouth of yours."

That was all he said before pushing his cock into your open mouth. The feeling of your lips around his shaft had him biting his lip to hide the small groans that threatened to leave his lips. Taking it slowly first, he had a handful of hair in his hands to guide your mouth against him.

You were grateful for his slower pace but began to move on your own after becoming comfortable. Your head was moving at a constant speed, not afraid of taking your time around his sensitive tip. Your tongue danced around his slit, rubbing against it to stimulate him more and bring him closer to his high. When you moved down to his base, you hollowed your cheeks. Soon enough, he couldn't bother hiding his moans. He might've known how to rile you up, but you held all the cards when it came to orally pleasing him. You knew just what he wanted and how to get him into becoming a moaning mess.

The feeling of the vibrator buried within you hasn't vanished though. You were eager for him to come down your throat, but you were also chasing your high. Having your mouth full of his hard cock was an arousing feeling itself, but having the stimulation down in your core was the most extreme amount of pleasure you could have gotten out of the two.

"Shit, you're so fucking good for me."His raspy voice only encouraged you to take more of him. "You look so fucking sexy taking all of me, you're such a good girl for Daddy. And all of mine to ruin and fuck."

The grip on the back of your neck had tightened, pulling you increasingly closer and closer to his base. You were at your climax, white fire spreading all over your body as your release had finally come. The vibration from your moans around his cock made a string of curses leave his lips. He was then releasing his seed down the back of your throat, his senses turning even more sensitive with how aggressive his high was.

Licking your swollen, red lips, you had a hazy smile on your face. Jungkook noticed, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. He swiftly took off the blindfold, meeting your eyes for a second. The hazy look obviously showing had him pressing his lips against your own once again in eagerness. Tasting himself on your tongue made his actions more aggressive and hungry for more.

"Since you took all of my cum, like a good slut," he said huskily, "you'll be getting a reward tonight." The kisses resumed, a trail from your jaw to your breasts.

He turned off the vibrator with the remote, slowly pulling the toy out, which was coated with your glistening release. He took generous licks against the metal before tossing it to the sheets of your bed.

His hands grasped your thighs, spreading your legs and pulling you closer. Feeling himself harden once again just by the sight of you, a smirk was on his lips. You had no idea the affect you had on him. Giving himself a few pumps on his hardening cock, he positioned himself to your core.

He slowly pushed his tip in, waiting for your signal to continue while he tried biting back his groan at the bare feeling of you surrounding him. However, one sigh of his pleasure was enough for you to nod eagerly for him to continue.

His cock made you feel full, your walls tightening around him. "Fuck, Jesus Christ, you're so fucking tight around me."

His chest heaves up and down as he takes in deep breaths to calm himself. His hips begin moving at a slow pace, but soon enough he's bucking his hips and the sound of skin slapping skin begins to fill the room. All of his self-restraint was gone and out the window, you were simply too irresistible. All of the pressure and stress put onto his shoulders regarding the upcoming release of the album was slowly withering away. He was slowly forgetting about the album and started focusing on you and your pleasure.

You try and break away from the restraints around your hands, wanting nothing more than to bring him closer to you. But because the knots around your hands were too tight to break free, you wrapped your legs around his waist, his tip now hitting spots he didn't have access to before.

"Oh my fuck!" Your head was thrown back, basking in the feeling of his tip hitting your g-spot repeatedly. "Jungkook, faster! Harder!"

There was no holding back on his part, edging you closer to your second high due to his roughness. Meanwhile, Jungkook's expression spoke for how he felt. Eyebrows furrowed with a light, sheen coat of sweat covering his torso and forehead. The flexing of his abdomen and biceps exaggerated the muscles he had. Even the muscles he had in his thighs were being accentuated by the sober light and how often he was flexing them. His thighs were always eye candy to you, no matter how he was dressed, clothes, or no clothes. The sight of him right now was something you could live off of for the rest of your life.

"Baby, I'm gonna come!" He wasn't shy anymore in vocalizing his high. There was a small stutter to his hips before he almost collapsed onto your body. The feeling of your walls tight and heat radiating from your core surrounding him was overwhelming that his muscles almost gave out. His hands trailed down to your clit, rubbing against the sensitive nub as his hips continued on with their rough actions.

You didn't bother hiding your moans and whimpers, knowing Jungkook loved the sounds you made in bed. "Daddy, can I come?" Your breathing was ragged, it being a bit hard to speak with the constant pounding into your pussy. Although the chances were unlikely, you weren't about to risk a denial of your release.

"Yes baby, go ahead and come all over my cock."

The white fire from earlier came back, but was stronger that ever and it felt like your whole body was burning up. It was almost like you were seeing stars. The knot in your stomach finally was relieved and you breathed out a long sigh, a smile on your lips. Jungkook slowly pulled out, recollecting himself before going to get a spare hand towel to clean you both up.

He came back with the warm rag, gingerly cleaning around your area. He was gentle, knowing how sensitive you still were. After cleaning you up, he untied your wrists, examining the red skin. Soft kisses were planted to make up for the small painful spots he had caused.

"I'm sorry if they hurt a lot, my love."

His tone was soft, showing perfect duality from his previous tone he used when degrading you. You smiled at his care, shaking your head, silently saying how it was fine and how the small amount of pain was worth the mass amounts of pleasure.

He put away the lingerie set, toys, and ties that he used on you, going to your dresser and grabbing your lotion. Squirting a bit of the product on the palms of his hands, he massaged the tender skin of your wrists, being extra careful and gentle.

When he finished using the lotion, he pulled the sheets up to cover both of your bodies. Instinctively, his arms wrapped around you as you buried your head in his chest. The smell of sex was present in the whole room, but neither of you were complaining as you now held each other close.

"Thank you, baby." He said with his deep, husky voice.

"There's no need for thanks, bun." You booped his nose softly, causing him to scrunch up his facial features cutely.

"No, you really are the best person I know. You care so much for me and I needed to let you know how thankful I am to have you." A blush cascaded down onto your cheeks at his words.

Jungkook was usually rough and dominant during sex, keeping up a different persona than your usual soft bunny boyfriend. But always afterwards, he would treat you like a goddess and pamper you to no end. Sweet nothings were always present as was delicate care for your body, soft touches or light grazes of his fingertips in attempts of being as gentle as possible.

"Stop being so lovey dovey after such an intense round of sex, it makes me so confused." You said with a dry chuckle.

"Oh," his tone was now mischievous and daring, "you wanna go for more rounds then? Just so you're not so confused."

Now it was your turn to smirk at him, "I mean if you're up for it."

The kiss planted on your lips was enough of an answer on his part, as were the hands now lightly trailing down the curves of your hips.

THIS ACRUALLY SUCKED ASS I AM SO SORRY FOR THIS AMATEUR ASS SMUT WRITING -> I REALLY TRIED HARD AHKS ( I dont usually write smut, but for you bub, I will )

#bts #bts smut #daddy jungkook #jeon jungkook #daddy bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #for the bubster-eli #i hope you dont hate this even tho i do yeehaw #im sp sorry this sucked actual ass #bts imagines #kpop imagines #kpop smut #jungkook smut #jungkook imagines #jeon jeongguk

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grimelords · 5 years

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October Playlist

My October playlist is finished and it’s complete from Rico Nasty to Rachmaninoff. I absolutely guarantee there’s something you’ll love in this 3 and a half hours of music, and probably something you’ll hate too! Something for everyone!

If you’d like to have these playlists delivered to your inbox instead of having them randomly appear on your dash, please subscribe to my tinyletter here.

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Santeria - Pusha T: In anticipation of Jesus Is King I relistened to the entire Wyoming Sessions project a few times, and a year removed from all the hype and controversy here's the thing: it's fucking great. The individual albums ranged pretty widely in quality and felt slightly unfinished for how short they were sometimes, but taking the project as a whole 5-album 120 minute playlist it turns out it's a masterpiece. My personal tracklist goes Ye/Daytona/Nasir/KTSE/Kids See Ghosts, which isn't release order but I think makes it flow the best - both Kanye albums bookending it and the less impactful Nas and Teyana Taylor albums buried a bit further in where you can appreciate them now that you're deep in the mindset of the whole thing rather than alone on their own.

Puppets (Succession Remix) - Pusha T & Nicholas Brittel: This remix is such a perfect match: Pusha T’s corporate villainy finally given a context and prestige it deserves. It’s also short enough that it could feasible be the actual theme song next season, which would be a marked improvement imo.

Use This Gospel - Kanye West, Clipse & Kenny G: I am and remain a Kanye stan, even after everything. It’s nice to see him going back to the extremely uneven mastering of MBDTF era, it’s a sound that is uniquely his and it’s fun to see him revisit it. The thick vocoder harmony is so soupy you get lost in it, and the way it opens up to include the full choir in the No Malice verse is beautiful. Kanye reunited Clipse through Christ and we have Him to thank for that at least. The Kenny G break is great, and the grain and dirt on the whole track when the beat kicks in is so gritty you can feel it.

Man Of The Year - Schoolboy Q: I didn't love the Chromatics album they surprise released but it did thankfully remind me of the time Schoolboy Q sampled Cherry for Man Of The Year. Taken exclusively on lyrics, Man Of The Year is a triumph: he's the man of the year and it's all worked out but the sample and the beat underscores the dead eyed melancholy that runs through the whole of Oxymoron of never winning even when you've won.

Cold - Rico Nasty: This song fucking tears your face off. Imagine STARTING your album at this level of intensity. She just goes straight to 100 and burns the house down. Outside of Lil John so few rappers can get away with just straight up screaming in the adlibs but the way she just lung tearingly screams GOOOO through this is fucking sick.

Fake ID - Riton & Kah-Lo: TikTok songs are becoming their own genre, but it’s a very nebulous sort of a mood encompassing everything from aughts pop punk hooks to skipping rope raps like this. It’s a strange new way for songs to blow up that everyone seems compelled to write articles about but my take on it is it’s exactly the same as ads were in the old days. Remember how many songs did absolute numbers because someone put it in a Motorola ad? Same thing except you’re not being sold a phone this time, so in some ways it’s better. Anyway, this song bangs. The spirit of 212 era Azealia Banks lives on even if she’s doing her best ever since then to kill it.

Doctor Pressure - MYLO & Miami Sound Machine: There was a very good era in the mid-2000s where you could just put mashups out as singles and they’d chart, it was sick. My only two examples are this and Destination Calabria but I’m sure there’s more. Drop The Pressure is a masterpiece but as an alternate version this mashup is equally masterful.

If You’re Tarzan, I’m Jane - Martika: Martika is unfortunately best known for the 1989 one hit wonder Toy Soldiers, a sort of boring overdramatic ballad which is best known for being sampled by Eminem in 2004 in his quite bad super duper serious song Like Toy Soldiers. I say unfortunately because every other song on her first album is great, it’s all hypercolour 80s synthpop and I love this song especially because it is so completely stuffed with activity it becomes dizzying. It gets so lost in itself that they completely abandon the dramatic pause before “I’m Jane” for some reason toward the end and instead just layer three different tracks of vocal adlibs. Every part of this song is great, the weird ‘o we o we o’ chant before the second verse? The neighing horse guitar before the bridge? The musical tour of the world IN the bridge? The part where she says ‘I want to swing on your vine?’. This song has everything.

You Got Me Into This - Martika: Every part of the instrumentation in this is amazing. The bass sound, the main synth, the extremely athletic brass, the wonderful echoing 80s snare that’s as big as a house. I just love it. She also does some really intriguing slurs on the word ‘love’ all the way through, just moving it around absolutely anywhere.

Space Time Motion - Jennifer Vanilla: I love when someone has such a clearly defined aesthetic and mission from the very beginning. Jennifer Vanilla is the alter ego of Becca Kaufmann from Ava Luna who I've had in this playlist before but never competely investigated. Jennifer Vanilla feels like an episode of Sex And The City where Samantha gets really into Laurie Anderson and she is incredible. This video is the best mission statement I’ve ever seen and is currently criminally underviewed so please do your part and support the Jennifer cause by watching these two videos.

So Hot You’re Hurting My Feelings - Caroline Polachek: Caroline Polachek said watch me write a Haim song and did it. Apparently the very early versions of this album started when she was in writing sessions for Katy Perry, but then it started to turn into something else and she took it for herself, and I think you can hear that. With more normal production and a little faster this is a hundred percent a Katy Perry song, but instead it’s completely uniquely Caroline Polachek and it’s all the better for it. And also Katy Perry must be furious because her new songs are simply not good at all.

Electric Blue - Arcade Fire: I just love the obsession of this song in the outro, chanting over and over and over “Cover my eyes electric blue, every single night I dream about you”

Promiscuous - Nelly Furtado and Timbaland: I got a youtube ad for one of those Masterclass videos the other day and it was Timbaland teaching production. This ad went for five minutes for some reason and I watched the whole thing and it made me admire Timbaland even more. He’s demonstrating his compositional technique which is basically to just beatbox, and then loop it, and then add some extra percussion layers with more beatboxing and hand percussion, then loop that and add a little melody by singing or humming. ‘It’s that simple’ he says. Then later he goes back in and puts in actual drums or synths or whatever. I was stunned because suddenly a lot of his music makes sense. Without the barrier of instrument or timbre to get hung up on it allows him to write from this instantly head-nodding place of just making up a little beat you can sing and dance to immediately. Listening to a lot of his music now you can hear the bones underneath everything so clearly, all his beats are supremely beatboxable and all his melodies are very hummable, they’ve never overcomplicated by instrumental skill or habits, they just exist to serve the song.

Serpent - TNGHT: TNGHT are back baby and this song is like nothing I’ve ever heard before. It feels like afrofuturist footwork from another dimension, the mbira sounding lead against the oil drum percussion in this cacophony of yelps and screams that just builds to an irrepressible energy without a bassline in sight.

Ghosts Of My Life - Rufige Kru: I'm reading Mark Fisher's Ghosts Of My Life right now and some good person has put together a spotify playlist of all the songs he mentions. He has a whole essay about why this song is sick so I’m not going to go into it here but it’s interesting to hear about someone growing up with jungle when it’s a genre that has always felt very niche to me. I guess partly as a result of it never really making it mainstream as a genre here, and also me being a little too young for it.

Renegade Snares - Omni Trio: My biggest introduction to drum and bass comes from the game Midnight Club 3: Dub Edition and this really great song from the soundtrack that is finally on spotify after a very long absence. At almost the exact same time as I discovered this song with its spacious piano and repitched snares, I discovered Venetian Snares and breakcore in general. Having no particular frame of reference for breakcore as an offshoot of drum and bass only amplified its appeal to me as a completely alien genre that sounded like nothing else I’d ever heard, and so my personal history with drum and bass is a story of walking backwards into it after the fact which is interesting if not helpful.

Punching In A Dream - The Naked And Famous: The Mark Fisher book also mentions the Tricky song which I’ve never heard from which The Naked And Famous got their name and I thought ‘man remember The Naked And Famous, they were sick?’. The sort of harder edged Passion Pit instrumentation mixed with pop punk, a winning combination.

Vegas - Polica: My favourite part of this song is the unexpected blastbeats after the chorus, using their two drummers to their full advantage and just shaking the song by its foundations every now and then lest you get too comfortable.

Right Words - Cults: I’m beginning to suspect I may be the last surviving Cults stan but if this be my lot I’ll gladly do it

Running From The Sun - Chromatics: The new Chromatics album got me to relisten to their definitive document Kill For Love, and something new I appreciated this time about an album I love a lot is its length. Kill For Love is almost 80 minutes long and it luxuriates in that length. It’s sequenced perfectly so it never feels like it’s long for no reason, but large chunks just completely space out and go out of focus in the soft neon light and the second half of this song is a good example. The whole thing just evaporates into smoke and it feels perfect. If this were a shorter and more concise song that had a proper ending it wouldn’t feel right, this whole album has no straight edges at all and it’s all the better for it.

Chance - Angel Olsen: I cannot belive this song. This feels like she wrote her own version of My Way looking forward instead of back. Instead of the ruefully triumphant "I've lived a life that's full / I've traveled each and every highway" it's “I don't want it all / I've had enough / I don't want it all / I've had a love." before the turn from the future to the present at the end, where she gives up on a forever love in exchange for right now. I love how raw this vocal take feels. It's not her best voice but it feels very very honest as a result. She's just singing her heart out in this huge showstopping closer. In an interview she said "I didn’t love the recording of it very much, and now I just feel in love with it as a closing statement, because it’s a way of saying, ‘Look, I have hope for the next thing in my life.’ I’m not going to anticipate negativity or hate or an end. But instead of us looking towards forever, why don’t we just work on right now?"

Something To Believe - Weyes Blood: This album just keeps paying dividends. I’m systematically going through long obsessive periods with every single song on it and now it’s Something To Believe’s turn.

Don’t Shut Me Up (Politely) - Brigid Mae Power: Without meaning to, Brigid Mae Power seems to have created some incredible fusion of folk music and stoner metal. The way this song absolutely sits unmoving on one deep and resonant chord for so long is amazing. When it does change chords it feels like a full body effort to get up and shift. She has a similar feeling to Emma Ruth Rundle, who more explicitly wears her metal influences, but Brigid Mae Powers' strength is in how much it resembles the traditional folk side of the spectrum. Her voice is also amazing, with the huge effortless runs she goes on about halfway through just coming unmoored from the song completely and floating off into space.

Sweetheart I Ain’t Your Christ - Josh T. Pearson: I had a real problem with Josh T. Pearson for a long time because of how he presents as so authentic on this album, and as I’ve previously discussed in these playlists the concept of authenticity in country music is a source of neverending anguish for me. But his newest album The Straight Hits! has largely cured that for me because it’s not good at all, is extremely contrived (all the song titles have the word ‘hit’ in them) and he’s shaved his beard and replaced it with one of the worst irony moustaches I’ve ever seen. So now I’m free to enjoy The Last Of The Country Gentlemen as a character construction, which allows me a far deeper and truer engagement than the idea of a man actually living and thinking like this which is frankly a little embarrassing.

Codeine Dream - Colter Wall: I love this song, it has that feeling that great folk songs do of feeling like you’ve always known it. The strongest moments on this Colter Wall album to me are in songs like this that chase this particular feeling of morose isolation, and where he leans away from storytelling like his biggest hit Kate McCannon - a kind of cliche country murder ballad. This song is fantastic because of the way it wallows in this black depression not as a low point, but as a reprieve from the lower previous point. Things are as bad as they get now, and they’re always going to be like this, but at least I don’t dream of you anymore.

Motorcycle - Colter Wall: I only just found out about Colter Wall this month and have been listening to this album over and over. When I first heard him I though it was strange I'd never heard of him before because he's obviously some old country veteran based off his voice, but it turns out he's 24 and this is his first album he just sings like he ate a cigar. I love this song especially because it's so straighforward. It's a simple and supremely relatable mood: what if I bought a motorbike and fucking died.

Who By Fire - Leonard Cohen: I watched American Animals a couple of weeks ago and it’s a great movie, highly recommended. This song plays near the end and I waited for the credits to find out what this great song was, and like a rube found out it’s only one of the most celebrated songwriters of all time. I’ve never had much of a Leonard Cohen phase, somehow. In my mind I always get him mixed up with Lou Reed, which I’m learning is actually way off. I love the harmony vocals in this, and the way they move around into the shadows in the ‘who shall I say is calling’ parts.

Words From The Executioner To Alexander Pearce - The Drones: Alexander Pearce was a convict who escaped Sarah Island’s penal settlement in Tasmania with seven other convicts in 1822. He was recaptured two months later alone. In 1823 he re-escaped with a fellow convict, Thomas Cox and again was returned alone.He was executed by hanging later having eaten six men during his escape attempts.

It Ain’t All Flowers - Sturgill Simpson: I found this album going through the Pichfork 200 albums of the decade list and I feel like a fool for not having heard it sooner because now I am completely obsessed. Sturgill Simpson is doing the very best work in country music right now because he's looking backwards with one eye and forwards with the other and this song is a great illustration: a perfect Hank Williams Jr type country song with big voiced hollers that morphs into a surprise psych freakout for the whole second half.

Desolation Row (Take 1, Alternate Take) - Bob Dylan: I’ve always liked Desolation Row a lot as a song but the acoustic guitar on the album version is simply not good, it's just kind of mindlessly playing this long directionless solo the whole time and over the course of a song this long it really adds up to just being annoying. Luckily because it’s a Bob Dylan song there’s a whole universe of alternate takes and mixes and this is a great pared down version I found without it. The best kind of Bob Dylan songs are the ones where he just makes an endless stream of allusions and bizzare imagery, and this and Bob Dylan's 115th Dream are my favourite examples of it.

Living On Credit Blues - El Ten Eleven: This is a groove I get stuck in my head a lot, and this is also a song I think would work well as a theme for a tv show. I've been meaning to do a 30 second edit of it just for my own amusement, maybe I'll do that soon. El Ten Eleven are a duo where one guy plays drums and one guys plays a double necked guitar/bass and looping pedals and somehow against all the odds of that description they manage to make emotional, driving instrumental music of very deep feeling, like this song which is one of my all time favourites.

Dusty Flourescent/Wooden Shelves - Talkdemonic: This is sort of a companion Living On Credit Blues, and Talkdemonic are similarly an instrumental duo with good drums. This entire album from 2005 is highly recommended, it's a sort of halfway between the post rock of the time and a kind of acoustic hiphop instrumentals that ends up sounding very rustic and homemade, like a soudtrack for a winter cabin.

Turnstile Blues - Autolux: This is a perfect song, built around a perfect beat. Every part just fits perfectly.

Fort Greene Park - Battles: The new Battles album is finally out and I absolutely love it. I cannot think of another band that has shed members in the same way as Battles; originally a quartet on their first album, then a trio for their second and third and now down to a duo for their fourth album - and somehow still performing material from their first album live. The paring down has seemingly only servers to focus them and the new album sounds fresh but still distinctively Battles, with no sense of anything lost or missing. This song is my standout so far, and the guitar line in particular is so good and interesting to me because I don’t think I’ve ever heard Ian Williams play something so distinctly guitar-y in his whole career. This is a straight up pentatonic riff with bends and everything. Filtered through his usual chopped and looped oddness it feels like he’s almost gone all the back around the guitar continuum and is this close to just doing power chords next album. And I’ll support him!

Diane Young - Vampire Weekend: I've listened to this song a lot in my life and I only looked up the lyrics the other day to find out that the opening line is 'you torched a SAAB like a pile of leaves' which I somehow never noticed. What a power phrase. There's also this very good quote from Ezra about it: "I had this feeling that the world doesn’t want a song called ‘Dying Young’,“ says Koenig, "it just sounded so heavy and self-serious, whereas ‘Diane Young’ sounded like a nice person’s name.”" and he was right to do it. This song is 100 times better because he’s saying Diane Young than it would be if he was saying ‘Dying Young’. That’s a songwriting tip for you.

Monster Mash - Bootsy Collins & Buckethead: Hey did you hear Bootsy Collins and Buckethead did a cover of the monster mash? Thank god for freaks.

The Dark Sentencer - Coheed And Cambria: There's not that many bands that I absolutely loved as a teenager that I've completely abandoned. I've moved on from a lot but I'll still keep up with them if they have a new album or something. Coheed And Cambria are one that I've almost completely turned my back on. They've had 3 apparently pretty patchy albums since I stopped listening after Year Of The Black Rainbow, which was extremely bad and really taught me what people mean when they say an album is 'overproduced'. On a whim I decided to see what they're up to now and listened to their album from last year and guess what: it rocks. It's got everything you'd expect from them: big riffs, bad and confusing lyrics, his weird high voice, overwrought and overlong songwriting, cheesy muscleman solos. Everything about this band is sort of cheesy and embarrassing and takes itself way too seriously, but I'm discovering slowly that that's what's so good about it. The weird pulp sci-fi story and mindset that underpins this whole band is ridiculous and overwrought and as a result it gives the music a reason to exist the way it does. It’s so big and dumb because the story it serves is so big and dumb. It feels exactly like reading Perry Rhodan or some increidibly long and dense but not especially good series like that, it’s pulp music and that’s what I love about it.

Romance In A (6 Hands) - Sergei Rachmaninoff: Piano works for 4 hands (where two guys sit next to each other on the same piano) have always seemed to tend towards the realm of the gimmick or party trick, and works for 6 hands (where three guys do it) even more so - but this Rachmaninoff piece is just beautiful and I can’t believe I haven’t heard of it before this month. It doesn’t overload everyone with a million things to do, it just builds this very wide harmonic bed for the simple melody to swim in - then the way the melody transfers over to the middle register is just magical before the tension of the final section takes over and builds.

Love's Theme - The Love Unlimited Orchestra: I’m so glad I got to learn about the Love Unlimited Orchestra this month. Aside from having one of the best names in music, they were Barry White’s backing band and had their own solo instrumental records too. Here’s a fun aside: Kenny G was a member when he was 17 and still in high school. This is a genre of music that has seemed to totally disappear into the realm of parody and farce only which is sort of a shame because it is unironically very beautiful and dense in its own way.

Dancing In The Moonlight - Liza Minelli: Can you believe I thought Dancing In The Moonlight by Toploader was an original until the other day when my girlfriend played this Liza Minelli version that predates it by several decades? This also isn’t the original! It was written by a band named King Harvest in 1972, with this version AND a version by Young Generation both coming out in 73 and a whole bunch of others in between (including a Baha Men version in 94) before Toploader finally had a proper hit with it in 2000. Truly the world works in mysterious ways. This version is the finest I think, it just goes and goes, frenetically unwinding at a breakneck pace before opening up into a flute solo of all things and then winding up again even and finishing in a kick line breakdown. Absolutely no limits.

Girls - Royal Headache: The sheer amount of power and melody that this song manages to pack into a minute and a half is incredible, and I don’t think I’ve ever heard a more instantly relatable opening lyric than “Girl! Think they’re to fine for me! Oh girls! And I’m inclined to agree!”

Pov Piti - Matana Roberts: In anticipation of Matana Roberts new volume of her Coin Coin album series that just came out I relistened through the three previous albums and they are even more powerful than I remembered. This song serves as a pretty good mission statement for the whole project, and the heartrending tortured screams that open it set the tone for the rest of it. Matana Roberts sings the injustices of slavery into being, and her sing-song delivery highlights the trauma - her indifferent delivery mirroring the indifference of the world at large. The way she rattles off this story like she’s gone over it a million times and grown numb to the facts only accentuates the pain in the telling, a pain that rises to the surface in the screams of her instrument and herself.

Kingdoms (G) - Sunn 0))): This new Sun 0))) album is one of my favourites they’ve ever done because it’s so straightforward and back to basics. Every song is just ten minutes of straight up no-nonsense, big, rich, drone. They even put the notes in the track names so you can drone along if you like.

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ultraclops · 4 years

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Semi-Live Blogging: Finale Time!

With reaction images this time!

Adoradad

TRAINING EXERCIIISE

Adorabat's practicing her screaming! Bet that's gonna come in handy later.

"Fneh!" Wow what an introduction Eugene

His design is like? Really cool?? He looks practically nothing like Adorabat tho. And why does he have a spade on his stomach instead of a heart??

Badgerclops drew him with a giant ass mustache lol.

Adorabat takes banjo lessons? More importantly, Eugene thought she was at a banjo lesson FOR 8 MONTHS?!

"She scares me" lol

Adorabat ran away from home? Why?

"I thought you were a ward of the state!" Remember when everyone thought Adorabat was an orphan? Yea.

"I thought you were my conscience!" Badgerclops...you've lived with Adorabat for a year...went to her school...AND YOU THOUGHT SHE WAS A PIECE OF YOUR SUBCONSCIOUS?!

...why did Badgerclops use Adorabat as monster bait...

I expected to hate Eugene but he's actually really cute and interesting?? Aside from the fact he thinks Mao Mao & Badgerclops are criminals. Love to see him again sometime!

Wow her dad has a whole badass mansion!! Why doesn't she just stay there...

Oh...her mom died...that's why he's so protective of her and was so upset when she left. Also her mom looks amazing & I wanna see a flashback episode with her. For some reason I can imagine her sounding like a deeper version of Scoops?

Aww Adorabat's room is super cool! Also Eugene cracking the door for her asfgjkl

"Do you think that monsters attacking the city are gonna - wait, does that have peanut butter in it? " (Cuts to MM & BC eating ice cream while crying) That's a perfectly rational reaction to losing your adoptive daughter

"I can keep it together!" (Cut to Mao Mao trying and failing to shovel ice cream in his mouth with his helmet on) NSADGEDHAMADH

Wait a second. Mao's eating mint chocolate chip ice cream. ISN'T CHOCOLATE TOXIC TO CATS?!

"But you said I was part of the team!!" "Then you're...off the team."

Adorabat crying while showing Eugene the picture OUCH MY HEART...

"I used to go exploring in those caves with Mom all the time..." I'm guessing those are the caves from the promo?

"She wasn't afraid of anything!" " Well Adorabat definitely takes after her mother...

"And then one day, Sonara didn't come back with you." Ooh her name's Sonara!! Pretty!! I can't tell if they chose it cuz it sounds like Sonar or because it means "pleasant sounding"

Glad to see Adorabat's still a die-hard metal fan, even with Eugene

Oof Mao isn't taking this well at ALL if he's pretending Adorabat's molt is her...

OOH SHIT ADORABAT RAN OFF TO THE CAVES - wait a minute no she didn't. OH NO EUGENE WENT TO THE CAVES

Ooh there's Sonara's looking glass, bet that's gonna be important

Yay Adorabat saved her dad!

Damn Adorabat must be super traumatized after basically watching her mother die. No wonder she tried to murder Boba-Chan!

Oh the only way to stop the monster is by screaming!

(Mao Mao hears Adorabat scream) "ADORABAT?!" ADOPTIVE DAD POWERS ACTIVATE

Ooh her mother's figure appears over her when she says she's not afraid of anyone...maybe her spirit's inside of her or something?

REVENGE TIME BAYBEY

HOLY SHIT ADORABAT FUCKING MURDERED THAT THING

Eugene & Adorabat both apologized to each other I...

"You can't just leave without the most fearless member of the group!" YAAY ADORABAT'S BACK (Also how are we gonna explain to Eugene Adorabat's scared of the dark?)

"I'll mess 'em up real good! So good, their mommies and daddies won't be able to recognize them when I'm done..." Daaammmnnn...

"She scares me :)"

I wonder...is Sonara really dead? Or are they gonna pull a Kipo & have her still be alive but in a different form?

Badge-A-Fire explosion

Uhh...where is Badgerclops? And why is Mao Mao on the top bunk?!

Of course Badgerclops is petty enough to install a fake monster alarm on his laptop to wake Mao Mao and Adorabat up.

"This is a super-serious work meeting, as you can see by the fact that I haven't provided any snacks!" No snacks?! This must be a serious issue!! /s

"As you know, I am a creative genius. Sometimes there's so much natural creative genius that my brain overloads, and I enter a heightened state that I call 'Ultra Focus'..." Oh so basically like hyperfixation?

"...where I break into a creative sprint, inventing super-advanced technology at supernatural speeds, unparalleled by anyone in the entire field of science." Okay maybe only a LITTLE bit like hyperfixation...wait a second, IS THAT WHY BADGERCLOPS IS SO TIRED ALL THE TIME?!

Uhh did he get his arm stuck in the front door? HE TOOK THE AEROCYCLE?!

"...I forget everything the next morning." Remember my headcanon that Badgerclops represses his memories? Yea...

"Which is why it's not my fault and I don't think I should be criticized :D" TBH I screamed with laughter at this scene solely because of the expression he made

...HE GAVE THE SKY PIRATES THE GEM CELL?! I mean he clearly wasn't thinking right when he did it BUT STILL?!

"Oh hey, I told you I'd use that weird elevator thing!" Dude you LITERALLY used it in Ultraclops. What are you talking about.

"If the Sky Pirates had the Gem Cell, they would've used it already!" That is a fair point ngl.

Umm...did Badgerclops give Adorabat a BOMB?!

Tbh if my friend woke me up in the middle of the night with weird-looking eyes and handed me a timer while saying something about an explosion I would DEFINITELY not go back to sleep afterwards...

I'm sorry, IS THE WHOLE VALLEY GONNA BLOW UP?! WHAT THE HELL DID HE MAKE?!

Mao wiping Badgerclops' tears I'm

A paper towel dispenser? Well that's not that bad - IS THAT A GIANT PAIR OF PANTS?!

Ooh it's not a shock collar it's a translator!! That makes a bit more sense... "I HAVE NO REMORSE OR CONCEPT OF EMPATHY!" ...if the monster doesn't have remorse or empathy how does it know what those words mean...

Badgerclops keeps telling Mao Mao & Adorabat not to criticize him...hmm...I wonder who criticized his inventions that made him that way...*cough* HIS MOM *cough*

"Are all your inventions this weird?!" "YOU'RE WEIRD!!"

IM SORRY DID BADGERCLOPS BUILD A DANCING MACHINE INTO MAO MAO'S BONES?! HIS BONES?! AND HE MADE ADORABAT A SECOND MEGAPEG?!

What in the absolute hell is going on dgaadhdagdadga

Okay but when Badgerclops clutched his head and started shaking when Mao Mao asked why he made those things...I FELT THAT IN MY HEART I FELT THAT IN MY SOUL

Ngl this scene really hit home for me cuz that's how I act when I have a breakdown...

The timer went off but nothing blew up - WAIT, IS THAT A REPLICA OF MECHA HOSSORAFFASNAKEARANG?!

"Initializing Totally Humane Knockout Procedure." (Proceeds to slam the Sheriff's Dept. into the ground) ajdajdgdad

Ooh...ohh they're on some sort of water park...ride...thing??

"And if I didn't want us to get out, then I made sure we couldn't...with super-strong shoe things." But there isn't any on Adorabat, can't she just squeeze herself out?

Ooh I'm getting Pirates of the Caribbean vibes

There's the Gem Cell, it must be powering the ride! Also the robotic arm slaps Mao's hand the same way Mao slaps Badgerclops' hand in Flyaway skkkk

"My amazing creativity is finally gonna destroy us all..." "Hey, at least we'll be destroyed together!" Fair point, fair point

The shoosh returneth

"I always loved inventing." So he was an inventor ever since he was little? Daww.

YOUNG BC IS SO ADORABLE!! He has a lil medical patch instead of an eyepatch which is def more accurate to real life...but what's the vest for? Protection in case he falls? A pressure stim?

That figure's def his mom since they rejected his ideas & he mentions she was mean to him. Also the theory that his mom's a villain seems a bit stronger since they straight-up hand him a tool kid + a set of blueprints with no regard to his safety...

"Also there was a bunch of other kids at school and some other people throughout my life who mocked me relentlessly." THEN WHY'D YOU TELL ADORABAT YOU COULDN'T RELATE TO HER WHEN SHE SAID NO ONE WANTED TO BE HER FRIEND?! (Also I noticed literally all the kids are other badgers, so I'm assuming Badgerclops grew up sheltered like Mao Mao did.)

So the Ultra Focus is basically a really weird coping mechanism to deal with all the abuse and bullying he went through? Holy fuckkk

"They only made fun of you because they were jealous. Happened to me my whole life!" Umm...

"Even the dance chip I surgically implanted in your brain?" Excuse me the dance chip that you WHAT

"I love you-" HE SAID IT 💗💓💗💓

"I'm finally around people who love and understand me..."

Wait did the cannon misfire? DID IT BLOW A HOLE IN THE GROUND?!

OH HE ACTUALLY DID CREATE AN ANIMATRONIC BAND?! I THOUGHT IT WAS A JOKE!!

"Take it away, Boss Hosstritch!" (Distorted garbling)

Oof Mao caught all the water

"We hope you all enjoyed being Badgerclops' friend." 💞💕💞💕

Not that anyone cares but I noticed there's a picture of some of the Sweetypies on the monitors, meaning 1. Badgerclops tested it out using them first, or 2. Badgerclops just likes those Sweetypies for whatever reason. Tho that makes me wonder why he'd choose Pinky of all people...

THE SKY PIRATES WERE INSIDE THE ANIMATRONICS THE WHOLE TIME?! THE MAN BEHIND THE SLAUGHTE

Zing Your Heart Out

Why are they giving out rotten sushi??

"HOW DARE YOU LAUGH AT ME EATING SOMETHING GROSSLY?!"

Ooh god Chester's gonna be super freaking annoying in this episode, I can feel it.

"What's blue and smells like red paint? Blue paint!" BAYBEY

Jesus what a prick. GET HIM MAO MAO

Ngl that background's really pretty...

Oooh no the Ruby Pure Heart's being weird again. Ooh no.

FUCK YEA ROAST HIM BABY - Did Adorabat's eyes turn purple because the Ruby Pure Heart gave her powers?

Oh so the siren in Badgerclops' robo-arm is a backup monster alarm?

More Sky Pirates - and the Pure Heart's being weird again...

"I'd tell you but despite your height it'd go right over your HEAD!" Asdfgghjjk

"For someone with two brains, you're not very BRIGHT!" EVEN BETTER

Kevin said he was raising money for a school trip, then for a trip to the hospital...which one is he raising money for?!

"SILENCE PANCAKE, LEST YE BE BUTTERED"

OOH NO SHE ATTACKED MAO AND BC

"IT FEELS LIKE THE WEIGHT OF ONE THOUSAND PLANETS!!"

"One second, I'm getting mad, and the next thing you know-" Is she freaking possessed??

Wait, is the Pure Heart TALKING to Adorabat?! How?!

Cluckins you don't ask people what's wrong with their eyeballs...even if there is something wrong with their eyeballs

"I CAN'T FEEL MY SELF-RESPECT!!"

The pure 'oh shit' on Marion's face when Adorabat turns to her

Half of the people she insulted showed up to her party! Didn't that mean she loved them?!

Oh god not this bitch again - nvm, thanks Adorabat

"Taking over the castle and ruling Pure Heart Valley forever does sound nice..." This is starting to remind me of that one AU where Adorabat turns evil, becomes the ruler of the Sky Pirates, then convinces them to kill Snugglemagne and becomes the queen of Pure Heart...she isn't gonna kill Snugglemagne, is she?

What did Adorabat tell Snugglemagne?! I WANNA KNO

Why is Pinky stealing teeth...reminds me of this

NO BC DON'T EAT THE TEETH

"I...hate myself! Therefore, I'm invincible!" So the trick to not getting your ego destroyed...is to not have an ego. Sounds reasonable.

"Your bug platter, my king?" Genderfluid Adorabat rights

"Mao Mao, your head looks like a CROW!" (Mao Mao caws) IT WAS A LIE HE ISN'T A CAT HE WAS A CROW THIS WHOLE TIME-

"It looks like a half-melted ice cream cone!!" That is...a strange way to describe your own neck...

"Well, I'm...bad (◡‿◡)" Kinda weird that the canonically depressed character can't even cleverly insult himself

...why does Adorabat's skin smell like old cantaloupe

OH SHE IS POSSESSED!!

HOLY SHIT MAO WAS GONNA FUCKING MURDER ADORABAT TO SAVE THE KINGDOM?! THANK GOD HE SAW HER JOKE BOOK, HOLY SHIT

Positivity outweighs negativity!

"WHERE DOES A 800 POUND GORILLA SIT?!" "Where ever it wants!◝(⁰▿⁰)◜" Curse you for making me laugh...

OOH NO THE JOKEBOOK! - Wait nvm Mao remembers Adorabat's jokes!

I think the reason they used that joke is because it represents Mao Mao and Adorabat - Adorabat is blue, and she wants to be like Mao Mao, who wears red. What is BLUE, and smells like (is similar to) RED paint?

YAAAY HE BROKE HER FREE FROM MIND CONTROL!! And did BC get Thanos snapped in the background?

"Thank goodness you're alright! We almost..." Fucking murdered you? Yea

"Might we have our crown and kingdom back, yes?"

"Sorry for being such a monster today." "You're a monster everyday." Is that a joke because she was today's villain, a reference to Sleeper Sofa or foreshadowing?

I hope Mao Mao and Badgerclops decide to investigate what's up with the Heart in Season Two, cause I highly doubt they'll let Adorabat getting fucking possessed go under the radar.

The visual gag of Mao trying to stomp out his ice cream cone like a cigarette is perfect. This is peak comedy everyone else go home

WHOOP CHESTER'S ASS GUYS

Strange Bedfellows

"So, your name is Boss Hosstrich, but you're not actually the boss?" How long did it take him to realize that

JFC Mao & Orangusnake are REALLY hellbent on killing each other huh...at least the deputies and the other Sky Pirates have common sense.

Hahaha nice Dragon Ball Z reference - and they both got crushed by the monster! Lovely.

...did Mao seriously think he died and went to heaven?

So does Orangusnake breathe through Tanner or do they both breathe independently & Coby can feel when Tanner can't?

Dang those skeletons remind me of the Steven Universe Future episode Growing Pains. And why is Lucky inside of Orangusnake? "THAT WAS MY LUNCH, JERK!" Ooh that's why.

"They're full of these tiny, little cracks or, as they're known in the medical field, 'whoopsie-boo-boos'." AGSADGASGADGDASG

Damn their skeletons are just gonna freaking evaporate huh...

"The doctor said I was very brave :D"

Ooh shit the Deputies and the other Sky Pirates met at the same elevator, are they gonna fight - nevermind, they're still calling time.

JESUS CHRIST ARE MAO & ORANGUSNAKE EVER GONNA STOP?!

"You don't have the guts!" "I have a million guts." That is...mildly concerning

"Yeah, I wanted to be a baker, before I realized I liked hurting people so much." Then why doesn't she just like, help Muffins or something?

Tbh I thought Ratarang was holding a gun and I'm glad it was just a weirdly wrapped banana

CONE OF SHAME. CONE OF SHAME. CONE OF SHAME.

"Aww, y'all shouldn't have - this is empty." "Just like my heart when you injure yourself!!" He loves him sm...💓💓

"Why didn't you bring me weapons?!" "Because this is a hospital, and I'm a good boy (◡‿◡ )"

"I really feel like this could be a turning point in their relationship." (Mao and Orangusnake proceed to try and kill each other again) *sigh*

Ngl Mao & Orangusnake constantly repeating themselves is getting super annoying.

That hospital bed beeping is giving me flashbacks to all the times I went to the hospital for seizures...

"You know y'all could live like this, like, all the time if you didn't go around hurting people, right?" "Pssh! Tsk-tsk, boy. You know I gots to hurt people." Uhh you guys should really listen to Badgerclops he knows what tf he's talking about

UUhh, whose egg is that? "MAMA" ASGagddahDh

Of course they had to land in freaking CEMENT to realize that maybe they shouldn't kill each other

Did Mao just deflate like a ballo- oh nvm there he go.

Boneless Mao. Boneless Mao.

And Mao saved Orangusnake!! By...breaking every bone in his body somehow.

"I'm the kind of hero who wants to save you so I can fight you later...at the right time and place." Just gonna file this along with the credit score scene from Perfect Couple in the 'Orangumao' folder.

Is Badgerclops duct taping Mao to the stretcher? I mean, at least he won't move & hurt himself again but geez

Tbh Zing would’ve made a better finale than this ep. At least it had a sequel hook

#semi live blogging #semi-live blogging #//long post #// long post

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ckcker · 4 years

Text

Fear of Being There

The scientists put 3D glasses on a cuttlefish I read in an article, which I pair with the unread email from a friend of twelve years sitting one tab away, it appears to partly be a link to some video. Feeling brave, I gather speed and push to the open email, purposefully ignoring all of the friend’s written message to zoom into the thumbnail of the video link they shared with me, which shows on one side of the thumbnail the shocked open mouth of a drag queen reacting to what I assume to be the most heinous transgression. On the other side, a porcupine’s needles blasting from inside the mid-section of what appears to be a burmese python. “How could this scenario have ever happened,” I ask myself as I don’t click, then scan the message written above the link:

“are you still in Kansas City??”

“I saw our high school English teacher walking in the park with a huge clump of moss stuck on her ass, I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time”

“Carrie is in NA now and I never see her. also I adopted a dog”

“I’m sad I haven’t heard from you in a long time but I respect that you are just doing your thing, doing what you think is best for you, I love you. enjoy this video of a drag queen screaming as she watches a porcupine impale a boa constrictor from the inside, it really made me laugh. It’s not real”

“I would love to visit some time if you’d have me, I would love a long road trip, no pressure.”

All I ever felt towards this person was worry; they were frequently to be found painfully descending the valley of some knotty, unlubed parabola. Suicide often seemed on the table though it was never openly discussed, and what was discussed and unburdened between us never seemed to offer this person any relief. But, I had not seen them in almost two years — still, I worried. The gristle of sympathy. Though now I could only think this person a bit stupid for not electing revenge as the only compatible solution. They wallowed, tried to make inroads on the community around them, multi-tasker, all I did was worry, wonder if there was no chance for them. On my better days I in fact stopped worrying because I resolved to believe that there was no chance for them. On worse days I used to encourage them to online date, to take classes in some technical craft and escape minimum wage, incredibly coming from me who has yet to escape minimum wage, I bloated them with the most despicable general advice most likely invented by some phantom community and popularized by rotating day time talk show cryptids. I surprised myself, the self-help industry deluge came spilling readily from my own mouth, I had no other advice to give. No effect. I had no idea what could help someone, I did not respond to the e-mail, the scientists put 3D glasses on the cuttlefish to study if it uses stereoscopic vision to hunt, love that.

I responded to the email by going out for a long walk. The walk proceeded as planned. And then, in front of my eyes, the glistening juice of a misdirected frappé bronzed itself on the sunlit sidewalk. It was June. The person who bought then dropped it when attempting to give their companion a lil sip seemed one or two involuntary grunts away from the most amateur keening. We did not know each other and passing by I said nothing, in another hour and a half it would be sunset and that was the daily alarm for my worst and most stupid memories.

Walking without a plan for a couple miles had led me to nothing specific: a popular cafe with drive-thru option, and the entrance to some truncated nature preserve with an ample parking lot, that I barely observed. The humiliated and frappé-less melody of the forlorn customer began to spread over my shoulder, I averted my gaze from the nature preserve to treat it as if an attractive face I was intimidated by. The only use for such a pathetic nod to wilderness in an urban area should be frequent alien abduction. I knew better than to hope for that, I was not a good multi-tasker and did best with a single plan of attack. And I already had a good plan, through subtle make-up I was looking older by the day (more like the month). Pretty soon I would dye my hair grey. I considered it was something the young people of the era liked to do and not for the reason of appearing aged. In fact, more than anything this coalition of young and old visual signifiers increased the proof of their wrinkle-free faces and accentuated the domineering stylistic awareness inherent to youth in a, unnaturally long energy-sucking sigh, capitalist country. I continued to high step forward like a finickety markhor in a fugly mood. Then, finding myself facing a hard-to-cross state highway I concluded, “oh, haha…ok, ah……that’s fine” and turned back towards the unused nature preserve parking lot, “I am almost too far away from home anyway.” I sat on a curb on the side farthest away from the road. Looking across the street I saw that the customer and friend had started to kiss. A simple solution to the loss of the drink. His body turned awkwardly, I allowed myself to espy the torque of the male’s twisted cargo short pocket and felt very little. I was turned away from the forest preserve entrance, at sunset I would have the executioner’s urge to once again survey and prepare my Doha nights.

The arrival of sunset did not derail my day, but it always succeeded in sequestering my concentration so as to remember that, perhaps, time — I felt fully sick of telling myself about it. I would prefer an obsession more traditionally fun, there was something about the way the eyebrows (with near-unibrow between) met the sharp lines at the top of the hyrax-like nose of Q.C.’s gradually-hot-to-me face. I did not spend too much time thinking on him, I had little control over my eyes when in his presence. Worse, attempting to appeal to him would mean calling off the whole ambitious deterioration project, which was fully under my control/the best path forward. I did not spend much time thinking of him when not in his presence and the collective shimmy of maple tree leaves in the breeze appealed to my left side as it carried on through the row of trees behind me. A sparrow bopped around the swath of thick grass to my right and was not interesting at all. I knew I felt this about the sparrow because I turned away from it quickly. Finally I rotated towards the nature preserve entrance. Was this an opportunity for me to snag a poesis? I wanted to be home in my bed alone. I also wanted to pretend to be thriving, inspired and free. I wanted to try to see the world for the first time again.

I got up and started towards the forest path with the confidence and direction of the professional managerial class. To appeal to Q.C. would involve a gravitational u-turn, I would have to cut my hair better, with more style and intention, I would have to once again attempt to wear clothes that mostly fit my body, with careful monitoring of the area where jeans could be hit firm with zested glute. I would have to invest much mental analysis into determining how to embody his desire. I would have to keep emphatic track of my body language and reactionary expressions when near him so as to appear at least some low level of confident and laid back. The antithesis of an angry errant stump, sucking vengeance through an ancient straw lined with obsidian spikes that clacked ominously against dentures I did not need. I could not appear as “depressed for two.” Again, and worst of all, I would have to deselect the only source of direction for the future, my only true idea for satisfaction: the pursuit of my literally new age. My only chance to repair my original timeline, by controlling my own time. The old tension between wanting badly to be noticed and desired by others, and wanting that definition of freedom which is the refusal of all external attention, both approval and disapproval, in order to bring about the most contained stability — of course that tension ran me ragged once again. That wan zit, it really seemed scripted at this point, I worked very hard to send it to the background. My body clearly sensed this when it activated the release of an ear wax ball the shape and weight of a gently used cheek piercing stud. The feeling associated with its premiere and gruesome launch was similar to just catching the last concrete appearance and subsequent fadeout of a semi-interesting-but-ultimately-unremarkable ghost of a 52 year old coffee mug.

I entered the forest, which began with a layer of joyless mulch. The opening of the trail had dimensions so wide even the most sexually depraved plant had little chance to gak its repressed gropeage on a passing body. I looked up as I walked, realizing the only animal likely to be spotted here, at this time of day, would be a bird. Perhaps I might see a hawk or turkey vulture. My survey resulted only in the very soft swaying of stacked green branches in front of striated and unremarkable clouds. After watching this gentle tableaux for about thirty seconds, I wanted to more than violently shake an in-his-prime Ansel Adams, ask him what in the unconscionably labyrinthine fauxhawk I’d just seen. Would he have looked twice at this sky — my glance still directed upwards, I heard its scabrous chirp before I saw it, and then I saw it and immediately hated its presence: a sparrow had landed on an oak branch forty feet above my head and wanted to stay there. I refused to let it observe me, turning to it I suddenly screamed in the timbre of an aggressive synth orchestra hit. Continuing my walk after compartmentalizing its non-reaction, I wondered how I might make these natural surroundings matter to me. They made no inherent argument that profoundly engorged the fun bags, perhaps because I was generally hooked into things by chaos, aggression and arguments, not by continuity or bucolia. I could identify the simpler trees at least. Of course pines and maples were easy, birch too. I could usually confirm oak and cherry through guesswork. Otherwise I wandered through a forest in a skein of unskilled silence, in some beta-level abyss that was never fact-checked. I didn’t know if having the names of mosses and wildflowers and mushrooms made it easier to appreciate the woods I forced myself into. That I recognized and questioned such absences in myself was part proof that I felt a large component missing in the ongoing construction of respect for humble surroundings, and part recall of an inherent tendency to not care much about my own construction. Against the spirit of the times, I spurned the concept of “personal development,” both in the thought directives I gave myself, and in the level of base inertia and hatred of fitness that exposed me as down-low sirenia. “Personal development” — I did not trust the idea. But moderate walking was acceptable to me and I continued to walk. All trees beside me were suddenly activated by a quite beefy breeze from inside the forest. Mood was present. And along the audio effects of the wind in heavy leaf-covered branches, I thought I heard a rustling in a different tempo one-hundred feet further along the path. A clench shuttered my body. Once, I was reckless. I entered badly lit hotel rooms brimming with silhouettes of animatronic movements. I took pills handed to me, only asking after I swallowed them what they were (bottom tier migraine medication). These days nearly any situation outside my apartment brought the inflamed trance of cautious thoughts. Where I seemed to hear the sound I saw nothing but the continuation of breeze, and felt fully the irregular welts of my prey mentality.

But I did not turn to exit. The introduction of humidity into early summer pumped a new game in me anyway, the godforsaken thirst for some swell of “possibility.” Against my addiction to titanium cowardice, flicked this vague and acidic proposition for adventure — that most rancid word of careerist travel influencers and successful stunt doubles. Heavy hot air seemed to ferment a perennial wildness of feeling that, in other weather conditions, remained neatly veiled in self-suck. I hated that I could still be easily infiltrated by this hormonal illusion of “anything can happen,” despite all my malevolent associations with the phrase. It was important to make a list of all the things that are possible. “Anything can happen” was a sloppy mantra full of menace and probably popularized at some point in the late 20th century to sell mini frozen bagels with pizza toppings. The list of all the things that are possible is the list of most crucial truth, it is a list that serves as sublime prep for someone who has been through the full consummation of “anything can happen,” when the thing that happened was a mind-shedding, unmentionable thing. I knew the culture at large was heavily against such a distrust of possibility, as the concept suggested monumental change and always for the better — the potential of fortune. I also knew it was against the cosmetic grafting of extra skin to make what I suddenly decided to refer to as ‘my boys’ look especially wrinkled and saggy. I stood still and surveyed the way partial sunlight glazed on and off the nearest bush of presumably poisonous berries. I briefly turned around and took in the forest entrance in the distance, and beyond it the suggestion of abridged midwestern meadow, now also washing in and out of sunlight with an unpunished laze, that I felt very unused to. Nowhere else in my life, to which I paid attention, obeyed that kind of rhythm. This statement was immediately wrong and a direct contradiction of my slow motion lifestyle. I allowed the statement to stand because its wistful gush was enjoyable, roughly spiritual, and juicy.

It brought thoughts of a nightmare I once had that eventually, through sustained lack of action, curdled into just a dream, a dream that had a trolled atmosphere of never-ending. A dream that felt three years long. A nightmare-incubated dream that appeared seven months after that moment of apex possibility and only the second dream after.

There was a group of us. We were in a house, we didn’t know we were in a slasher movie, we had thought it was a self-liberation biopic. We were pursued by a presence we did not expect. But every time there was a shot of the killer, the killer had been deleted in post. Only a tense and expectant camera followed us around, and we screamed at empty spaces at the top of the staircase and in corners of rooms. Dissonant music accompanied us, which, now knowing we were in a horror movie, we expected and rolled our eyes at. But we never saw the killer and nobody ever died.

I also remembered the first dream I had after the event, it was very short and involved me waking up at 7am to give a dog one cup of dry food. The density of hanging leaves in the forest began to inch a feeling of haunch and ceiling overhead, the light landing on the settled foliage only in splatters of rhapsodic dag. The inevitable feeling of being alone in the woods, despite the steady wash of faraway highway motors, is intimacy with something. You believe you are not being seen, when small and mundane animals see you, it means absolutely nothing. With a bear or mountain lion in the mix, at last you will truly feel “seen.” I was in a freely neglected and shrunken nature preserve on the edge of a midwestern city, I did not think it was possible to be seen by a bear and so I did not feel like I could be noticed. Thus I felt intimacy.

The content of that intimacy had zero intellectual value. It was only the comfort of being fully hidden, safe and alone. I was impressed by how much thick cover the trees supplied since the preserve itself was state park theater. The trees hid me from the sky, repressed my existence from something that could watch me. I basked. I thought of the substantial bulge of an older male in tight-fitting jean shorts. In this context of feeling unseen, it seemed the thru line of my consciousness in bringing up such an image was the keyphrase, “something hidden.” The intimacy began to retreat as a counter. Again, my head disenrolled me from a healing terrestrial feeling; it looked at nature with vast inexperience, it pursued a perspective of mountainscape print out. I tried to recover the hypnotic sap of that momentary solitude and continued walking. Of course the interruption of erotica in mind is one of the more iconic nature moves. And yet for some reason it seemed to unravel the hallmark atmospherics of a more investigative mystery. Such a divide was proven by watching my pivots of attention between two tickles. For instance, on one side, direct observation of a boner. The other side, fog covering an empty island highway at night. I thought I knew well the narrative arc of a priapism, and I thought I did not yet know much about the carnage in my seeping memories. It seemed obvious — of the things that controlled me, I prioritized with meaning the one I did not know much about. And instinctively, being alone under thick canopy felt like good setup for that kind of self-irrigation. I thought of the bulge again then saw another sparrow and after it reasonably bopped about for a skoach I suggested to it, “get away from me fuckface.” Again it did not move.

I walked several paces off the path and leaned against a definite oak trunk, wondering if my old person stage makeup was still intact, glancing towards the voyeuristic rays of sun slipping through the trees, well diffused and beginning their noticeable descent. I listened. After approx. twenty seconds of listening I heard the long-churning spew of a motorcycle gunning down the road about a quarter mile away, somehow powerful enough to overwhelm the peaks of forest ambience with its quite rascally discharge, hunh, the streaks of horrific classic rock revival spraying after it. I thought, “stop subverting me,” then felt the newly introduced stance of someone in my peripheral vision. They did not advance or retreat but did fidget. Probably, I could not be sure without glancing directly, pretending to look up something on their phone. They seemed about fifteen feet away from me, I considered if I would have to kill them in self-defense.

“How’s it going?” a man’s voice directed at me from the trail, giving me permission to look at him directly. A balding but well-maintained buzz of greying black hair, glasses, a thin white-yellow-green-black button down tartan print department store shirt tucked into leather belt and loose fitting blue jeans, the eye eventually and uncontrollably being led down to the neon pink, orange and yellow running shoes with white laces low-key dusted in a sampling of diaphanous schmutz. My “hi” was squeezed out with full defenses. The man did not say anything back but immediately enacted some plan of his, made obvious in his eyes that pressed on my face with an unmistakable singularity. He pursued unbroken eye contact to evaluate the potentiality of the interaction. I responded by looking away, remembering it was a powerful move in the game. I also refused to believe he thought me attractive enough for whatever in-development future passed through his turgescent nethers. As a mature adult, I was no longer available to rawk out with my cawk out but clearly the cast of desperation on the man made it possible for me to appear sexually acceptable, as evidenced by his not leaving. Nor did I imagine that he produced much foregrounded desire in an m4m community; lastly he probably stayed because he was closeted. I tried to maintain an appearance of clueless indifference, comparable in chillness to deciding to write ‘U R’ in a text message the same moment you observe a plastic bag fly in the wind towards a sleeping stray cat. Since the man did not leave or say anything, I also waited another 7-10 seconds in silence and downward glance. Yet this tactic, usually so effective in social settings, had failed, and so I looked at him again. And again the charged stare of non-verbal magic. The humid air was beginning to slightly cool as the wind filled the space between my collar and neck, suggesting it might rain soon. But behind the man’s head the sun, flanked by fleshy lard-swept clouds in various indigo exposures, was still visible. I hoped if the increase in gusts continued that they might produce a temporary bald spot on the crown of my head as I said, “why are you looking at me?”

He did not immediately respond, but severed all links with my eyes. I watched his glance minutely dart from one close location on my face to the next, “do you have makeup on?”

Each generation, freer than the last. The man did not know the answer for sure, but that he had noticed something was confirmed. Very exciting, I beamed internally. I controlled the beam. There was still so much work to be done.

Towards the man I projected breathtaking displeasure. I assumed the keyed up tone of someone wanting to be regularly shared on the internet: “I’m just trying to enjoy the forest on my day off sis so don’t—” and shut off inexplicably, though recognizing as the system recoiled that the implication of this man’s advances had lightly cracked some automated timecode in my lower lefthand corner of frame. My body — I had only felt it all of a sudden. Shoulders were arched forward to protect my underbelly, chest was swollen and stuffed with the debris of a delayed reaction of terror, single inconsistent tingle in left leg suggested the tiniest strobing marquee aimed at the brain, suggesting “run.” I had thought, this is not a dangerous situation at all. A little unusual but not something I haven’t experienced before. Something I could refuse and easily walk away from.

The body had behaved differently. Sunset mounted. The body had believed it was going to die. I hadn’t even noticed. Internal monologue always suggested much to investigate when looking for a solution, it presented long interconnected hallways and sliding doors, considerations of escape and tactical movement. It berated the body for not reading the situation correctly or at all, it hated the body’s spontaneous and inept mechanisms. It relished any reference to the phrase “bassackwards” but in this case the body was right. If I was to be killed by this person was still up in the air, I leaned towards no, but the body had not been reacting to my imminent death, only suggesting how relaxedly I pretended to advance through commercial district sidewalks, gas station candy aisles, cruisy chip bag-strewn forest preserves as if I’d never been reorganized by some sort of adaptation of death in which you survive. There was much work to be done, much work, to make the hair of my eyebrows more profuse and unkempt. My nose hair, which was way too thin and manageable, samesies. It was with the failure of a deep breath that the gauze of that summer sunset coaxed me back into the scene, despite the marquee now reading “Run II: Darkest Before Dawn.” The man had not known how to respond to my ejection from the clapback. I took stock, the forest appeared momentarily still and squirrelless. His energy seemed as if grappling with the possible realities of what I was. If crazy, at least in the way that interferes with verbal communication, I was no longer an option in his “mmm………damn”-ridden design. If crazy but able to continue clear conversation, or if so shy as to appear only intermittently awkward in conversation with strangers, I was still a highly available mark.

“Do you like it here?” he asked. It seemed that micro makeup and abandoned sentences were not considered dealbreakers for someone in his position. My body continued to want to leave and I stayed, he took a few steps forward, staring again with that binary intensity where the recipient must commit to its endgame or flash exit.

A strap broke in me: I suggested, “I hate it here.” The comment reached him. He looked as if to be re-processing me under a blank face but maintained his slow approach. I was answering his questions coherently and so I was incredibly sexy, perhaps. “I’m not doing well,” I followed up, using a long-acting smile-to-smirk succession in an attempt to muffle it.

This was ignored, “I’ve got a pretty big one,” silence, breeze, sunset, wow — squirrel, “what are you looking for out here, alone?”

Silence, squirrel, “you know where you are, right?”

Breeze, trees, sunset, reggaeton in the distance, instinct erupted — I stepped forward. “It’s not yet time for my annual anal,” my voice cracked. “In fact, it won’t happen this year, or ever again.”

A pause was produced, though it was clear he didn’t quite grasp my meaning. I stood still, now staring at him in order to properly knead the info. Finally a look of understanding on his face — “oh, I’m sorry” and he exited back up the trail, all spells dismantled.

I remained in the woods. I looked at the squirrel. I even yearned to see a sparrow, uninterested in knowing why. I allowed the intellectual regulations to rest, I listened to the joyous pump of prancing squirrel feet on twig-bedazzled forest floor. I looked at the sunset, while blocking the word “beautiful,” and liked it. I walked to the path, turning away from the exit with the rush of a recently liberated preteen spray-painting an anarchy symbol on the door of a rusty abandoned sedan next to discontinued freight train tracks that are overgrown with weeds and yellow wildflowers. I wanted to walk deeper into the woods, I wanted to be in the woods when it got dark. I wanted to be alone and without a mind. Knowing it was untrue, I nevertheless proposed to myself, “I think I could cum just from being alone for 3 weeks.” After a feisty fifty or sixty steps around the curving path, I met chain link fence separating the forest from a row of backyards and their respective single family homes. I thought of the cliche of an evil character in a kid’s movie laughing maniacally for some time then very suddenly stopping to present a severe and unamused face. It surfaced as a whimper.

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