#anti celebrity voice actors

[fanfic-lover-girl]

I feel sorry for trained voice actors being robbed of roles.

I never knew that Disney princesses (eg Belle) were voiced by theatre/broadway professionals but it makes sense.

I also never knew that Mark Hamill played Ozai (ATLA) AND Joker (Batman) until fairly recently. His voice acting was so good. I watched a video years ago about Tara Strong and I was blown away that she voiced so many characters of my childhood. The lady is amazing!

Yet, when I hear Beyonce as Nala I cringe so badly! Like why was Beyonce given that role? Because she's black, right? Ugh.

Voice acting takes a special skill that many of these popular celebs don't have and that's a fact.

#voice acting #tara strong #mark hamill #robin williams #justice for voice actors #anti celebrity voice actors #some are good #others are not #anti disney #anti celebrity culture #Youtube

[mariocki]

Edward Woodward guest stars as Jack Liskard, Prime Minister of an unspecified African country and the target of multiple assassination attempts, in The Saint: The Persistent Patriots (5.15, ITC, 1967)

#fave spotting #edward woodward #callan #the saint #the persistent patriots #1967 #david callan #classic tv #eddy is the named guest star for this episode but actually he wasn't really the household name he would become at this point #in fact this ep was the first Saint episode to air in the uk in 1967 on January 6th‚ setting off a banner year for Woodward that would #be the making of his career. he'd done a few guest spots (Sergeant Cork and Mogul among them) and yes he'd had some stage success #but 67 was his year; around the same time as this Saint appearance he could be seen on the BBC's celebrated drama strand Theatre 625 as the #lead in a multi episode adaptation of Evelyn Waugh's Sword of Honour‚ and almost exactly a month later he'd be making his first screen #appearance as Callan in the Armchair Theatre pilot A Magnum for Schneider‚ the beginning of tv immortality and bigger and better things for #the actor. here he's... well he's serious and he's sullen (two of Ed's strengths as an actor) in a role which.. is FINE on the surface but #absolutely begs some deeper questions. he's the prime minister of an unnamed African country‚ in London to negotiate the independence of #said country from the UK. it's.. a complicated issue (which this single Saint episode absolutely fails to address but I'd have been truly #astonished if it had). i mean yes we're all anti colonialism here of course (even if Simon does seem suspiciously morose about the prospect #of losing another colony in his opening voice over‚ he at least appears to be on Eddy's side through the episode) but there's a kind of #deafening silence throughout this ep: Ed is of course white. his various ministers and other government officials who oppose him are all #also white. the titular 'patriots' who oppose him and make attempts on his life and to prevent the process of independence are all white #the most obvious comparison to be drawn (and presumably the main inspiration for the character) is Rhodesian prime minister Ian Smith #who had led the white minority government of what is now Zimbabwe from 1964 and had been involved in similar negotiations with the british #government (that fell apart in late 65 as Smith's government announced Rhodesia's unilateral independence; the country then became an #unrecognised state subject to economic sanctions that lasted more than a decade). the thing is‚ Smith was a racist piece of shit; the whole #reason those negotiations broke down was because of his refusal to secure black representation in Rhodesia's governance #which makes the complete absence of any black characters in this episode a major red flag. but Ed's character isn't presented as the #villain of the piece; the episode is adamant that the work he's doing is selfless and for the betterment of his country‚ and it isn't as if #Smith was a particularly popular figure in the uk at this point for the ep makers to be painting a positive portrait of him. idk #it's messy. at best tone deaf and at worst.. well. i wish Ed had had a better ep to guest star in that's all im saying

[evanchantingpeters]

How I met Evan Peters (Fanfic - Part 2)

Pairings ─ Evan Peters x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff, Romance

Summary ─ Y/N is fresh in East Hollywood, LA. After a major life overhaul, she’s ready to dive into a new chapter. So, when she hits the town for a night out with friends, she unexpectedly crosses paths with none other than actor Evan Peters. Y/N tries to keep her cool and act all nonchalant, but damn, Evan’s interest throws her for a loop. Their first meeting? Total tension and flirtation, hinting at an evening full of surprises.

Warnings ─ Obscene language, semi-public, dry humping, oral (both receiving), fingering, overstimulation, nipple teasing, spanking, vaginal sex, rough sex, extra smutty—you guys know the drill ;)

Read Part 1 here.

Word count ─ 4K

18+ This is ADULT content. I’m not your mummy to supervise your net access. If you’re a minor, do NOT read!

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

If you were told ten minutes ago that you’d be straddling Evan Peters, skin-on-skin in the driver’s seat of his car, grinding your soaked pussy against his solid rock hard-on while your tongues explore each other like it’s a competition until your lips get swollen, you’d be like, “Yeah, right, when pigs fly.”

But here you are, parked in some dark, secluded spot near the club you’ve just met. Your moans bounce off his car windows as he hungrily fondles handfuls of your body. You do love you some manhandling, truth be told.

You have your friends’ blessings about leaving with someone. Though, the chances of them believing you’ve pulled and bagged Evan Peters as your sneaky link for the night are slim to none, especially after you lecture Adria on the celebrities-normies combo being far-fetched. But it’s fair to say you didn’t choose the night with Evan Peters; the night with Evan Peters chose you.

His veiny hands on you and his gravelly voice against your ear trigger a muscle memory, recalling the heat you felt—but never vocalised—during Murphy’s close-ups on Evan’s hands in the Dahmer series and his viral ‘Relax, I just wanna take some pictures’ line. His baritone in that unsettling scene still gives you chills.

“Damn, miss...you’re something else,” he rasps out with a sly smile. You become his Roman Empire as he worships the sight of all of you on top of him, eyes devouring your entire body as you move gracefully, biting your bottom lip.

He groans deeply as his hands knead your tits and waist all the way down your thighs. With a cheeky squeeze of your ass, he draws you closer, a little squeal escaping you as his raging erection rubs harsher against your wet centre.

“I’m dying to fuck you,” he huffs after your lips meet again, his eyes imploring as he buckles his hips against yours. The friction sends your arousal flying. You just know he’s the type who promises to rail you until your guts rearrange and actually delivers. Better hold on tight.

With a coy grin, you reach down and caress his bulge straining under his jeans. “I can tell,” you whisper, your hot breath making him shudder as you mischievously trace his upper lip with your tongue.

Evan sucks in a sharp breath and bucks against your touch with a choked grunt. You can feel his length convulsing beneath you, your wetness still squishing against him.

“No...for real, Y/N. You’re insanely hot...and while I wanna bang your brains out right now, I don’t wanna objectify you. I respect you an—”

You cut him off mid-sentence with another steamy kiss. The urge to sit him in front of a mirror as he unravels his feminist, anti-alpha male stance, all while you jerk him off before riding the shit out of him, is stronger than ever.

“Aren’t you a sweetheart, Evan? So virtuous with your strong values and morals,” you praise his ‘golden-retriever’ and ‘husband material’ nature, delicately caressing his cheek. “But let’s cut to the chase—I’m here to hook up.”

With newfound energy, you attack his neck with eager kisses as you roll your hips against him more vigorously. Your fingertips roam over his sculpted Greek-God chest, travelling down to the contours of his divinely marbled abs.

Body is damn bodying.

You go on full “pick-me girl” mode as you purr, “I’m thirsty” and playfully toy with the buckle of his belt, hinting at your intentions. You can’t let that mound on his jeans go unnoticed; it’s practically screaming for your attention and attentive care.

He lets out a dark chuckle against the crook of your neck as he nibbles his way up to your jawline. “How can I quench your thirst?” he murmurs, now nipping at your pouty lips.

“You’re the best refreshment around,” you hush before swiftly shifting to the passenger seat and bending over, knees near your head and ass pointed skywards in a tantalising display he can’t resist.

You begin to pepper mouth-watering kisses along his chest, sliding down to his boner. Your tongue stumbles over the ridges of his abs as you venture lower, your moaning mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

He cocks his head to the side with a knowing smirk, admiring the view that the curve of your ass provides, smacking it along the way.

With practised ease, you undo his jeans, palming the damp patch of pre-cum on his boxers. Glancing up at him with a crooked smile, you coo, “Eager, are we?” before sliding down his boxers.

His head lolls back, muffled moans escaping him as you swipe your tongue along the underside ridge of his hard, red-tipped cock. His breath rushes out in laboured, choppy huffs like his life depends on you. The way you take him deeper, double-fisting him, becomes his lifeline.

“Holy shit, Y/N,” he manages to utter under his breath as he tenses in your grasp. You mewl softly around his cock, sending vibrations rippling through his body like shockwaves.

You’re insatiable, sucking him up from taint to balls, coating him in your saliva as you pump him harder in your mouth. Your swollen cunt is aching for him as you feel his head harden and twitch in your mouth with building pressure, forcing gagging moans out of you.

Gripping your hair in a messy ponytail, he watches intently as he fucks your mouth with increasing intensity. His free hand brushes along your clothed slit, his sturdy fingers running up and down your soaked panties. You gasp at the stimulus, clinging to the door handle for support.

“E-Evan,” you slur out as he applies more pressure on your throbbing heat, your words faltering as ragged breaths escape you.

“Yes?” He whispers, feigning innocence, though his arched brow and smirk betray his true intentions. He knows he can edge you with minimal effort, making you cum in his hands on the spot.

“Don’t stop,” you plead through your desire, your hips swaying in harmony with his rhythmic in-out motion.

“Keep sucking, baby girl. You drive me nuts, but I wanna see you multitask,” he challenges, no pun intended with his nuts reference.

As he tucks aside your lacy panties, he begins to circle your arousal, teasing your slopping folds. A low grunt slips off him as he feels how wet and ready you are for him. “Jeez, I need to take a dive in those Niagara Falls,” he chuckles and keeps fiddling around your throbbing clit.

Before you know it, he plunges two fingers in your begging entrance, eliciting a whimper from your lips that’s louder than you expect. The way he expertly curls his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots, sends bolts of pleasure through your core.

Soon, the sound of your moans blends with the wet squelching of your pussy, echoing throughout the car.

The faster his fingers pop in and out, the louder you moan in delight as you suck his dick relentlessly. When his thumb joins in, smoothly rubbing against your clit with no mercy, your thighs begin to wobble.

His fingering inevitably loses momentum as he tightens his grip on your hair. You giggle quietly as you realise he’s about to hit his climax, his head striking against the back of your throat, causing your eyes to well up with tears.

“Fuuuck, I’m gonna burst, Y/N,” he growls, delivering a sharp slap to your ass. His fingers dig into the sensitive flesh of your thighs, leaving faint red marks on them. He lets out the cutest, most contrasting sounds—something between a low groan and a high-pitched whimper—as his hips thrust harder each time.

With a wicked grin, you intensify your suction on his tip, sending him over the edge with a primal groan. His hot cum spurts into your mouth, filling it with its salty sweetness, before trickling down your chin. You eagerly lick his shaft clean and swallow his juices with greedy gulps, savouring his taste with a satisfied hum.

“Told you, you’ve freshened me up,” you chirp, playfully wiping him off your face. “You’re okay?” you ask with a bashful smile, reaching out to brush back the sweaty curls that have clung to his forehead.

He throws his head back, his chest still heaving with shallow pants as he stares at you with hooded eyes. “Damn, you’re good...I’m wrecked,” he breathes out.

Grinning lazily at you, he buries your face in his hands and grazes your cheeks with his thumbs.

“If you need a dopamine boost, I’ve got just the cure for you,” you coo and lean in close, twirling a strand of hair around your finger.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the prescription, doc?” he teases, his eyes dark with lust as he bites his lip, his hands massaging your ass cheeks. It’s a silent prompt for you to climb back over him as his mouth desperately fumbles your skin.

You peer into his lustrous eyes with a sly smirk. “Sure, I can give you a ride, sir,” you purr, your fingers tracing tantalising patterns through his locks.

His grin widens as your sex alights on his crotch that’s twitching eagerly at the prospect. “I’m all for it,” he murmurs, pulling you close for another heated kiss.

His arms envelop you as you bend together towards the compartment by the passenger’s seat with shared anticipation. Your hands remain entwined around the back of his neck as you sprinkle kisses across his flushed face.

He delves into the container, rifling through its contents. “Shit,” he hisses, clicking his tongue in annoyance.

“Houston, we have a problem?” you ask, your voice deep with desire.

“Mission abort...out of condoms,” he admits, his eyes meeting yours with regret.

“Consider it solved, let’s head to mine.”

You fling open the door to your apartment, ushering Evan inside with a goofy grin. “Come on in and behold the fortress of fun!” you announce, gesturing grandly to the vibrant interior.

He giggles and steps inside, taking in the cosy yet funky vibe of your place. “Dang, this place’s dope,” he compliments, nodding approvingly at the eclectic mix of pop art and rococo décor.

You beam proudly. “Thanks! Gotta give props to my housemate, Mayra. She’s the mastermind behind all this coolness,” you explain as you lead him down the hall towards the living room, giving him a quick peek into your room.

“Ah, gotcha. She’s got skills,” Evan comments appreciatively as you both shuffle back to the living room, clearly digging the ambiance.

He scans the space more thoroughly this time before turning back to you. “Is your housemate around?” he inquires casually, hands in pockets.

You shake your head, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Nah, she’s living it up in NYC for work. Won’t be back for a while,” you reply with a shrug, not missing the mischievous shine in Evan’s eyes as he looks you up and down.

His gaze darkens slightly as he inches closer with a smug smile that grows with every step, pinning you against the wall next to a small table stand. “Just you and me, then, huh?” he murmurs, his voice coarse and velvety just like it turns you on.

You affirm him with a smirk. Your fingers tangle in the soft strands of his hair as he closes the distance between you with a soft kiss that rapidly turns into a full-blown makeout session. What begins as sensual brushstrokes—your lips caressing softly—soon morphs into a heated exchange, your tongues kicking off a seductive twirl.

With a breathy moan, you shed his jacket and tug at his shirt, balling it up with a scrunch as you press his chiselled body firmer against yours.

“I like your lips,” he rasps out between kisses, a broad smile etched on his lips.

“My horizontal or vertical lips?” you toss out nonchalantly with a smirk, seemingly unfazed by any potential consequences. As if that isn’t daring enough, your gaze pierces into his eyes, radiating a sexual intensity that tips him off the edge.

He reciprocates your challenge with a devilish grin, as it’s his turn to strip you off your jacket and dress. His gaze is hungry as he takes you in. “Let me do an audit down there first, assess the vertical ones, and I’ll come back to you,” he mumbles as he drags sensual kisses down your boobs.

You moan softly as he latches onto your perky nipples, giving them a tantalising pull that only worsens your wetness down there.

His mouth trails down your body and sucks onto your hip bones until it finally presses against the fabric of your thong, right on your clit. You instinctively arch your back and grip the edges of the table as he kisses and inhales against you with a hum of delight.

“Where’s my boy dinner?” he teases, staring up at you. He stretches your panties down and leaves a kiss on the peak of the mound between your legs, causing you to squirm in his firm hold.

You shoot him a sultry grin, your voice tinged with desire. “Where do you want it served?”

With a swift movement, he flips you over, offering deliciously tingling love bites on your ass cheeks. As he rises to his full height, his lips shower your neck with fervent kisses.

You instinctively rest your head onto his shoulders, granting him easier access, and you can’t help but moan lightly as you feel the firm press of his hardness against your lower back.

“You see that couch over there?” he coos. You’re quick to grab onto his belt and tug him over there without breaking the kiss. You both let out muffled moans and smile-kiss as Evan finds his leg ensnared in the folds of a blanket, miserably fighting to wiggle himself free.

You slump down on the couch together, him on top, and instantly dive into a deeper kiss. His groans fill your mouth, assaulting your senses. You playfully suck on the tip of his tongue as you feel his stiff cock on your stomach, eager to set free.

“I’ll lick my plate clean, I promise. I just want you to feed me,” he begs, flashing you an imploring look.

“How do you want it?”

“On my face...only for me to feast,” he grins, pulling you in for another sloppy kiss while groping around your thighs all the way up your tits.

Lying on your back, you watch as he stands beside you and slowly chucks your thong away. His eyes fixate on your slick sex with a mix of awe and hunger, his fingers itching to dig in and explore.

You spread your thighs wider, inviting him closer between your legs, hands on his chest. He positions his head under you, his warm breath tingling your skin. His mouth brushes along your inner thighs, leaving tender kisses as he moves closer to where you want him to be.

And then, without warning, he savagely stretches apart your dripping pussy and licks a long stripe along your slick folds, making you squeak with pleasure. Groaning with delight at your taste and the slimy texture, his lips begin to suck on your clit.

You gasp and instinctively clutch his biceps as his tongue starts to glide against your slit, forcing choked whines from deep within you.

“Fuck, I could eat you out all day long,” he moans against you, his hands gripping your ass tightly as his licking becomes harsher and more aggressive. Damn, even his voice alone can make you squirt in an instant. There’s nothing about him that can give you the ick.

Your mind goes all foggy as his nose lightly nuzzles your clit. His tongue tirelessly laps back and forth against your sobbing red pussy, twirling along your gummy walls. He lifts you up by the hips, his tongue sinking deeper each time as he pulls you down onto his face. You drop your head back, a string of moans spilling from your lips.

Your toxic trait is believing that this is just a hook-up, and you won’t catch any feelings. Even when you’re riding Evan Peters’ face, receiving head so good your coochie can explode.

Well, why toxic? E v a n P e t e r s has you seeing stars as he works his magic on your clit and jams his tongue inside you like there’s no tomorrow. And there may not be a tomorrow, so why not just enjoy him on you, next to you, under you, or in you while it lasts? He makes you feel like the hottest and luckiest chick on earth (sorry, fandom), that’s just straight facts.

Reconsidering, you set off a swirling dance on his face to keep up with his pace, your legs getting all quivery. The knot in your stomach stiffens as your high builds, hitting you like a train wreck.

“Evan, fucking hell... I’m finishiiing,” you almost scream shakily as you fight for breath, your vision getting hazy. Your legs involuntarily tense around his head, and your knees tremble, while small, punchy sobs slip off your lips.

You catch him staring at you, a triumphant smile spreading on his lips as you writhe and wriggle back and forth under him, the throes of your orgasm in full glory.

He draws comforting circles on your stomach and plants sweet pecks on your thighs, giving you space to catch your breath. Your hand cradles his face as your vagina keeps throbbing, making you giggle from the tingly sensation.

“I want more,” he cries out, his lips curving downwards in a mock frown as he presses a few more gentle kisses on your heat before you climb off his face, your steps unsteady.

“Then, make sure you tone down your clit game. Most men act like it doesn’t even exist,” you scoff as you throw shade, shooting him a teasing grin as you clean his chin from your juices and his saliva.

“How can you take away the tomato from tomato juice? Same goes for Evan and a woman’s climax when I eat pussy,” he retorts, flexing his muscles with an arrogant smirk.

You playfully roll your eyes, ready for a comeback. “Sorry to humble you, but for us ladies, it’s mostly a mental process. Too many tricks won’t cut it,” you counter, picking up your underwear from the floor.

He raises a sceptical brow and narrows his eyes at you, his tongue sliding against his side teeth. “Oh, really? Care to see my tactic and put that theory to the test?”

“Be my guest,” you smirk with a provocative flair, motioning towards your bedroom with a sweep of your arm.

He seizes your arm, pulling you close, and melds his lips with yours in a fiery kiss. As his tongue enters your mouth, you can still taste yourself on him, making your cunt pulsate for him tenfold. You’re so turned on that you’d fold no matter what he asks you to do.

“Challenge accepted, you’ve been warned,” he quips, wagging a finger at you before scooping you up his arms and carrying you to the bedroom.

There you are, sprawled out in the middle of your bed, all bare and irresistible, sensually touching your body as your eyes lock onto his.

His imposing figure looms over you as he unzips his jeans, instantly giving you heart palpitations. With a lustful half-smile, he tilts his head and lets his eyes linger at your legs, testing his rizz.

Realising he’s only zeroing in your glistening cunt, you deliberately part your legs, granting him a sneak peak into your “inner world” up to his appetite. “Here it is, baby Ev, all yours and ready,” you grumble, a bright grin stretching across his face as he observes your marvellous pussy.

Talk about a man who sticks to his promises! He said he’d take on your “inside work” while chatting you up at the bar, and here he comes, offering in-house service.

With ease, he sheaths himself in a condom, his gaze never leaving yours as he crouches down on you, propped up on his toned forearms (veins popping all over, goodness me). Pressed flush against you, he peppers eager kisses along your face, neck, and tits, sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

“I wanna take good care of you,” he whispers, his hands travelling on your body.

Wrapping your legs around him, you let out a needy moan in a desperate attempt to get him inside. Your tongue pushes feverishly into his warm mouth, and he sucks on it gently, eliciting more soft whines from you.

He pulls away, tut-tutting softly against your lips. “Not yet, baby girl. First, tell me how much you want it.”

“Like mad,” you reply with a fervent nod. “And give it to me hard.”

With his throbbing length poised at your drenched entrance, a shared gasp brings smiles to your faces before turning into exhilarating groans. His eye contact never wavers, and from that missionary angle, he looks so Lana Del Rey “West Coast” coded, goddammit.

Your bodies mesh and merge together quicker than a click. Each thrust is a slow and agonising burn, as if he does it on purpose for you to beg him for more. You ache to explore every inch of him, but he just prolongs his torture by leaving only his tip nested inside you.

That’s until his gaze sears into your soul, and you feel him plunge back deep in with a force that sends you reeling, flooding you with ecstasy.

Your body jolts at the abrupt fullness, a raw wail of satisfaction ripping out of your lips as you dig your nails into his shoulder blades.

Taking the reins, he captures your hands above your head, lacing your fingers with his as he sets a relentless pace. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, and before you know it, the room reverberates the sound of skin slapping mingled with your mutual moans.

He releases one of your hands, fingers tracing patterns of comfort on your wrist as he slams in you faster and rougher. “Fuck, you feel amazing, Y/N,” he grunts hoarsely as he watches his cock disappearing into your dripping heat, a satisfied grin plastered on his lips.

Your body responds eagerly to his rough ministrations, hips rising to meet his with a desperate need to go harder. The rush of your pleasure overwhelms you as you yelp his name.

He meets your gaze with a cocky smile as his hand brushes along your lips, his hot breath a tempting tease on your face. Driven by your unhinged horny ass, you delicately snatch his ring finger into your mouth, licking and sucking on it as he grumbles joyfully, driving deeper into me.

“Evan...” you whimper, momentarily squeezing your eyes shut to handle his magnitude.

“You like it rough, baby girl?” he asks in a raspy tone, and his throaty chuckle rings in your ear, sending bolts of electricity down your spine.

“I do,” you gasp chokingly as you look up at him with imploring eyes. “Just right there.”

With a gleam in his eyes, he lifts your legs, draping them loose over his shoulders to penetrate even deeper. The slimy walls of your cunt grip onto his dick like they’re about to devour it, throwing him to the edge.

Your foreheads press together in a feverish intimacy as he pushes you closer to release. His hungry eyes fixate on the jingle of your boobs, his groans of delight mixing with the frantic rhythm of your heartbeats.

“Let me cum inside, Y/N, please. I need to feel you around me,” he begs, his voice strained with desire. His words hang heavy in the air, laden with raw desire as he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your lips meet in a fiery kiss, your tongues moving in sync.

Just as you’re about to cave, a sudden loud crash echoes from the hallway and shatters the air, causing both of you to freeze in place.

His eyes widen with alarm, mirroring your dread, and you instinctively cling to his arm for support.

Wide-eyed and tense, you exchange worried glances, his typically zen demeanour replaced by a flicker of uncertainty. “What was that?” he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

“I-I... I don’t know,” you stutter as you smooth out your hair.

A second loud thud breaks out, and it’s louder than the last, making your shrill in terror. Sensing your tremor and the urgency of the situation, Evan scoots closer to you and muffles any incoming outcry by gently covering your mouth with his hand.

“Shh.. easy... I’m with you, Y/N,” he mumbles, kissing the crown of your head. “Okay, let me throw on my clothes and go check. You stay here,” he instructs in a hushed tone, giving you a soft peck as he scrambles near him to pick up his scattered shirt and boxers.

Still nestled in his embrace, your grip tightens on his arm as he makes a move to stand up. “No, Evan,” you protest whisper-shouting. “Let’s go together.”

He hesitates and sighs in exasperation at your refusal to stay in safely. But, ultimately, he nods, his jaw set with determination.

You hastily slip into your satin robe, ready to face whatever danger lurks in the shadows. Hand in hand, you both venture cautiously into the dimly lit corridor as you stand behind him, your senses heightened in anticipation of what you might find.

The tension is palpable as you switch on more lights, illuminating your path as you dive deeper into the unknown.

After scouring every room, you return to the living room, puzzled. “There’s no one in, so we can rule out a break-in or th—” Evan’s words are cut short by a series of loud bangs resounding from the balcony, forcibly pulling your focus to the final frontier in your quest for answers.

“Promise me you’ll stay in. I got this,” he mumbles with a determined gaze. You nod silently with a bated breath, unable to utter a single syllable.

With resolve, he steps outside, the night air is thick with suspense as you watch him while biting your cuticles. Meanwhile, you pace nervously, your mind spiralling through disaster scenarios.

Suddenly, his voice pierces the silence as he calls out your name, giving you the jump scare.

“Evaaan?” you howl frantically as you sprint to the balcony, your heart racing and your hair whipping in the wind. 

Relief washes over you as you spot him pointing to a twisted chunk of neon metal lying on the ground, bathed in the moon’s glow. The gusty wind continues to slam the panel against the sliding door, confirming your suspicions.

You lean over the balcony, verifying that the fallen piece has flown from the drugstore sign banner next to your apartment—just a harmless casualty of the night. “I’ll drop it off for repairs tomorrow,” you mindlessly assure Evan as you share a chuckle that mixes nerves with relief.

His grip tightens around your waist as he suggests heading back inside. You both retreat indoors, leaving the metal piece by the balcony door.

“Water?” you offer, and he accepts with a grateful nod, his gaze softening in appreciation.

As you saunter to the kitchen together, you catch him checking you out as you bend over the counter and reach up on your tippy toes to grab a glass.

Just as you’re about to stride out of the room, your cleavage skimming his chest a bit too long, he swiftly corners you against the glass kitchen door.

“Where you think you’re sneaking off to?” he whispers, a smirk playing on his lips as his hands wander over your upper half.

Your eyes flicker across his face as you struggle to draw a breath, your heart pounding with anticipation. “Out?” you manage to squeak.

He inches closer, his voice dripping with suggestion, “We’ve got some unfinished business, don’t we?” he murmurs as his stubble grazes against your jaw, intensifying the pool between your thighs.

“Remind me?” you tease, your lips curving mischievously. You’re in your villain era; if not Evan Peters fucking you, why even bother?

He slides a hand under your loose robe and tenderly tweaks your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. A gasp escapes you at the sensation as his fingers find their way to your clit, setting off a relentless rub that brings a buzzing on your sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s like with each stroke, he’s hitting the pleasure jackpot.

Panting, you sway your hips to match his rhythm, lost in sensation. The play of his thumb on your clit drives you wild, leaving you craving more.

“Bring me a condom, and I’ll give you a reminder,” he chuckles, and in an erratic heartbeat, his lips crash onto yours, warm and demanding. You melt into the kiss as the room spins around you. He kisses you harshly, nearly biting you with a reckless passion, desire raging like a tempest.

With this move, things accelerate viciously. Gone is the playful banter; now it’s all primal need, Evan turning animalistic towards you. In a blur of motion, your body ends up pressed into the cold surface of the glass door; his hands firmly cupping your breasts from behind; his cock throbbing and pounding inside your slippery centre; raw horniness bursting forth through loud moans and grunts.

He’s so damn big, stretching your pussy to the point it stings. He doesn’t give you much time to adjust before he pulls out and jams back in you with primitive force. The door lock rattles incessantly as he pounds into you hard, his lips embellishing your soft skin with red, soon-to-be purple marks, his hot breath making you shiver.

He clings to you, his stomach against your lower back, hips still snapping into your soaked cunt. Together, you set a rhythm, rocking in and out with a measured tempo and sensual grace.

The pain blends divinely with euphoria in your body, leaving your mind foggy and dizzy as he continues to jab in and out of you despite your whimpers. His balls slap against your clit, making your climax hurtle towards you like a tidal wave. Salty tears of pleasure prickle at the corners of your eyes. “I’m close, Evan,” you yelp, your knees beginning to fail you.

“You’re doing so good, baby,” he praises out of breath as he smacks your ass, kneading all the way down your clit. “Let go, give it to me,” he urges, punctuating his last word with a particularly deep thrust, jerking inside you and causing your screams to spill out.

Pleasure shoots you like an electric shock, and soon, liquid dribbles down your legs. As the tension in your lower belly finally cracks, you feel him buckle as well, his hips stuttering. Letting out a guttural groan, he gushes out inside of you, followed by small whines of your name.

You urgently ask him to peel the condom away and spill his cum all over your ass and back. Soon, white, sticky cum from both of you mingles and trickles around you until you become a leaky, sticky mess.

His arms band around your waist, your fingers intertwined, his smiling eyes drowning in yours.

“Fuck, what did you do to me, Y/N?” he sighs, and you both giggle, your sweaty lips meeting again in a passionate kiss.

After a mutual clean-up, you slide into a fresh nightgown and return to your room, only to find Evan rummaging under your bed, his firm backside an enticing sight.

“What are you looking for?” you ask, enjoying the view as you lean against the doorframe.

“My car keys,” he growls, his brows furrowed in concentration as he takes a glimpse behind the curtains. “Must’ve fallen out when I took my pants off,” he infers with a low and husky voice as he glances back at you.

You nod sympathetically, folding your bed throw neatly on the corner armchair. His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer before he resumes his search, the tension between you growing thicker by the second.

“It’s late already. You can crash here tonight, and we’ll track down your stuff in the morning,” you suggest, settling onto the bed.

He looks up, relief sets on his handsome features as he creeps back towards you. “You sure?” he murmurs, his arms encircling your waist, his touch igniting sparks of arousal.

“Never been surer,” you breathe, leaning in for a kiss, unable to resist the pull between you.

But just as your lips meet, the jingle of keys shatter the moment, and you feel something sharp lightly nudging your lower waist. Pulling back, you shoot Evan a knowing smirk, your pulse racing with excitement.

With a nonchalant shrug and a wink, he tosses the keys onto the bedside table before pulling you under the covers and into a heated kiss.

------------------------------------------------

Taglist: sillysillygyal, junkie4weezer, frankiesweird, divinerulerz, nickrhodeslittledarling

@evanchantingpeters — All rights reserved. Please do not modify, translate, or plagiarise my content.

#evan peters #evan peters fanfic #evan peters fandom #evan peters fluff #evan peters imagine #ahs murder house #evan peters smut #ahs fandom #evan peters x reader #evan peters x y/n #evan peters x you #evan peters x female reader #tate langdon #ahs cult #kit walker imagine #kit walker #kai anderson imagine #kai anderson #kai anderson smut #fanfic #tate langdon x reader #tate langdon x y/n #tate langdon x you #warren lipka #kit walker x y/n #peter maximoff #colin zabel #evan peters dahmer #smut #stan bowes

[queerxqueen]

"I just want to clarify that I’m well informed on the situation that is going on but Byler has only one chance of happening. Meanwhile Palestinians are dying anyway. They have been for years and will continue to die. Since when do y’all care about them and their lives? You started talking about it only when it became trendy.

Fake activists, move on and continue eating expensive food in your comfy house and not giving a fuck about people far away from you dying. That shit happens everyday and if you get involved your psyche will be hurt. Let the politicians deal with this instead of bullying a random actor that didn’t do anything harmful"

browsing through the noah schnapp tag to see what he did now and seeing these words was a literal slap in the face how can someone post this and think theyre a good person???

(When I first read this, I thought you were saying that shit in my inbox and was ready to throw hands, so I was very relieved to see you were just sharing the bullshit from someone else's blog.)

I just searched in the tag and saw this exact post. How fucking horrifying. Instant block. I doubt anyone could reason with this person.

"Palestinians are dying anyway. They have been for years and will continue to die." Can't believe anyone typed this genuinely and without pause. Just say you don't care about Palestinian lives and stop there, you'll get your point across better.

"Since when do y’all care about them and their lives? You started talking about it only when it became trendy." Many people are only just now beginning to really educate themselves on the history of Israel and Palestine. I'm among them - I used to be one of the folks who thought it was too complicated and nuanced to take a stance on. Then I read Palestine: A Socialist Introduction, started reading from news sources and independent journalists outside of mainstream western media, started listening to Palestinian and anti-zionist Jewish voices, and realized how false that was. I take responsibility for not educating myself sooner. But it's actually weird to frame people educating themselves and having empathy for people dying as jumping on a trend.

"Let the politicians deal with this..." Ah, yes, let's leave it to the politicians, who notoriously have our best interests in mind and would never do anything to cause harm. (/sarcasm) "... instead of bullying a random actor that didn’t do anything harmful." If you think sharing violent zionist rhetoric such as "you stand with Israel or you stand with terrorism" or trivializing the deaths of eleven thousand Palestinians with stupid stickers calling zionism sexy, in front of your audience of millions as a celebrity, is "not harmful" then we clearly are not going to agree on anything.

#noah schnapp #answered #anon #free palestine #israel palestine #current events #death mention #islamophobia tw

[zgvlt]

tried and tested and truly yours sebek zigvolt x reader

summary: Sebek, the bodyguard of famous celebrity Malleus Draconia, is a regular at your café. With his frequency in your establishment, conversation was inevitable, though he never would have expected you to become anything beyond a late night acquaintance.

tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, fluff/romance, aged up characters (since they're all working), no magic AU, 12k+ words, not beta read

author's note (see end for more): (Belated) HAPPY BIRTHDAY SEBEK and (Belated) Happy Anniversary, TWST JP! Since my first fic was also on Sebek's birthday last year, Happy 1 year anniversary to my blog! Yippee!

you can also read this on AO3

“Hello! You’re here again.” Sebek looked up from the menu to stare at you, not unkindly but in a not exactly friendly way either. “Dear regular. What will you be having tonight?”

You recognized him as the man who frequented your café at odd hours—always your first customer in the morning, loudly declaring the same order and quick to leave; always your last customer in the evening, quietly eating until he was forced to leave. He recognized you as the owner of the establishment—he had thought you to be the manager once with how present you were, but the way you dressed freely and lacked a name tag suggested otherwise.

“I’ll have honey lemon tea,” he replied easily, heeding the recommendation his two bosses gave him. It would be good to keep his voice loud and healthy, they said, and who was he to not follow such a well-meaning, wise suggestion? “Hot, please.”

“Alright,” you replied, scribbling something on your notepad quickly, “and for something to bite… The usual, sir?”

Sebek nodded, “Whatever went unsold, I’ll get it all.”

You smiled brightly. He remembered you used to be visibly shocked the first few times he dined in, even concerned for his wallet with how much he ordered. He had huffed at the time, proclaiming that he was very well compensated by his very well-off employers, and that there was no use in worrying about him or his appetite. Nowadays, though, with the growing popularity of your business, you seemed more concerned about whether you had enough to feed him with.

“It’s really nice that you eat well,” you said, “does it have something to do with your job? You know, like people who compete in bodybuilding have to eat a certain amount and eat certain things to develop their body a certain way when they work out.”

“You’ve never asked me about my profession before,” Sebek noted. Many people would have stopped at that and you did look like you were about to apologize for prying, but he was, honestly, extremely proud of his job, so he found himself talking about it anyway. “But yes. Eating a certain amount is a part of my training regimen! How can I protect Sir Malleus properly if I can’t utilize my body efficiently?”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, protect who?”

Sebek’s first instinct is to groan to himself—that was a slip of the tongue, he should have been more careful with his words…! What if you’re some delusional fan who’s going to pester him about Malleus Draconia?! What if you’re an anti who’s going to try to use him to get close to the man and try to harm him?!

“Malleus… I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Is he a model or something?”

The second instinct he has is to immediately educate you, because unless you’re extremely good at pretending—he has to keep his guard up before he can clear that doubt about you—you seem to not know who Malleus Draconia is, which is an act malum in se… A crime in and of itself.

“How do you not know the greatest performer of the century? The Malleus Draconia!” Sebek exclaimed, shaking his head. Simultaneously, he brought out his wallet—but not to pay for his orders yet. Rather, snuck in a slot right in between his credit card and debit card, he pulled out a photo card, one of the man being brought up. “This is Malleus Draconia. He was a talented stage actor in his childhood, then he became a soloist in his teenage years, before returning back to acting, this time in movies and series, in his adulthood. He also models, yes, in commercials and magazines, but it is not his main profession. 

“Surely you must have seen him somewhere? Perhaps you simply did not know his name but your eyes have been graced with his performances!”

“Um, I hate to break it to you… I don’t think I know any of his songs, or watched anything he’s in,” you admitted, though upon locking eyes with him for a few seconds you ended up adding, “I’m sure he’s very talented, though! I mean, he certainly looks the part of someone popular. I’ll, err, do my research once I get home? If I don’t pass out in bed immediately,”

“That’s WONDERFUL! Of course, if you are truly as new to him as you say you are, you will have much to catch up on,” Sebek sighed, as though pitying you slightly, “but it will certainly be worth it. If you’re quick to invest enough, I won’t be surprised if you begin begging me for tickets to his concerts or fanmeets, or if you try to bribe me to get his signature. I won’t do it, mind you! So I’m warning you now!”

It was a very genuine warning, but something about the look on your face perturbed him. Could it be that you had plans to do so?

“So during these fanmeets and all these other events… You’ll be in attendance?” you asked, and Sebek scoffed at the question. Was it not obvious?

“I’m one of his bodyguards,” Sebek proclaimed with pride, “I am always in attendance, not only in the case of an emergency, but to support him as well!”

“I feel like you’re about to tell me something along the lines of ‘If Malleus Draconia has 1 million fans, I am one of them. If he has 1,000, I am one of them. If he has one, that is me. If he has none, I’ve departed from this world,’ or however the saying goes,” you laughed, and Sebek had almost begun an argument about how Malleus had more than one million fans, thank you very much! His MagiCam followers were only surpassed by the likes of Vil Schoenheit and Neige LeBlanche, who were active on social media, so it wasn’t a fair comparison! 

“I think it’s nice that a serious guy like you has this kind of passion, even if I wouldn’t have been able to guess it,” you said, “everyone must feel really reassured that they could rely on someone dedicated like you to protect such a high-profile celebrity.”

“Hmph! Of course they are!” Sebek was practically preening at your compliments, readily accepting them. “It’s good that even you, who hardly knows anything about Malleus Draconia, can recognize that!”

“Feel free to tip me for that if you want,” you said, “that was a joke by the way, I was being genuine.”

“I know it was a joke.” Sebek did not know, actually. He was fully prepared to tip you more than usual for engaging in this type of conversation with him. Somehow, he found himself more rejuvenated than usual, even though he had quite the tiring workday. Hopefully the tea would do the trick and, if not, he supposed some late night lifting back in his apartment would get him sleepy!

“Alright,” you smiled, as though you didn’t believe him. “I’ll go prepare your order, Sebek.”

“I’m surprised you remember my name,” he admitted, “you always call me your regular or something else instead.”

“Sebek, you’ve spelled out your name for me so many times for your coffee,” you reminded him, “S-E-B-E-K. I’m sure anyone would remember a name yelled out at five in the morning, practically every day.”

“Right,” Sebek turned away from you, flushing slightly in embarrassment. Of course that made sense. He was a frequent customer. If not you, then one of your employees would write his name down on a coffee cup. Sebek was not a particularly common name, too, so obviously you would recall.

“Since you know my name, though, I should know yours as well.”

You never wore a name tag, after all, so all this time he’s been calling you the person who owns the café in the building of my work place, which was a mouthful and just, honestly, plain neglectful of him. How rude of him! He should correct his impoliteness, shouldn’t he? It was simply right and, well, he should work on doing right so as to not bring any blights to his employer!

“Is that so?”

You didn’t answer him initially, focused on preparing his orders and, right after, charging his card for the bill. However, when he gets his receipt, he finds it jotted in pencil at the back, alongside your MagiCam handle and phone number—for emergencies it says, right beside an asterisk, or if he needed something delivered to his workplace.

Sebek doesn’t do social media, nor is he particularly social anywhere, mostly using his phone for work, to keep up with anything to do with Malleus, or to catch up with his family, but he keeps the receipt tucked in his wallet instead of throwing it out immediately. 

For emergencies, of course, though it’s not so much for him but more so for you. Not having any security guards in your café this close to midnight? Sure, the city was relatively safe, but there were dangerous people everywhere. Though he was not employed to protect you, he still frequented your café, so he found it important to make sure you were safe. It would be troublesome if something were to happen to you or your business.

That was all there was to it so, despite the regulations he had, self-imposed or otherwise, he found himself not just saving your number, but replying back, warning you to not spread his contact details anywhere.

Aside from a promise to do so, you text him something you’ve already told him a while ago: Good night!

Perhaps he should have reminded you to only text him for important matters, but maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t. He did not reply, but he made sure to greet you a good morning in person the next day.

Sebek’s eyes have constantly been flickering between Malleus Draconia and the crowd coming to see him this whole time, that being for about an hour now, and as much as he enjoys seeing people recognize the celebrity’s talents and efforts to the point that they would line up for hours to see him, the whole affair is, for once, relatively uneventful. 

He’s grateful, of course, that there’s no one to have to restrain for once; even his boss seems genuinely relieved that the event thus far had been very peaceful, what with him flashing a rare grin (with teeth!) instead of his usual closed-lipped smirks and smiles. 

What a blessed day to be a supporter of Malleus Draconia. 

That was why, although he still tried to keep vigilant, he found himself relaxing slightly, just soaking up the good atmosphere.

Then you showed up. You were still wearing the clothes he usually saw you wearing in the café, but the hat you had on your head really made it difficult to distinguish you from the crowd until you eventually removed it, right when you were already in front of Malleus.

Why didn’t you tell him you were going to attend?! You never even showed any interest in attending when he told you there was going to be a fanmeet today!

Then, you placed a paper bag on top of the desk. The contents had to be food, Sebek was sure, because while you did your best to cover up where the food had come from by using something plain as opposed to branded packaging, there was no hiding the familiar smell of pastries within.

Really, it showed that you were awfully new to events like these. Though the rules differed from celebrity to celebrity, Malleus specifically was not allowed to accept foods that were not, at the very least, sealed and packaged. For safety reasons, unfortunately, but a measure that had to be done.

Still, because you, from what he knew of you, were a well-intentioned person, he didn’t want to embarrass you in front of anyone. He was already making his way to grab the paper bag himself, as well as give you a reminder for the future, when you decide to tell Malleus something, muttering low enough so as to not be heard by anyone else.

“Nice to meet you, Malleus,” you said, shaking the hand in front of you, “Sorry if this is impolite, but could you give this to Sebek?”

Sebek nearly screamed. He really was about to, but he just about managed to hold back, merely jolting in place. His fellow guard slash his other boss’ assistant slash adoptive son, Silver, stared at him pointedly. 

“You know one of my bodyguards?” the black-haired man asked. While Sebek could not see his expression from his vantage point, he did sound intrigued by you. “Are you Sebek’s…?”

“He didn’t come by my café this morning,” you said, finally glancing towards him. “I was concerned he hadn’t eaten anything yet.”

“Oh I wouldn’t worry about him. He had a hefty breakfast, I promise,” Malleus laughed, “though I’ll make sure to give this to him anyway, since you worked so hard to bring it here.” 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Sebek was right about you being nice. I’ll try to support you in the future,” you promised, “I’ll be going now. I don’t want to take away any more time than I have from your fans.”

“Alright, take care,” Malleus said, and Sebek watched you walk away with a smile, wondering to himself who exactly it was meant for considering the difference between who you were talking to versus who you were looking at. 

Malleus spun around to hand the bag to him, eyes gleaming. 

“Well, you might as well prepare yourself. Lilia is going to pester you about this later,” he laughed ominously, promptly turning back to the crowd to greet his next fan before Sebek could get a response out.

“You must have lined up for about an hour just to get to the front,” Sebek said, confronting you as soon as he got back to his hotel room. Through the phone, he heard you let out a hum of agreement. Sebek sighed right after. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I was expecting you! You said you’d be able to go get your morning coffee,” you retorted, “well, ‘coffee’, quote-unquote, it’s more like milk with a dash of coffee… But seriously, isn’t it normal to get worried, especially because of the type of job you have?”

Sebek glanced at the mirror, the visual representation of his heated face reflected right back at him. 

“Something came up. We had to leave earlier than usual, so I couldn’t stop by,” he explained apologetically… and blatantly ignoring the comment about his tastes in caffeine. “You could have messaged me.”

“You don’t check your phone during work hours,” you reminded him, “unless it’s work related.”

“How sure are you that I would not have checked?!” Sebek asked, rolling his eyes despite the fact that you would not be able to see it. “Seriously…! I got a severe questioning from my boss because of you!”

“Oops, sorry!” you apologized, not sounding all that sorry. “What did Malleus ask you? I can’t imagine him as the type to grill you all that much.”

“Not much, thankfully, since, AHEM!” He cleared the non-existent phlegm in his throat, using that time to think of some other response other than the truth. “He mostly did the listening, not the questioning. Our chairman did.”

He inevitably went with the truth.

“Damn… your chairman?” you laughed, though it seemed more sympathetic this time, “You didn’t get in trouble, did you? I know some people are particularly strict with, you know, how they operate during work hours, who they associate with, not allowing people in your personal life to interact with people in your profession, things like that.”

“No! No, he’s terrifying sometimes, but he’s extremely compassionate too!” Sebek said, defending the man, “Although the questions… I would have preferred not to answer them at all…”

The recollection of the earlier event, the awkwardness and embarrassment he felt as he was questioned about you of all people, everything about it made him groan in annoyance. It felt like no matter what he answered, he found himself digging into a deeper and deeper hole that he couldn’t get away from.

“Okay, I won’t pry about the questions since you seem so pained by the memory,” you assured him, “even if I’m curious, so… Let’s talk about something else, then, if you’re not busy.”

“I’m not busy,” Sebek said quickly, even though he was rather tired from everything today. It was just… talking to you, yes, so it wasn’t like he would be exerting that much effort by staying up a few minutes later! The only difference between talking to you back at the café and talking to you on the phone was distance, obviously.

Never mind that, at the time, he was there as a customer and right now, well, there was no real reason for him to speak to you without the proximity binding you two to converse. 

“Are you sure? You sound a little tired.”

“Me? Tired? Do you still not know me well enough to be able to suggest such a thing? The events of today are not enough to make use of all of my strength, mind you!” he huffed, incredulous at the suggestion. “Even if I were to stay up for three consecutive nights, I would be able to do it!”

“Would not recommend that, even if it’s for work.” He imagined you shaking your head at him in some form of disapproval. “How was the coffee, by the way? I hope it was still warm by the time it got into your hands.”

“It was actually, yes.” His eyes darted onto the coffee table, the mint green tumbler sitting there, emptied and washed. “The insulation was good and it kept the drink sufficiently warm. I must ask where you bought it! I should replace my current water bottle with something similar.”

“Ahh… Just keep it, then,” you told him, hastily adding, “I haven’t used it yet, by the way! So you don’t have to worry about, like, my germs or something.”

“I can’t possibly…” Sebek said, trailing off as he listened to your protests. “Fine! Let me pay for it, then.”

“Sebek, no.” He tried to imagine what type of expression you would have on your face by now as you tried to argue with him. There were some complaints and banter, yes, but insistence regarding something so simple was new in regards to you. “Just consider it as a thank you for being my regular.”

“Absolutely not, then. Goods and services are meant to be paid for, and I’ve paid for them appropriately. It’s not like you’re handing them out to me for free. If anything, shouldn’t I pay you extra for doing a delivery run even when you did not have to go that far?”

For a moment you did not say anything, and Sebek thought he had finally won against you. Then, as though to let him know your silence was simply spent thinking of the perfect response, you replied,

“Then it’s a gift,” you told him, “because you’re my friend.”

“FRIEND?!” Sebek blurted out, before clearing his throat the second time that night. “Ah! Well, yes, of COURSE. This is normal behavior for friends to exhibit, yes. The exchange of gifts. Tokens of friendship.”

“Yeah? I mean, not everyone really needs to exchange. Sometimes, just receiving or just giving is enough,” you pointed out, “but you know, it feels nice to let your friends know you appreciate them any way you can, and that you’re appreciated, too.”

“Of course,” Sebek nodded to himself. Payment wasn’t what you wanted. What you needed in return was something… heartfelt and genuine. It was like one of his favorite Malleus Draconia movies, where he, to show his appreciation, gifted his dear ally something practical, something special, something he knew they would enjoy. It was such a good movie he had teared up, and what kind of fan would he be if he were not to heed the morals of the media he consumed? “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“That’s oddly intimidating, but alright,” you replied, yawning midway, “Alright, it’s getting late, and if not you, then I should go get some rest, so… See you tomorrow?”

“I won’t be there in the morning,” he let you know, “but I’ll see you in the evening.”

“Okay.” He imagined your smile, the one you usually gave him when he entered and left your café. He imagined you were smiling before you hung, and when you hung up it was only then that Sebek realized the call had gone longer than he had thought, and that he was still dressed in his suit.

It was thereafter he remembered that his room was right beside Malleus’, who tended to stay up late with Lilia, who often had Silver by his side, and thus…

Someone knocked on his door, a familiar beat of a song from his hometown. When he opened it up, he was only slightly surprised to be face to face with his fellow bodyguard, somehow awake at this hour. 

“Sebek, try to lower your volume next time,” the light-haired boy sighed, “father told me to let you know he and Malleus could hear your lover’s quarrel from the next room.”

He felt the red seep back into his face, though he wondered if it had ever really left in the first place.

“I’ll go over and apologize… even if it’s not a lover’s quarrel!” he boomed, before shutting the door behind him. Next to him, Silver shrugged.

“Okay, maybe we just misheard.”

“And misunderstood, too,” Sebek added. They walked a few steps in the hallway, walking away from room 1703 stopping right in front of 1704, Malleus’ room. Before Silver could use the keycard, Sebek halted the action. “Wait. Answer me this before we enter.”

“Sure?” Silver asked, confused by how sudden it was brought upon him. “If I can, I’ll try.”

“Silver… What kind of gifts do friends usually give each other?”

“SIR! What are you doing here?!” 

At his exclamation, Malleus Draconia looked away from his conversation partner, you, to acknowledge his presence. Beside him, you smile and wave at him, as though beckoning him to come closer. He could not compel himself to do so, choosing to stand right next to the door.

“Am I not allowed to be here, Sebek?” 

He froze, panicked and unsure of how to respond. Who was he to dictate where the man was allowed to go, especially a place not just harmless, but a place he was fond and familiar with? If anything, his pre-existing preoccupation with the establishment should have assured him that nothing terrible would happen to his employer.

Beyond safety, the person who ran the business itself was one he approved of beyond measure, thus… 

“There’s no reason you shouldn’t be, sir!” he replied hastily, gaze avoidant of your own, focused on the tall man. “I was just shocked to see you here so late, and without Sir Lilia or Silver by your side!”

“Even before you and Silver were enlisted as my guards, I’ve been accustomed to taking walks at this hour. You’re not the only creature of the night, after all.” Malleus moved to stand up from his chair, the seat he (and you) preferred to occupy during nights like these, walking towards him slowly. “Since I understand now why you frequent this place, I should take my leave.”

Sebek let out a sound of protest instinctively, ready to either drive or walk the man back to his home or whichever location he wanted to go to next, but Malleus waved him off.

“I don’t need to monopolize any more of your time, especially since you just got here. I already have your company nearly everyday for multiple hours a day.” His gaze drifted back to you, looking unsure as to whether you should insist on having Sebek escort him or otherwise. “Unlike a certain someone. I’ll go hail a ride by myself.”

“Do… Do you have the app for that installed on your phone?” Sebek asked, admittedly doubtful at the actor’s ability to book one for himself. Not that he could dare say his concerns out loud.

“Kids these days… Lilia taught me how to do it, remember?” he deadpanned, “now leave me be and don’t even think about being back at the hotel room until at least midnight.”

“Did you just get a reverse curfew?” you muttered in disbelief, attention all on him as Malleus took his leave. 

“I’m… a little confused myself,” Sebek admitted, “but I’m sure someone as intelligent as Sir Malleus has his reasons for imposing a, as you said, reverse curfew. In fact, I can think of a few right now!”

You looked surprised, which was an offense (none taken, but an offense nonetheless) to him. Sure, he would not say he was one hundred percent sure, false advertising was a crime, but he was at least ninety percent sure, which was more than decent by his standards.

“Oh? What do you think Malleus is trying to do?”

“It’s not that he doesn’t have his own sense of agency, but I have my reasons to believe that the chairman influenced him to visit you during his free time,” Sebek sighed, growing more and more embarrassed as the list of reasons began writing themselves in his brain. Was he actually going to reveal all of it to you?!

Of course he was. He never quite got the ability to keep his mouth shut unless told or, well, with you sometimes.

“Him coming here was probably due to a few things. First, they’re trying to teach me some kind of lesson. That is–”

“Wait, lesson?” you laughed, finding his answer a little absurd, “Do you think seeing me is a punishment?”

“OF COURSE NOT!” he denied immediately, “To imply as such is downright repugnant!”

“Pfft, it was a joke!”

“I don’t see how it could be humorous.” Sebek shook his head, wondering how you could afford to smile at his displeasure. What a terrible thing for someone to find your company even the least bit unpleasant; even more terrible, for someone to think he could dislike it, dislike you. “In any case, what I meant by lesson is that they might want to remind me that, as a bodyguard, my protection should not be limited to my employers and family. Rather, it should extend to good people. Like you.”

“That’s… That’s quite the sweet conclusion to arrive to, but…” you trailed off for a moment, as though hesitating to continue. “Sebek, do you really think that’s the reason Malleus told you to stay?”

“It would make sense, but there are other reasons, I’m sure.”

“Okay, then tell me another, since I’m not too convinced.”

“Well… It could be a reward,” Sebek said, “for a job well done. Instead of having to continue working at this hour, which I would be happy to do, I’m proud of what I can do as a bodyguard. I’m sure some consideration is in play by allowing me to spend time with a friend instead.”

“Ah, well, yes, but also no. I’m not sure how you can get it, but also not? At the same time?” you laughed, awkward but not demeaning. It still perturbed him, though.

“Okay? Then explain your thought process, then,” Sebek huffed, slightly frustrated at what he was not getting, “You seem to have talked a decent amount with my boss before I got here, somehow to the point that you can understand his way of thinking already.”

“I would, but he told me to keep it between us.” Before he could complain and demand to know anyway, you switched the subject very deliberately and, to your fortune, rather effectively. “So you think getting to spend time with me is a reward?”

Sebek’s eyebrows furrowed, indignant at your choice of ignoring his inquiry and at himself for not catching his word choice. Reward, was that the word he used?

“Hmph! Don’t get too haughty about it now!” he insisted, a warning that you would likely not take to heart, “It’s less reward and more a rewarding feeling, like something nice to look forward to before I end my day.”

“I see.” Except you’re not looking at him again, despite there being no one else to look at. Sebek should be frustrated, as he tended to be when people did not pay attention to him when he addressed them, but there’s something soft about your expression that has him okay with the slight impoliteness. He supposed even someone like him could fall victim to favoritism after all.

There’s another reason he could have told you that comes into mind, but he swallows it for now.

“I’ll go get you something to eat,” you told him, suddenly standing up and leaving him alone at his usual table. Sebek realized that might have been the first time the both of you had simply talked without anything in front of the both of you, no barriers, no disruptions. It was like those signs that were hung up in establishments sometimes, telling people to talk or read a book instead of using their phones and asking for the internet password.

Sebek abided by those quite a lot, reading whatever book he could lay his hands on (or an electronic book if his bag was strapped for space), but he never could have imagined talking to someone about… topics that he had never discussed with anyone, for a lack of a better term.

“There’s something I’ve been thinking about.”

“Yes?” You looked up suddenly from the plate of pastries you had picked up for him, genuinely curious and perhaps even showing an anticipatory flash of excitement. “Lay it on me.”

“So how long was my boss in the café? If you can’t give me the specifics… What were the topics, at the very least?”

“Oh? Interrogating me, are you?” you laughed, as though amused, though you looked away and had gone back to piling pastries, now on a second plate, so he could not see your expression. “Don’t worry, I only said good things about you.”

Shame as it was, it was alright. Even without seeing your eyes, he knows you are not one to lie, especially with such a matter important to him.

On one hand, he likes (more than, even, perhaps adores) the idea that you talked about him, good things at that. Beyond that, the idea that you could compliment him to his superior, a person he’s heavily respected since childhood, pleased him heavily. With that said…

It’s not jealousy or envy, per say. He knows what those taste like—he’s been eating and swallowing them up for years, after all—which is how he knows what he’s feeling isn’t anything associated with the sin. Rather, he supposes he’s… concerned. That talking to others about him would give you a certain impression of him, one that’s not very capable after all, even though he goes on and on about how dedicated and passionate he is when it comes to his job.

Dedication is one thing. Ability is another.

The thing is, Sebek’s come to the realization that he wants, needs you to think of him as someone capable, though he can’t be sure why the idea of you in particular showing disappointment in him scares him so much.

“Do you think I’m lacking in any means?” Sebek breathed out the question without any context, and while you looked somewhat surprised at the question, you don’t grill him for it either. Maybe you understood what he meant—you had gotten good at that, he thought, understanding him in a way others failed to.

“I can’t say for sure,” you replied honestly. You sit in front of him once more, placing two plates in front of him that would go unnoticed and untouched for a little while longer. “When it comes to work in particular. However… Most people aren’t exactly built to be perfect in everything, so everyone is lacking in something.”

You could have stopped there. It’s a model answer to a question he had sprung up on you for no real reason other than to see what you think or, maybe, to reassure himself over this and that. 

You don’t stop. Instead, you looked him in the eye and asked,

“Do you want me to tell you what I really think?”

“Please,” Sebek said, desperate not just for praise, but for feedback. As long as it was an opinion you held of him, that you had an opinion on him that wasn’t so… typical, he supposed.

“I think that when it comes to your character, I think you’re doing your best to become better and better each day. Whether this is the path you continue to take in the future or not, I think there’s one thing you will never lack—it’s your dedication.”

Sebek’s beaming the rest of the night, even when it’s mostly silent—him regaining his energy and calories, you asking him questions here and there about his day, him throwing them back at you. It’s peaceful and he’s happy, he’s happy and it’s got nothing to do with Malleus or Lilia or winning in a friendly martial arts spar against Silver; it’s got nothing to do with his parents doting on him or his siblings making him his favorite food. It’s got all to do with you and it’s just… terribly wonderful. 

It’s a minute after midnight when he stands by the entrance again, smile a little smaller, regretful to have to go, but teeth still blinding nonetheless. He’s thinking if he should ask if he can help you clean up next time, or if he should offer to drive you home—some other excuse to stick around a little longer, all under the guise of his boss’ orders, when you interrupt his reverie.

“Sebek, before you go, I need to ask you something.” You stood by the door. You don’t invite him in nor do you step outside with him, but you keep the door open to be able to talk to him. “Or tell you something. Both.”

“What is it?”

“Malleus told me your awareness levels are… a work in progress, but do you really not understand his intentions? Or, one of them, at least,” you asked, “I’m sure he and Lilia and Silver are very nice people who genuinely want you to spend more time with me as a friend, and that they’re curious about me as a person because I’m your friend, but it’s a little clear to me that they’re trying to see if they can get something else to happen by giving us more time alone, or purposefully seeking me out during a time you would usually come by.”

Sebek did not answer immediately, not because he did not understand where you were getting at, but because he had not wanted to acknowledge it. His awareness skills, he was told, were something he needed work with, but the base level was not zero.

After all, every mention of you brought upon implications upon implications. At that point, even he would get it. It was just that… it was embarrassing for you to realize it as well, so he tucked the reason he was very well-aware existed at the back of his mind.

Unfortunately, you already realized it, too.

With the silence that followed, you decided to continue.

“Malleus told me to keep this a secret, but it didn’t feel right,” you admitted, somewhat cautiously, like the man would be able to hear you break a promise, “so I’m telling you now. He was asking me what I thought about you, mostly, or what I felt. Anything to gauge if the two of us were actually in a relationship or if there was some way to set us up or get us together.

“It’s nice that he cares, but, you know, still a little shocking to have some world famous celebrity come up to you and ask you about your intentions with his bodyguard. Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”

“I have to apologize,” Sebek said, unsure of who, if there was anyone, really, to blame for the situation. He knew you had started it by appearing in their sights during the fanmeet, but he was the one who brought you up, and… Sebek was loathe to so much as think it, but even his seniors played fault, too, no matter how well-meaning they were.

“I’m sorry for bringing you into this. They’re just… I don’t mention anyone other than my family. I’m not exactly the most…” His voice dropped to a whisper, as though unwilling to admit something. “What I’m trying to say is that I hope you’re not off put by me all of a sudden because of this.”

“What? Of course not!” Without a second even passing you had countered the idea immediately, and in the evening, the sun had shone in his heart once more. “I was worried you would be put off by it! I mean, you never… I mean I like having you around, so it would kind of, really suck if you stopped because of, you know.”

You waved your hands around, unable to find the appropriate word. Sebek, articulate as he tried to be, understood the feeling this time around.

“No, no! It’s not a big deal to me! These kinds of things happen all the time in the entertainment industry, I’ve heard all the complaints first hand! If they’re mentally strong enough to handle all those rumors about them, then something this small shouldn’t bother me, nor should it you!” he proclaimed, and you nodded your head in agreement. 

“Thank the Sevens… I was seriously worried… You’re too important to me.”

Sebek stiffened in place. For a moment, he thought he would burst into… something, maybe flames, maybe an explosion, just something crackling and sparking and sparkling. You looked like you had expected him to shout, too, but when his voice had left his throat it had cracked like he was going through puberty once more. Uncertain, unsure, unconfident—words that he believed had long left his vocabulary since.

“I’m important to you?” Sebek did not quite realize it then, but he asked not for a clarification but a repetition. He heard it right, but what he needed was to hear it again.

“You’re important to me, Sebek.”

Sebek’s face was colored a bright red—he can see it through the nearby window’s reflection, hazy as it may be at this hour. 

It’s through that reflection, too, that he realized his hands had been shaking, torn between wanting to cover up his face and the smile growing back on it, to trying to hold onto… something, someone. He settled for curling one up in a fist, then clutching the lapels of his suit jacket the other. 

“I SEE! I SUPPOSE I…” He tried to respond with his usual bravado, but he could not compel himself to do it this time around. “Ahem, I…”

“Hey, you don’t have to–”

“No, let me say it,” he interrupted quickly. Your consideration was always appreciated, but he wanted to make things fair, to make sure you understood. “To you, I feel the same. You are… You are someone I… 

“You are precious to me.”

“Ah?” You let out a huff, some kind of sound of disbelief. He can’t blame you—he had meant to echo what you had told him for it would be the truth anyway, and yet a different statement had come out instead. “I thought you were going to say… Seriously…!”

Then, you shut the door on him. Before Sebek can so much as worry if he had suddenly ruined everything, you go from leaning against the counter—the transparency of the door had ruined your ability to hide yourself from him—to stomping right back up to the door, opening it wide.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Please stay safe on the way back,” you breathed out, somehow looking more frazzled within such a short time frame.

“Of course I will.”

“Okay. Good.” Then, you do something he had only seen people do in the movies, something he had thought would never happen in real life, much less to him. 

You pulled him closer by his tie, almost as though you had wanted to drag him right back inside with you. Instead, though, you tug just strong enough to make him jolt forwards, letting him do the work of aligning himself to be right in front of you. With an anticipation he had never felt before, he abruptly shut his eyes, not knowing what else to do. 

Unlike the movies, you don’t leave a kiss on his lips. Because you are friends, and most friends don’t just… do that, he thinks. However, the chaste peck you leave on his lips does not feel that friendly either. 

There’s room for doubt, of course, because you are one of the only friends he even has, and the feelings he has with you have felt different than everyone else, but he just knows, for once not with his mind but with his heart, that he should not have felt that way receiving a kiss on the cheek from someone he saw as…  as…

“Good night!” you shouted, emulating his usual volume, before running back inside, actually trying to hide yourself from him this time.

On the drive home he tries to simply move past everything, but the whole event—the whole night, really—just keeps replaying in his head like a broken record. The stoplight is green and he’s thinking about how you’re such a wonderful friend and that you were exhibiting normal friend behavior. The stoplight is red and he has one hand off the steering wheel, too busy keeping it next to the cheek you had kissed.

Sebek tried to move on, really, but the thing is—

It’s almost one in the morning, so it’s a given that all the stores are closed. Some stores, however, keep the lights in their display windows open. He never would have noticed it before, but with Silver’s voice ringing in his head, it taunts him now.

—Sebek’s not very good at moving past anything.

Sebek didn’t believe in magic, he was a little too old for that, but that did not stop him from believing you might have cursed him somehow, maybe put some kind of magic in that tumbler you gave him, or the sweets he definitely did not enjoy that much and only ate for the dose of carbohydrates he needed.

It had to be some kind of curse, because why else was he actually heeding Silver’s advice—Silver, of all people!—regarding what kind of gift you might enjoy. Why was he pulling up his maps application for a store he had never even known existed until he passed by it some nights ago while thinking about you! Isn’t that crazy?!

“I can type it, you know,” you offered, comfortably strapped with a seatbelt at the back of his car. “Not that I know where we’re going in the first place, but…”

“I’ve got it,” he insisted, having already saved the address previously. “You’ll see. It’s just ten minutes away from here.”

“Should I be nervous?” you asked with a short laugh, “I feel like I should be, especially since I’m strapped so securely at the back of your car instead of, you know, the front next to you.”

“It’s what I’m used to, so it was just my instincts telling me to make you sit there,” Sebek admitted, “you can sit at the front if you want later.”

“Nice! Still don’t know where we’re heading, though. I don’t recognize the store name you inputted.”

“I passed by it while driving home one time,” while I was freaking out thinking about you kissing me, except not really the type of kissing people expect when they hear the term kissing, except it felt like a real kiss to me  anyway !

“I thought you might like some of the items they sold there.”

“Aww! Since when were you such a sweetheart?” you cooed, and Sebek used the excuse of being too busy paying attention to the road to respond to what you said. 

“I’m surprised you’re free today, though, since you don’t seem like the type to skimp out on work. You give me the vibes of someone who would try to train somehow by going to the gym or something when you have a break.”

“That’s true,” he replied, “though I’m not some kind of musclehead, if that’s what you’re implying!” he said, “I also do other things, though, like dropping by bookstores in the area, or attending interesting lectures in my alma mater, or–”

“–or seeing your favorite café owner after hours?” He looked at you through the rear-view mirror, watching you eye him expectantly. You might even be pouting—he’s not sure, he doesn’t want to spend too long looking at your mouth. He sighed.

“No, I do that even when I don’t have days off,” he corrected you, “It would be more accurate to say that I also spend my afternoons with a café owner, now.”

“What’s with the aversion to calling me your favorite? Do you have another café owner friend that I have to worry about?” you complained, more as a joke than anything, but Sebek felt compelled to appease you anyhow.

“Accusing me of being disloyal? How insolent!” he huffed, “Did I waste my paid leave on you after all?”

Sebek was lucky he was the one behind the wheel, considering you looked just about ready to slam the horn of the car… or slam him against it, he can’t be sure.

“Wait, I thought you were free?!”

“I AM! Why do you think I’m here? I took a leave, which means I’m free for the rest of the day!”

“I thought it was just a day off or something! Like, Malleus told you you didn’t have to accompany him anywhere or something!”

“I mean he did tell me that, or else I would be working.” He rolled his eyes, because was it not obvious that he would not just skip work if he felt that he was needed? He did not even think he would be ALLOWED to. “I’m healthy enough to never be ill so I don’t use them up. If anything, they were very much alright with letting me take a leave once I told them my reasoning.”

“Well when you put it that way,” you laughed, “they probably think you’re getting time off to take me out on a date or some–SEBEK EYES ON THE ROAD!”

“Don’t spring up something like THAT on me all of a sudden!” His hand gripped the wheel tightly, chest heaving as he very nearly ran a red light. “Not that you’re wrong, but, you know!”

“I definitely won’t while we’re on the road,” you muttered, tearing your eyes away from him to look outside of the window, “but, like… You know they’re going to ask you about today later, right?”

“I have time to figure out how to word my report.” He cleared his throat, “Okay, wait, we’re here. You can step out and head in already,  if you want. Parallel parking is… parallel parking.”

“No, no, I want to see how long it takes you,” you snickered, “come on, if you want to boast about being a terrific driver, this is essential to perfect.”

“Heh, you think you’re so cheeky and clever. This is why I shouldn’t favor you over anyone else—you’re too keen on taking advantage of it!” Ignoring that he had essentially admitted that he did favor you, he shooed you out of his car. When it came to parking properly, he had to use all of his mirrors and… Honestly, he was a little terrified he’d damage someone’s car because he miscalculated, distracted by your presence.

It takes him three minutes, which is way better than his latest record of four. He thinks it might be because he doesn’t want to keep you waiting, knowing he wouldn’t want to be kept waiting, too.

“Sebek, look!” You tugged onto the sleeve of his sweater as soon as he entered the store, attempting to navigate him carefully through the aisles, shelves filled with fragile objects and breakables that neither of you wanted to pay for.

Taking him to a more secluded area, you pick up a mug to show him.

“Doesn’t it look like you?”

“Because it’s green?” he deadpanned.

“No, no, look closely at the crocodile!” you argued. It was hard not to look closely since you were waving it right in front of his face. Other than the similarity in colors, he’s really not sure how it’s supposed to be him.

“I don’t see what you’re talking about.”

“I’ll make you see it then,” you proclaimed, “I’m getting it, then I’ll serve all your hot drinks with this mug so you’ll be forced to stare right at it. Then, you’ll realize I’m right.”

“You’re getting it because it looks—because you think it looks like me?! What kind of reason is that?” he coughed, pretending he did feel the least bit flustered by you. He took you here because he thought you might appreciate getting some nice mugs or plates or something for your cafe, and the first thing you pick out is something for him?! Isn’t that just unfair?!

“Oh, and I’m getting this one as well!” His eyes follow your fingertips, seeing you point at a mug themed after a brown rodent. Given that the animal-themed mugs seemed to be in alphabetical order, then that one was…

“You know capybaras are too big for crocodiles to swallow, right,” he explained, wondering if you were being purposeful in your selections thus far, “that’s why they can swim in the same waters.”

“In my heart of hearts that means they have a close relationship! Which means, I’ll be using that mug from now on, thank you very much,” you grinned at him, and all Sebek can do is take the two mugs from you, a lot more careful with his hold than he usually is. He’s pretty sure there’s only one left of the designs you’ve picked out, so it would be troubling if anything had happened to them.

“I can’t say I would have picked THESE out, but we went here for you, after all,” he began. He really did think there were designs more to his taste, like the squirrel themed one he saw by the display window, but he did not take his leave to go shopping for himself.

He was heeding Silver’s advice by getting you something practical you could use and, well, this was what he had thought of.

“So if you like these, then we’ll get them.”

“Wait… Sebek, are you offering to pay? I…” you trailed off, clearly remembering something. “No way… Is this about the tokens of friendship? You never forgot about that?”

“I use the tumbler you give me all the time. It’s pretty good for when I need something to drink during workouts, or keeping my drinks warm,” Sebek explained, “I wanted to get you something you could use all the time, too, so if you’ll let me pay, I’d be more than happy to!”

“I’ll think about it… I’m definitely not letting you pay for anything else I pick up, but if it’s those two…” you hummed, not giving an answer right away. 

That was fine by Sebek, who had made a numbered list in his head of things he could do for you as some sort of… he didn’t know how to describe it. Something to prove himself to you, he supposed. Impress you, maybe, or simply make you happy with him. Happy in general.

“You know, I’ve heard people talk about whether people should split the bill on a date or not, but I never really hear discussions about whether people should give gifts or not,” you laughed, “not that this is a date, but the same principle applies.”

You’re walking away from him, perusing the rest of the ceramics and metals, and it’s then the impulsiveness wins in him.

“I MEAN, IT’S NOT LIKE–” He forgets himself and where he is, but you’re walking right back up to him, so he supposes his volume was alright in the moment. When you’re close enough, though, his voice drops to just above a whisper. “It’s not like it can’t be a date. You don’t have to insist that it isn’t.”

“Well you didn’t call it one when you popped the question all of a sudden at five in the morning!” you argued, “Wait, you’re not saying date as in platonic date, right? I have nothing against it, but I don’t want to misunderstand–”

“I meant it in a… in a… You know! The not-just-platonic way!”

“Romantic?” you supplied helpfully… or maybe unhelpfully. He knew the word! Saying it out loud, in public, was just embarrassing for him! Not embarrassed of you or his feelings or anything, just embarrassing in general. He wondered how the leads in those dramas and movies and books made it look so easy when it was the most nerve wracking thing he’s done since his job application!

“Yes, romantic!” he exclaimed, suddenly grateful that there were no other customers besides them, and suddenly uncaring that the only other person—the cashier—could hear him. “If you want!”

“I’ve extended my café hours from eleven in the evening to midnight for you, in case you haven’t noticed,” you informed him, “Do you think I just added salmon pasta to the menu on a whim? Obviously I only added it because you said you liked it!”

“Well you’ve never told me that!” 

“Well, should I go ahead and tell you now? Sebek Zigvolt, terribly intelligent, incredibly cute, and occasionally dense, I–”

“Wait no!” He notices his grip tighten on the mugs, and he softens it just in time before any chips or cracks could appear on either one. “Not that, you know, I don’t… We shouldn’t say that here.”

“Why not?” you asked, not offended but certainly curious. 

“I want it to be more… special?” he cleared his throat, “Not that it can’t be, since you’re here, but I want to be more prepared when I say it, or when I hear it. Whichever comes first.”

“Okay,” you responded, nodding in understanding, “yeah, maybe this was a little out of nowhere. We don’t want to have regrets or anything.”

“No, we don’t,” he agreed. As much as he thought he would not regret any of his feelings for you, he did not want you to look back at this day and wish he had admitted his feelings for you some other way. He needed it to be perfect. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. About this and about, ah, our feelings… Right?”

“Right!” You left little room for doubt with your answer. You never seemed to when it came to Sebek. While he had absolutely no plans to admit it to your face anytime soon, he appreciated the lengths you went to make sure he would never misunderstand you or your intentions. Just as he was a man devout to chosen people, he was a man prone to doubt.

“That said… Is your offer to count this as a date still up for grabs?”

Sebek Zigvolt was well into his twenties, so the idea that he was back to talking to an inanimate object—a mug of all things—was bizarre to him. Downright embarrassing, actually. Sometimes he found himself regretting buying that squirrel-shaped mug, but you were just way too convincing and now he uses it to store his toothbrushes. Wonderful.

“Should I do it today?” he asked. It had no mouth so it could not speak, but the painted-on eyes staring back at him held a resounding no. 

“You’re right. Domesticity is one thing, but is it not too casual to confess in my apartment of all places…?” he murmured.

He checked his teeth for any food or stains one last time—old habits die hard when your parents are dentists—before leaving the bathroom.

“Thanks for letting me have lunch here,” you told him. You’re putting your shoes back on already and it reminded him that he, too, had to get back to work in a short while. “It’s hard to have a relaxing meal in my own café sometimes. I feel like I’ll end up doing work instead of eating.”

“And that would be no good! One must always rest without the distraction of work in the midst!” Sebek declared, walking over to the dining table, finding that you had already washed the dishes without him. You even remembered where he hid the towels—it took you longer to find them last time.

“Exactly, so I hope you don’t mind me coming here again. Though, if you’re free, I also know a good–”

A knock on the door interrupted the both of you. Sebek frowned, immediately reaching for something he could use to whack someone with in case of an emergency. Meanwhile, you walked over there without any hesitation.

“I’m already heading out anyway, so I might as well,” you explained, partially unlocking the door to get a peep of who was outside. “Oh. Silver, right?”

SILVER?! What was that man doing outside of his apartment? Not that he’d never been, but still! Couldn’t he have at least sent a text or call warning him? How rude, especially since he had a guest over, and…!

Oh Sevens, he had you over, and Silver saw. 

“That would be me,” the man replied, face less stiff than usual. His expression is somewhere in between actually smiling and trying to de-widen his eyes. “You’re Sebek’s…”

“Yeah, let’s leave it at that,” you laughed sheepishly, “I assumed you would be Silver because of the hair. You probably get that a lot. Anyway, SEBEK! YOUR FRIEND IS HERE!”

“WHY ARE YOU SHOUTING,” he shouted, “I CAN SEE HIM.”

“THEN I’LL LEAVE YOU TO IT,” you shouted back, “I’LL GO BACK TO WORK NOW.”

You unlocked the door fully now, allowing Silver to enter, you to exit, and Sebek… to also exit right after you. He knew it was not very hospitable of him to leave Silver to tend to his apartment, but it would only be for a minute anyway! The INTRUDER could handle himself for that long!

“Hold on,” Sebek called out to you, grabbing hold of your hand. “I should give you a proper farewell. It’s good manners.”

“You’ll see me again later anyway,” you laughed, “okay, come closer.”

Sebek’s gotten himself into a certain routine, he would put it, one that he loathed to break. Routine was routine for a reason, and there was no reason for him to not abide by it. What must be done shall be done.

You pressed your lips just next to his, narrowly avoiding them in favor of the corners where his smile lines were. Sebek suddenly wanted to go on a run so he could blame the sudden spike of his heart rate on the physical activity.

“I’ll see you later,” you said as you pulled away—from his face, from his hand, from him. This would have been the part where he would have offered to either drive or walk you back, but…

He sighed as he went back into his apartment. He wanted to muster up a frown for Silver, but he was still too giddy to stop himself from smiling in time. 

“Who said you could make yourself home in my place?” Silver, seated on his sofa and idly watching the news on his television, looked back up at him with a cup of coffee in his hand. Thankfully not one of the few cups you’ve brought and left in his apartment, but still. “And why are you here anyway?”

“I was nearby, so I thought it would be more efficient to ride together. Save gas, it’s better for the environment.” The man took a sip of his coffee (without sugar or cream or milk! Just how did he manage?), humming appreciatively. “Huh. Your partner’s pretty good at this.”

“That’s true,” Sebek replied, and then realized his mistake. “But, like I said, the two of us are NOT in a relationship.”

“There’s no point in lying, if you’re worried about being professional, since we don’t have a no-dating policy to abide by, unlike some talents out there,” Silver countered. That was NOT the issue though, unbeknownst to the man.

“I would NOT lie about this to you, and even more so to Sir Malleus and Sir Lilia!” he insisted. “We’re currently dating!”

“I’m sorry?” 

“Dating. No label yet. Like courting. There is a difference!” He said it like it was incredibly obvious, even though he had not realized there was a difference between going on dates and being in an official relationship before you had told him about it.

“Ah, well… As long as you’re happy.” Sebek wasn’t sure if Silver actually understood correctly, but he nodded his head anyway.

“Exactly. I feel happy, so you don’t have to pry.”

That was what Sebek told him, but, if he’s being honest… He really does want to confess soon. It’s why after a moment of silence, he caves—

“BUT… You know, if you have any advice, I would listen attentively. Even if it’s subpar. Your previous advice regarding the gifts were decent, so I would not be against hearing what you would have to say.”

Actually the advice was more than decent, considering it somehow led him to being one step closer to being with you romantically, which was more than he ever could have hoped. However, he did not want to give Silver the satisfaction and credit, so he would not say as much.

“You could have just said thank you…” Silver deadpanned, shaking his head.

Sebek should have realized that the perfect place, the perfect time, would be that which was both special and familiar to the both of you.

He’s reading through a small binder of papers his boss had given him. He’s red-faced, slightly frustrated, but extremely focused at each and every word and line and note written in the margins, eyes intense like the words were his prey, his meal, like consuming the words would mean he would embody them.

You clearly notice how his attention’s been completely captured by the papers in his hand considering you call him out for it. You never used to ask considering he sometimes held confidential documents, things even he can’t tell you, but you can’t seem to hold your curiosity this time around.

“My boss gave me his scripts,” he replied, “to clarify, he selected a few scenes from some of the movies and dramas he’s acted in.”

“You don’t seem as excited as I thought you would be.”

“It’s not that I’m not grateful!!! Being able to have papers from the original copy is wonderful! I’m sure these count as prized possessions!” he exclaimed.

“But?”

But the reason his boss gave them to him was embarrassing! His employer is terribly generous and kind, as expected, and maybe a little later he’ll be elated about being gifted them, but the fact that Malleus gave them to him so he could get an idea of how to confess to you simply made him want to shrivel up and wither.

A part of him didn’t want to explain it to you at all, perhaps think up some excuse on the spot, but he knew that honesty was important in all relationships, so he shouldn’t hide it from you. 

There’s also the fact that he’s not the best liar, but that’s entirely irrelevant.

“I told you that I wanted to wait for the perfect time to confess, so I would have the right words to explain my feelings for you this time around… But I’ve been having difficulty formulating the perfect order of words, order of sentences.” Sebek was bashful at the admission. Even though he knew it not to be true, he sometimes felt that you were better at conveying your feelings for him than he for you. He felt repressed by comparison, even though he did his best to showcase his affections whatever way he could.

In him was the desperate need to not just make you feel how you made him feel, but to make sure you understood just how you have charmed him; that, at times, his heart was more yours than his.

“With that, Sir Malleus, or perhaps Silver or Sir Lilia—who’s to say who made the suggestion—gave me a few scenes to read so I could be inspired to finally confess my feelings to you.”

“Oh!” you looked somewhat pleased by his response, Sebek thought with relief. At least you’re not upset that, after all this time, he’s still having trouble to the point that he’s trying his luck with external sources. “Well, do you think it’s effective?”

“I can’t say for sure,” he replied, “the lines are well written themselves! It’s just… Imagining myself saying them feels off, to say the least.”

“Well, you don’t have to restrict yourself to imagining,” you told him, “you can actually say them out loud.”

“In front of you?!” He would have done a spit take had he been drinking a beverage, which would have humiliated him and ruined his chances of ever confessing to you, he dramatized in his head. 

“It won’t count as your confession. Just think of it like a read through! Hasn’t Malleus ever made you do that while practicing his lines?”

“He has… So I suppose I do have some experience in this matter, even if it’s nothing professional,” he nodded to himself, arriving at a decision. “Yes. Alright. Well, have at this—I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be…yours…”

“Well, the line itself was rather captivating, and I liked the way you said it, although…” you stifled a laugh, “You looked so serious reading the script that I can hardly call it heartfelt.”

“That line wasn’t in the book the movie was an adaptation of,” he pointed out, a factoid he just happened to know. “I was just reminded of it while reading the script… I wonder if the line is too direct? What about… Anyone who has seen your smile has known perfection. You instill grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture.”

“Very poetic,” you nodded, then joked, “if you ever consider switching careers, I’ll be your most toxic and supportive fan. I’ll go carry around your polaroid by daylight, then fight your antis by midnight.”

“How silly,” he shook his head, pretending he wasn’t a little flattered, even if it was a mere joke. “You already have a polaroid at the back of your phone case, remember?”

“Correction! Of us, not of you! Which, putting it that way, might be even better!” you laughed, “Though no point of using that against me when you have your copy tucked nicely in your wallet.”

“I’ve been meaning to take it out.”

“Sebek, you decorated it. With stickers your parents gave you when you had your last check up.”

“I TOLD them I was too old for stickers, but they insisted on giving me a sheet anyway!” he said, a well-prepared excuse in case you asked, “It would have gone to waste!”

“Of course,” you chuckled, “remind me to ask for a sticker sheet the next time I go to the dentist. Maybe I’ll even go out of my way to go to your parents’ clinic so we could match.”

“You’re ridiculous,” and terribly, terribly sweet and lovely, but ridiculous nonetheless.

“You love me anyway!”

“I’m not sure why I do.”

“Just like that!” Sebek doesn’t get what you’re on about, and he doesn’t for a while, even as you’re grinning at him, cheerful, beautiful. Honestly, he wishes he knew so he could do or say it again. 

“Just like what?”

“Sebek, you just told me you loved me.”

He froze.

“Had I?” he asked, voice a little shaky. Had he truly? If that was really the case, what an uneventful confession! How regretful and simple and incredibly plain, and–

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever considered this, but I don’t really need anything grand or incredibly put together.”

You take the papers from his hands, gently putting them to the side so his hands could hold yours instead. Sebek adjusts his grip; holds them more delicately—just tight enough a grip to feel that it’s truly you he’s holding, but loose enough to keep you comfortable. Your hands are precious; as is all of you. Not a prized possession for you cannot be possessed, but something to be treasured regardless.

“I feel that you deserve it, though,” he argues, a little forlorn, “I would speak my thoughts if I could. My mouth does not have the eloquence my brain has, I think.”

“You can try regardless,” you say, “it’s something I love about you. That in spite of failure, you will try and try.”

You, endeared to him beyond the limit he thought possible, had little trouble in convincing him. How could he, eager to impress you and eager to prove himself to you, refuse such a request? How could he when you tell him there is something about him you love, to state that there is love in your heart for him? How could he not attempt to say the same?

If it is for you, then he will swallow down his pride and try.

“In the past, I had wondered if the feelings I felt for you were that of romance or if I had been influenced by the opinions of others, if I even understood what romance was. Everybody knows that not all movies and books are true to life, and I was afraid I had misconstrued my feelings of friendship—for friends, to me, were few and far between—with attraction, if attraction was misconstrued with love. 

“But it had dawned on me, what I had felt for you, that night you had first kissed me.” He peels his eyes away from your own momentarily, pained an action as it is, glancing at the entrance. “The first night, I excused my constant thinking about it, about you, to the new feeling I had never experienced before. The second night, I was still thinking of you, and I excused it as simply wanting to sort out my thoughts as to what that action meant for you, all your intents and purposes.”

“And now?” His eyes returned to you, idly watching your lips move as you spoke. “What realization had you come to?”

“Even now, after several phases of the moon have come to pass, I still think of you—night and day, morning and evening. Nothing has left, for the only change would be the growth of my feelings.”

There is nobody else in the café, and yet he drops his voice to a whisper, as though not even the air would be allowed to hear what was meant for you and you alone. 

“I am sure more than ever, for how long I have tried to dispute or explain away my feelings, the tests I have done to make sure I could only be genuine with you… Tried and tested, tried and true, my heart and my soul is truly yours.”

“Sebek…”

You pull your hands away. The loss is mourned.

He thinks you’re saying something. He thinks and not knows because his ears stop working, just for a moment; among the vessels of his senses, only his eyes remain attuned, fixated on the way you stood from your seat, ridding yourself of the distance the coffee table forced between the two of you. It is only when you press your forehead against his that he feels everything again.

“Have I conveyed it to you?” he breathes out, pleading, “Do you understand me?”

“You never should have doubted yourself. I understand you perfectly,” you reply, smiling softly. “So let me make myself understood by you, too.”

end notes | masterlist of all my works | other sebek fics -> (the stories told, the charm you hold) -> (capture my heart, my voice into art) -> (stick to the script)

[ 1 ] Title comes from the phrases "tried and tested" and "tried and true", which I just combined with the sign off "yours truly".

[ 2 ] The AU idea came to me when I saw people make fancams of the bodyguards and back-up dancers of idols. It was kinda cute. I think they really deserve a lot of appreciation. Then the idea grew from there!

[ 3 ] For everyone’s ages, I sort of imagined Sebek and Silver to be in their 20s, basically typical post-college age. Malleus I’m not sure, let’s say 30s, and Lilia will be ??? (no one knows his age he has hid the documents). Basically they’re all working adults.

[ 4 ] Malum in se: wrong or evil in itself; sinful and wrong by nature (as opposed to malum prohibitum, which means something is wrong due to law dictating it).

[ 5 ] The first quote Sebek says is ripped from the Sense and Sensibility adaptation. Spoilers! Many think that the famous confession line, “I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be...yours," is also in Jane Austen's book, but it's actually just in the movie! I actually like the adaptation and the line, by the way! Just a fun fact!

[ 6 ] The second quote is altered to be gender neutral. It's from Edmond Rostand's Cyrano de Bergerac. The original is, "Anyone who has seen her smile has known perfection. She instills grace in every common thing and divinity in every careless gesture.'

[ 7 ] Fun fact! Malleus purposefully chose scenes from book adaptations since he knows Sebek is a reader, so he would appreciate it more.

[ 8 ] I actually had a lot of ideas for this fic and universe in general that I just can't fit in so maybe I'll revisit it some other time with one of the other Diasomnia boys.

last edited: 19/03/2023, for misspellings, changing cafe -> café

#twst x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader #sebek zigvolt #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twst imagines #twisted wonderland #nathya twst writing #sebek x you #sebek x y/n #twst sebek #my second longest fic... still shorter than the trey fic lol

[radiofreederry]

Happy birthday, Paul Robeson! (April 9, 1898)

A celebrated actor and bass-baritone singer with a distinctive booming voice, Paul Robeson was born in Princeton, New Jersey to Reverend William Drew Robeson, a Presbyterian minister who had been born into slavery in North Carolina before escaping in his teens. The younger Robeson began acting in high school, and also excelled at sport. He won an academic scholarship to Rutgers University, which he graduated as class valedictorian in 1919. Robeson was socially conscious from a young age, and became especially concerned with inequality, both racial and economic, in American society. He attended Columbia Law School and worked for a time as a lawyer, but left the legal field behind due to its institutional racism. His talent for acting and singing allowed him to build a career in show business with the backdrop of the Harlem Renaissance, and he became especially known for his portrayal of Joe in Show Boat, with his rendition of "Ol' Man River" becoming iconic. He was also one of the first Black leads in American film history. In the 1930s, Robeson's social consciousness expanded, and he became interested in Africanism, anti-imperialism, and socialism, visiting the Soviet Union in 1934. Robeson would later reflect that his treatment in the Soviet Union was so starkly in contrast with the racism he experienced in America that he had felt like a full human being for the first time in his life. He became a left-wing political activist, supporting the Republicans in the Spanish Civil War and unionization in the United States. He was closely associated with a number of prominent socialists and members of the Communist Party, and supported Henry Wallace's 1948 Presidential campaign. He was also heavily involved in the early phase of the Civil Rights Movement. Robeson's political activities resulted in a backlash as the Cold War opened. He was blacklisted, forced to appear before the House UnAmerican Activities Committee, and his passport was revoked for several years, preventing him from touring. He retained popularity outside of the United States, and he was able to find some success touring in Europe and Australia, where he became the first person to perform at the site of the Sydney Opera House, singing the labor song "Joe Hill" for the workers building it. In poor health for much of his later life, Robeson died in 1976.

"My father was a slave, and my people died to build this country, and I'm going to stay right here and have a part of it, just like you. And no fascist-minded people like you will drive me from it. Is that clear?"

#birthdays #paul robeson

[velvette-hussle]

VELVETTE’S BLACK-CODING & THE HH FANDOM’S RACISM

A lot of y’all (and especially the ones of you that will cry about how ‘not racist’ you are without having actually unpacked any of your racism, and who are more scared of being called racist than actually being racist) are so viscerally against even the mere headcanon— let alone active canonical race-coding of Velvette being black, and I’m so over that shit.

Y’all will fight tooth and nail when a show has one barely purposefully black character — out of an already predominantly white cast of characters & more non-black poc characters than there are black ones (who have speaking roles, most notably) — to deny (black) fans the ability to celebrate and actively acknowledge that character and their race. Especially if y’all can’t ignore that character, or if before you realized they were black/black-coded you liked them.

⚠︎ I wrote this out of pure utter frustration and anger so I’m going to cuss and I sound fairly mean and angry so do with that what you will. ⚠︎

P.S. — This isn’t necessarily meant to be educational; I’m allowed to be angry without having to teach y’all how racism works while crying over my phone (because, yes, I am an emotional bitch) for free.

Some of you people are truly insidious. We get half of a bone tossed to us (because Velvette’s demon form is still dark grey which gives the audience a lot of plausible deniability when it comes to not accepting that she’s black) and everyone is still trying to snatch that half a bone out of our mouths despite the fact that y’all are eating good. It would be embarrassing if you bitches had any shame about your anti-blackness, but y’all don’t.

Then all the little pussyfooting-ass bench sitters can sit around talking about how they don’t care either way, they just don’t think everything should be focused on race (which is what y’all always say, but if people didn’t care ‘too much’ about rights and how a lack there of for minority groups seeps into everything including our entertainment media most of you wouldn’t have the rights or entertainment you do now - these things are systematic so you have to attack and address the racism everywhere, not just in the areas y’all find it more appropriate/appealing to be hit with that reality in) - but fuck it if real people are actively being exposed to the fandom’s racism though, right? Or how they just prefer Velvette white (while explaining away her afro as her just having been a curly haired ginger in her human life so that’s not actual evidence towards her being black-coded or over-emphasizing that she’s WHITE British as if black British people are some nonexistent group) and they don’t see how that should be labeled as them being racist when it’s “just a preference”; but why does the sheer idea of Velvette being black repulse you in such a way in the first place?

Like everyone will accept Vaggie’s, roughly Valentino’s and even Carmilla’s coding as some form of ethnically Latino because they speak Spanish and because their voice actors are Latino of some sort, but when the same type of evidence gets brought up for Velvette’s black-coding (her VA being a black woman, her hair being in an Afro, the type of British accent she has sounding like it took inspiration from predominantly black British areas - though definitely less so than a character like ATSV!Hobie Brown, and the audition sheet for her character allegedly specifying that she was to be a black woman even) all of a sudden coding doesn’t exist, because y’all said so I guess. It’s the same fans of the show too that will whip out Alastor’s being black biracial to brandish it like a fucking weapon against those who call out Medrano for her racism and misrepresentation/demonization of vodou and voodoo in order to absolve her of any culpability or fault that will then turn around and deny the hell out of Velvette being black, and ain’t that just a bitch? Fandom has a racism problem (and me saying this is NOT new) but despite y’all thinking your radical because of some of the shows you watch and characters you like y’all are so obsessed with keeping the status quo in tact that every time someone points out a fandom’s racism it somehow manages to keep getting swept under the rug every time.

Regardless, Alastor’s alleged page in Medrano’s Pitch Bible says he could be ‘Any Ethnicity’ which was then retroactively changed for poor accountability reasons (but most everyone takes even that retroactive change as gospel and acknowledges that, as he is now, Alastor is biracial), but when Velvette’s alleged page in the Pitch Bible explicitly states that she’s a ‘black woman’ (and that hasn’t been redacted)

now everyone spontaneously doesn’t care about treating Medrano’s words like they’re the word of God and Velvette’s race is in the “eye of the beholder” or some shit. At this point just admit that you guys are racist and can’t stand the idea of having to regularly see, having genuine enjoyment for and interest in, or having an attraction to a black character. Y’all are so transparent in your anti-blackness, but too cowardly to admit it, that it’s almost painful.

Velvette’s coding (especially before you hear her voice, see who her VA is, and see her character’s appearance in s1ep8 where she’s depicted with textured hair) is not great, and I’d be remiss not to acknowledge that. She’s got the same skin tone color-coding problem as the other black - and only supposedly black - characters where she’s somewhere between a medium to dark grey in lieu of just making her brown skinned (which I get is because she’s a demon, but still), and in general there’s just enough not going on to make her black-coding more explicit that all the ‘I don’t really see her as black’ people can have a field day, and that makes arguing her blackness a necessity because you have to provide a whole bunch of evidence before people concede defeat or call you some backhanded insult that’s almost a slur before blocking you. That’s the reality and it sucks, but I am glad that there is at least things we can point to and that (even though not the best established/depicted) Velvette is supposed to be black.

All this to say, VELVETTE IS A BLACK BRITISH WOMAN (just black-coded or otherwise) and you can certainly argue about it, but I will not be responding; I have better shit to do.🫶🏾

The one thing about fandom and fan spaces - and just any media I consume for joy, period - that has always stayed consistent is the racism (and especially the anti-blackness & misogynoir). I can never escape that shit and I hate you people for it, I really do. Y’all’s favorite phrases to hit black people with are either ‘it’s not that deep’ (which it is, because your fandom preferences and reactions likely channel into how you vote, for instance, and how you regard the real life human beings in front of you’s worth at a given moment; I’ve seen it, because the same way that y’all take in misinformation about irrelevant shit like HH & HB is the same way y’all take misinformation and run with it when we’re discussing real life instances of oppression & discrimination) and that ‘be the ones to give black characters attention/make your own black character & predominantly black media’ bullshit. News flash though, a couple of black people in every fandom cannot cure the levels of systemic racism that’s sunk into you all like a fucking disease, but that so many people are just totally fine repping. If you’re “tired” of hearing black people complain about racism don’t you think black people are tired of feeling it? Of never being able to escape the effects of it? Of dealing with it? We hate this shit (at its most extreme it gets us killed and at it’s tamest it ensures we have less enjoyment & feel less welcomed in a given space), but if we can’t enter a physical or digital space without being hit by racism and anti-blackness then neither will you bitches. Also - because I’m looking back at this & can’t help but edit - I fully understand the desire other black people have to go into entertainment/fandom spaces and not have to think about racism, and so we’ll ignore the racism we do see (and sometimes even push back against its existence & downplay its harm), but ignoring the problem doesn’t fix anything. So while I also feel that desire and the majority of my stuff (especially my posts and creative endeavors) that’s aimed at black people is “escapist” or just not “trauma porn” to some extent, there is a point where I have to deviate and bring the shitty side of reality back into focus. So yeah.

P.S. — I kept saying alleged to the Pitch Bible because I didn’t trace the Bible pages all the way down to some official Vivziepop page, but you certainly can if you want to.

And here’s the full Pitch Bible page if you want it:

It also fucks over the people that want to insist Velvette stay Vox and Valentino’s ‘daughter’ figure despite Velvette’s redesign and characterization in season one of HH— and her age.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading (if you actually read the whole thing that as, but if not then whatever)!🩷

#velvette #hazbin hotel #fandom racism #the vees #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin velvette #race coding #hazbin hotel fandom #fandom #hazbin hotel criticism #vivzipop critical #hazbin hotel critical #i speak bitches *mwah* #me• #🩷 #unrelated but #❤️

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

Ngl 'm kinda salty that instead of having Sun, or Solar, or Monty in today's gaming video on Laes, they had Roxanne, someone who is irrelevant to their channels besides being a running gag for teasing Sun. I know that Davis is probably too busy to record with Kat, Reed, and Valentine but I'd rather wait for him to be available for however long it takes than to watch a gaming video with Roxanne in it :/

My only theory as to why the Roxanne Show did this huge collab was because that they have recorded a VR lore collab episode with them as well and they were available.

Which.........

Isn't great.

I don't like their portrayal of Vanny.

That's my woman blorbo and you screwed her up.

Keep her away from me.

Although, I've never been a big fan of their Roxanne portrayal either.

My personal opinion. Take it with a grain of salt.

I thought the Christmas Special was terrible.

"Did everyone enjoy the Holiday Special?" "No RAGS... only you did." "Oh... well that pretty much my target audience anyway..."

*i watched the whole thing so you don't have to. Honestly, if you have seen the two very short clips of Davis's Sun and Earth/Kat singing, that's all you need. Because they're the only two of this musical that can actually... well... sing.*

The singing made my inner choir kid cringe.... and I just... did not care for the plot.

Roxanne was stressed over the holidays... because of the drama SHE created.... She whined about her estranged on again off again father not liking Christmas, whined when Gregory tried to invite Cassie over, Whined when Gregory was upset and dealing with drama of his only ghost friends potentially leaving the astral plain, Was annoyed when Freddy was trying to be a good boyfriend because she wasn't happy that not EVERYONE was having "the best christmas ever" Cus "Who doesn't like Christmas?" I don't know, Roxanne... people who are busy, people who work retail, people with dead relatives (like Cassie by the way) .... people who don't CELEBrate Christmas???

And I was waiting for the other shoe to drop so much in this special. Because so far, All they've sung about what makes Christmas Great is the Commodification and the Commercialism of Christmas.

That's what makes Christmas great. The cookies, the presents, the colorful lights.....big parties, traditions... etc etc....

Which, come on, I do NOT expect animatronics to get up like the Peanuts Holiday Special and tell me about the Birth of Jesus Christ.

But what I did expect them to do, was talk about the importance of family, and why being with the people you care about is so important... and there was... an attempt at that. But it didn't really land for me.

They didn't even bother to get into how other people celebrate Christmas.

It was all hyping up the commercialism of the Hoilday, and getting excited about that... I understand Gregory, cause he's a literal child... but every single animatronic was either for Christmas or anti Christmas for very commercial reasons.

And what's the crisis.... Roxanne is upset because not everyone likes Christmas and no one is falling into line for her plans for the Holidays... Not everything is about you. Gregory's friends are literally dying and Cassie is mourning her Dad over the holidays.

I thought the special would be about appreciating what you have, even if things don't work out. But no, everything works out and even her estranged father makes up with her for no reason other then because.

Respect for all the voice actors, talent and origination to get the RAGS Christmas Musical together... I just did not care for the plot. And People are free to disagree with me on this... but I found the whole Musical rather shallow and I have seen Hallmark Christmas and Rankinbass Movies with more meat.

I will say.... TSAMS (and MAFS to some extent) did a much better holiday special with far less production... because that's what it's really about, just spending time and exchanging gifts with people who you know care about you. And Earth and Solar experiencing Christmas with others that care about them for the first time and a feeling of warm togetherness and family that wasn't about a big planning or party, while also packing in some of the stressful feeling of the Holidays as well.

And yeah. If Sun was on "Vacation" they could have used this as an opportunity for Solar to be in gaming videos, since Davis himself isn't sick.

We've never seen Solar and Moon play a game together, and I know I'm not the only one asking for it in the official server.

Just involve Solar in more gaming videos. HE ASKED to be in them more. Just DO IT.

#tsams #danachan's asks #danachan's replies #this is so salty #lol I was feeling that salt

[not-goldy]

i just don't understand why you guys are so adamant to think jimin is a liar and just simply not listen to him. jimin has never shyed from the truth and even if there are times where he tries to be subtle he makes it still glaringly obvious. im convinced majority of you just didnt watch the documentary and just watched the jikook cut because otherwise you would see how jimin came up with the lyrics what he said about the lyrics and meaning and why he chose jungkook to do it. never once did he even slighty imply it was a romantic love song for a secret partner. jungkook is the vocal model all members use. he is the member all members go to if they want vocal backing. he's done it with yoongi, jhope and now jimin and not to mention the group itself😭 and it's not letter ft jungkook it's letter by jimin. full stop. jk has credit of backup vocals just like namjoon has writing credits there is no difference. the least you all can do is respect jimins music and not just see and hear what you want to fulfill your shipping narrative.

Aht aht aht aht

I'll stop you right there.

I don't care bout all you said from paragraph one - I mean if it don't apply i let it fly. Find whomever is giving you the said headache and take it up with them but I won't let you conflate the credits of these men.

There is a difference between JK being credited as background vocals and Namjoon being credited as writer. No it's not the same thing. They both contributing their unique strengths to his project.

A singer is not a writer. Not all who sing CAN WRITE and not all who write CAN SING.

You do not have to take away from the art of an artist just because crediting one of those artists makes you uncomfortable.

Like you said, JK is credited as background vocals.

Why can't you leave it at that and be okay with the fact people celebrate that? We will celebrate that whether you like it or not. Will do🙂

You can't be this peeved that people want to celebrate that. You can't be. That's so messed up arguing the degree of importance- if it wasn't at all important to JM he could have skipped having Jungkook on. You not the least bit curious why he bothered with Kook on his song to begin with??

Messes with your head don't it???

Whether his contribution is to you minimal or not he's on there.

There's nothing wrong with acknowledging that FACT. And if you can acknowledge THAT FACT THEN WE HAVE NOTHING TO ARGUE ABOUT.

JUNGKOOK IS ON THERE. WHETHER YOU CALL IT A DUET OR A SING SONG- LIKE SHAKESPEARE SAYS, WHATS IN A NAME.

A ROSE BY ANY OTHER NAME IS SWEET.

WE DONT CARE WHATEVER YOU CHOOSE TO CALL LETTERS- WE GOOD AS LONG AS JUNGKOOK IS THERE🙂

WE ARE NOT ANAL. WE ARE NOT STUCK ON CALLING IT A DUET OR SYMPHONY. THAT'S YALL CRAZY PSYCHOS' TERRIAN BUT ARGUE THAT WITH YOUR MAMAS AND LEAVE US ALONE.

Yall solos sound the same whether it's Tae solos or BTS antis. I recall this same debate over Jimin's part in Angel pt 1 with some saying its irrelevant because it's 5 seconds.

Then they argued Jimin didn't deserve writing credits for his "sick and tired but I don't wanna mess up" in BTS' disease.

If he appeared 5 seconds in a movie yall will call him an actor worth nominating for Oscars

If Jimin did Bg vocals for any one especially if it were a song this good and if it trended on the charts at number one yall would be doing back flips so kindly SIT SOMEWHERE AND LET US JIMIN JIKOOK STANS HAVE OUR TIME.

We have yalls digits. We know how yall operate. You are the same. So please just fuck off these Jikook spaces and do this toxic shit in your own spaces WE DO NOT WANT TO COMMUNITY WITH YOU😩😹

WHY WONT YOU JUST GO AWAY

Downplaying Jungkook when if it were your faves you'd be rejoicing

The disrespect 😤

The Tuktukkers syndrome yall have😹

One and the same brain cell I swear.

What else did you say...... oh right-

Everyone goes to Jungkook for backing because

Wait for it

A. HE IS A VOCAL KING AND VOICE LEADER OF THE GROUP

B. HE IS A GOOD TALENTED SINGER AND HE HAS A SWEET VOICE TOO

C. HE HAS SOCIAL CURRENCY AND CLOUT

D. HE'S JUNGKOOK

But Jimin went to Kook for letter because

A. KOOKS VOICE WORKS SO WELL WITH HIS

B. LETTER CARRIES MEANING TO HIM

C. ADDING JUNGKOOK'S VOICE WOULD NOT DETRACT FROM IT'S MEANINGFULNESS TO HIM AND WHOMEVER THE SONG IS MADE FOR- WHICH IS NOT YOU.

D. HE DID NOT INTEND THE SONG FOR HIS SOLOS

So even if you believe with your whole chest that the song is for his fans, ITS FOR A SPECIFIC SET OF FANS WHO WOULD APPRECIATE WHAT HE TRIED TO DO WITH THE SONG- AND TRUST WE DO

ITS NOT FOR YOU KIMBERLY

Read my lips

Or hands

LETTERS IS NOT A LETTER TO YALL TOXIC SOLOS SO YOU CAN SKIP THIS ONE LEAVE IT FOR US YALL DONT WANT IT SAY THAT AND GO😹

You know you hate it SAY that to Jimin and go. Tell him you hate Letter because he dared to involve his Jeon Jungkook. Your problem is with him not US you just have a weird inarticulate cognitive dissonance that's preventing you from admitting that.

It's one thing to call out jokers making a song made by jimin and Jimin alone about Jungkook but to come out here with convoluted think peices about the degree of importance attached to a members participation on his song is sad and pathetic.

Fighting for a song yall not even included in😹😹😹

JUNGKOOK IS YOUR IDOLS IDOL HONEY

Best to believe that.

Wipe your tears with the back of your hands I'm out of tissues

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

I wanna talk briefly about the AI debate because some of the takes I've seen are very much pissing me off, especially since most of those takes aren't helpful at all (and some are just straight up bullying). I already posted about this on my other blog (post in question has since been deleted since it was kinda harsh and ngl very dismissive of very valid concerns!), but the biggest issue I have with the Anti-AI crowd (And, to be honest, the AI debate in general) is that it feels like they're getting mad at the wrong things. No, AI itself is not the problem. No, someone calling themself an "AI artist" is not the problem. No, using AI for fun is not the problem. No, partaking in some AI trend is not the problem. No, someone simply generating AI images is not the problem. The actual problem is: -People feeding other people's art into AI generators and then claiming it as their own (Scraping basically) -People putting other people's writing into AI chatbots/AI text generators (ex. ChatGPT) to "finish" the fic (Again, scraping). -People using AI to make eerily realistic Not SFW deepfakes of either people they know or celebrities. -Corporations and companies screwing over artists, musicians and actors in favor of AI (such as replacing them). -People using AI to make racist/queerphobic/misogynistic/ otherwise bigoted stuff (Something that I've also been seeing unfortunately) -People not being honest about using AI (Transparency, people!) -People using AI to mimic other people's voices without those people's consent (not sure how to word this but i'm sure some of you know what I mean). -The fact that there's almost no regulations when it comes to AI. AI gets a lot of criticism, and it should! Until it becomes more ethical and there's regulations imposed, we should still be skeptical of it. However, I feel like we've gone very off track when it comes to criticizing AI. Personally, I don't think someone posting an AI-generated image of an elf with wings surrounded by mushrooms and rainbows makes them a thief by itself.. But if they made that image using someone else's art, then in that case yes they are a thief! And no, someone partaking in the Pixar AI trend is probably not going to cost you your job. You know what will cost you your job though? Companies favoring AI over actual living beings. So maybe instead of getting mad at someone using Character.AI or posting an AI-generated gothic phoenix, how about we get mad at corporations screwing artists/actors/musicians over and the people using AI with genuine malicious intent?

(Image ID: A banner that is blue with flowers framing it. The text reads "OP is a minor. Please respect my boundaries" End ID)

#chatting.txt #unreality #<-just in case #ai debate #ai controversy #ai art debate #ai neutral #ai writing #ai image #artificial intelligence #chatgpt #ai chatbot #ai #tl:dr: ai itself and ai creations themselves aren't the issue #the issue is how those creations are made and how they're being used (and the people using them) #lets talk about stuff #repetition #long post

[just-antithings]

I wonder how many voice actors, youtubers, and popular celebrities have to say "Hey, don't tell people to kill themselves" before Antis realize that they are in fact, the weird ones for thinking this shit is ever okay to do.

I’m not sure they can be convinced out of their echo chamber by that kind of thing. The problem is… look when you have an echo chamber going, every dissenter is taken in isolation and shot down. Then the group reinforces itself with how right they are and how dumb that dissenter’s reasoning was and goes back to baseline (this can happen pretty damn quickly). So when another person comes along to say “don’t do that,” well… they’re only one person. Again. (Or only one argument, or whatever.) This can repeat pretty much indefinitely, because the group will internally use each “victory” over an opponent/opposing argument to reinforce how right and correct they are within the echo chamber no matter what happens on the outside. And unfortunately, as the people who can be persuaded away leave, the remaining group becomes more and more extreme in whatever belief they’ve focused on, which in turn will slowly push out the next-most-moderate, and so on. There’s… there’s a reason echo chambers are really fucking scary, and the fact that the more extreme antis have built these ones about reacting violently to fiction they disapprove of (and yea, I include suibait as a form of violence for this purpose, it very much has killed people) is something I feel like doesn’t scare people enough tbh. But all of that’s to say… I don’t think popular figures saying “don’t do that” will ever be enough to convince the antis who truly believe in what they’re doing. Not unless a whole lot of other stuff changes as well.

#mod jay #suibait mention #cw echo chamber #cw violence mention #ask

[lazbotronence]

5 minutes with... TEDxBrighton's Laurence Rickard [x]

8 Oct 2015

TEDxBrighton caught up with this year's host Laurence Rickard. Larry (as he would prefer you all to call him) is a BAFTA-winning comedy writer and actor, probably best known for his work on the hit BBC sketch show Horrible Histories and the Sky 1 fantasy comedy Yonderland.

What are you doing right now?

I'm on a train, which is where I spend a fair proportion of my life. I find I get huge amounts of work done on trains, because I can't procrastinate by making a sandwich or going for a walk... Well, not for a very long walk anyway. Though answering these questions means I'm not doing the re-write that I've promised my producer. If she shouts at me, I'm going to give her your number.

What was your first thought when invited to host this year’s event?

Honestly? I was worried that I'd taken on something I wouldn't have time to do. But then I feel that when I agree to do most things. It'll be fine. I just like to worry.

You’re undoubtedly extremely busy this year with your writing and acting, and also with the release of your first film, Bill. With this in mind, what persuaded you to add this role to your already crammed to do list?

I went to school with Sam, one of the organisers, so he probably has quite a lot of dirt on me. I thought it best not to cross him, in case he had a copy of that demo my band did when I was 15. I wouldn't want that getting out. Also, it's TED, isn't it. It's an institution. I felt very privileged to have been asked.

This year’s conference is about losing control. When was the last time you lost control and why?

Well, I'm five days away from the release of a film right now (it's called Bill and it's in cinemas on September 18th – you should definitely go and see it), so I'm probably running on slightly heightened levels of anxiety and reduced levels of sleep. I'm not sure I'd say I've 'lost control' at any point, but there's been a few moments where I've raised my voice a bit, which is very rare for me. That's a very British answer isn't it? You ask when I lost control and I tell you the last time I raised my voice. Hardly a thundering maelstrom – I don't think it'll make the papers.

TEDx is all about sharing inspiring concepts and ideas. Who has been your biggest inspiration and why?

Probably my drama and English teacher at secondary school. He was always so supportive and encouraging. On reflection he was quite anti-establishment – he would give you a thousand merit points for a piece of writing, which both bolstered your self-confidence and made a complete mockery of the 'merit point' system. That was him all over. I was quite shruggy-shoulders about most of my school life, but I looked forward to his lessons so much. He encouraged me to write and act, and now I write and act – if that's not an inspiration, I don't know what is.

If you were asked to deliver a TED talk, what would you like to talk about and who would you most like to deliver your talk to?

I'd probably talk to young people about the celebration of celebrity. I worry that there's a generation who are, in many ways, being robbed of inspiration, and I don't think that's fair on them. People who, in a world of Geordie Shore and vlogs about making a nice breakfast, think that 'being a celebrity' is a goal to strive towards. Not trying to learn a skill or an art or hone a talent, but wanting to get 'rich and famous' by doing something that, in essence, pretty much anyone could do. You just want them to find that thing – whether it's bricklaying or mastering the violin – that enthuses and inspires them beyond the desire to one day have 2 million Twitter followers. Making sure that the world's best UN Secretary General doesn't end up never existing because they became the next Joey Essex instead.

As a born and bred resident of Brighton and Hove, what do you love most about this city?

I like its size. It's a walkable city. I lived in that London for a bit, and people travel for two hours just to meet up for a beer. That seems mad to me. And I like that Brighton is, on the whole, tolerant, liberal and diverse. I don't like that big spike they've put by the West Pier though. I just don't get it – we are a city of vibrant streets, not striking skylines. The view in one direction will just be roofs, and the other will just be just water. I never really got the thrill of looking at stuff from a bit higher up.

If you could take just one book, film and album on holiday this year, which would you take?

The film please.

What do you think events like TEDx offer to audiences?

Tickets I'd imagine. That would be the model I'd adopt. It's simplest in terms of seating etc. Plus the revenue would help to cover production costs. It's certainly worth looking into.

If you could pick a theme for next year's conference what theme would you most like to explore and why?

Special Effects Techniques in the Original Star Wars Trilogy. It's the only thing I can speak about with any authority.

#laurence rickard #larry rickard #ted x #brighton

[bailey-dreamfoot]

So like- I keep seeing those truth anti-vape ad campaigns where it’s like “Toxic therapy from your vape” and for the past 4 months I’ve been in super hell trying to figure out where I recognized the voice from.

I tried looking it up, but couldn’t find anything. So I figured it was just some dude who sounded very cool without much of a background yet. But for a while I still thought I recognized the voice from a kids show I used to watch all the time.

But, today something like divine inspiration truck and I decided to try looking it up again. AND APPARENTLY THE MYSTERY VOICE WAS CHRIS PARNELL.

YOU KNOW? A LIST CELEBRITY ACTOR WHO HAS OVER 120 IMDB CREDITS AND HAS APPEARED IN TV SHOWS THAT HAVE HAD A VAST INFLUENCE ON MODERN CULTURE LIKE FAMILY GUY AND RICK AND MORTY?

And I recognized him as the narrator from fucking Word Girl

#i have a mild contempt for pop culture #trending topics are for people with stable mental states and i refuse to partake #bailey’s ramblings

[swimmingleo]

Akihiro Miwa (美輪明宏) (1935-)

A Japanese drag-queen and singer, also known as an author, activist, television host and actor.

Miwa started in the 50s by performing in gay clubs and cabarets. She gains in popularity by releasing her performances as singles and came out as a gay man in the 60s, thus being one of the first openly queer celebrities in Japan. Profoundly impacted by the war, she notably sung for the working class and wrote many anti war songs. Akihiro Miwa is now considered a pioneer singer songwriter in Japanese music history.

More recently, Miwa has also been celebrated for being the voice of several Ghibli characters.

19/30 - Queer Musicians For Pride

#queer musicians for pride #ehe doing this again #I just want to finish the line up #queer history

[alittledizzy]

hi sorry i follow you for d&p, what happened to who i assume is one half of their gen z version? 🙈

The basic tl;dr is that a c-list celebrity/voice actor replied to a parody account of Dream and then doubled down on what he said (calling Dream a pedophile) even after Dream told him that wasn't a real account. He also went on to say a bunch of other things about Dream, including confirming himself that he'd assaulted Dream.

Then... I kinda lot the timeline here but there was a bunch of story changing around. He said no that's not true he didn't assault Dream, so Dream posted the DMs where the guy apologized the next day. Then he said he did hit Dream but it was because Dream called his friend a whore at Twitchcon (the fight happened before Twitchcon, couldn't be true). Then Dream got a video of the c-lister in the Uber they had to share that same night of the assault and the c-lister called Dream all kinds of slurs, was randomly anti-semitic, called the Uber driver slurs, and was clearlly out of his mind saying stuff like he's the modern day Michaelangelo and smarter than everyone and can fight better and he's gonna kill Dream if they fight.

The video existed because the c-lister asked to be recorded, Dream didn't record it, but other people they were with did and sent it to Dream. Dream ended up tipping the Uber driver $1000 as an apology for how the other guy was talking to him.

And after Dream posted proof of everything he'd been saying - somehow the anti-Dream side of the internet's reaction is to give the c-list voice actor a pass because being a dick to service workers and using slurs is okay as long as they're being used against someone you don't like.

#anon asks #dnf asks

[bananaofswifts]

BY MIKAEL WOOD

Taylor Swift’s pin-sharp new album, “Midnights,” closes with a song in which the pop superstar patiently explains to someone — perhaps many millions of someones — that their intimate relationship wasn’t a product of kismet but of design.

“I laid the groundwork,” she sings over a blippy electronic groove, her voice edging slightly ahead of the beat, “and then just like clockwork the dominoes cascaded in a line.” The tune is called “Mastermind,” which is what Swift calls herself in the chorus, neatly rhyming the word with “now you’re mine.” And plenty of its characteristic detail can make you think she’s describing a romance. But “Mastermind” is also about Swift’s one-of-a-kind career — about the deliberation and the ingenuity of the moves that took the 32-year-old from being a teenage country phenom to being one of the two or three biggest acts in all of music.

“No one wanted to play with me as a little kid,” she sings near the end of “Mastermind,” which might be the saddest and funniest line on an LP teeming with both kinds, “so I’ve been scheming like a criminal ever since to make them love me and make it seem effortless.” (Take a second to savor the intricate rhythm of those words before you’ve even heard them set to music.)

Pondering the delights and the anxieties of her own celebrity has been a hallmark of Swift’s work for years — or at least it was until 2020, when she set aside much of the autobiographical life-of-a-pop-star stuff for the ostensibly fictional character-driven narratives of her twin pandemic albums, “Folklore” and “Evermore.” Full of songs about small-town grifters and awkward high-school kids and unhappily married people — even a murderer — those projects also radically recast her sound, veering away from the synthed-up productions that sent her up the Hot 100 toward a rootsy, mostly acoustic vibe she formulated with Aaron Dessner of the indie-rock band the National.

Swift suggested that the isolation of the pandemic had set her imagination free; certainly, the music’s smaller scale reflected the demands of remote collaboration. Yet “Midnights,” her 10th studio full-length, returns to an earlier Swift mode in both sonic and lyrical terms: This 13-track set, which she produced with her longtime creative partner Jack Antonoff, feels like it picks up right where 2014’s “1989” and 2017’s “Reputation” left off, with slick, beat-heavy arrangements that seem dimly aware of hip-hop’s existence and with lyrics peppered with juicy allusions to Swift’s various high-profile feuds and love affairs. (“Lover,” from 2019, plays even more now than it did then like a transitional effort between phases of Swift’s career.)

It’s easy in a sense to understand why she took this approach, given that she spent 2021 rerecording her albums “Fearless” and “Red” as part of a plan to create new versions of the LPs she lost partial control of when her old record label changed hands. As meticulous a diarist as pop has ever known, Swift has clearly been thinking — thinking more than usual — about her journey and about her younger selves; “Nothing New,” one of many freshly recorded outtakes she included on “Red (Taylor’s Version),” captures a woman in her 30s confronting her 20-something suspicions about how her chosen industry would treat her as she aged out of ingénue-hood.

“Midnights” opens with the steamy, R&B-adjacent “Lavender Haze,” in which Swift laments the scrutiny she’s under as a famous person dating another famous person (in her case, the English actor Joe Alwyn); the song — co-written by and featuring background vocals from the actress Zoë Kravitz — seeks a safe space removed from a realm where her loose talk threatens to “go viral,” as she puts it. In “Anti-Hero,” over Antonoff’s buzzing synths and booming ’80s-rock drums, she weighs the public’s harshest opinions of her, copping to a “covert narcissism” and admitting that sometimes she feels like “a monster on the hill … slowly lurching toward your favorite city.”

The vicious and shimmering “Karma” seemingly takes aim at the powerful music executive Scooter Braun, who engineered the label purchase that spawned Swift’s rerecording enterprise: “Spiderboy, king of thieves / Weave your little webs of opacity,” she sings — heed the conspicuous “S” and “B” in “Spiderboy” — before describing what she views as her cosmic advantage with a series of vivid metaphors: “Karma is my boyfriend / Karma is a god / Karma is the breeze in my hair on the weekend.” The breeze in her hair on the weekend! Good night, Spiderboy.

Swift’s storytelling impulse isn’t dead on “Midnights,” which she’s said grew out of her bent toward wee-hours contemplation. “Midnight Rain,” a slow and woozy number with pitch-shifted vocals, narrates a tale of a guy and a girl with differing life goals, neither of whom appear to be Swift or Alwyn; ditto “Maroon,” in which the guy and girl get drunk off her roommate’s “cheap-ass screw-top rosé.” Then there’s the pulpy, Billie Eilish-ish “Vigilante S—,” about a woman who helps a betrayed wife get revenge on her dirtbag husband.

Yet the songwriting and the vocal performances here are so strong — she’s playing with cadence and emphasizing the grain of her voice like never before — that eventually you stop caring what’s drawn directly from Swift’s real life and what’s not. It’s just a pleasure to get lost in tunes like “Labyrinth,” in which the singer explores her fear of falling in love again, and “Snow on the Beach,” a gorgeous duet with Lana Del Rey with some of the album’s most affecting imagery: “My smile is like I won a contest,” Swift sings in regards to a surprising new fling, and that’s all you need to conjure the precise picture in your head.

She paints another indelible picture in “Mastermind,” referring to herself as “the wind in our free-flowing sails” just after she offers a bit of context for why she’s been so thoroughgoing in her interactions with her boyfriend (or her audience). “All the wisest women had to do it this way ’cause we were born to be the pawn in every lover’s game,” she sings. Then she takes a breath and adds: “If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.” Only Swift could make a self-help slogan sound like a fairy tale.

#taylor swift #midnights #review