#again Ryan’s there to spice things up

[heart4reigns]

Hi! I was requesting a fluff roman fic they are both protective of the other and in a tag team match y/n notices that one of their opponents is trying to sabotage roman and so she gets rid of them and then her and roman with the match tyy! (sorry if this made no sense lol) also your writing is really cool and well written :)

DOUBLE TROUBLE, roman reigns.

warnings: curse words, fights, unwanted flirting

tags: ocs to fit the plot, badass (y/n), personal BEEF IN THIS FIGHT, who's your head of the table now? LET’S SPICE IT UP A BIT WITH SOME BACKSTAGE DRAMA

summary: we all hate that one dude from work

EVER since you were put into a tag-team reign with your boyfriend, you couldn't help but to notice that he was very very protective of you. see, you weren't weak at all, but all the hard hits and impacts? he took them for you. who would've thought that his protectiveness rubbed off on you?

"baby." roman greeted you with a kiss. "what's good baby?" you replied. "creatives called us." you furrowed your brows, clearly confused. "they're gonna talk about our bookings." you followed him to his car. "i'm so excited, i hope we're gonna fight sami and kevin again!" you giggled, taking pictures of him driving. "i hope so too."

to your surprise, you spotted paul heyman sitting in the middle of the room. "paul?" you were still confused. "oh (y/n), roman. you're not gonna like this." his tone was concerning. "we're not gonna like what?" speak of the devil, the office door opened, revealing two people you didn't want to see. "you gotta be shitting me." you muttered under your breath.

mike and ryan, or their tag-team name, the miracle workers, were bad wrestlers. they were ranked the most reckless wrestlers in the current lineup. "look who we have here!" ryan stared at you from head to toe. you hated him. he was a flirt, always trying to get it with you, even though he knew that you were dating the roman reigns. roman tensed up, moving his chair closer to yours.

on the other hand, mike was probably more insufferable than ryan. he was a man of few words, but when he opened his mouth, he'd say the worst thing that someone could ever think of. you really couldn't do anything about this booking. they were pushing you and roman together for being the new upcoming tag-team champions, this match was just another roadblock to success. as soon as you signed the contract, you could tell that ryan was still eyeing you.

“can’t wait to see you in your sexy gear, (y/n)." ryan winked at you. “how many times do i have to tell you that i have a boyfriend and he’s literally sitting in front of you.” you rolled your eyes in annoyance. “i’m just saying you look good in your gear, i can treat you right.” that got into your boyfriend’s nerves as he stood up from his seat, causing you to stand up as well–to prevent things from going downhill. “chill, dude. that was a joke.” ryan panicked for a second. “you better start respecting her or i’m going to actually kick your ass, ryan.”

roman was known for his good temper, but some people got under his nerves. you put your hand on his shoulders. “come on, let’s go.” you said, not wanting to cause a fight. “yeah. we’re just wasting our time here.” paul added. the black-haired male grunted in response, taking your hand and walked out of the room with an annoyed expression plastered on his face. “i swear, we’re going to fucking ruin them next week.”

something riled up inside your boyfriend after the contract signing incident. he was… oddly very excited for the match. he complained about it before but now? he was working his ass off. roman also contributed to the choreography, it was mostly his idea. you saw the moves and you knew that he was trying to get you away from ryan as much as possible, pinning you to your other opponent, mike.

the gym was filled with commotion. "AND ANOTHER SPEAR FROM HER!" solo yelled, acting like the commentator. "SOLO, GET YOUR ASS HERE! YOU'RE A REFEREE NOT A COMMENTATOR!" his brother shouted. "RIGHT." solo immediately jumped into the ring, counting down to 3. before he could reach the third number, you kicked out. "shit, you really are the female version of him." jimmy complained.

you licked your lips in excitement, feeling adrenaline pumping in your blood. "i'd really hate it if i was put inside the ring with you, (y/n)." jimmy stood up, fixing his gloves. "and thank god we're in the same faction!" you grinned, countering his kick with another kick. jimmy was down as you locked his head with your arms. you won again in this practice, "HELL YEAH!" you jumped, falling on you back. "i don't get you sometimes, (y/n). you're clumsy as hell but like you're also fast."

"that's because she's in good hands." your tag-team partner (aka boyfriend) went inside the ring. "you missed my cool kick." you pouted. "i didn't, i was watching from behind the glass." he took off his glasses and started stretching. "you know, i'd love to see you wrestle with your glasses on." you winked at him. "stop flirting and start attacking." jey complained.

thankfully, you came home in one piece, despite having your body thrown from left to right. it was going to be a big fight tomorrow and you hated the bookings. "what are you thinking about, baby?" your thoughts were cut-off by your boyfriend's voice. "how i fucking hate being in the ring with mike and ryan." you sighed. "honestly, you’re right. they need to know their place, i can’t stand seeing you being disrespected." he agreed.

"it's going to be okay, baby. i mean what's the worst thing that could happen to us?"

the day for the match came and you couldn’t wait for it to be over. roman was holding your hand the entire time, not wanting you to slip from his sight. suddenly, his phone rang, he hesitated for a second. “babe, it’s okay. you can go answer the phone, i’ll be in the locker room.” you gave him a reassuring smile. “okay, i’ll be right back.” with that, he left you.

locker room wasn’t empty. you spotted some of your friends gearing up for the show. “hey, (y/n)!” bianca gave you a big hug as soon as she saw you. “hi!” you returned the gesture. “excited for tonight?” she sat down to adjust her outfit. “i never wanted to walk-out of a match so bad.” you complained. “ah yes, mike and ryan.” she cringed at the thought of the miracle workers. “good luck then, beat their asses!”

“damn, told you that you looked good with your gear.” you didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. “what are you doing here?” you asked. the locker room was empty now and your boyfriend was still on his call with jey. “do you mind?” “i don’t mind talking to you while your bodyguard isn’t here.” he winked. “jesus, drop the entire flirty act, please?” you were very annoyed. “i’m sorry i just can’t help it, you’re too pretty to ignore.”

“and you look too young to get your ass beat by me. move it, ryan.” you sighed in relief as you heard your boyfriend’s voice. “aaand the tribal chief is here, better get going. good luck tonight.” “stick to the script tonight!” he closed the door, avoiding a long lecture from the champion himself. “did he do anything?” roman looked at you with concern written all over his face. “no he didn’t, just his usual shit.” “right, let’s just end this night. we can go home after that and get ice cream.”

the show started for the two of you. “the undisputed tag-team champions, roman reigns and (y/n) (l/n), the bloodline!” the crowd went wild as you walked down to the ring. mike and ryan were already standing inside, ready to attack anytime. people were rising up their fingers in tribute of your championship with roman. as soon as you slid inside the ring, bowing down to the crowd–you could tell this was going to be a messy match.

your heart skipped a beat when the match started, mike and ryan immediately going off script. ryan was continuously trying to get you down, instead of roman. you made eye-contact with roman for a second, knowing how this match was going to be tough. you quickly avoided the punch that ryan was throwing at you. you dropkicked him from behind, causing him to fall on his stomach. now that ryan was down, you just needed to help roman stray mike away. “and a spear from reigns to mike, what will they do after this?” you jumped on the ropes, ready to jump on mike before ryan picked you up.

“ryan is back on his feet, capturing her in his lock.” you breathed for air as you were lifted from the ropes. “ryan, jesus christ!” you mouthed at him. he threw you on the ground, still going off script. oh, someone’s gonna get fired tonight, you thought. it was totally personal for the four of you. the move he made earlier caused you to hurt your shoulders. pain shot up from your shoulders. before he could tackle you again, roman speared him to the barricades. that one was personal.

mike was in the middle of the ring, looking for another attack. you speared him to the barricades, copying your boyfriend’s move. he wasn’t moving. one down, one to go, you thought. while you were with mike, ryan and roman were back inside the ring. you could see ryan was going to throw a punch on one of your boyfriend’s already bruised peck. you ran and slid inside the ring, dragging him into the pole. you were still holding back your punches, still being professional as ever. everyone could tell that you and roman were pissed. even the most gullible fans knew that the two of you were different tonight.

the crowd counted down along with the referee and you were glad that it was over. “and the winners, still the undisputed tag-team champion, the bloodline, roman reigns and (y/n) (l/n)!” you lifted the belts with your boyfriend on your side. “thank you.” he mouthed to you. “anything for you, baby.” you winked at him.

needless to say, you knew the backstage was going to be a mess. the locker room, on the other hand, was impressed with you and roman. “dude, i’d be so fucking pissed. i won’t even hold back my punches.” theory was there, still in his gear, clearly waiting for the two of you to drop some tea. “i just don’t get it why they were so fucking reckless.” you were offered ice by shotzi, she gave you a pity smile.

“what the fuck, reigns?” the miracle workers came back to the locker room. “no, what the fuck, ryan?” you stood up from your seat, clearly angered by his actions. “we told you to stick to the script.” your tone was laced with venom. “and we don’t listen to you fuckers.” mike said. “see, if you complied with us and just be a pretty girl inside the ring… be useless as usual, we might stick to the scri-“ before mike could finish his sentence, you dropped the ice and lunged on him. you had him on headlock, the man was on the ground. “call me useless one more time and you and your flirty friend right there,” you paused for a second to point at ryan who was scared shitless. “are going home with nothing but cut and bruises.”

roman wanted to intervene, but he knew you were capable of protecting yourself. “bro, you’re not gonna do anything?” jimmy nudged him. “nah, i’ll sit back and watch. i love seeing her being aggressive. they deserved it.”

a/n: HIII thank u so much for your request and i really appreciate your comment <333 it made my day!! requests are still open but i'm gonna focus on operation: together (aka a love triangle between roman and cody) check it out <3

#roman reigns #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #the usos #wwe #wwe imagines #paul heyman #wrestling #cody rhodes #jey uso #austin theory #bianca belair #shotzi

[cowgurrrl]

Old Friends Die Hard

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Author’s note: WOAH WOAH WOAH (ps fic named after this baller song)

Summary: You go back to work. Decisions are made. But everything’s fine, right? Right? [3.6k]

Warnings: arguing, drama conflama, language, the tiniest bit of spice, PTSD symptoms, I think that’s it??

You leave Joel's the day after movie night with the girls. You watched A Knight's Tale and giggled with them about how cute Heath Ledger is, tucked under Joel's arm as the city sparkled just in the distance. Blankets from around the world covered the four of you as you laid on the couch in one giant heap. Joel covered Ellie's eyes when William and Jocelyn kissed while Sarah squealed excitedly. Then, you slept with your back to Joel, and he drove you home in the morning. 

He apologized after your argument and spending time on different sides of the house, processing your feelings. He said he didn't mean it, that he was sorry, that he was just tired. You apologized, too, and that was that. It was supposed to be that easy. But things feel different now. You tell yourself it's just the terror that flies through your body whenever you hear tires squeal down the road or the concussion that still makes light hurt your eyes. You tell yourself you're still adjusting to letting him take care of you. You tell yourself it's nothing because it has to be nothing, but you've been home for a few days now and had little to no contact with Joel. 

Ellie and Sarah, however, constantly text you, asking you about outfits and homework questions. They send you TikToks they think are funny and will even shoot you songs they're listening to. You respond as often as possible between looking for a new car and reviewing the scenes you're supposed to reshoot. Sarah begs you to come back over, and you respond, "Soon, sweet girl ❤️." You don't know if Joel is aware of how often you talk to his daughters, but if he has a problem with it, he doesn't make it known.

On the day of reshoots, Joel picks you up from your house before the sun is even up, a cup of coffee waiting for you in the cupholder when you climb in. He's wearing square glasses you've never seen before and a plain grey hoodie. He looks exceptionally cozy in the frigid (sixty-three-degree) California dusk, and you smile as you kiss him. His beard scratches your face, and he tastes like coffee, and it feels familiar and safe. 

"You okay?" He asks, and you nod. He tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering on your jaw, and glances over the bumpy scar left behind now that your stitches are out, taking a deep breath. "Are we okay?" His voice is unsure and a little shaky. You bite the inside of your cheek and kiss his wrist.

"We're working toward being okay," you say. He purses his lips a little like that's not the answer he wanted. "Bringing me coffee at five in the morning is, like, at least five points for you." You add, and he chuckles, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

"I got you the biggest one they had."

"I see that." You smile as you look at the huge coffee. There's probably an ungodly amount of espresso in it, and you're sure you'll need two more to get through the day. 

"Y'know, you don't have to go through with this, right?" He asks, the tiniest sliver of hope that you'll get back in bed poking through, and you nod. You don't trust yourself to say anything, not wanting to cause another fight, so you just kiss him again and settle back into your seat. He idles in front of your house for another five seconds before changing gears. He drives slowly and with a hand on your thigh, rubbing soothing circles into your leggings when your chest tightens at intersections. You get to set about ten minutes late because of how careful he was driving, but nobody questions it because Ryan rolls up shortly after you and Joel do. 

All morning, Joel follows you around like a puppy. When you're whisked away to hair and makeup, he shakes Jenna and Alexa's hands and sits on the other side of you and Ryan. He asks them how long they've been working as stylists and what they like about it. He even jokes about taking over when Jenna complains about her hairdresser-induced carpal tunnel, and they eat it up. Before you can leave the trailer, all made up to resemble your character, Alexa grabs you and whispers, "he's perfect," in your ear, and you laugh. On the walk to set, Joel grabs your hand and swings it like a little kid, and you're all smiles and whispered jokes until you get to the sound stage, where a PA stops you. 

"Sorry, sir, we're a closed set today." He says to Joel, and you give him a confused look. You can feel Joel already getting annoyed, so you hold up a hand to let him know you have it handled, and he backs down. So, he has learned something, you think to yourself.

"Why is it a closed set? All the scenes we're filming today don't call for that." 

"Director changed her mind. We're shooting the cabin scene first thing today, thus, a closed set." 

"What's the cabin scene?" Joel asks, and you gape at him, half-hoping that the PA is joking. But, sure enough, when you glance into the stage, there's the set for the room in the cabin, and your intimacy coordinator, Tanya, is talking with Emily, the director. You slowly turn your back to the PA and put gentle hands on Joel's chest.

"You should wait in my trailer until we finish this scene." You say quietly, and Joel gives you a look.

"Why? What's the cabin scene?"

You giggle as you and Ryan stumble into the cabin, drunken blushes painted on both your cheeks. He kisses you the second the door closes behind him, his hands wandering in the choreographed pattern you practiced for months. Your hands land on his wrists and slowly pull them away before you break the kiss, turn, and walk toward the kitchen.

"'M hungry," you whine, Ryan closely following behind you to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss your neck. "You're distracting."

"Good." He says, spinning you so your chests are pressed together, and he's kissing you again. He grabs at the backs of your thighs and carries you to sit on the counter. Then, it all happens in a perfectly rehearsed sequence. You can't feel anything through your three layers of protection on either side, but you wouldn't be able to tell based on the shaky, exaggerated moans leaving both of you and the jerking of Ryan's hips. The scene goes on for another minute before Emily finally calls cuts, and you and Ryan dissolve into a fit of giggles, your hands still on his shoulders as you sit on the counter.

"We have the weirdest fucking job." He says as he kisses your cheek and hugs you tightly. You laugh and rub his back, squeezing him.

"Oh, God, I know." You say. Tanya comes over to check in with both of you and make sure everything went as planned, even offering some alternative actions, which you both listen to intently. You avoid Joel's lingering eyes from the corner the whole time you're talking with her. It's all fake. You don't feel anything. You know that better than anyone, but it still feels weird pretending to have sex with someone else while your boyfriend is not even a hundred yards away. It doesn't help that you're pretending to have sex with one of your best friends. 

Emily, thankfully, breaks for lunch which you both desperately need after running that scene so many goddamn times. At one point, you thought she was just calling for more takes to fuck with you because you ran it so much. As Ryan helps you hop down from the counter for, hopefully, the last time, he glances between you and Joel's looming figure.

"Joel really decided to make a set visit on the worst day, huh?" He says, and you nod.

"I tried to get him to wait in my trailer, but he'd already decided. Not my fault," you say as Joel starts walking over. "Speak of the devil." Ryan turns and shakes hands with Joel before quickly making himself scarce. You know Joel would never say or do anything to Ryan for doing his job, but watching him be scared of Joel is a little funny. You smile and wrap your arms around Joel's neck once he's close enough.

"Hey there, handsome," you say, and he raises his eyebrows before resting his hands on your waist, not caring about who might see. You try to kiss him, but he dodges your lips dramatically. "Joel!"

"I can't believe you're tryna make Ryan and me spit sisters." He says, and you laugh. 

"I can't believe you didn't know you and Ryan have been spit sisters," you say, kissing him firmly. A PA passive-aggressively bumps you with a prop, and you turn to see them taking the set apart. 

"Oh, thank God, you're done with that scene," Joel breathes. You grab his hand and pull him away from the giant moving set pieces. Together, you start walking back to your trailer, occasionally stopping to say hello to someone you haven't seen since you wrapped all your scenes. You wait until you're out of earshot of any eavesdroppers to press into Joel's side.

"Were you jealous, Miller?" You tease, and Joel smirks, shaking his head as he thinks. You disappear between the massive trailers at base camp, and Joel crowds you against your trailer. 

"What if I was?" He asks in a low voice, his hands already teasing the hemline of your skirt. He shifts so his knee is pressing against you, and it takes everything in you to not gasp. With the emergency with Ellie, the car accident, and the fight afterward, it's been a hot second since he's had his hands on you. Based on his uneven breathing and the way his hard cock is lightly poking you, you'd say he thinks the same.

"I would tell you not to be," you whisper, raking your nails down his neck to make him shiver. "Nobody fucks me as good as you do. 'M all yours, Joel." As soon as the words leave your mouth, he kisses you roughly and blindly reaches for the door handle. You have half a mind to laugh about him suddenly not caring about who you've been kissing, but your thoughts are interrupted when he picks you up and carries you into the trailer. It's a miracle he doesn't trip, but the second he can, he lays you down on the couch and reaches under your skirt.

"You have thirty minutes." You manage to get out as you tug at the neck of his shirt.

"I only need twenty." His fingers barely graze the lace of your underwear when someone clears their throat behind you, making you jump away from each other. You turn and find Melanie sitting at the small dining table in the kitchenette, her hands folded in front of her. 

"Mel! What are you doing here?" You ask as you and Joel scramble to get it together. You smooth your skirt down and push him off you so you can stand, feeling a lot like a horny teenager who just got caught by their parents.

"I thought I'd stop in and see how things were going. I didn't know you'd have..." She looks at Joel. "Visitors."

"Joel was just, um..." 

"I was just gonna stop by catering. D'you want anythin'?" He asks, and you shake your head.

"No, I'm okay."

"Okay."

"Okay." You repeat, for some fucking reason, and Joel stands there for another beat before finally walking out the door and probably dying of embarrassment. You sigh and run a hand through your hair as you look at her. Her eyebrows are pinched— or as pinched as they can look with Botox— and she shifts in her seat.

"Were you two going to-"

'Why are you here, Mel?" You cut her off, not ready or willing to even think about trying to explain that to her.

"Right," she starts, getting right down to business like the goddamn professional she is. "So, I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?"

"Bad news."

"Bad news is I don't have any auditions lined up for you." She says like she didn't just drop a bomb on your entire world. Your ears ring, and you blink at her like you didn't hear her correctly.

"What?"

"I tried rescheduling some so you could recover, but nobody wanted to work with me!"

"Did you tell them I was in a car accident?"

"Of course I did, but these studios are on tight schedules. By the time you would've fully recovered, they needed to be getting actors to film locations." She says, and you sigh, pacing the carpet. "But, I'm poking around. I'll find something."

"Is this when you give me the good news?"

"Good news is, Joel's team is really happy with how this is all turning out, and they agreed to terminate the contract earlier than expected. You're free to go on with your life after the premiere." She's almost giddy with the information, but you can't catch your breath. For some reason, you laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"That's it? That's your good news?" You ask, and she stands. 

"I thought you'd be happier," she says. "Honey, you'll go on to do great things without him. You don't need to keep carting him around. You'll be so much better off without him in your life."

"What if I don't want that?"

"What?" She asks, and you put your hands on your hips, gearing for a fight.

"What if I want him to stay in my life? What, then?"

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Because that wasn't a part of the contract."

"Bullshit," you spit. "Legally, you can't dictate my relationships outside of this singular contract, and once it's up, I'm free to make my own decisions again, right?"

"Right." She answers through gritted teeth. That picture-perfect attitude is slowly breaking; you can't fight how good that makes you feel.

"So, why don't you think it's a good idea for me to keep seeing him? Is it because I stopped responding to your every beck and call? Or because I'm actually happy and care about someone other than myself, and that threatens my career?"

"I don't think it's a good idea because he's a divorced father of two with a shitty reputation. Do you really think he's gonna keep being the charming guy you see now? He's just doing it for the cameras."

"He stayed overnight in the hospital with me. He let me stay in his house. He let me meet his kids. None of that was for the cameras. Plus, you weren't even there."

"Contrary to popular belief, my world does not revolve around you." Maybe it's how she says it with her familiar venom or because you finally realize how awful she is to you, but you feel the dam of molten anger break in your chest. 

"I could've died, Mel! Ryan and I could've died, and you wanted to know about my fucking schedule! You didn't even ask what hospital I was in or if I was okay! We've known each other for four fucking years, and you can't even ask me how I'm doing?! Do you realize how shitty that is?"

"You wouldn't be anyone without me. We both know that." She snaps, and you scoff, turning away from her. "Look, why don't we just take a breather and come back to this later, okay?" She grabs her bag and makes for the door, but you shake your head.

"You're right," you stop her. "I probably wouldn't be where I am now if it wasn't for you. I needed someone ruthless to get me started, and you were that person, and I'm grateful for everything you did. But we're done. Once we get through these reshoots, I'm gonna start looking for another manager, and we are gonna go our separate ways." She looks over you like a snake looking at its prey, and you clench your jaw. 

"You're firing me?" She asks, and you nod. "You're firing me because you fell in love with Joel fucking Miller? He will leave you in six months for the next shiny young actress who comes his way, and you're firing me?"

"Yep." 

"You're dumber than I thought you were."

"Goodbye, Melanie." You say, and she scoffs. She stands there for another second before walking to the door in a huff, her heels furiously moving against the carpet.

"I hope he's worth it." She calls over her shoulder before slamming the door behind her, rattling the entire trailer. You let out an unsteady exhale and feel your molars buzzing as your head spins from what just happened. You shake out your hands and sit down on the couch. 

"Me too." You mumble. You've never been in Hollywood without representation. You don't know what comes next. You don't even know if you care enough to worry about it right now. You barely have time to think about anything else or even take another breath before the door opens again. You stand shakily, ready to pretend to be ruthless like her if she came back to yell at you, but you just see Joel with his phone next to his ear.

"Hey, somethin' came up, and I need to go. Can you come over for dinner?" He asks frantically. You struggle to keep up with what he's saying but nod anyways.

"I'll ask Ryan to drop me off."

"Okay, I'll see you later." He says as he pecks your lips and disappears as fast as he appeared. Then, you're standing in the middle of your trailer, feeling like you could throw up, and you're alone. The ache in your core has been replaced with motion sickness, and you slowly sit on the floor. 

Did Joel hear you and Melanie arguing? Did he see her leave? Did anybody else see or hear anything? The contract is up. You have no jobs lined up once you're done with Hyde. You have no manager. You just have Ryan, Carolina, Joel, and the girls. Four years of busting your ass, and you might've (probably) just fucked it all up. The scar from the car accident pulses with pain, and you wonder if your brain is pushing its way out of your skull in an attempt to save itself. You pull your knees to your chest and push your hair out of your face, resting your elbows on your knees.

"What the fuck just happened?" You ask yourself. "I have to talk to Joel."

You're exhausted when Ryan drops you off at Joel's. You got all the reshoots done in one day, which is virtually unheard of, but thankfully, Emily just needed a few scenes done, and she knew exactly what she wanted to change. Still, you were there from before the sun came up until after the sun went down. Oh, and you single-handedly doomed your career, but it's fine. Everything's gonna be fine. You really just want to hug Joel. You imagine you'll probably collapse against his chest and cry and barely be able to get the words out. He'll help you figure out what's next. Maybe you'll watch another movie with the girls. That'd be nice. But, right now, you need to cry and maybe have a huge glass of wine. 

You don't knock on Joel's door. You just open and walk through the door, shrugging off your jacket like it's your own place. Something delicious is cooking in the kitchen and the smell wafts throughout the house. Maybe pasta? You can hear low music playing and the girls giggling as they no doubt push their dad around for space on the stovetop. You smile and feel your shoulders drop and your jaw unclench for the first time since you argued with Mel. Everything's gonna be fine.

You turn the corner to see into the living room and the kitchen and find Ellie and Sarah laughing with a woman you've never seen before. She's tall with beautiful dark skin and brown coily hair. Your heart stops in your chest, and the expansive house is suddenly all too small.

"Alright, I couldn't find pesto, but I did find," Joel says as he exits the garage with a can in his hand, stopping in his tracks when he sees you. He looks shocked and says your name like he forgot the syllables. Ellie, Sarah, and the mystery woman look up from their food, and Sarah lights up, repeating your name excitedly.

"I'm so happy you're here! This is my mom, Angela!"

#one for the money two for the show #rockstar!joel miller #the last of us #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #the last of us x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #the last of us au #the last of us hbo

[blindmagdalena]

Eat Your Ego, Honey ( Ch 6 )

homelander x oc 18+  escort services, sex work, voyeurism, stalking, Homelander in general. see ao3 link for detailed tags. chapter index. check out the playlist!

chapter summary: Homelander spends the morning after their first date musing on what a life with Layla will look like. Unfortunately for both of them, he's quick to voice his fantasy, which clashes hard with her grounded sense of reality.

additional chapter tags: somnophilia, cunnilingus, attempted sexual coercion, accidental injury, gaslighting, physical restraint.

With Layla fast asleep in his arms, Homelander is left to his own devices for the rest of the night. He could sleep, he supposes, but he doesn’t need to. He can go days without. Currently, he finds he simply doesn’t have the desire to be unconscious right now. He wants to savor every moment of this.

She’s here. In his home. In his arms. He inhales deeply, floods his senses with their mingled scents. The lingering warm vanilla of her perfume, the woodsy spice of his cologne, and the heady smell of sex. Amidst it all, he also picks up the distinctive rubbery smell of latex: the condom. Before last night, he can’t recall the last time he used one. He only had the box because it had been packaged with the lube.

He never cared to use them. Didn’t think he needed to until…

Homelander drifts in and out of his thoughts, stubbornly pulling back every time he feels a bristle of anger or grief. In one fell swoop he lost his girlfriend, the mother of his child, and his son. Stormfront may have survived Ryan’s rage, but he knows now that she was gone from him from that moment onward. She only cared about her agenda, not him. Left him alone for his fucking birthday.

Fake or not, what kind of girlfriend kills herself right before your birthday?

By far, the worst part of it all was Ryan. In targeting Becca, Stormfront had alienated he and Ryan from each other, pushed him into the hands of William fucking Butcher. Now he had no idea where his own son was, or if the kid even wanted anything to do with him. 

He never should have let Stormfront interfere. Homelander could have made things work. He was making things work, regardless of Becca’s misgivings, because Ryan needed his mother.

He still needs a mother.

Homelander refocuses on Layla’s sleeping face. She’s even sweeter asleep than she is awake, features soft, unguarded. She’s relentlessly patient, something that had initially frustrated him. He hadn’t been able to rattle her disposition at all during their first session, though he had certainly tried. She’s kind, she cooks, she even sings. Sure, she drinks a little excessively, and her “profession” is a can of worms to deal with all on its own, but overall…

He can’t help but smile faintly, stroking her cheek the same way he had that very first night he visited her in her home.

With a couple of minor adjustments, she would make a hell of a mother.

It’s a nicer thought to fixate on than any of the others. It carries him through the next several hours, taking him away from the sorrow of heartsickness and the losses he has unfairly endured again and again and again. Instead, he imagines what a home shared between the three of them would look like. A large kitchen, naturally, one that would blow her little condo’s setup out of the water. An oversized bath for the two of them to lounge in. She would have everything she could possibly need at her fingertips.

Ryan would have his own room. Big, with bright windows and posters on every wall. Baseball, dad’s movies, shelves for his trophies. Trophies that he earned himself, not just cheap little statues to create the illusion of a childhood. He would have everything that Homelander should have had.

Eventually, Layla stirs. He loosens his hold to let her adjust, watching as she rolls onto her back, the blanket sliding down with her movements. His gaze drifts down, and he’s possessed by a wicked little thrill at not only the sight of her bare breasts, but the bruises that mottle her flesh. He marked her thoroughly with his lips and his teeth last night, a myriad of them blossoming from her chest all the way up to her neck.

“Oops,” he whispers, playful and without remorse. That changes, however, when she adjusts her legs and visibly winces in her sleep before settling back down. Watching her for a moment longer, he follows the trail of bruises back down, adjusts his vision to look through the blanket covering her. Her hips are darkly marked as well, veins erupted beneath the skin in the shape of his hands. Her thighs, too. He can only imagine the state of her hips and pelvis, her cervix. He had been rough with her by human standards, but she had wanted it. Fuck, had she ever wanted it.

He should still apologize, and he knows exactly how he wants to do just that. He dips down to press a kiss to one of the marks atop her right breast, and then another between them. He kisses her nipple, savors the feel of her goosebumps beneath his tongue as he drags his tongue over it. Though she shivers under his touch, she doesn’t wake. He grows bolder, sucking her nipple into his mouth, eyes falling shut.

This feels like thievery, like snatching the proverbial forbidden fruit straight from the tree. It thrills him as much as it unnerves him to take from her without permission. Throughout his life, indulgence has been the most heinous cardinal sin. Deprivation has always been his virtue. He was never given enough of anything, lest he become a gluttonous beast with no carrot to chase, and no stick strong enough to beat him.

Denying him didn’t weaken his appetite. Instead, it turned his hunger boundless. He’s never had enough. He doesn't know if he ever will, or if it’s even possible. After a lifetime of unending yearning, he wouldn’t know what satiation would feel like even if he had it.

He keeps himself weightless to prevent the bed from dipping too much with his movements, lightly hovering as he slips down beneath the blanket, kissing his way down her sternum.

Her legs are splayed well enough for him to gently shoulder between them, arms slipping under her thighs, hands grazing lightly over the bruises shaped just like them. She smells divine, like seasalt vanilla ice cream, the smell of sweat and sex and her favorite moisturizer lingering on her skin, which is soft in his hands. She cares for her body the way a craftsman does their tools, keeping them polished and pristine.

It drives him wild to see her undone, blemished, ravished. It’s proof that she has given him something rare, that her rules don’t apply to him anymore. These marks belong solely to him, even if she doesn’t. 

Yet.

Settling his weight between her legs, he uses two fingers to spread the lips of her pussy apart, closing his eyes as he leans in, dragging his tongue from cunt to clit. There aren’t words for how she tastes because there isn’t anything else like it. Good pussy is a meal in a league all its own, and hers is some of the finest he’s ever indulged on. 

He gives a rumbling sigh against her, moving his tongue in leisurely figure-eights. He could—would—do this for hours if she could withstand it. He closes his lips on her clit and sucks gently, rubbing at it with the tip of his tongue. The pattern of her breaths change, her heart jumps, but she isn’t awake yet. She makes an exquisite noise in her sleep that goes straight to his cock, which has begun to harden against his soft bedding. He makes a matching sound low in the back of his throat, nuzzling into her cunt while he grinds his growing hard-on down against the bed.

Layla’s legs move, closing in on either side of him. He can hear her waking up, feel it in her pulse. A noise of confusion first, disoriented, followed shortly by the sweetest of breathy moans.

“Oh, darling,” she breathes, tangling her fingers gently in his hair. Her grip is weak with sleep, nails scraping deliciously along his scalp. It sends shivers trilling up and down his spine like a xylophone. He relishes just how pleased she sounds with him, how she pets his hair while her clit flutters against his tongue.

Last night's frenzied urgency is absent here. The drags of his tongue are languid, the slight roll of her hips loose and without much rhythm. It’s slow, intimate. He loses himself in it enough that her orgasm sneaks up on him, the smell and taste of oxytocin hitting him in a rush.

Homelander moans against her, plunging his tongue into her to feel the quiver of her velvety walls. He hurriedly shoves his hand down between himself and the mattress, lifting his hips just enough to jerk his cock. It’s a treat to come like this, with her hands in his hair and his mouth on her pussy. He sucks at her clit, milks her of her aftershocks while he pumps himself to release, luxuriating in the sharp little gasps she’s giving, how her fingers tighten in his hair.

He comes with a low groan, the sheets below him soaking up the brunt of the mess. She tugs his hair, and he obligingly crawls up her body, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

She looks radiant beneath him, dazed with both sleep and pleasure, her eyes soft, lips set in a gentle curve. It feeds something carnal in him to have done this to her, that she would look at him like this–with love–because of what he has done for her. She has no idea that this is just the beginning. Will she ever be able to fathom the lengths he’ll go for her if she’ll just give him what he needs?

“Good morning,” he purrs, his own voice a low, pleasure-soaked rumble.

“Very good morning,” she says through a giggle, cupping either side of his face. She kisses him lazily, meeting his tongue with her own, licking the flavor of herself from his mouth. He sinks his weight down atop her, slipping his arms underneath her, happy to kiss her until she breaks to breathe. “Insatiable,” she accuses, carding her fingers through his hair.

He beams down at her, gently bumping his nose against hers. He kisses her again simply because he can. Because he’s allowed to. “You would be too if you were me.”

Layla laughs softly. The sound of it warms him to his core. He watches her blink the remaining sleep from her eyes, smearing what’s left of her makeup as she rubs her face, stifling a waking yawn into her hand. He tucks her hair behind her ear, endeared by the way she leans into his endeared by the way she leans into his palm. He's so enraptured by the eager way she touches him, he forgot how good it can be when someone seeks his touch.

People flinch from him far more often.

They kiss again and again and again. It feels like an exploration, each of them mapping out the feel and pattern of the other. She tilts her head one way, and he goes the other, following her in this dance that he would prefer never ended. As always, she’s the first to break for reprieve. He allows it, nuzzling into the crook of her neck instead. He follows the line of her neck all the way up to her ear with his lips and gentle, grazing teeth. He barely resists the urge to bite. Intimacy is the only vice he’s ever struggled to not grip in his teeth and swallow whole. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, running her fingers through her hair, down his neck, his back. He sighs his pleasure.

“Great,” he lies smoothly. No sense in getting into the nitty-gritty of things. He did have a great night.

“Good,” she says, stretching her arms out across his back until they each give a satisfying little pop. He shifts, lifting himself onto one arm so that he can once again admire not just her, but his handiwork. He brushes his fingers over the bruises that are smattered across her chest.

“You hurt?” He asks quietly. He wants to be proud of them, he wants to love them unconditionally, but first he needs to know they haven’t cost him something in her eyes.

“Mm-mm, mostly just sore,” she says, twisting and curling his short hair between her fingers. “Very bruised, inside and out,” she says, to which he has the decency to look sheepish. “Do you have ibuprofen?”

“Uhh.” He racked his brain, trying to think of where he might have something as utterly mundane and useless to him as painkillers, but he came up empty. “Nnnnope. It’s, ah… Never come up,” he says, to which Layla chuckles.

“No, of course it wouldn’t. it’s alright, I think I have some in my… purse,” she says, pausing as she looks around. Her clothes are scattered from one end of the room to the other, but her purse is– “Shit, I left it on the balcony.”

“I’ll have it brought up,” he says, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before he lifts up, a slight pep in his step as he makes his way over to his phone: a landline. He’s always had trouble keeping track of a cell phone. “Could I have some water, too?” She calls out after him. “Roger!” He affirms cheerily. He whistles softly, making a pit stop by his fridge on the way to his phone. It’s lucky she only asked for water, as it’s the only thing his fridge is stocked with. He snatches one of the bottles neatly lined up inside, and tosses it absently while he calls to have her things retrieved. Once that’s settled, he makes his way back to his bedroom. She’s sitting up now, his dark comforter draped loosely over her lap. She’s fixing her makeup in the mirror to her right, swiping her fingers beneath her eyes. He watches her lick the pads of her ring fingers to wipe away the dark smudges at the corners, endeared. It’s such a simple, domestic little moment. 

She stops when she notices him staring, and smiles at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says, shrugging slightly. His tone is soft. “Admiring the view.”

“You’re sweet,” she says, running her fingers through her dark hair to tame it. “Corny, but sweet.” “Always gatta humble me, huh?” He says as he advances, offering her the water bottle. She takes it, eagerly twisting off the cap to take a sip. He slides back in next to her, watching the way her throat works as she swallows. Everything she does is captivating in a way he never would have cared to notice before. Things he would normally find annoying she somehow makes delightful.

“If humbling is what you need, I will gladly provide it,” she says, her smile turning sly. 

Of that, he has no doubt. “What I need-” he begins, leaning in close. “-is more kisses.”

“Mmmm. Lucky for you, I’ve got a fresh batch,” she says, kissing him once, twice, thrice in quick little pecks.

“Christ, woman, don’t waste them,” he growls playfully, taking hold of her face and catching her in one slow, firm kiss.

She laughs against his lips. It’s the most wonderful thing he’s ever felt.

They luxuriate with one another a while longer. Homelander makes a call to the kitchens when Layla inquires about food, but he still isn’t ready to let her out of his bed. Everything is too perfect, too good to let go of. He has the decency to wrap a sheet around his waist when he grabs their breakfast–and her belongings–from the door, but he’s quick to abandon it to climb right back in with her, serving her meal on a silver platter.

“We’re going to have to get up eventually,” she says, taking a bite of the toast. He knows that. They will. He intends to invite her to his birthday celebration tonight, after all. It’ll be better if he doesn’t show up alone. The world is nowhere near forgetting about his most recent failed romantic endeavor.

He resists the urge to lick away the bit of jam that catches on her bottom lip, to interrupt her from her meal, to selfishly claim her every second for himself, to kiss her until she forgets all about that stupid piece of toast, and cares only to satiate her hunger on the taste of him. “...Hello?”

Homelander blinks, realizing he had gone radio silent staring at her mouth. He meets her gaze, and smiles. “What?”

Layla quirks a brow. “We’re going to have to get up eventually,” she repeats, taking another bite of her meal. “You sure you’re not hungry?”

“I ate,” he says, his grin sharpening wolfishly.

“Very funny,” she says wryly, though she can’t hide genuine amusement. She looks good like this. Domestic, even. He really could keep her this way, pampered and cared for. He can offer her more than money, more than mind-melting sex. He has real power in this world. He has so much more to offer her than anyone else could ever hope to. He could give her a real life. A family.

“I have a son,” he says, gauging her response carefully.

She shoots him a look of surprise, lowering the mostly-eaten toast to her plate. “You do?”

“Yeah. He’s, uh… We’re living apart right now,” he says, the words falling awkwardly from his tongue. “Things are complicated.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says gently. Normally, he finds those kinds of condolences sound empty. Rehearsed. Layla always sounds genuine to his ears, the furrow of her brow carrying sincere concern. He wants to lean into it, coax more of that earnest care from her. “Is he with his mother?”

“No, no, she’s gone,” he says dismissively. “That’s a whole mess. I haven’t really had the chance to, uh, to talk to him about that.”

There’s a dash of befuddlement seeping into Layla’s sympathetic expression. “Was… Who was his mother, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“No one,” he says, tone sharper than he meant to let it be. Things would be so different if she’d just let him raise his own son. “I mean, not… Not anyone you’d know, not anyone significant.”

“She is significant, though,” she corrects him, lips curving into a slight frown. He doesn’t like the turn this is taking: this was supposed to be a pleasant revelation. “She’s your son’s mother.”

“Yeah, yes, sure, she was. She’s dead now,” he says, trying to move on from that. “But what I meant was that she wasn’t, you know, in the news or anything,” he says, skating around any potential inferences she might make, lest she assume he’s referring to Stormfront or any other woman he’s publicly associated with.

Her frown deepens. He wants to choke back everything he’s just said and start over. He wants to go back to her sweet, pacifying sympathy. Not this uncomfortable, critical look she’s evaluating him with. It makes his skin crawl.

“Right,” she says. He hates that tone, the one that tells him he’s anything but right. It tells him she has much more to say than that, and that he wouldn’t like any of it. He bounces his fist on his thigh, agitation creeping up. This isn’t how this conversation was supposed to go. “You haven’t talked to your son about it? Was it recent?”

“Pretty recent,” he says, irritated now. “But that’s really not… that’s not the point. I have a son,” he says again, splaying his hands expectantly, as if he can restart the conversation with that. This is her chance to give a more enthused response.

She doesn’t. “Why haven’t you talked to him?”

“Jesus Christ, I just told you that it’s complicated,” he snaps, though he regrets the slip instantly. Her expression smooths out, cooling to detached nonchalance. Panic begins to set in alongside his frustration. “Don’t–don’t look at me like that,” he spits, exhaling roughly. He pushes his hands through his hair, and tries desperately to recalibrate, holding his hands out to her. “You were supposed to be excited.”

“Excited,” she repeats, tone even. He can’t stand how apathetic she’s turned.

“Yes, excited. I want you to meet my son,” he says, trying once more to extend this olive branch to her.

That gets a response. Her cool indifference falters, brows furrowing. “I don’t think that’s appropriate,” she says, some of that gentleness sinking back into her voice, but he doesn’t care for the sound of it this time around. Or maybe it’s less her tone, and more the words. He’s not sure yet.

“What do you mean appropriate?” He asks, features pulling into a tight, unhappy pinch.

“You–” she begins, pausing to let out a breath. She closes her eyes briefly, and then takes his hands into her own, pulling them down into her lap, bringing their faces closer to one another, leveling him with direct eye contact. “You need to talk to your son. That much is clear,” she says, squeezing his hands. He squeezes hers back.

“That has to happen first. As for me, I’m…” She hesitates, licking her lips. “Your son is grieving. I’m the last thing he needs right now. What he needs is you.I don’t know what complicated entails, but your priority cannot be introducing a strange woman to your child right now.”

“You’re not a strange woman,” he says with  a defensive edge to his tone. “You’re my–we’re–”

“We’re not anything right now,” she interrupts softly. “We’re barely a notion. One date doesn’t mean–”

“No, no. Stop it,” he demands, voice dropping low. He tightens his grip on her hands. “Don’t blow me off. You like me. There’s something here.”

“Yes, but–” She tries to twist her hands out of his grasp. “Let go of my hands, please.”

“No.” “You’re hurting me, John–” “Don’t! Do not fucking ’John’ me.”

“Why? Why not?!” She snaps, louder than he had been. It startles him enough that his grip on her hands eases. He blinks several times. He’s never heard her shout. Almost didn’t think she was capable of it. “You gave me that name! So why not?!”

“Because it’s not a fucking name!” He yells back, escalating right along with her. “It’s nothing! It means nothing! It’s-it’s a fucking–a goddamn placeholder. It was just more convenient than a string of numbers, alright? I don’t want to hear it right now.”

Her heart is thundering in his ears. Her bones feel brittle in his firm grasp. He could snap them without a thought. He immediately loosens his hold. Her expression is fractured by anger, fear, and perhaps worst of all, pity. It’s cloying, a far cry from her usual benevolent sympathy. He wants nothing to do with it. 

“I don’t want to fight with you,” she says, tone level, but not indulgent. He badly misses that quality.

“Then don’t,” he says ardently. “Can’t you just stop thinking about everything so much?”

Layla’s eyes fall shut. She takes in a slow, calming breath, holding it a beat before she exhales. It gives him hope that they’ll recover from this. She tentatively pulls her hands away, and this time, he lets her. However, he feels a bubble of anxiety in his gut when she slips out of bed, and begins picking up her clothes. “What are you doing?” He asks apprehensively, standing.

She pulls her dress on, smoothing her hands down the front of it. “You’re right. I do like you,” she says, stuffing her undergarments into her purse. “But I can’t talk to you right now. Not here.”

He scoffs nervously. “You’re leaving?”

“I need some time to process,” she says, confirming his fear. 

His anxiety spikes. Everything was perfect. How did this happen? “Don’t be fucking childish,” he says, advancing on her. “Talk to me.”

“I’m upset,” she says plainly. “I don’t feel comfortable here right now. I want to go home. We can talk once we’ve both calmed down.”

“I am calm,” he shoots back, frustrated. “You’re the one making a big deal out of nothing.”

“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t stop gathering her things. He watches her sit and slip her shoes on. 

“Is that really all you’re gonna to say?”

“Yes.”

That single word shoots a lance of pure fury through him like no other, but this seething anger comes with a sense of helplessness. He doesn’t know what to do. “Don’t leave.” He tries to make it sound like a command instead of the plea that it is.

“I promise it’s better that I do,” she says, standing up. “Before either of us say or do something we can’t take back.”

“No,” he says, firm and simple. No.

She doesn’t look swayed. If anything, she looks tired. Exasperated, like he’s nothing more than a petulant child throwing a tantrum. “You don’t get to say no to me here. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Homelander lunges. He catches her face between his hands, and kisses her with everything he’s got.It’s a desperate move. Maybe she'll taste that in the way he presses his lips to hers, feel how much he wants her. How much he needs her. She takes hold of his wrists, makes a muffled noise of protest, but he doesn’t let go. He can’t let go.

“Stop,” she manages to get out, pressing hard against his chest now. “Jo–Homelander,” she stresses, but he’s certain he can turn this around. If he can just remind her of how good things were a minute ago, how good he can make her feel, how good he can be for her, then she’ll stop this. She’ll stay.

The harder she pushes against him, the tighter he holds her. She twists, but he doesn’t want her to speak anymore. The more they’ve said, the worse things have gotten. He kisses her like he means to suffocate her, fingers digging in behind her jaw, mouth stifling hers. He can hardly feel her lips anymore, she’s drawn them into a thin line, gritting her teeth behind them. He steps closer, feels her bump into the bed behind her. If he can just–

Something shifts, and Layla makes a distinctly pained noise. The sharpness of it snaps Homelander out of it, has him letting her go like he’s been burned by the touch of her. Both of her hands go to her mouth, where she’s been hurt. She touches the inside of her bottom lip, and her fingers come away bloody. He’s split the skin against her bottom teeth. Her eyes are horribly glassy, and when she looks at him, she looks…

Disappointed.

Stricken, he reaches for her. “I’m sor–”

She sidesteps his touch, dipping to snatch her purse up from where she had dropped it. She hurriedly throws her coat on, covering up all the marks he had been so proud of just this morning. 

“Layla! Layla! Would you just–would you just stop? Please!” He follows her to the door. She’s practically running from him. He catches her wrist, easily stopping her in her tracks. He could keep her here if he wanted to. It would be so easy.  “Please don’t leave me. It’s…” He holds her wrist in a loose but unopening grip, gesturing helplessly with his free hand. “It’s my birthday,” he whispers, strained.

It’s not. He doesn’t know when his birthday is. Everything he’s ever known has been a sham. His life is a fucking joke.

Tears roll freely down her cheeks. He can smell the salt in them, smell her blood, see traces of it between her lips.The copper tang of it makes his stomach churn in a way blood never has.

“Happy birthday, Homelander,” she whispers back, pulling out of his grasp, and turning towards the door.

His hand falls limply to his side. The door to his penthouse opens, it closes, and just like that, he’s all alone. His eyes prickle hotly with tears, a tremble running through his core. He stands there a long while, feeling naked and vulnerable well beyond his nudity.

Something has just been taken from him. He had it, and now it’s gone. That contentedness. It had been bundled warmly in his arms this morning, only to be ripped away with such abrupt violence, it left him shivering cold.

“Fuck,” he whispers, pushing his hands into his hair, squeezing it until his scalp starts to ache. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK!” He roars, catching a nearby vase in his hand. He hurls it across the room with such force that it explodes in every direction upon impact, and a particularly large piece cracks into the center of the mirror hanging on his wall, fracturing it into a web-like pattern.

Homelander stares numbly at his ugly, fragmented reflection.

Just us now.

He closes his eyes, sick of his own tear-stricken face.

I hate you. Chapter Seven.

#homelander x oc #homelander fanfiction #my writing #eat your ego #smut #choo chooooo all aboard the angst train

[your-coquette-queen]

GUYS IM BACK!

HEY EVERYONE!

I'm sorry for the two year hiatus, I went through a period where I struggled and I really just had to come out the other side finding who I am. However, I am now back and feel so much happier! In case come of you forgot, I'm Ava! I originally had this account and ended up talking mainly about rock bands (notably KISS), Stranger Things, and Star Wars!

However, over the past two years a lot has honestly changed. I still love music, mainly now pop and musical theatre however I do love rock and still love talking about it with people. I love Star Wars still however my main fandom is currently Supernatural. Hopefully I have some Supernatural enjoyers in my audience and we can connect.

I also love 2000's everything and Incorporate into a lot of my style , so just expect to likely to see lots of 2000's core on here

A little UPDATED bit about me:

IT WILL BE LONG JUST NOTE:

Expect lots of music on here! I think I will just have one blog and move throughout fandoms that I enjoy so expect a bit of everything!

I am Christian! Christianity has been a long journey for me but I am so thankful to be in a really positive place with my faith. I left this blog two years ago with a lot of struggles but have come back overcoming those problems! I likely will not post a lot about faith as that is not the main part of the account but it is a big part of my life and something I am proud of. If I have other Christians here, I am always open to talking!

I love makeup!

Favorite tv shows:

Supernatural

ER

Movies:

Ten Inch Hero

Wedding Crashers

Cinderella Story

Legally Blonde

Without a Paddle

Star Wars: Phantom Menace

Star Wars: A New Hope

Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith

Clueless

Hunger Games

Scooby Doo!

Batman: Dark Knight

Twilight

Princess Diaries

She's the Man

Singers/Bands:

Britney Spears

Christina Aguilera

Rihanna

Destiny's Child

Duran Duran

Katy Perry

Beyonce

NSYNC

Nelly Furtado

Timbaland

Frankie Valley and the Fourth Seasons

Simple Minds

Alice Cooper

KISS

Megadeth

Journey

Motley Crue

The Temptations

Dianna Ross

Michael Jackson

Ice Spice

Lay Bankz

Ayesha Erotica

Meghan Thee Stallion

Fergie

Madonna

Nikki Minaj

Jessie J

Marvin Gaye

1 Direction (when I was like 14 but idc their songs still cook😭😭)

Fav Musicals:

Cats

Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat

Starlight Express

Falsettos

25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee

Book of Mormon

& Juliet

Miss Saigon

Rocky Horror

Spamalot

Back to the Future

Guys and Dolls

Suisical

Pippin

Legally Blonde

Ain't Too Proud

Little Shop of Horrors

Guttenberg

Young Frankenstein

Little Women

Music Genres:

Rock(multiple genres within!)

Pop

80's/90's county

K-Pop

Musical Theatre

Opera/Classical

New Wave

Alternative

Actors/Celebrities I love:

Paris Hilton: SHE'S MY QUEEN/ ONE OF MY BIGGEST INSPIRATIONS

Jared Padalecki

Jensen Ackles

Matthew Lillard

Misha Collins

Christian Bale

Ryan Reynolds

Channing Tatum

Hayden Christensen

Ryan Gosling

Pamela Anderson

Heather Locklear

Chad Michael Murray

Mark Wahlberg

Reese Witherspoon

Josh Hutcherson

Elizabeth Taylor

Taylor Lautner

Tom Cruise

Tom Selleck

I will likely update this as I start interacting on here again but I am so happy to be back!

Excited to talk to some of you guys again🤍

#guys im back #hiiii #im back #!!!

[xxrainshadowsxx]

New Elite Chapter 9

We'll deal with the fallout from last time, and maybe we'll even get a touch of spice in here.

NOTE: This chapter does mention church. This is purely because at the time, church was a social event for the upper class. Characters' personal thoughts on what religion they personally believe, or if they're religious at all, will never be mentioned.

“Okay, darlin’, let’s get you into a bath,” Mrs. Ryan says as she leads you down a hall. She ushers you into a washroom, and a few minutes later, a young, freckled-faced girl joins you. She fills the tub and helps you out of your dress.

“Maggie, could you get a cloth and ice from the icebox?” Mrs. Ryan asks the girl, who nods and scurries out of the room. Once she’s gone, the woman lets out an enormous sigh before focusing her attention on you. “I was really hoping it wouldn’t come to this,” she says, almost to herself.

“I’m sor–” you start but for the second time that day, you find yourself cut off before you could finish your apology.

“Honey, you have absolutely nothing to be sorry for,” Mrs. Ryan insists. “I’m the one that told him to bring you here if things went sour with Dot, so don’t worry about being a nuisance; I was well-prepared to host you for a while. I just wish it didn’t have to come to this.”

Maggie comes back in the room then, carrying a handful of ice in a small towel. She gives it to Mrs. Ryan, who passes the bundle off to you. “Put that against your cheek. I know it hurts, but that’ll make it better, trust me,” she adds, noticing your wince when you pressed the ice against your bruise. You want to ignore her, but acknowledge that she’s probably right. Reluctantly, you hold the towel up to your cheek again, and after a few minutes, the sting does begin to die down. You hum in contentment and sink further into the water.

She lets you be at peace for a minute before speaking again. “Look, I love that boy like he’s my son,” she begins with no preamble or hesitation. “But I need to know the truth, regardless of how I feel about him. Is this going to make you resent him? He’s prepared to keep every promise he made to you. But do you regret it now that the cost has been paid?”

It was a heavy question, one that you didn’t feel fully prepared to answer just yet. But Mrs. Ryan’s gaze, which is firm and gentle at the same time, tells you that she doesn’t plan on letting the matter drop until she gets an answer. “I knew this was a possibility from the beginning, loathe though I was to accept it,” you say slowly, choosing your words carefully. “But I had a choice then to turn him away, and I did not. I shall stay by his side, regardless of what happens to us.”

Mrs. Ryan’s look changes to one of exasperation. “I know what your upbringing was like, but you don’t have to be so prim and proper here. You just went through a great ordeal. It’s fine to not be fine.”

“I know,” you sigh. “And believe me, I haven’t been fine. Right after… well… it happened, I think I traumatized Mr. Onceler. I was in hysterics, and I don’t think he was expecting it. And I’m sure I’ll become weepy again at some point, but right now, with everything that occurred, I just feel numb. It’s all too much, my mind needs to process it before it will allow me to feel again.”

Mrs. Ryan pierces you with that almost unsettling gaze for a minute longer before she sighs again. “Well, I suppose that’s fair for now,” she murmurs. “Take as much time in here as you like. Maggie will help you with whatever you need.” With that, she takes her leave, and you take the opportunity to just not think, which is a blessed, most welcome distraction.

It’s only when your skin begins to prune and the water grows tepid do you finally have Maggie scrub you down and help you out. She’s nice, but hasn’t quite mastered the way your hair works; she has an especially hard time finding all the pins and removing them. She makes your heart pang as you’re reminded of the other loss you suffered today. Nellie might be forever beyond your reach now, unless you were somehow able to write to her.

The thought of Nellie almost sends you into near hysterics again. While you’d dreaded a possible separation from your mother, you’d forgotten to take into account that Nellie would also be lost to you. That hurt almost more than your mother’s abandonment. Nellie was your dearest friend, and the thought that you might never see her again was abhorrent, not to be considered.

Thinking about Nellie made your chest hurt, so you put her out of your mind for now. You’d see her again. You simply had to.

With that resolution, you pull on a simple robe that Mrs. Ryan has left for you. It’s a bit too long, but still wearable. You towel-dry your hair as best as possible before letting it hang on your shoulders. You absentmindedly comb through it with your fingers as you step out of the washroom, trusting Maggie to lead you to whatever room you’re supposed to be staying in.

But as soon as you take a step into the hall, you hear a sharp intake of breath, causing your head to snap up. Mr. Onceler’s standing there, and you’re immediately self-conscious of how little you’re wearing. Yes, the robe covered you well enough, but there was still quite a bit of leg on display, and he’s never seen you with your hair undone before.

You should have been mortified. Even though you were engaged, a lady should never be caught in this state with a man unless he was her bona fide husband. But the day had taken such a toll on you that you couldn’t find the capacity to care at the moment. Who was going to know? And even if it somehow did come to light, this was miniscule compared to the scandal that was already over you.

So instead of dashing to another room, you take a step closer to him. You noticed that he’d taken off his jacket and his hat, leaving his hair tousled. For the first time, you could see what had caught Alice’s fancy. While he’d always been good-looking, this was the first time you could say that he was truly handsome. And even beyond handsome in this casual state… he was gorgeous.

For several moments, you just stand there, staring at each other. Finally, you blink, tearing your eyes away from his face so you’d be less distracted. “Um… I wanted to thank you for earlier,” you murmur demurely. “You stood by me and brought me somewhere safe, and for that I shall be forever grateful.”

He looks at you, completely bewildered. “You don’t need to thank me for taking care of you,” he huffs, and you note that he almost sounds offended. “You’re my fiancée. It’s my job to keep you safe, and I’m utterly disgusted with myself that I failed you so badly in that regard.”

Now it’s your turn to be confused. “How could you possibly have failed me? No one else would have done so much for me.”

He sighs and steps up so that he’s right in front of you. He hesitates, then brings his hand up to your face, tracing your cheek as though it were as delicate as lace. His touch causes your stomach to lurch in a way that you’ve never experienced before. “I allowed you to get hurt,” he whispers, his voice full of regret. “This should never have happened, and it’s my fault that it did.”

“No!” you exclaim. “There was no way you could have seen it coming, and no way you could have prevented it. Listen to me.” You take the hand that isn’t on your face in both of yours without a second thought. “I would not have you blame yourself,” you insist. “It distresses me, I must confess.”

That pulls what seems to be a reluctant smile from him. “Of course, I would not wish to do anything that might distress you,” he murmurs. The hand on your face now rests so that it’s cupping your cheek. He whispers your name, your first name. It’s the first time he hasn’t called you ‘miss.’ 

And is it just you, or is his face slowly moving towards you? You’re about to ask him but… no it’s definitely moving closer. What on earth is he possibly doing…?

Oh. Your eyes flutter shut as you realize he plans to kiss you. And even more shockingly, you find yourself not only allowing it, but very much looking forward to it.

Just as you feel his breath ghosting over your face, it suddenly stops, and he pulls his hand from your skin abruptly. You open your eyes, frustrated and bewildered, just as he says, “No. I can’t do it.” You can’t tell if he meant for you to hear him, but you did, and now all you feel is humiliation. You wrap your arms around yourself, wishing that you could simply evaporate on the spot.

“I’ll have Matilda show you to your room,” he announces, a bit too loud for the otherwise silent hall. He marches away and out of sight, leaving you quite befuddled as to what his actions and words meant.

He was adamant on marrying you, yet he did not want to kiss you? The rules of engagement, at least as far as you had been taught, stated that such displays of affection were to be saved until the actual marriage occurred, but he hadn’t learned such rigid rules as you did. What was more, you were alone, so no one would know, and you’d already broken all of the supposed rules. What was one more?

Embarrassed beyond belief, you can do nothing but just stand there until Mrs. Ryan reappears, looking amused. “Here,” she laughs, leading you through a door to what is clearly an unused but furnished bedroom. “I don’t know how you did this to him, but keep it up. I’ve never seen him so off his game,” she cackles until she catches sight of your face. “Oh. Not a happy interaction on your end then?” she asks.

You narrow your eyes. “How much did he tell you?” you ask suspiciously. You didn’t think he was the type to open his mouth, but Mrs. Ryan clearly knew something.

��Oh, he tells me most everything,” she shrugs, but turns serious when you start fuming. “Don’t hold it against him, or at least be understanding. He’s not trying to cause any problems. I’m just the only adult left in his life he feels he can trust. He’s not much older than you, remember. You’re both just kids to me.”

“How did you become so close to him?” You don’t realize how much curiosity has been burning you about that particular mystery until the question leaves your lips. Mrs. Ryan doesn’t seem surprised or off put but you asking it; she instead leans back and looks pensive for a moment.

“I met him within a week of him first coming to New York,” she explains. “You know he got very rich, very quickly. My husband helped him out, he put a large stock in the business, and he brought him to the first big event with the rich and snotty. The poor boy was completely lost. Well, I remembered how that was, and how vicious these people can be to anyone who dares to enter their little club. I took pity on him and decided to help him as best I could, and he’s trusted me ever since. As a kid, he didn’t have anyone he could really lean on, and he never had a positive adult figure in his life. I don’t know what he’s told you about his family…?” She trails off, clearly waiting for an answer, so you supply one.

“He hasn’t said much,” you recall. “He’s just told me that they all had to work from a young age, only his mother won’t, and that his father died young.”

“Hmmm.” She looks thoughtful for a moment about something before pressing on. “Anyway, from what he’s told me about his mother–which isn’t much, mind you–she’s an absolute witch of a woman and he’s better off without her. You think Dot can be difficult? She has nothing on his mother.”

You start to wonder whether or not you should be hearing this. He hadn’t exactly been thrilled that you knew where he had come from, and here was Mrs. Ryan telling you even more of his secrets. He wasn’t going to like this.

And yet, their relationship suddenly made sense after Mrs. Ryan’s story. She was the only mother he had ever known. Only one question remained. 

“So, why are you so fond of him?” you ask. “You said earlier you thought of him as a son. Why did your affection for him grow so much?”

“Oh, he’s just a gem once you get to know him,” she says fondly. “It’s not hard to grow an attachment to him with time. He can be a pain, I know, but I think you’re starting to learn that he’s deadly charming when he’s not being influenced by his environment.” She pats your hand. “He’s a good kid. And for what it’s worth, he’ll be good to you.” She stands up then. “I’ll have Maggie bring you your dinner in here. I expect it’ll be an early night for you.”

She wasn’t wrong about that. Almost as soon as you finish the meal that’s brought to you, you’re desperate for sleep. Maggie brings you a nightgown, but you dismiss her after that. This was the first disruption in your nighttime routine in years, and you didn’t want an intruder at the moment, no matter how benign her motives might be. This was both the beginning of your new normal, and a period of intense grief, and you just had to be alone.

For as you sit in front of a vanity brushing your hair out, you’re struck again with just how much you miss Nellie.

You’d spent every evening for the past several years with her. She was often the voice of reason when you were frazzled. She’d not only stood by your side during your courtship, but she’d helped you out at great personal risk if your mother had discovered her involvement. You knew that if it weren’t for her, you would not be engaged today. You miss her so much that you physically ache, and your eyes burn with unshed tears; you have no more to cry after the day you’ve had.

There’s a knock at the door then, and you’re tempted to ignore it by pretending you’re already asleep, but since it’s probably Mrs. Ryan, you figure you should, at the very minimum, hear her out since you’re staying on her hospitality. You clear your throat briefly before calling out, “Come in.”

To your surprise, when the door opens, it’s not Mrs. Ryan who stands there. Instead, Mr. Onceler appears in the doorway, looking sheepish. “Hi,” he begins hesitantly. “Um, I just wanted to let you know that I’m about to head home, but I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh,” you murmur. You don’t know why, but for some reason you were under the impression he would be staying here with you. Looking back on it, that assumption was absurd. He had his own house; what reason would he have to stay? “Will you be visiting frequently?” you ask, praying you sound more indifferent than you felt.

“Probably,” he decides. “I have a business to run, of course, but we also have a wedding to plan.” He looks apologetic for a moment. “I don’t know if your preference would be to have a longer engagement period, but I don’t want to intrude on Matilda’s time for longer than necessary.”

“No, I agree. That’s fine,” you assure quickly. He looks momentarily relieved, but that expression is soon replaced with one of worry.

“How are you doing? I know that was hard for you. And forgive me for saying so, but your eyes are red. Have you been crying again?” he asks so gently that a region in your abdomen gives that funny little lurch again.

You shrug, both as an answer to his question, and an attempt to shoo away the reactions your body had to seeing him. “I haven’t been crying, but I don’t really know how I am right now,” you confess. “I’m sure the grief will come in waves, but I don’t know how to feel when those waves aren’t cresting.” Your lip trembles as you will yourself not to cry, and this causes more words to keep tumbling out of your mouth. “And I just… I miss Nellie. I never even got to say goodbye to her.”

This realization finally causes a traitorous tear to fall from your eye, and you wipe it away furiously. The last thing you wanted was for him to feel obligated to comfort you again. It obviously made him uncomfortable and beside the point, you were still a bit cross and confused about what had happened between you two earlier in the hall.

He frowns at your statement however. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am for all you had to give up for me,” he says after a long pause. “I fear sometimes I’ve become so used to my own family dynamic that I forget others can actually get along and love can develop there.” He has a deep scowl on his face now as he recalls what is likely a painful memory. You knew how touchy of a subject this was, but you still felt the urge to pry.

“Mrs. Ryan told me your mother can be… difficult,” you say slowly, carefully gauging his reaction. He looks mildly surprised, but not angry, so you push on. “Is there truly no one in your family you get along with? Not even an aunt or uncle, or cousins perhaps?”

He just shakes his head. “I have an aunt and uncle on my mother’s side, and I don’t like either of them, and they didn’t have any children. And my father was an only child so there’s no family on that side at all.” Once again, he can’t meet your eyes when he discusses his father. There has to be more to the story there, but you feel you’ve probably pushed your luck far enough for one night.

“I’m sorry for bringing up unpleasant memories,” you murmur. No matter your slight ire, you didn’t want the evening to end on a sour note.

He’s brushing away your apology before you’re finished with it. “It’s fine. I’ve learned you’ve got an inquisitive mind, so it’s only natural you would be curious about my odd family situation. I’d do the same, were our positions switched.” His mouth twists a bit, a gesture you’ve come to understand means he’s thinking carefully about something. “I suspect that by asking questions of me, you’re trying to distract yourself from your own negative feelings?” he hesitantly guesses after a moment.

You blink at his deduction, then realize that subconsciously, that’s exactly what you had been doing. “Perhaps a bit,” you admit. “I don’t like thinking of Nellie and what might be happening to her. I’m praying with everything in me that she isn’t being punished for helping me. She could claim she knew nothing, but I fear my mother might be willing to lash out at anyone.”

He gets the same look on his face he did the last time you mentioned Nellie, like he ‘s trying to decide something. But whatever his plans, he does not share them with you. “Sleep,” he instead insists. “Things will not seem so bleak in the morning.”

You can't deny that sleep doesn't sound divine. “Get home safe,” you whisper to him just before he leaves. He turns back to you and inclines his head, a small smile adorning his face, and then he leaves, and you suddenly feel quite alone and vulnerable.

Everything will be better in the morning, you remind yourself of his advice before you turn out the lights and lay down, sleep claiming you before your head even hits the pillow.

****

You feel as though you could've slept for another several hours when you're woken in the morning by Maggie pulling the curtains back, letting the morning sunrise bleed into the room. There's a slight pounding in your head, no doubt due to the dehydration you suffered yesterday, but thankfully, there's a glass of water on the nightstand next to the bed. You grab it and gulp it down, not caring about manners for once, and it helps your head immensely. You feel ten times better already.

As you stretch and really commit to staying awake, Mrs. Ryan comes into the room, already dressed, and she holds a simple day dress in her arms. “This might be a little big on you,” she says with a furrowed brow. “I've had you in my daughter's old things, and she inherited her father's height, but it's still in style at least. Maggie, would you be able to get some things hemmed while we're out this morning?”

As Maggie agrees, you look up curiously. “Out? Where could we possibly be going?” you question. 

“It's Sunday, dear. Church,” Mrs. Ryan answers simply, making you blanch. Of course Sunday meant church, but with everything that happened yesterday, you hadn't even thought about it. While not a huge event, church was still something social, which was the primary reason most of the peerage attended. As such, the church you'd gone to your whole life was the same as everyone else's, including Mrs. Ryan and the Hunte's. It was also a feeding ground for gossip.

Mrs. Ryan must notice your terror, because she sits next to you. “I highly doubt Dot will be there,” she consoles quietly. “But it would do good for you to go. You did nothing wrong and shouldn't act like it. So you'll go in on his arm and keep your head held high, you hear?”

This statement just confuses you further. Despite being a social event, and despite people talking if you missed, you'd never seen him at church before. “He's… coming too?” you ask, just to ensure you heard her properly.

“Yes. He should be here soon, so Maggie's going to hurry and get you dressed.” At those words, Maggie springs into action, and you find yourself in the familiar busy routine of getting ready for a day as a high-born lady of New York.

It was strange though, that even though your morning, in all technicalities, began like any other, it was still starkly different. It wasn't Nellie gathering your hair into a quick but pretty updo. It wasn't your own mother chastising you for being late, not this time and likely never again.

All of it only added to the crushing psychological torment that you were now disowned. If not for your fiancé's protection, you would be forced to fend for yourself. And as history so often showed, women in that position almost never survived once they were reduced to that. You were positively blessed in that regard.

Still, even knowing you were so much more fortunate than others did not make the situation any easier for you. You already wanted to curl up in shame from the stares and whispers you knew were going to be coming your way, and you hadn't even made it out the front door yet.

Time itself seemed to be against you, hastening to the hour of judgment. In the blink of an eye, you were ready to go, and Mr. Onceler had arrived to escort you to the firing squad.

The chapel wasn't far, so the three of you opted to walk. Mr. Onceler kept your arm firmly tucked in his elbow, and good thing too; you felt as if you'd lose your balance without the extra stability. The walk was in silence for the most part, as your concentration was on trying to calm your frantically beating heart.

It wasn't until you were only a couple of blocks away and were starting to see others of society that Mrs. Ryan spoke up. “Don't worry much, dove,” she soothed. “Remember, Dot probably won't be in.” You can only nod in response, words lost to you as you reach the foot of the stairs leading to the church. Mrs. Ryan marches up, but before you can gather the courage to follow, Mr. Onceler turns to face you.

“We did nothing wrong,” he reiterates in a low voice. “Don't let them get to you. They don't matter. Chin up. I would hate to lose that fire of yours so quick into our engagement.” He takes one of your hands and squeezes it gently before he turns, and you're once again facing down the building.

His words hadn't transformed you, but they'd done enough. You give him a resolute nod, and arm-in-arm, head inside together. Ready or not, you had New York to face, but at least you could face knowing he would never leave your side. With him, you could survive this.

#fanfiction #onceler fanfiction #the onceler #onceler x reader #the lorax #also on ao3 #onceler #period fanfic

[soob1nn]

INTERVIEWS - ADULT FAME DR

REMINDER! I haven’t shifted yet, so all these is just my imagination 🤍

masterlist - main mastelist

Interviews, a dynamic form of communication, serve as a gateway to understanding individuals, their experiences, and their perspectives. Whether conducted for journalistic purposes, research, or casual conversation, interviews unravel stories, insights, and the diverse tapestry of human narratives. Through questions and answers, interviews facilitate connection, exploration, and the exchange of knowledge, offering a platform to explore the depth and richness of the human experience.

THE TONIGHT SHOW - JIMMY FALLON

2019

Appearing on "The Tonight Show" with Jimmy Fallon was an absolute blast. We sat down to discuss my upcoming film, "Knives Out," diving into the intriguing details of the project. The conversation seamlessly flowed from the movie to my recent photoshoot, which evidently left everyone with their mouths agape. Jimmy, true to his playful style, explored various facets of my life, including my marriage with Penn, a topic we hadn't openly discussed before. The atmosphere was light and enjoyable as we delved into a range of topics, spiced up by games that had us both laughing. The entire experience was a perfect blend of fun, genuine conversation, and a touch of Jimmy's signature humor, making it a memorable night on "The Tonight Show."

HOT ONES - SEAN EVANS

2021

Appearing on "Hot Ones" was an exhilarating experience that blended spice, humor, and insightful conversations. While I might not have aced the wing challenge, the intense flavors added a unique element to the interview. Adorned with plenty of jewelry, devouring wings proved to be a slight challenge, adding an amusing twist to the fiery ordeal. Sean Evans skillfully steered the conversation through my future projects, providing a platform to discuss everything from quarantine experiences to the unexpected hobbies I explored in my free time. The entire encounter was a flavorful journey, where the heat of the wings mirrored the warmth of engaging discussions on "Hot Ones."

WIRED AUTOCOMPLETE INTERVIEW

2021

The Wired Autocomplete Interview was a solo adventure filled with fun, especially after just wrapping up filming for the new sequel "Top Gun: Maverick." As I navigated through the most searched questions about me on the internet, the queries ranged from the infamous kiss between Andrew Garfield and Ryan Reynolds at the Golden Globes (an event I attended) to unraveling the story behind a song I wrote five years ago. Exploring topics like my transition from medicine school to acting, the interview provided a platform to address lingering curiosities. The experience was not only informative but incredibly enjoyable, and I left with the feeling that I'd gladly dive into it again.

SPILL YOUR GUTS - JAMES CORDEN

2022

Stepping into the "Spill Your Guts" segment with James Corden alongside Miles Teller was quite the adventure, especially as we discussed our latest film, "Top Gun: Maverick." Rocking a green suit and a white T-shirt, topped off with green nails, I brought a colorful vibe to the interview. Things got personal when they probed about my marriage with Penn, a topic we had kept private since our separation. The questions delved into the reasons behind our divorce, shedding light on a part of my life rarely discussed in the press. To add a twist, there was even a question about revisiting a relationship reminiscent of our (miles and I) teenage years. The segment blended humor, revelation, and a touch of nostalgia, giving viewers a unique peek into the unexpected turns of celebrity interviews.

73 QUESTIONS - VOUGE

2022

Vogue's 73 Questions interviews not only offer a rapid-fire insight into the lives of celebrities but also grant fans an unprecedented peek into their homes. As I navigated through the questions, my fans got to explore various corners of my house, creating a more intimate connection. The inquiries ranged from my hobbies to a tour of my extensive library, where I shared books I've read, those waiting to be explored, and even recommended some favorites. Responding to the curiosity about my culinary skills, I discussed what I enjoy eating and whether I possess any culinary prowess. To add a musical note, they asked me to play the piano, a personal touch that added an extra layer to the interview. Vogue's 73 Questions not only captures the essence of celebrities' lives but also establishes a direct and engaging connection with the audience.

VANITY FAIR LIE DETECTOR

2023

Participating in Vanity Fair's Lie Detector interview alongside Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively was an absolute riot, made even more memorable by the fact that I wore an entire pink outfit that drew compliments. The atmosphere was lively and playful throughout, and we had an incredible amount of fun. In a particularly memorable moment, Ryan turned the tables on me, asking about a quirky incident during quarantine when his beloved Canadian maple syrup mysteriously disappeared. Despite my denial, the lie detector hilariously exposed the truth, and Ryan, who has a deep love for that syrup, was genuinely offended. The revelation left us all in fits of laughter, and Ryan playfully expressed his dismay, sharing that he had to wait a whopping two years to go back to Canada and buy his cherished maple syrup again. The Lie Detector interview, with its blend of humor, fashion flair, and unexpected revelations, became a delightful and beautiful experience.

THE TONIGHT SHOW - JIMMY FALLON

2023

During my recent appearance on "The Tonight Show" with Jimmy Fallon, we delved into the exciting details of my upcoming film, "The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo." Jimmy expressed his admiration for the character and my performance, playfully saying "I think the academy is calling Winter!" Our conversation extended to the source material, the book, where we shared our favorite scenes and discussed the nuanced differences between the film adaptation and the literary masterpiece. I revealed that I was already a devoted fan of the book before the film was announced, and my audition was fueled by a genuine love for the character of Evelyn Hugo. Expressing how the role had elevated my craft, I shared with Jimmy that stepping into Evelyn's shoes was not just acting; it was a transformative experience. At the premiere, I found myself feeling more like Evelyn Hugo than Winter Jackman, a testament to the immersive joy that this role brought to my journey as an actress.

#jimmy fallon #the tonight show #shifting realities #desire reality #shifting #adult fame dr #fame dr #fame dr shifting #actress #actress dr #actress shifting #ryan reynolds #blake lively #taron egerton

[joeyloganho]

Energy Drink (Vampire!Joey Logano/Ryan Blaney)

(A/N: Teen and up fic. No spice. Hope yall like it. :3)

Thunder rumbled gently in the distance, rain splashing the windows with a steady downpour. Joey sat shirtless on the edge of the bed, watching the rain hitting the small window of the RV. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He had about five hundred texts from crew members, all saying “Race postponed. You good?” He couldn’t figure out why they were asking that. Had something happened? He tried to remember through the tiredness, but his mind was so foggy with hunger. Joey grabbed a shirt and put it on before heading to the small kitchen. 

“You’ve been sleepin’ in, huh?” Ryan said with a grin as he sat on the couch, casually watching Joey as he walked out of the bedroom.  “No shit.” Joey said with a small smirk, moving his head side to side. He definitely slept wrong, that was for sure. “What happened last night?” Ryan asked with a raised eyebrow. Joey shrugged and opened the fridge, looking for his special cocktail of blood and a hint of oil.  “You tell me.” Joey told him as he still searched through the small fridge. The bottle had been sitting right in the front of the top shelf, or at least that’s what Joey had remembered. Was he so out of it that he didn’t remember setting it somewhere else? 

Ryan laughed suspiciously, as though he didn’t believe Joey’s words. “What, you mean you don’t remember?” He questioned. “It’d be kinda hard to forget, I’d imagine.”  Joey groaned, still tired and still unable to find his blood. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to wipe the tired feeling from his being. “Just tell me.”  “Some guy was flirting with you, and he said he liked your fangs.” Ryan chuckled. “You do have fangs.”  “Yeah. And?” Joey asked, running his tongue gently over his pointy teeth. He had had them even before Brad had turned him, only now they were slightly longer and much sharper. “Is that all?” 

Ryan picked up the bottle he was drinking from off the table. He took a sip and grimaced as though it tasted off. Setting it back down, he spoke. “No. He asked if you’d bite his neck and you went wild. You were gonna do it man. And then we had to pull you off the guy, and then you just straight up disappeared…” Ryan smiled. “You’re kinky, Logano. I didn’t realize.”  “Shut up.” Joey sighed. “Have you been in my fridge?” He asked, standing up straight and looking at his teammate with a hunger in his eyes. He kept reminding himself to not feed off Ryan. He didn’t know that Joey was a vampire. In fact, he wasn’t sure that Ryan was aware of real life vampires at all. If anything, he’d probably think it’d just be some kink thing. 

Ryan sat up and picked the bottle up from the table yet again. “Uh yeah. Had some V8.”  “V8?” Joey asked, looking at the bottle before he realized with a fear in his soul. “Oh fuck.”  Ryan held up the bottle  in front of his face that said “ONLY for Joey” on it. The bottle had been completely full to the brim, but was now empty save a few drops at the bottom. He shrugged and sat the bottle back down, only for Joey to run and grab it, drinking the remaining drops from it as though he was a rabid animal. He growled and shook the bottle, trying to get as much of the blood out as he possibly could.  “Whoa dude. Didn’t know you liked V8 that much.” Ryan laughed.  “It’s not V8.” Joey moans almost in pleasure as the blood starts to take effect. It wasn’t enough. It never was, but especially now. Just a few drops would never satiate the hunger. He’d have to think of something.  “...what is it?” Ryan questioned.  “...it’s…uh…an energy drink.” Joey lied. Ryan raised his eyebrows and smirked.  “An energy drink…right…” He said standing up and heading to the door. “Well it tasted like somethin’ weird. Like blood or somethin’.”

#vampire!joey logano #joey logano fanfic #ryan blaney fanfic #nascar fanfic

[dontforgetoctober3rd]

Our Place

Summary: Michael Gavey was gone from school for a good two weeks being sick. He gets back to find out that the most horrific of things have happened: someone has claimed his favorite spots in the library and the cafe.  And spanish class. She was American.  Worst of all…she was pretty and he could definitely grow to like her. Maybe. 

Word count: 1260

Rating: T for swearing, i guess

Disclaimer: I don't own Michael Gavey, he belongs to the Saltburn universe created by Emerald Fennell

OCs:

Amy Ryan (face claim is the fantabulous Elena Kampouris)

Professor Julio Sanchez (face claim is the sexy, sexy Taika Waititi)

Michael didn’t understand why people were looking at him like he was the one out of line.  During mealtimes or when studying in the library, you can’t really lay claim to an area.  He got that.  Classrooms were different, though.  Everyone sat in the same spots.  The new girl had already parked herself at his favorite library table and at his favorite lunch seat in the cafe. He had acquiesced both times and gone to sit somewhere else.  This Spanish class seat was his.  He was asking nicely.  It was his seat and everyone knew it.  Everyone, that is, except for the new girl.

Her name was Amy and she was very pretty but that did not matter. Women like Amy who dressed in what was known online as “cottagecore goth” did everything they could to avoid even breathing in direction of guys like Michael.  Well, women who wore anything.  Any woman, really. Men too. That was not the matter at hand, however.  Seat. His. Pretty or not, she had to move.

“I sit there. I always sit there.  Please move?” he asked again. 

“Dude, there’s like a million other empty seats.  I’m not gonna move.” With that, she continued to set up her section of the desk bench, taking out her laptop and a notebook with some pens. 

People kept staring and some even started to laugh as Michael stayed put.

Don’t let them see you upset.  Don’t let HER see you upset.  It was time to enact some good old fashioned psychological warfare.  He would annoy her away from his seat.  HIS seat.  It didn’t really require any effort on Michael’s part.  Being himself seemed to work just fine, usually.

“You know what?  You’re right.” he said, taking the spot right next to her.  He pulled out his own laptop and materials as she stared.  “Change is good.  Variety is the spice of life.  Good enrichment for my ‘enclosure’, so to speak.” He grinned at her, his hands clutched together on top of the table area where their seats were.  

“Dude…”

“Listen, I know it might seem like I’m following you around but I promise I’m not.  It’s just that, in a freakish set of coincidences, you’ve managed to take all my usual spots.”

“Hmm.  ‘Your’ spots?  All of them?  What are the odds of that?” Amy asked. She crossed her arms, leaning back. 

Michael smiled. Time to annoy! “You’re asking the right man! It's really quite a mathematical anomaly, actually.  To ha-”

“Me hacen el favor de callarse el hocico!?” Came the shout from the pit below.  Amy and Michael turned to attention.  

Professor Sanchez had arrived. Speaking English was forbidden in his classes.  It helped with the immersion.  “Hay que empezar con el trabajo de hoy.  Ustedes bien saben que los Viernes son para CALLARSE EL HOCICO y aprender los nombres de lugares famosos.” he said, with a clap of his hands.  He turned to scribble on the blackboard.

The class got busy copying the words onto their laptops (Professor Sanchez insisted that students either write or type the words themselves, no pictures and no recording.) Michael snuck at glance at Amy.  Her laptop was covered in stickers.  Band stickers.  Restaurant stickers.  Tv show stickers.  Most were worn and faded, a couple were glossy and clearly new.  You name it, she had a sticker on there. 

Amy noticed him looking, pausing to stare back.  “What’s up?” she whispered, no-nonsense in her voice. 

Michael gave a small chuckle and pointed at her computer. “You’ve got some laptop on your stickers.” he murmured, attempting to keep his voice low and out of Professor Sanchez’s hearing range.

Amy smirked…but to Micheal, it didn’t feel mean.  “Really?  That’s the best you’ve got? Corny. Corny as hell.” she whispered back, shaking her head and returning to her typing.  She was still smiling.  It sounded like she had accepted an invitation to play a game. Maybe dodgeball.. Did Americans play a lot of dodgeball? Oh well, time to keep the annoyance going.

“Don’t think there’s a whole lot of corn in hell.” he continued, also typing away at his laptop. He felt a bit nervous. This was way more than they had talked earlier in the day.  

“Ok, what would you suggest as an accurate threshold for corniness?”

“Depends.  Are we talking per capita?”

“Sure.”

“America itself is pretty corny. Literally.  They’re the top corn-producing nation in the world. China is second and they produce almost ten percent less tha-”

“Michael, que rayos les dije hace unos minutos?” Professor Sanchez had turned around, hand on one hip and the other hanging with the piece of chalk still in it.  He was staring straight in Michael’s direction.

Spanish was Michael’s worst subject when speaking it.  He did perfectly well writing and could read it no problem as well.  Speaking it? Bloody hell. “Um...que me..que me..” Michael struggled for a few more seconds, some snickers peppering the classroom’s air.  They wouldn’t be laughing if this was Mathematics, he thought.

“Que nos callarmos el hocico.” Amy spoke up, trilling that ‘r’ perfectly. 

“Muy bien.  Dale las gracias a tu novia por salvarte, si?” With that, Professor Sanchez turned around.

Michael was burning with shame.  He knew perfectly well what ‘novia’ meant and doubted that Amy wanted to be considered that.  He opened a new document, quickly typed out “Sorry about that.” and motioned for Amy to read it.

Amy read it and smiled.  She opened a document as well and Micheal read it as she typed it out. “No worries!” it began.  “Listen, if it really means that much to you, you can have your spot back next time. I don’t give a shit where I sit here.”

Michael quickly typed back “It's fine, actually.  It’s not as if I’ll die if I don’t sit in that particular spot.  I’ll sit somewhere else next time.  Broaden my horizons. : ) “

Amy was still grinning when she typed and Michael was quick to read it, curious as to why she was smiling. “An emoji in a word document? Really?? CORNY.  Anyways, you can stay.  I don’t own the damn place.  Sit wherever you like. I’m fine with it, I promise! ;)”

“Cool. I’ll just sit next to you, then. 😀 “

“Cool cool. 👍” she typed back. “So what do you say we meet at our place in the library after I’m done with my classes at like 3? I can tell you all about the non-corny side of America (fuck yeahhhhh)!”

Michael happily typed back, trying his best to act non-chalant at her mention of “our”.  Americans were overly friendly.  It probably didn’t mean anything.  “Got it. Our place at 3!”

“See you there! Don’t bring actual corn.  I feel like I can see the cogs in your head physically turning, trying to come up with something as corny as possible. 😂 “

“Will do.  No corn, only maths.  To explain the whole debacle of you being every place that I also like to be.” 

“Sooooo you like being wherever I’m at? 😜” Amy typed out, smirking as he read the text.

This was a game. It didn’t mean anything.  She wasn’t flirting.  She would say this about anyone, she’s American. “Yep,  You caught me.” he responded. 

“Knew it! 😂 Welp, see you there then.” 

They settled into a comfortable silence, the gentle clacking of their keyboards punctuating the air.  The conversation had come and gone like a car quickly driving by.  He didn’t know how it had happened, but Michael Gavey was pretty damn sure that even if Amy didn't consider herself his girlfriend, he had just gotten himself a date with her.

#michael gavey #saltburn #saltburn movie #ewan mitchell #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfic #plz judge me kindly i literally pulled this out of my ass while glued to my laptop for two hours lmaoo #soooooooo what do yall think #idk what classes at fucking Oxford are like plz just go with it for the love of god

[lastquincy]

thank you for the tag nini 💚 under the cut!

(questions bolded, answers italicized)

last song i heard:

worst is on it's way by korn, HEALTH, danny brown and meechy darko! my friend showed me a song by HEALTH earlier and before this i had no idea they existed, so i went through their discography and found this collab and immediately fell in love. i love you rap and rock you belong together

favorite color:

it varies but one of these is usually good

last watched series:

i don't really watch series, or at least i haven't lately, but i did watch lars and the real girl for the first time a few days ago! i can confidently say that is one of the most terrifying ways i have ever related to a movie, and it is both exhilarating and nauseating. definitely recommend to anyone ever, especially if you are autistic or delusional/dissociative. it's almost painfully sympathetic and i haven't seen many, if any, movies that actually care about a delusional character the way this one does.

sweet/spicy/savory:

sweet and savory kissing sloppy style. i like spice a lot too, though! it's a very close tier list. depending on my mood it's either sweet or savory at the top but i'm picky with the style of spice i like so she gets last place. sorry...

relationship status:

i dunno @determine can you help me by holding my hand and telling me you love me so i can figure out my complicated feelings culminating in a heartwarming coming of age story about aro fag love and sex in a modern society that doesnt yet understand atypical relationships starring ryan reynolds played by melly (she drives)

[jokes aside, taken 👍]

last thing i googled:

i don't save my search history on my phone browser but it was probably either something on e621 or the weather. because i am always checking the weather

current obsession:

i'm somewhat between things right now but undertale is a strong contender. replayed all the main routes recently and i feel like if i think too hard about flowey i might cause an event. honestly an event has already been caused. sorry. In 12 hours it might be walten files though

last thing i read:

for christmas i got some fan guides for earthbound and mother 3 from fangamer (thank you dad!) and looking through those was really interesting. doesn't really count as a thing i read (especially since i mostly skimmed) but that's really all i can remember. unless you want to count one of my many, many rereads of any akira himekawa zelda manga and the dark horse zelda compendium things (i keep reviewing how they categorize the timelines and examining the list of all items and their differing appearances in different games).

something i've been looking forward to:

this summer i get to spend a whole month with the love of my life and my friends! we're going to go to a concert (los campesinos!) and it will be my first time at a concert ever, we're going to anthrocon (not my first time, but my second! i feel much more prepared for the situation..) and my birthday! we'll have plenty of time to hang out and chill and do whatever and i'm just ecstatic to be back further up north and enjoy my youth. i get to eat at sheetz again!

TAG: @determine @mellyncholly if you guys want to do this! also anyone reading this (hi) you are also tagged if you want to be. everyone loves filling out forms with personal info! yay sharing!

#i took this picture about an hour ago!

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

absolutely unhinged Top 5 Beatdown things that have me feral:

besides the fact that nobody mentioned jackalopes or the fresno nightcrawler while not mentioning the basis of thunderbirds in native american lore

Garret’s entire being when he comes in. Soft boi!

Ryan and Shane’s old straight married couple vibes continuing

Ryan calling out Annie for dropping the shot.

“my balls are not cryptids” “oh that’s my whole list”

“it lies to people?” “and it talks”

“it bites its own ass”

“that’s probably the worst snake i’ve seen since that penis snake”

“i don’t know what that means and i don’t want to know. don’t expound up on it. don’t let him do this! he’s just going to show you his penis, this is what he does” cue ryan losing his shit

ryan visibly restraining himself from commenting about shane’s bird

“akin to a pumpkin spice latte”

dunsten checks in for the second time this season

“beautiful rendering”

they can go into a jar

it’s not outlandish to be like, maybe it’s hiding in that 95%

how giant? big! big big big!

you know what else they thought were strange sea monsters--whale penis! let me show you a picture

ryan looks at shane’s phone despite the fact he should know better by now

raisin bran nessie

nessie flipping the bird

humps in the water--yeah, BACK humps, not like--

mongolian death worm

garrett and ryan having a full conversation about checking their backseats for killers while shane goes through the six stages of grief

“you always wanna talk about your worm!”

garrett regretting his life choices as shane talks about eating worms

“i love! this worm!”

shane’s delight at the reveal of the vegetable lamb of tartary. “how very whimsical!”

plants don’t have mouths or vocal cords so they might be screaming

you guys want to harm these cryptids

“what if it was just like a fucked up guy”

mothman callback to the mothman call in the bu mothman episode

ryan and shane still impressed with the mothman statue’s ass

ryan and shane once again being given a trajectory for what straight dudes act like and missing by a mile

ryan asking for a picture of mothman’s ass

“no, don’t give him that”

ryan reassuring him no it’s good dude

then the whole sidebar about nightwing’s ass

swamp santa

“you MUST go, it is absolutely delightful“ said in the tone of a rich WASP talking about taking summers at martha’s vineyard

the sad realization that the boys haven’t been to the mothman festival and garrett turning down that offer

good guy, great statue, very erotic

“in deepest java, there is a wing’d creature”

ryan comparing his hand to garrett and shane’s

taken to GOD knows where

get your fuckin hand out of my face

seems like you want to see a lot of their genitals

“well no, from a scientific--” “no don’t bring your pervy stuff in here”

#watcher entertainment #ryan bergara #shane madej #top five beatdown #garrett watts

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 03/02/2024 (Megan Thee Stallion, Skepta, Justin Timberlake)

Noah Kahan’s at #1 with “Stick Season” for a fifth week, but lower down the chart, there’s a lot of nonsense going on, most of it involving female rappers. Welcome back to REVIEWING THE CHARTS!

Rundown

As always, we start with the notable dropouts, songs exiting the UK Top 75, which is what I cover, after five weeks in the region or a peak in the top 40. This week, we bid adieu to “n.h.i.e.” by 21 Savage and Doja Cat, “Kool-Aid” by Bring Me the Horizon, “Strangers” AND “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi, “FTCU” by Nicki Minaj and “Disconnect” by Becky Hill and Chase & Status. Other than the last one, not really complaining much about these.

As for notable gains and returns, well, much of what’s of interest will come down to the new arrivals, and a lot of our gains are confined to within the top 40. Outside of that, we do see “When We Were Young (The Logical Song)” by David Guetta and Kim Petras back at #71 because that song refuses to have a coherent run. Then in the top 40, we see a lot of interesting pick-ups, some a bit surprising and most I’m also really not complaining about either, with “Scared to Start” by Michael Marcagi at #38, “Whatever” by Kygo and Ava Max at #27, “Nothing Matters” by The Last Dinner Party surging at #22 and I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s higher given the album this week, “Praise Jah in the Moonlight” by YG Marley up big at #20 and again, there’s a movie coming out that could boost this even higher in the coming weeks. Other than that, we see “Beautiful Things” by Benson Boone actually gaining off of the high debut last week at #11 and finally, Madonna gets her first top 10 since 2009 and Playboi Carti his first since, well, ever, as “Popular” with The Weeknd crawls its way to #10. I’m still surprised those two even have a song together.

Our top five should seem pretty standard: “yes, and?” by Ariana Grande loses steam at #5, “Lovin’ on Me” by Jack Harlow is steady at #4, “Lose Control” by Teddy Swims is on a surprising run at #3, then we have “Murder on the Dancefloor” by Sophie Ellis-Bextor at #2 and of course Mr. Kahan at the very top. Like I said, it’s much more interesting down below, and that’s naturally what we’ll focus on today. Now… stay with me.

New Entries

#75 - “Think U the Shit (Fart)” - Ice Spice

Produced by RIOTUSA, Synthetic and venny

This song makes me feel so old. I’ve missed out on the Ice Spice craze entirely in the first place, but I’d also never seen this meme she was referencing, hadn’t heard the viral snippet of the song, this is just entirely beyond me. There’s a quirky, you could argue jazzy set of 80s-sounding keys but it’s quickly drowned out by a thrusting 808 and the reverb-drowned vocal take from Ice Spice that really shows the limitations of her and RIOTUSA, given how she goes for such a basic flow all the time, and this is actually the most energy she’s ever given a performance… which is depressing! She has to fill in blank space with constant, unbothered ad-libs and punching in, and RIOT has made such a minimal rhythm section for much of the song that he seems to actively switch into a more recognisable trap beat just so Ice Spice doesn’t sound painfully out of place. As for content, you’re joking, what is there to it? I’d complain about she rhymed “fighting” with “Saiyan” but pronounced both words as expected so it straight up doesn’t rhyme at all, but that’s definitely just an element of her troll persona or whatever. I don’t know, any detail I can pick apart just feels so nulled by the fact that, well, it’s an Ice Spice song called “Think U the Shit (Fart)”. It’s basically novelty, comedy rap. Why should I try?

#61 - “Not My Fault” - Reneé Rapp and Megan Thee Stallion

Produced by Ryan Tedder, Alexander 23, Jasper Harris and Jeff Richmond

Ah, Megan Thee Stallion, I’m sure this is the last time this week I will have to talk about them. Sigh, this is embarrassingly the one time where I can say I have actually seen the contemporary film attached to the soundtrack single, and this was tacked onto the credits sequence, with Megan making two pointless cameos within a fun Pixarification of the original Mean Girls that I don’t think I’d ever watch again, but was still a fun, harmless time in the cinema. Now because I’m lame, there are songs from the film proper I much prefer but I don’t expect them to chart because 1.) they’re much further embedded into the musical tradition and 2.) they’re not produced by Ryan Tedder. Believe me, I checked. As much as I’m convinced by Ms. Rapp as an actor, as a singer, she has a lot to prove, not really showing how capable she could be in translating those acting skills to developing a true character in songwriting and performance a lá Olivia Rodrigo. This is a bratty disco-pop song that acts as a bit of a mean girl anthem so to speak, but is completely toothless, including the kind of embarrassing Megan verse that will date the song even further than its dated-on-arrival concept, although I at least like the consistency of the references - she has been calling herself the “black Regina George” since 2017. The song overall is just a reflection of a semi-failed conglomerate project, it’s ephemeral and serves no purpose other than to end up being a time capsule one looks upon 20 years from now questioning what the zeitgeist was in 2024, much like how we now look at the original Mean Girls for 2004 which, by the way, is directly sampled in this song, instead of the same line from the new film… which makes me think they hadn’t even shot the film by the time this song was made. Keeping it professional, Paramount.

#56 - “Big Foot” - Nicki Minaj

Produced by Tate Kobang and ZellTooTrill

The worst thing about rap beef, to me, is that the newer diss, if released the same week, will probably debut lower than the catalyst diss - the cata-diss, if you will - so I have to review the songs in reverse chronological order. It just doesn’t make sense, does it? With that said, it seems like a stretch to describe this as a song, not because it’s so terribly awful or anything, though I do notice that the song’s quality - or lack thereof - and pure antagonism has made some Barbs jumped ship. It’s more so because this is just a verse that starts off in a bizarre, unhinged Roman flow and ends with ASMR. I do think I have a pretty “no-holds-barred” attitude when it comes to feuds in hip hop as long as it doesn’t escalate to violence, so it’s not like I’m offended by anything Nicki said here, even if it gets ruthless and almost needlessly so, but it does just appear a bit desperate, attention-baiting using the villain persona. That’s not new for Nicki though, and all rap beef is villainised attention-baiting, often with flow and song structure as mostly if not entirely irrelevant factors. Therefore, I really can’t review this one, and no, I’m not ducking from Barbs because Pink Friday 2 is one of the worst albums I have ever heard, and I have long criticised Nicki for having bad music on this series, this just can’t really be treated as such. Sure, there’s a Detroit trap beat behind it, but only for half of the song’s runtime, and given how rushed-together it sounds, it’s clearly not a priority. I don’t review Instagram Live videos from gossip merchants, and I fail to see how this, given that it rarely ever criticises Megan’s standing as a rapper or public figure, more just using the same accusations Remy Ma threw at Nicki on “ShETHER” with a new coat of paint, is worth analysing as a piece of popular music and not just a social media rant… which Nicki has given plenty of in the past week, it’s been bizarroworld on Twitter. I will indeed hold that same standard for Megan coming up as well.

#49 - “Grey” - Yung Filly

Produced by JuwonMix

Well, the vast majority of our debuts are from or involving rappers so it’s only fair that we have some UK representation this week, and… I’m not familiar with Yung Filly but I didn’t really expect an Afrobeats / dancehall track about how meaningless fame and success can be. To be honest, that seems like it’s mostly the subtext rather than the text, coming mostly in prominence in that melancholy chorus but the song definitely sounds like the colour of its title given the bouncy percussion not doing a great job at hiding the stray reggae chords or blasts of trumpet that seem to put a noir downer on the whole parade, especially considering his longing, monotone delivery that fits into a tight pocket but never actively, almost like he just slides into it and happens to be on the beat rather than any conscious effort to ride it. That’s not to say the vocals are smooth, or not good, they’re surprisingly emotive for an Auto-Tune crooner yet also somewhat staccato in places, it’s a nuanced performance. I don’t really have much left to say, it’s not exactly a complex song, but it’s honestly surprisingly good, would absolutely not mind if this stuck around.

#37 - “Selfish” - Justin Timberlake

Produced by Justin Timberlake, Louis Bell and Cirkut

No, you can’t get back from this. We all heard “Filthy” back in 2018. Whenever I think of Justin Timberlake, I don’t just think of the classics, “SexyBack”, “Cry Me a River”, “Suit and Tie”, *NSYNC, I think of “Filthy” and this will poison the well of Justin Timberlake discourse for as long as he continues to release music because no man should be able to release “Filthy” and stand untested. In fact, I don’t give a shit about this new song, let’s talk about “Filthy” because what is that?! Who starts off the rollout for their woodsy, back-to-basics country-pop album with a dramatic glam-rock curtain call diminishing itself into a squelchy “funk” (stretching the use of the word) coated with female moaning and wonky-influenced production that allows for Justin to just bring all his effortless swagger, right? Right? Oh, he’s just going to list off a bunch of 90s hip-hop references for some reason, as if that in his view emulates actually being cool and sexy. The lyrics are rife for analysis in their failure to succeed in just about anything other than make a fool out of the lead artist, and it is fascinating. The song ends with his wife delivering spoken word over ambient, for God’s sake. I respect it, though. I respect taking a risk - or 10 - in a lead single. I don’t respect calling up Post Malone’s production crew to get an easy white-boy pop hit, rejecting pretty much every element of your sound that people were drawn into, AKA Timbaland, Pharrell and Danja, just for the safety of your own flailing career. Justin, you’ve still got Mickey Mouse money left over, let alone the incredibly storied and successful career from then on, and that’s not including the Trolls cheques, which I can only imagine are insane. You do not need to do this, you really don’t. Have some dignity, Justin. You’re not The Kid LAROI. You’re a grown man. Do what you want to do, not what you feel you need to.

#32 - “Gas Me Up (Diligent)” - Skepta

Produced by Cardo and ThatGuyNamedJalen

You’re really under-selling yourself there, Jalen. Anyway, Skepta’s back and much like “Big Foot”, this is one long-form verse over a pretty standard, unmixed-sounding beat, making threats towards others, but there a few key differences that mean I’m a lot kinder to this: firstly, the cloud rap beat is thoroughly aquatic in its lead melody and even if I’d prefer the song keeps some of that underwater energy once the beat drops, the loud, cowbell-accentuated rhythm is still sick and Skepta rides it perfectly. He’s always been one of the smoothest rappers out of the UK, mostly because of how much he has become a student of American hip hop despite his grime origins, and here he shows those Stateside connections off with some of his best, least tacked-on singing performances yet but also a faster-paced blunt delivery for much of the verse that feels much more embedded into British flows and cadences. The content isn’t particularly intriguing for me at least, but the rhyme schemes are clean and his word choice seems very deliberate in order to present a very prestigious sounding set of bars. It’s not exactly Skepta’s best, and definitely not his most interesting, but it’s worth checking out regardless and I feel like he’s been laying low for a while so this seems like a promising comeback.

#31 - “HISS” - Megan Thee Stallion

Produced by LilJuMadeDaBeat, Bankroll Got It and Shawn “Source” Jarrett

Megan Thee Stallion is an independe nt artist nowadays, and her lead single with a switch in sound and massive video, “Cobra”, despite all the reach and pull that Megan has, the promo, the rock remix… it failed to chart in the top 75, a real shame because I think it’s excellent, and just unfortunate that drama and feuding is what lands Megan a top 40 debut. That’s not to say she wouldn’t have charted without Nicki’s free promo of the otherwise not really substantial song by causing such a fuss, but definitely not at #31. Now, there are elements of this song that make it much clearer that it was intended as a piece of music rather than a worthless gossip piece. Firstly, it came with a big video, it’s actually mixed with double-tracked vocals and a decent amount of care put into a still minimal Dirty South beat, as well as a consistent, catchy flow and aggressive delivery that I can appreciate. Even the spoken word elements are left to interludes instead of grand amounts of the song, and sometimes rhyme… but regardless, this is still not exactly introspective in any way, it’s not inward-looking, or even forward-looking really. It’s a hit-out at a lot of the unwarranted hatred that surrounds Megan or is directed towards her, but it’s still just her going through a hit-list of complaints and haters, keeping it relatively subliminal - as much as I don’t like “Big Foot”, at least she’s being upfront. This often feels like it could be about anyone, so the unloading of dirty laundry feels much more detached and therefore easy to stop caring about, and this isn’t just me avoiding making comments on the beef, I apply this same standard to, say, Doja Cat, whose song “Attention” and album Scarlet I complained about being too focused on her own drama, and I’ve held many similar grievances with male rappers like Jack Harlow and ESPECIALLY Kanye in the past. When you let out your problems with people on wax, hook me in first, don’t just assume I’m already listening.

Conclusion

What a week, huh? Yeah, Skepta gets Best of the Week, of course he does. “Gas Me Up (Diligent)” is probably the most realised song this week, even if generally, a lack of realisation and finishing touch seems to be a vague theme in this episode. It’s not the only good song though, Yung Filly takes the Honourable Mention for “Grey”, whilst Worst of the Week should be just as obvious as Skepta’s shoe-in was… no pun intended there. The Dishonourable Mention, of course, goes to Justin Timberlake for “Selfish” because, man, no one wants to hear this from you, JT. As for what’s on the horizon… who knows? That’s for future me to figure out. For now, thank you for reading and I know I keep saying this, but I may see you earlier than next week.

#uk singles chart #pop music #song review #megan thee stallion #skepta #justin timberlake #yung filly #nicki minaj #renee rapp #mean girls #ice spice

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

Musicians/bands I like and if I think I could beat them up - an uncomprehensive list

for @and-learn-to-let-go and @accidental-spice because they asked

Maisie Peters - absolutely not, she’s a feral girl from small-town England, women like that are like rabid ferrets.  She would absolutely murder me and then write a spectacular song about it.  I wouldn’t even try to start something with her. 

MCR - ok so the first thing to discuss here is that all four members of this band are Massive Nerds, which is of course automatically like a minus two to constitution. It’s also important to remember that at least two of them grew up apparently in rooms with basically zero natural light, which could mean childhood vitamin d deficiency, which could of course mean deeply messed up and easily broken bones.  However, on the other hand, there are four of them against me, and, crucially, at least some of them are now Dads Of Small Children.  The role of the dad is, as we all know, primarily to lift up small children and throw them bodily against soft surfaces, meaning they may well have built up some muscle mass doing that.  Is this alone enough to sway the battle against me? No.  However, alongside an ability to yeet kids, those with children will also have unlocked the “I’m not mad just disappointed” ability, which when directed at me, who does not have the best relationship with her father, would cause unbelivable psychic damage.  Thus, I must concede this battle to the band. 

If it came down to individual fights, though, I reckon I could 100% beat Mikey purely because whenever I see pictures of him for some reason my first thought is yeah I could beat up that nerd.  Toro would absolutely deck me.  I feel like for the other two it would be a more even battle but who knows. 

Taylor Swift - as mentioned, she is very tall but then again so am I, and I feel she may be a little uncoordinated (look at her not very good dancing I say this with love and huge respect).  I also feel that although she is very very intelligent she might be easy to distract through a feint, so I could probably take her. 

IDKHBTFM (a recently remembered beloved I can’t believe I forgot about them) - Dallon I could easily taken because he seems very irritable and I could literally play on that to make him lash out and loose his stance.  Ryan on the other hand would probably win, he seems somewhat more grounded and as such I would probably lose to the duo.  Tragically.

Hayley Williams - like early days Paramore warped tour Williams? I would absolutely lose.  Current Williams? I would win but at what cost to my soul???

The Oh Hellos - I could bang their heads together and they would fall down unconscious I’m sorry it’s just true. 

Marianas Trench - if Josh Ramsay didn’t take me out with his unbelievable falsetto I might have a fighting chance but honestly that feels like an unbeatable ranged weapon. 

Billy Joel - Joel would be all like “noo I’m just an old man haha just a silly little old man you wouldn’t hurt me I’m the birthday boy would you hurt a birthday boy” and I would relent and then he would go for the jugular.  I would not win against him. 

Bruce Springsteen  - Springsteen and I would be evenly matched the fight would go on for hours like some Arthurian legend eventually we would give up out of respect for each other. 

Lorde - I could absolutely destroy Lorde it wouldn’t even be a competition I’m sorry but one punch and she’s out. 

Fleetwood Mac - Ok so there are a lot of them but I would just turn them against each other and sit there as they destroy each other easy peasy. 

#if anyone has any questions or other artists they would like to know if I could beat up then please! ask away! #yes I have put more thought into the mcr one than the others that's because I can see the outcomes so clearly with the others. #I'm still unsure about the mcr one

[sweetwithheatwriting]

People you would like to get to know better tag game

I'ma straight up nab this from @possumwoodpie because it looks fun and I wanted to do this. 😘

3 ships: Pretty much any combo of poly!TOG (and especially Nile/Booker/Nicky/Joe and/or Nile/Andy/Quynh), Stede Bonnet/Izzy Hands/Edward Teach, Derek/Stiles, and just a whole mishmash of MCU related ships.

1st ship: Much like Possum, I'm pretty sure it was something from Inyusha, but boy did I go HARD for the ideas of the fellas in the animated Saiyuki Reload series going for it or the same thing for the three main protagonists in Samurai Champloo. (This is really starting to make me realize poly ships have been in my heart for a WHILE.)

Last song: "Young, Gifted, Black, In Leather" by Special Interest. (It's fantastic and I dearly want to write some BAMF Nile Freeman based on it.❤ )

Last movie: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles; Mutant Mayhem. (Can not recommend watching this enough, and it's got some absolutely beautiful art work and hilarious moments stuffed in there.)

Currently watching: Insatiable. (I'm feelin' a little Eh about it, but I've been yearning for a little more Debby Ryan since Night Teeth came out.)

Currently consuming: Water, some almost excessively sour cranberry juice and some of the leftover pasta and new spice mix that I used last night. (Holy Duck's Typhoon Shelter Sum Sum Seasoning will absolutely change your life if you're interested in getting your hands on it, and their chili oils also look bomb as fuck with some of the best looking packaging that I've ever seen.)

Currently craving: To watch the very funny Joy Ride again and like a peanut butter-y type of tiramisu dessert. Honestly, peanut butter on a very crisp stalk of celery or peanut butter and kaya spread on toast would probably also do it.

Tag you're it @aimmyarrowshigh @flamingo-queen-writes @sindirimba @nevermindirah or anyone else who's in a sharing mood. (No pressure, of course.)

[yazzydream]

JJK Playlists: Toji | Gojo

Sounds Like A You Problem (Fushiguro Toji playlist)

Time to share my playlist for this trash man. Some manga spoilers.

-> [Spotify Link]

1. UH OH! (feat. BENEE) - Sub Urban

Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh You've made a mistake

2. Wish You the Worst - Ryan Mack

Fuck the Zen'in Clan amirite?

Wish you the worst I think you owe me an apology, yeah Ever since I was a little kid, been giving me shit Always calling me a wannabe Saying I'm a loser, I don't have to prove myself to you

3. The Bidding - Tally Hall

Gege Akutami mentioned this in his comments somewhere, the fanbook maybe? but Toji is canonically a sugarbaby who mooches off women. lol

I graduated at the top I like to take advantage of the bourgeoisie So if you have a fantasy of being a queen Maybe you should blow a couple bucks on me

4. Toxic - Britney Spears

Seems the type.

With a taste of your lips, I'm on a ride You're toxic, I'm slippin' under With a taste of a poison paradise I'm addicted to you Don't you know that you're toxic?

5. bad guy - Billie Eilish

So you're a tough guy Like it really rough guy Just can't get enough guy Chest always so puffed guy I'm that bad type Make your mama sad type Make your girlfriend mad tight Might seduce your dad type I'm the bad guy Duh

6. Daisy 2.0 (feat. Hatsune Miku) - Ashnikko

Fuck a princess, I'm a king Bow down and kiss on my ring It's gonna hurt, it'll sting Spittin' your blood in the sink I'm crazy, but you like that, I bite back Daisies on your nightstand, never forget it I blossom in the moonlight, screw eyes Glacial with the blue ice, I'm terrifying

7. queen of broken hearts - blackbear

I'm the queen of broken hearts Break you in a thousand parts Used to be a shooting star When did I become so dark? Yeah, you need to chill, girl, don't play me I'm too far gone, you can't save me And I don't care, fucking hate me I popped a pill and I'm faded

8. Dead or Alive (feat. Madalen Duke) - Stileto

My playlist seems to be made up primarily of songs about Toji being a no-good womanizer and flipping off the Zen'in, huh? Anyway, fuck the Zen'in.

So now I'm asking you for one last favor You've got an enemy inside your blood Could you just take this little parting favor? It's just a little present from my love

9. Brittle Bones Nicky - Rare Americans

Shocking how well these two musical-inclined songs fit Toji. I'm linking the official music video, but the uncensored version is out there. About this guy who just grows up to become a criminal.

You're not gonna push me around (no!) You can't get me down, down, down (down!) Bounce ahead a couple years, king of my peers

10. Brittle Bones Nicky 2 - Rare Americans

Part 2, that guy finds himself in hell but returns to the living.

Thought my story was over, book closed? Think again, we're nowhere close My eyes are open, cheers, we toast I'ma mother fucking ghost (He's a ghost!)

///

I gotta get outta this hell Would you sell your soul to save yourself? I'm not gonna get pushed around I'm not going down, down, down! (down!) I'm not going down!

///

Brittle Bones Nicky He was crafty and tricky Yeah, that son of a bitch was gold! Yeah, that son of a bitch was gold! So, here I am, not quite a man But I always got a game plan I'll ruffle feathers, fuck with folks But you know me, I'm a good bloke

11. Freak - Doja Cat

From Toji POV. Ignore the pronouns as usual. Just know that Toji's a freak.

Freak like me You want a good girl that does bad things (to you) You never been with no one as nasty (as me) Spice up your life, come get a freak Freak like me

12. 12345SEX - UPSAHL

Some call it insane, say, "Baby, you're so vain" But I'm living on overdrive all the time And I like the way you taste, some liquor and a chaser Flavor of forever just for the night

13. Thriving - UPSAHL

Damn if this doesn't describe Toji's life choices.

I just checked my bank account Insufficient funds What the fuck is that all about? I'm barefoot stumbling down the street The hottest mess that you'll ever meet I'm thriving, damn this (la-la-la-la, life is a bitch) Thriving, 'cause I (da-da-da-da-don't give a shit)

14. Notorious - UPSAHL

(Reversed: Opinion, I shove all your) I shove all your opinions to the side I do whatever the fuck I like I'll be in to win it 'til I die

15. IDFWFEELINGS - UPSAHL

Mamaguro was the only woman Toji seems to have loved. Anyone else? Meh.

That's why I don't fuck with feelings anymore Every time they get deep, I just get bored So I'm breaking boys in pieces for the sport Just to lose my mind, I'll just say bye I don't fuck with feelings anymore When I say I want less, they just want more And it feels like I've just felt it all before So I don't fuck with feelings anymore

16. Dick (ft. Doja Cat) - DickStarBoi3

R.I.P. that pussy, ayy

17. Fuck Boy (feat. Kandle) - Apashe

Fuck boy: I didn't know you were crazy To the boarder come chase me I'm gonna break free Oh take off that disguise Show me somethin' real When I look into your eyes

18, The New Knife Game Song - Rusty Cage

A little intermission. Toji was definitely the type to do the knife game for some easy cash when he was younger. Probably even now.

19. Killer - Eminem

Yeah, it's crazy, I'm a (Killer) Made all this money from doin' this (D.A. got that dope) Now count it, five, ten, yeah, fifteen, twenty Twenty-five, thirty, yeah, get the money Throw it in the furnace, yeah, this shit be funny Earn it just to burn it, swag drippin' from me

20. Love Like You - Rebecca Sugar

Yes, the end credits song from Steven Universe. Can't help but think of how Toji felt about Mamaguro.

If I could begin to be Half of what you think of me I could do about anything I could even learn how to love When I see the way you act Wondering when I'm coming back I could do about anything I could even learn how to love Like you I always thought I might be bad Now I’m sure that it's true ‘Cause I think you’re so good And I’m nothing like you

21. I Can't Decide - Scissor Sisters

Toji really, really, isn't a good guy.

I can't decide Whether you should live or die Oh, you'll probably go to heaven Please don't hang your head and cry No wonder why My heart feels dead inside It's cold and hard and petrified Lock the doors and close the blinds We're going for a ride

22. Insane - Baasik, Black Gryph0n

Another sinner in Hell.

It's my pleasure to introduce to you hell's latest arrival The equal-opportunity killer, Alastor! Hello, it's nice to meet you Oh, can you tell me where I am? I don't know how I got here But I, I think I'm starting to understand I don't belong among the angels And baby, that's just fine with me The things I did up there were high school But now I'm going for my degree Hey Sorry, but you just got in my way I promise honey, I can feel your pain And maybe I enjoy it just a little bit Does that make me insane? Haven't been the same since I expired Doesn't mean that I plan to retire And now I have the power to bathe all of you in entertaining fire

23. Trouble - Valerie Broussard

Applicable to a number of JJK boys honestly. But the gambling line specifically made me think Toji.

Dangerously havin' the time of our lives These boys are just poisonous thorns in our sides Startin' fires wherever we go Watching 'em gamble everything they own

///

Trouble coming in the dead of night Trouble making everythin' alright It's in your blood It's in your bones You cannot sleep for [x2]

24. Outrunning Karma - Alec Benjamin

Outrunning karma, that boy He's such a charmer, all the Bugs and their larva, follow Him out to Colorado Ten dozen hearts in a bag Their bodies lying, he'll drag Them down to Colorado A modern desperado

25. You Problem - Cloudy June & emlyn

That one part of the song that kept repeating in my head that the title of this playlist is from. It's just a very Toji thing to say.

That sounds like a you problem

#toji fushiguro #playlist #jujutsu kaisen #jjk spoilers #my jjk #i don't even like this dude lol

[compendiumofconstellations]

Continuing with my “Butcher dynamics for the night” thoughts, we have Billy/Becca thoughts.

We’re not given much of their relationship pre-series at all. They’re happily married, and we know Becca has a love of The Spice Girls. Terror is their fur-baby. And we know that Becca’s mom & sister, Rachel, are in the NYC area.

And Butcher seems to have a decent, albeit distant, relationship with Rachel—and probably his Mother in Law, too.

But we don’t know how they met or how long they were married or anything.

I headcanon Butcher as not having any serious romantic relationships before Becca. He’s had flings. He’s been with people of a variety of genders. But he’s never been in love because he won’t let himself get that close to anyone.

And then he meets Becca. It’s October; he’s thinking about Lenny. There’s a costume party. He’s very begrudgingly a “tourist” with his Hawaiian shirt and pants and drinking something out of a coconut.

Becca is Posh Spice. She’s at the karaoke machine all night doing Spice Girls songs. And when someone tells her to knock it the fuck off, she tells them to let her have some goddamn fun, and Butcher doesn’t stop looking at her for the rest of the night.

Of course, the person who yelled at her gets annoyed again, and Butcher steps in as Butcher does. He ends up with a bloody nose and a split lip, but Becca is there helping him nurse it.

They go on their first date the next week, and things keep going from there. She’s happy and adventurous and everything that makes his heart sing.

And Becca can see the good in him. That’s how she is. She can see him looking so desperately for light, and she knows she can show it to him.

And they’re HAPPY. She knows he has fears and insecurities, and she knows he has a temper and reacts violently to things. Never to her; he always tightened up and refused to even look at her if he was that upset. But she’d see the bruises and blood later that meant he’d gone out and picked a fight to get rid of that energy. She has no idea how to save him, so she just hopes that if she shows him what the light is like, he’ll be able to save himself.

And things are good. They’re playful and teasing, and they bicker over The Spice Girls. He retains all the things she tells him, even if he bitches about it to no end. She knows about his past, knows all his dark scars and nooks and crannies. And she loves him.

And he loves her so much. It’s like he’s never breathed properly before. He thinks he can do anything, even if it takes a lot of work. She doesn’t even mind that he’s so scared of having kids. She doesn’t try to change his mind, and they use proper contraceptive measures. She loves Terror, and she treats him like a child.

They’re so happy.

She gets the job at Vought, and Butcher knows that means she’s REALLY good at what she does. He thinks Supes are dumb and a bit full of themselves, but he has no hatred towards them. So he listens when she talks about work, and he only bitches when he has to go to her work parties and socialize, because he’d much rather stay home.

He wishes they would have just stayed home. She wishes they’d just stayed home.

After eight years and a son, there’s no getting back to that. They’d both changed. Things weren’t going to be like that anymore. They didn’t have time to fall in love with these new versions of themselves. Butcher’s even harder than he was, even more prone to anger and violence. Becca’s guarded and closed, and she has to prioritize Ryan above anything else.

They would have found themselves falling together again, if they’d had time. But they didn’t.

#hc: butcher #hc: becca #ship: becca/billy

[coffeefueledmachine]

A Day in My Life

by Rubie Ryan G. Cabigas

Today is another day but nothing’s new in what I do every day. Everything in my life is like a programmed code for machines, it’s all the same. Well, it’s not like I am complaining about it but I do sometimes wish that something exciting happens in my life just to spice it up a bit.

Going back to the main topic, this is how I start my daily life. I wake up around 7 to 8 am and go to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I then go to my dogs’ little rooms and get them out one by one for them to have some exercise and defecate outside (don’t worry, I always clean up my dogs’ mess after they finished their business outside). After having a bit of exercise and defecating (obviously, not me but my dogs), I bring my dogs back to their little rooms and then I get my shovel, “walis ting-ting” and dustpan to clean up the mess done by my dogs. I sweep and then bury my dogs’ feces. Then, I will go and check my plants. My plants are onion chives, red bell pepper, lemongrass, aloe vera, and spinach. I create my own concoction of fertilizer by using organic materials that are in front of our house, like dead leaves and fruit peelings. After checking my plants and giving them liquid fertilizer, I will head out and buy some bread for our breakfast, and sometimes, I also buy some fish (rejects, “tamban” or “sigarilyo”) as viand for my pets (dogs and cats). I usually buy around 2 kilos of fish as long as it doesn’t exceed my budget (which is around 150 pesos) but if it exceeds my budget, I will only buy half a kilo of it. After purchasing bread and some fish, I and my mother will now have our breakfast which consists of bread and some hot drinks. My hot drink is semi-sweetened hot cocoa with a bit of coffee because if I don’t drink caffeinated drinks (especially coffee), I will experience another painful migraine that lasts a day. After having our breakfast, I will start my household chores which consist of removing the dust from the furniture and then sweeping the floor of our house. And that is the end of my chores for the first half of my day.

Before continuing to the second half of my boring daily life, I just want to tell you, my readers, that things are going to get more boring at this part. I hope you will stay and continue reading this.

For the second half of the day in my life, I start by preparing our lunch right after a few minutes of cleaning the house. We usually have our lunch around 12:45 pm, just in time before It’s Showtime starts on Youtube. After eating our lunch, I start preparing my pets’ food by mashing the fish into a paste before mixing it then to the cooked corn rice (bugas mais) so that my pets will eat everything instead of just eating the fish and leaving the rice. While they are eating, I will flush their pee out of their rooms to keep it clean. After flushing the urine away and after they finish eating their food, I will get their plates and wash them and leave them to dry. I will now then start working on my school requirements and my side hustles cryptocurrency mining sites and apps, and play-to-earn sites and apps). But most of the time, I just do my school requirements before the deadline because my laptop might not work again and cause me a lot of problems. Around 7 pm, I will temporarily stop doing my school requirements to prepare our dinner before my little sister arrives home from work. After our dinner, I will now prepare my pets’ dinner by doing the same thing I did for them during their lunchtime. After feeding and making sure that my pets will finish their food, I will get their plates and wash them. Then, I will now start washing our plates and the utensils that my little sister used in her work. After finishing my final household chore, I will continue working on my school requirements. I will then sleep around 2-3 am after finishing 60% of my requirements.

And that’s all folks, this is how a day in my life goes by. I know it’s kinda boring. Yeah, that’s what I also feel actually but it is better than doing nothing. I hope you “enjoyed” reading about how a day goes by in my life. Until next time, I guess. Bye and have a nice day ahead.