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#i had to google to double check but yeah
drawfee-quot3s · 2 months
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[julia, drawing a alpha minion]
why's this look like sigmund freud
- jacob
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crepus · 3 months
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my red flag is that I tought resident evil and silent hill were like, the same thing, like I legit tought lady dimetrescu and pyramid man were just chilling together
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david-watts · 1 year
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whilst putting the big books back on the shelf, I stumbled across a book of photographs from the collections of a particular photographer from where I live. ignoring the fact that the compilers didn’t know how to date photographs (like did they REALLY think a picture with a horse-drawn taxi and women in lingerie dresses were from the 1930s???) and I found a picture of one of the old k-class garratts on the north-east dundas tramway. love that
#the 'knows a little about historical fashion' in me knows that there were quite a few misdated pictures in it#and I think it's because they might've been developed at a later time or reprinted at a later time#because they had perfectly 1917 era fashion in a picture dated 1917.#but yeah like not until the popularisation of mobile phones and the internet did we here have the same fashion as on the mainland#yet alone the fashions coming out of the uk and america#so give about two or maybe even three years before things come and go out of style and maybe more for that since you didn't chuck#an old dress once it became unfashionable you'd usually alter it to be fashionable again#but like. for a regatta you'd want to wear your best. that's usually more up-to-date than say your not-leaving-the-house-today dress#and this picture was dated 1920s. meaning that it's likely later than 1920 on the dot which if it were I could see#but honestly every single lady in that picture was wearing a white dress and the ones you could see had a coloured belt#not that you could tell since. black and white.#and the hat styles said what#I looked it up to double-check and those hats matched mid-1900s perfectly AND SO DID THE MEN'S HATS#so I'd say... late 1900s? maybe even 1910 or 11? y'know. A DECADE EARLIER?#like come on you were paid to write this book#and dear fucking god the picture I mentioned in the post body. dates 1930s. it probably was taken around 1909 when that building was new#it couldn't be after 1911 for reasons that would be obvious if you know a little about where I live#and it's really only on these few photographs. and I know it was 1987 so they couldn't like. google the fashion era or anything#which tbh is the best bet at dating this stuff because looking up online stuff about where I live is. tricky#like c'mon I wanna look up creepy little-known stuff about where I live. I don't wanna rely on a seemingly abandoned wordpress page
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the-mushroom-faerie · 11 months
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hey uh tomorrows prompt is "something that represents [my] personality" and that's kinda giving me an existential crisis so I'm probably just gonna redraw an old drawing or something
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nomazee · 9 days
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Um hello! Is the 1k event thingy still up?? If so I would like to request a classmate! Dr ratio x reader at 2:47 am?
it's actually sickening how much fun i had with this i was giggling at my own jokes while typing this out... this was so fun to write THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING!!!
my 1k event!
—°+..。゚。゚+.*.。.—
A blaring, aggravating, shrill sound wakes you up. Your hands go to cover your ears, protecting your sanity from the noise ringing somewhere from the tangle of sheets on your bed. Hands flailing around desperately to find the source of the piercing chimes, you writhe around in agony until you finally latch onto your phone. 
The brightness of the screen digs into your corneas as you lift up the device to see the caller ID of whoever had the guts to bother you on a school night. 
It comes to no surprise that the caller name reads “VERITAS FUCKING RATIO” in all caps with no contact photo. Your eye twitches and the grip on your phone tightens, just a hair away from leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal. 
Begrudgingly, you answer the call, tucking the phone next to your ear with nothing less than displeasure. “Veritas. Why are you calling me at—” you pull your phone back to check, “—almost three in the morning?” 
“The works cited page,” Veritas Fucking Ratio informs you matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of sleepiness in his voice, nothing that could possibly chip away at his good image, of course. “You did it in the wrong format. It’s supposed to be APA. This is a science project, not a literature project.” 
You might kill him. The project in question is to be presented tomorrow— today at ten in the morning. Ratio and you had been working on it for an entire two weeks, broken up into intermittent hour-long sessions because he was adamant that you split up the work instead of rushing to do it all the night before. Stupid self-righteous gorgeous beautiful academic genius-freak. Yeah, it definitely helped you in the long run, but he acted so sanctimonious about it that you refused to admit the benefits. 
“Veritas,” you imbue the syllables of his name with poison, as much as you can when you’re swaying as you sit up on your bed and fighting demons to not fall back asleep. “This is such an easily-fixed thing. Do you know what time it is right now? Why are you even awake? You know, I am supposed to get a full seven hours of sleep every night, and I was already cutting it short today, and you woke me up before I could even hit REM sleep. Do you know how upsetting this is? Fix the goddamn works cited yourself!” 
For once, Veritas is at a loss for words. The other end of the line is so quiet that you have to double check and make sure he hasn’t just hung up on you. Perspiration builds on your palms, thinking that this is it—this is the exact moment that you make Veritas-Fucking-Ratio snap and delete your name off the project credit slide, and you’re going to get a 0 because he will wipe off any evidence of your work from this plane of existence, and you will spend the rest of your measly life chasing after your MLA-turned-APA works cited page, too-little-too-late. 
“I’m awake because the— well.” He pauses, and his voice sounds so far away and unobtrusive that you’re almost worried. Your breath stills in the middle of your diaphragm. Waiting. “The works cited is one thing. But I wanted you to look at the slides, if you can.” 
If you can, he says, as if he’s giving you a choice, which he literally never has during this entire process. You had no role in choosing the topic, or the slide theme, or what days you worked on the project, or how often you worked on the project (because god forbid you procrastinate a little bit, right?!), but now, at almost three in the morning, Veritas is saying something along the lines of oh please my dearest project partner, I request that you open the Google Slides at once, but only if you would like to! I would never infringe on your free will at three in the morning, because I respect you as a partner. Or something like that. That was pretty much the gist of it. 
A raspy sigh escapes you, and you claw your busted laptop off the nightstand next to you, opening it up and squinting at the LED screen as you punch in your passcode. “You know, I have done a good job at going along with all of your whims, Veritas, the least you could do is fix the works cited for me. Seriously, how did you even miss that? You’re so detail-oriented, but you didn't even realize the format was wrong until tonight? Who even cares, seriously… it’s just a slideshow…” 
Your voice trails off as the slideshow presentation finally loads in. You see Veritas’ default profile picture blink in the upper right-hand corner, signaling that he’s viewing the slideshow with you. The slideshow which has apparently undergone a huge makeover. 
It’s—pleasant to look at. This entire time, you and Veritas had been editing a default, white-background black-serif-font-text slideshow. He refused to change it, telling you that it’s unprofessional to do anything too embellished, to which you fruitlessly said, Veritas, we will die early deaths because of the hole in the ozone layer, would you at least make it easier on my poor soul by letting me choose a pokemon-theme slide? Veritas had pretended like he couldn't hear you (in a very quiet library room, mind you), but the twitch in his brow gave him away. 
Now, though, the slides are decorated. It’s a really nice theme, complete with custom icons and graphic blobs of color—your favorite color, might you add. It’s—pretty. Dare you say, cute, but you think Veritas would vaporize your entire presentation if you called it cute. 
“Did you— this— did you pay for this slide theme?” 
“You— n— mn,” he trails off into an unintelligible mash of mumbling, and you hear a loud THUD that sounds awfully like the phone being thrown onto a mattress. Fabric shuffles around, before you hear Veritas’ voice again, clear and composed. “Sorry. I dropped my phone.” What a loser, and a liar, and an endearing freak. You really wish he video called you because you need to see his totally-very-ugly face. 
“I thought this was unprofessional, Veritas,” you say teasingly, a smile lining your words as you try not to giggle right into the phone. “What made you have a change of heart?” 
“Nothing,” the typical firmness of his voice has returned, much to your dismay. “The works cited is still wrong. You have to fix it.” 
“Oh, whatever you say, honored Ratio,” you open up your trusty citation-generator, ready for a long fifteen minutes of copying and pasting information. “Hey, you must be free after class tomorrow, right? Since the project is pretty much over, right?” 
“Yes,” Veritas answers after a moment of hesitation, only a hint of doubt in his voice. 
“That’s great. Keep your schedule clear, then.” 
(You fix the works cited slide, wish Veritas sweet dreams, and then wake up in the morning to completely ace your presentation. The minute the period ends, you drag him out of the classroom and into a coffee shop, paying for some five dollar pastry and joking that it’s payback for the cute slideshow theme that he definitely paid five dollars for. Veritas is an awful liar, and you tell him that, and he can’t even find the strength to deny it.)
—°+..。*゚。*゚+.*.。.—
gen taglist: @tragedy-of-commons @lasiancunin
fill out my event taglist (pinned) or general taglist (navi) to be tagged in upcoming works!
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sirfrogsworth · 20 days
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I was looking at my photos from the eclipse, came across this one, and I noticed something weird in the street.
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When I zoomed in I was very perplexed. I did not remember anything like that in the street today.
I zoomed in closer and saw it had... metallic ends?
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And... lettering?
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To me it looked a lot like when a generative fill goes wrong in Photoshop.
But this was nothing I added.
It was in the original photo on my phone's memory.
And then I started up my conspiracy brain. I knew Samsung had been fucking with people's moon photos and "enhancing" them with other moon photos they used to train their photo app.
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And in response a high level exec said this shit...
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I started googling to see if Samsung had started adding A.I. crap into photos automatically. I looked at my settings to make sure I didn't have some feature enabled.
Finally I was going to walk down to the street with my flashlight and double check to see if there wasn't something I missed. This was really driving me crazy. THE IMPLICATIONS!
And just before I walked out the door, I noticed something...
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You see, eclipses are super bright and it's a really good idea to bring along...
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Yeah.
Feeling pretty silly right now.
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itsthewritergal · 2 months
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Get up Buck - B.Barnes X reader
Here it is! The final part.
I hope you all enjoy :)
TW; suicide, death, character death, swearing, (happy ending tho!)
PART 1
PART 2
“She is to be kept on 24 hour surveillance for the next four days. She is going to be tired and weak and you need to be looking after it. It is going to be hard work for everyone involved and you need to never make her feel bad for it” The Psych Doctor explained to Steve and Tony, 
“I understand, I can promise she will be safe” Tony said firmly, “Is she ready to go?” 
“You’ve signed all the consent forms?” The doctor asked 
“Everything’s been signed and paid for” Steve said, “I’d just like to get her home” 
“On the understanding that you bring her back the moment you can’t handle it” 
“I don’t need handling” Y/N said firmly appearing in the doorway of her room, 
“I didn’t mean it like that” The doctor said gently 
“You can’t keep me here so if you don’t want me at the compound I can go home” She said, and Tony felt his heart break.
“We want you at the compound” Tony placed his hand softly on hers, 
“Are you sure?” Y/N asked searching Tony’s face for any sign of uncertainty 
“Yes” Tony said, picking up her suitcase that was packed 
“Y/N, here is a few emergency numbers you can call if things get bad again” the doctor said handing Y/N a pamphlet filled with self-help book recommendations and numbers for therapists. 
“She won’t need them, but thank you” Steve said 
The ride to the compound was filled by the soft humming of Wanda to the radio, Steve and Bucky muttering in the back of the car and Nat trying to pull conversation out of Tony who was clearly preoccupied with googling all the best therapists near to the compound. Y/N had her head resting on the cool glass of the window as the compound rolled into view. It was a sight she had wanted to forget, her hands balled up in her shirt trying to disperse some of the anxiety of moving in. Tony had taken her to her apartment a few hours before to get her things together. 
“I gave Vis and Clint clear instructions for your room, your stuff will be in there” Wanda said 
“They won’t have unpacked it though?” Y/N double checked 
“No of course they won’t have” Steve said softly “We will have to check your bags though” 
“I’m not going to smuggle in anything that’s going to hurt me” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, 
“We can’t take that risk, you can choose whoever to check through them but we have to check” Steve said in an authoritative tone
“Nat” Y/N said quietly 
“Sounds good sweetheart” Nat said with a soft smile, 
“Movie night tonight, what are we watching?” Tony said trying to lighten the mood 
“I think it’s Bucky’s turn to pick” Wanda said gently, Bucky felt his heart squeeze
“Friends” He said without skipping a beat 
“Friends?” Tony asked, 
“Yeah, I want to watch Friends tonight” He said, he knew it was Y/N’s favourite show to watch when she was feeling down. It wasn’t much but it was a start to making her feel better. 
“That’s not a movie but I guess we can watch it” Tony said with a huff,
“Y/N sweet or salty popcorn?” Wanda asked 
“Either, I think I’ll probably head to bed. So it might be a better idea for someone else to choose” She said quietly 
“I want both” Clint interrupted, as the car rolled to a stop 
“Nat can you show Y/N her room?” Tony said as they climbed out the car. 
It had been two days, Tony had kept Y/N under close super-vision. Not that she would have known it. He made sure that all the agents had been briefed to know that she was to be treated normally, just like she had been treated when she was at the compound with Bucky. 
“You need some sleep” Steve said as Tony slumped into the meeting room with yet another cup of coffee
“Everyone’s either too tired or on missions to do the over night shifts of watching her, so I don’t have a choice” Tony said “Sleep is for the weak” 
“What if I took the overnight tonight?” Bucky suggested “You’re giving her the sleeping tablets so she won’t wake up, I’m not on missions this week so I don’t mind one all-nighter” 
“What would you do if she did wake up?” Tony asked, Bucky knew it was a test. He wasn’t stupid, but there was a part of him that was insulted 
“I’d come and get you or Steve and I’d stay away” Bucky said, it was a lie, he wasn’t sure how he’d react. Wasn’t sure if he could stay that far away from her if she was hurting, but he had to try
“I don’t know” Tony said warily 
“It’s one night, then you can look after her 24/7 the rest of the week” Steve suggested, 
“Fine” Tony agreed. 
The night was going smoothly, Bucky felt a little like a stalker watching Y/N sleep on the secret cameras Tony had installed. But he took a little bit of comfort in watching her so peacefully, it had been one of his favourite past-times when they were together. Not that she ever knew about it, back then she would have teased him mercilessly if she had found out. He would have loved it, he’d love it even more if she was to find that spark again, but he knew better than to wish for that much. 
Y/N stirred a little in her sleep and Bucky felt his chest tighten, she was wearing his shirt. He was sure he had lost it months ago, yet here it was. Bucky zoomed in a little on the camera to check that she wasn’t waking up, her face contorting into a pained grimace. Suddenly she sat bolt upright and was desperately searching in the duvet for something. Bucky could sense the panic, his hand hesitating over the button that would call Tony and Steve. Until she stopped, her hands wrapped around something. Something that Bucky couldn’t believe. And so he called for Steve. 
“Is she okay?” Steve asked out of breath, 
“I need you to put me in a cell tonight” Bucky said calmly, it wasn’t a request Steve wanted to hear, 
“What’s going on? Do I need to call Shuri?” 
“She’s got the bear” Bucky said quietly, 
“The bear?” Steve asked in a dumbfounded way, he knew it was the middle of the night but his brain was desperately trying to keep up with Bucky’s train of thought
“When we were together we went to this bear shop, where you could design your own and she made a Bucky Bear” He said, tears daring to fall from his eyes “She  paid extra for her bear to have a matching arm to mine” His metal fingers flexed, “I always said that as long as she had the bear I’d be with her” His voice broke on the last syllable 
“Buck” 
“I need you to put me in a cell because otherwise I’m going to go in there and I can’t betray Tony like that” 
“I won’t lock you up” Steve said 
“Then call Tony” Bucky snapped 
“No” Steve said firmly 
“Steve I have very little willpower right now. I can’t stay away from her when she’s hurting like this” Bucky said 
“I don’t think you should” Steve said quietly, “I think she needs you” 
“She hates me” 
“She doesn’t” 
That was all Bucky needed to hear, he was soon outside her door, his knuckles tapping on the soft wood of her door. It creaked open to show Y/N with tear trails down her cheeks. She didn’t dare move when she saw Bucky, almost as though she had forgotten how to. 
“Y/N,” Bucky started but he couldn’t find the words 
“What did you want Bucky?” She asked tiredly rubbing her eyes, 
“I can’t” He took a deep breath “I lied, when I broke up with you. I lied to keep you safe, I was scared I was corrupting you. I wanted to keep you safe and I fucked up. But Y/N, I need to make it better tonight. I need you to let me hold you” he rambled quickly, 
“Bucky” Y/N started 
“I promise I will talk to you properly in the morning, you can yell or tell me you hate me, but please I can’t loose you. I won’t loose you. I need you to want to live, and I swear I will prove to you ever single day that life is worth it. Just please Y/N, if you can’t live for you, then live for me?” Bucky said he fell onto his knees begging Y/N, 
“Get up Buck” she said softly 
“Y/N” He started 
“I’ve always slept better with you in the room” she admitted. 
taglist
 @cookingdancingchick @vicmc624 @mostlymarvelgirl @olipiaa @scifinerd1818 @ordelixx @differenttyphoonwerewolf @unaxv @bumblingbamblingbandofbaboons @classyunknownlover @julvrs@scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @pigeonmama @sassyqueencowboy @callmissrogers @wintrsoldrluvr @weallhaveadestiny @almosttoopizza@blackhawkfanatic @violetwinterwidow01@abbyyourlocalmilf @am-3-thyst @buckitostan @hoomansstuff
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matrixbearer2024 · 2 months
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Karaoke Cacophony
Vox x CollegeStudent!Reader
A/N: This song is legitimately the reason why I ended up posting the poll that I did lmao- but if you check the lyric translations- it oddly fits the vibe for both Vox and Reader. Though it's only going to embarrass our resident TV man since our dear (Y/N) has absolutely no idea what the song actually means. Just that it sounds nice and it's something they heard over the radio back then when growing up. Vox has a built-in google translate thing so he can understand others better no matter what language, it just so happens that this hits him like a double-edged sword where he has no idea if he would've been better off not understanding the song and just appreciating the melody of your voice. BTW this interlude features an HC I have for Vox where he cooks sometimes because the systematic way it's done helps calm him down, it's inspired by something I read before but yeah- ALSO ALSO- some part kind of features reader being cracked out of their minds with pickup lines I pulled from one of @voxsremotec0ck's posts LMAO.
A/N: Also my cousin has had a HEAVY hand to play in this song choice, though her reasoning was mostly because of Angel's initial comment that watching Vox and Reader's interactions were like seeing a romcom plot unfold live. So why not go a little bit off tangent and relate them to a romantic fairytale? I also may have sorta kinda written a lot of this chapter while I myself was on a hyperactive streak because of some caffeine- Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this interlude and as always- Happy Reading!
youtube
After a while and back and forth of those games, you and Vox eventually stopped joining in despite the others still continuing to play.
You and your partner in crime had become preoccupied with laughing at memes or poking fun at whatever stupid trend was currently a fad online.
You were currently leaning against the technology overlord while he had one arm around you, the other using to poke at your phone every now and again.
The two of you were practically cuddling at this point from how close you both were but neither noticed nor even seem to care.
"They have the tidepod challenge too? Geez, people are kind of-"
"Idiotic? Stupid? Batshit crazy?"
"Pretty much."
"This is hell dollface, I'm not sure why you expected any different."
You just casually shrugged in reply, soon laughing at a dumb video you found whilst scrolling.
Vox couldn't help but subtly stare at you, especially when you seemed to be so cheerful just messing around or doing whatever.
Seeing your smile always made his day just a little bit brighter.
"Hey Vox! Stop being absolutely whipped for a second and help me out over here!"
The overlord in question just sputtered in confusion at Lucifer's words.
He wasn't whipped!
He just- admired you a lot.
Even you had raised eyebrows at the odd word choice, whipped- wasn't exactly what you would use to describe your flatscreen companion.
Not when you kind of had an inkling to what it meant.
"What are you even doing??"
Vox called back, finally taking his eyes off you and your phone to just look over in the kitchen's general direction.
Lucifer did mention about making a snack earlier, but why would the king of hell need his help of all people??
What was he planning this time???
"Something! Just get over here!!"
You just gave your companion a shrug when he looked back to you, encouraging him to just go and get it over with.
Besides, you guys could always just continue doing this and messing around when he was finished with... whatever Lucifer needed him for.
Well, that was until your brain immediately stomped on the brakes when you looked at Vox again.
He'd undone his cuffs to roll up the sleeves of his dress shirt to his elbows, revealing some... bare forearms.
Before he just nonchalantly stood up and walked off towards the kitchen when the king of hell called for him again.
He didn't seem to have noticed your shattered mental-
You had dropped your phone at that point, just blinking and spacing out like an idiot before Angel noticed.
"Woaaah, what happened to (Y/N)?"
"Huh, I didn't think we'd ever see them actually speechless."
"Oooh oooh! Does that mean (Y/N) likes bad boys?!"
You shook your head in an attempt to snap out of it but couldn't stop the blush from creeping up your neck.
Oh. My. God.
You were completely in the gutter now-
Similarly to Alastor, you noticed Vox was always wearing long-sleeves or an outfit that concealed any skin at all.
And while it left you wondering what he had to hide, that consequently would lead you to imagine how he'd look like without a shirt on.
Was he just a mess of wires or something?
Did he conceal so much because he was robotic to a degree?
You had no clue how Vox's biology even worked and you didn't know how to ask without sounding weird.
Not to mention how he's able to wear some kinds of shirts given his obnoxiously sized head-
It's just curiosity is all!
You could only slap Angel's hands away when he started cautiously poking you, and you were practically steaming out of your ears from embarrassment.
It wasn't the fact that your flatscreened friend seemed to show some skin that set you off-
It was the fact your brain somehow went autopilot and registered it as HOT.
You were sure Velvette had fashioned him the outfit so it didn't surprise you that Vox looked all dapper and smart.
Dare you even say the fucking TV looked handsome-
You just didn't think he could look any better.
Until he did that.
And consequently nuked the rest of your sanity with it.
"Yep, they're totally broken-"
"Angel shut up before I beat you to death with a pillow I swear to god-"
"Oh good, you're finally reacting toots."
You merely flipped him the bird and just hid your face in your other hand, why was everything in your body trying to go on overdrive?!
"What's got you all blushy anyway? It's like you've just watched a racy porno."
"What?! No! I just- you- I don't even fucking know-"
Angel was about to continue poking at you before Lucifer and Vox finally returned.
Both chatting amiably while holding what seems to be a plate or two of treats and snacks.
So that's where they both went-
And that was when the spider noticed your gaze practically zero in on your techno-centric friend.
Ha, friend-
Yeah nobody in the hotel with half a brain believed that for even a second-
Though there didn't seem to be any differences with Vox-
His outfit was still the same, just his sleeves were...
Oh.
OH.
"WOW TOOTS YOU'RE SUCH A FUCKING PRUDE OH MY GOD-"
You just shrieked incoherently at Angel and started whacking him with a couch cushion while everyone else kind of just watched you both confused.
Not to mention that you were pretty much a tomato from how red you've become.
The arachnid couldn't stop himself from just devolving into a loud laughing fit.
You had completely lost it because of some forearms, he could only imagine what your reaction would be if a certain technology overlord decided to undo some shirt buttons.
You'd probably just die on the spot!
"Uh... what happened?"
"No idea, but it sure as hell is entertaining."
By the time you were able to relatively calm down, you were still red when Vox just sat down next to you again.
"Soooo, any reason for trying to murder Angel with a pillow?"
"None that concerns you."
"Oh come on, it's gotta be something crazy if you don't tell even me."
You just adamantly shake your head and refuse to say anything no matter what Vox tried.
It was kind of cute seeing you try so hard, despite the fact the overlord knew he could always just ask the others about it later.
He didn't think it was anything too big, after all you would embarrassed by a lot of random things.
So he didn't even bother guessing at this point.
"What did you and Lucifer make anyway?"
"Hm? Chocolate strawberries, do you want some?"
"Seriously? That's what he needed help with?"
"I'm just as confused as you are doll, anyway- open your mouth."
Vox just chuckles when you shyly follow his instructions, forcing himself to look away before grabbing one of the strawberries and placing it into your mouth.
He'd be lying if he said the way you looked didn't give him other ideas.
You seeming insanely kissable being just one of them.
While the overlord knew making the treat consumed more time than just going out and probably buying it-
Seeing your eyes sparkle when you bit down made him consider that it was a little more worth it to put in that extra homemade touch.
"Didn't pin you for a guy that could cook."
You remarked, taking the plate from him and just eagerly chowing down.
Vox just chuckled, watching you so happily munch away.
You were just really cute in your own little way, not that he would ever say so.
Especially when you seemed so pleased at just such a simple snack.
"I'm not surprised, I don't exactly... have that vibe? I can cook though, it's something I do on the off chance to calm down."
"And still you eat that McDonald's garbage-"
"It's not garbage! I'm just too busy to actually cook sometimes! Running a media empire isn't easy dollface."
"The next time you do cook, I wanna try your food."
"Hm? What makes you say that?"
"Dunno, just wanna try it."
The overlord simply raised an eyebrow at you, though he didn't seem to mind your words much.
And as you scarfed down on the strawberries, he noticed a smear of chocolate streaking across your cheek.
How it got there- Vox wasn't entirely sure.
Possibly from your enthusiastic eating but he didn't really care enough at the moment to find out.
"Wait, you've got some chocolate on your face."
You looked at your companion with wide eyes when he gingerly raised a hand to wipe at your face.
The way his gaze was both calm and focused at you made your heart skip a beat.
The plate of treats in front of you now mostly forgotten.
"There. Didn't think you'd be such a messy eater doll."
He didn't seem to notice your mind kind of stall, picking up a chocolate strawberry himself to eat it.
It was a little too sweet for his taste, which was odd considering his already innate knack for deserts.
You seemed to like it though, so he didn't say anything.
And that was when Vox also noticed your more than obvious staring.
You weren't even trying to hide it were you?
Admittedly, the overlord got a little embarrassed because of it.
"Take a picture darling, it'll last longer."
"Nah, I think I would much rather look at the real thing. A picture can only do so much."
You smirked when you saw his screen proceed to tinge pink, especially when you heard his fans kick to life.
He never could get the upper hand with you, which was hilariously cute in it's own way.
It didn't take long for you to eventually get used to Vox's charm over the while you've known him.
Even if at times it would strike you when you least expected it.
You simply went back to snacking contentedly.
After a short while, all the treats were gone and you were practically bouncing off the walls with energy.
So what did you do with that sugar rush?
Absolutely torment and flirt the life out of Vox.
Slamming pickup line after pickup line into his already preoccupied mind space.
Well it was preoccupied with you to begin with but let's not mention that-
"Hey Vox- Hey Vox- Hey Vox-"
"What is it dollface?"
"Do you have a bandaid?"
"No...? Why?"
"Because I think I scraped my knee falling for you!"
He buffered a little bit but just played off being flustered with a scoff.
The rest of the hotel crew were not so subtly watching all of this go down just waiting for your overlord friend to crack.
Angel and Husker already made bets on how fast he would go down glitching -
"That was horrible."
"Nah nah nah wait I got another one-"
The overlord didn't really mind it at first, aside from the fact he was a little surprised.
Until the point it got so stupidly suggestive and then he actually had trouble dealing with the provocative ideas he got from you.
"You know, I'm just gonna start calling you my big toe."
"Your... what??"
"My big toe, so I can bang you all over the place."
The overlord had to actually ignore the snickering and hushed laughter from your spectators, why were you doing this to him of all people?!
Though as horrible as the pickup lines were, Vox would be lying if he said they weren't hitting their mark.
He was just... a little better at hiding it.
And that wasn't even the end of your tomfoolery-
Actually far from it.
Vox made a mental note to watch out for your sugar rush episodes from this point onwards.
You weren't ever this bad from what he could remember either-
Well, you would just blitz through nearly everything during a hyperactive episode before the impending sugar crash.
But never tried to flirt the socks off him!
"Are you a fitted sheet?"
"A fitted sheet? What's that got to do with-"
"Cuz you're complicated as fuck but I still need you spread across my bed."
Vox stared at you wide-eyed for a whole ass second-
Before his screen predictably started showing errors and he glitched uncontrollably.
Angel just keeled over from laughter at that point when the overlord's face went absolutely haywire.
He didn't quite bluescreen, but his screen did buffer and spazz a whole lot for a minute or so.
To which you just celebrated and cheered.
"HELL YEAAAAH! I BROKE HIM IN FIVE FUCKING SECONDS!"
That just made your arachnid friend laugh even harder.
You were an unbridled chaotic ball of energy hyped up on sugar-
But Charlie- being Charlie-
Felt a little bad for Vox being the target of your madness- and stepped in and try to direct your hyperactivity elsewhere.
However, because she had done it on a whim- she actually had no ideas what to do with you.
So she just randomly suggested karaoke.
Which seemed to get your attention anyway.
When Vox finally came crashing back into reality, he was surprised to see both you and Lucifer just tormenting a very staticky and clearly very irritated Alastor.
"YOU'RE A LOOOOSER BAMBI- A LOOOOSER-"
What even was that song?
"Huh, you were out for a while."
"What- did I miss something?? What happened?"
"Your hyperactive lover just being a menace to Alastor, other than that nothing much."
"They're not my-"
"Yeah yeah, keep telling yourself that."
Vox doesn't even have the opportunity to fully retort before you suddenly ran over to him with a grin.
Apparently you noticed he was fine again-
This time he was just the slightest bit worried.
You were literally shaking from the sugar rush- oh goodness-
"Oh good you're awake! I wanted to show you something!"
Vox didn't have the option to refuse when you just dragged him over to the couch and plopped him down next to everyone else.
"Okay okay! There's this song I used to listen to because I loved the melody and how nice it sounded but I actually have no idea what it means because it's not in English and-"
Safe to say the overlord spaced out during your rambling, only picking up the important bits of your spiel.
Which TL;DR, was just that you had a song you wanted to sing but didn't actually understand.
He only snapped out of his trance when he finally heard your voice slow down to the soft piano melody.
Well, the words you were saying definitely weren't in English-
So Vox secretly decided to translate what you were saying.
Having the internet being an extension of his conscious mind was a little bit of advantage here.
Then he figured out what the lyrics were.
And almost crashed again.
"I've forgotten how long it's been since I heard you telling me, your favorite story~"
He didn't really know whether his curiosity was a good or bad thing here.
Especially when it hit him that this was a love song.
The overlord was absolutely not prepared for this at all.
"I have been thinking for a long time, I started to panic."
Sure, the lyrics weren't exactly a fit to you-
But for him?
Especially when you had still been alive?
A 100% coincidental match.
Or he thinks it's mere coincidence.
"Have I done something wrong~?"
Oh god no do not look at him like that-
Nope nope nope nope-
It took every ounce of control for Vox to just not crash again right then and there.
"You said to me full of tears: 'Fairy tales are all lies.'"
You'd memorized the song, so it made sense that you didn't need to look at the lyrics to sing.
But could you seriously stop looking at him so fondly?
You didn't even know the words you were saying, this was so unfair.
"I couldn't possibly be your prince."
That just made him think back on all the past times he was trying to be... "friendly".
Well, almost borderline romantic even when he was willing to throw down nearly everything for your sake if you so much as asked.
Not that you noticed, Vox doubted you ever would even if it slapped you in the face.
"Perhaps you won't understand- ever since you said you loved me!"
Angel just smirked when he heard the signature whirring of computer fans.
Though he wasn't sure if it was because the overlord got flustered from your singing or because he understood.
Well, it wasn't his problem-
Because it was downright hilarious how insanely oblivious you were.
"The stars in my sky shine brightly!"
Where you were concerned, that was always the case.
Not at the start of course-
But it became adamantly clear when Vox found himself eager to see what kind of chaos you would stir up next.
"I'm willing to become the angel of the fairytale that you love-"
You extended your hand out to him, a silent invite to the tech overlord asking to dance.
He chuckled and smiled at you.
Of course he'd take up that offer.
"Spread up my hands that become wings to protect you~"
The two of you just swayed and danced around to the melody, becoming engrossed once more in your own little world.
You didn't even know what you were singing, but judging by the fond look Vox had directed at you-
It seemed he was enjoying it.
So you continued to indulge him.
"You have to believe, believe that we can be like in the fairy tale!"
You blushed a little bit when he'd twirled you around, after all-
You'd never really danced like this before.
It was like a... different kind of waltz.
Still, it made you feel so dainty.
His gaze just made you feel like the most beautiful thing in the world.
"Happy and joyful in the ending~"
The rest of your friends were amused seeing the two of you pretty much being the plot to a convoluted romcom.
Especially when they realized you and Vox kind of forgot they were actually there.
Charlie thought your relationship was endearingly cute-
Vaggie just reacted like her theory had been entirely confirmed.
Alastor felt like it was kinda disgusting-
And Lucifer nearly decked him for trying to ruin your moment.
Angel, Husker and Nifty were busy placing bets on who between the either of you would confess to the other first.
Though by the time the song ended, everyone couldn't help but groan or facepalm.
"Soooo- how'd I do?"
"It's okay, I'd say there's still room for lots of improvement."
"Oh fuck you Vox-"
"Like you'd ever actually go through with that."
"HA- don't try me you slutty-waisted lanky TV-"
"I've been called worse by better, get creative!"
You were both fucking idiots.
And at this point-
It was like your romantic dance hadn't even happened at all.
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avenging-fandoms · 4 months
Text
Airplane - Harry Styles
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In which Harry and Yn have been divorced for a while, but they both booked a trip to Paris at the same time and are sat directly next to each other.
idk if i love or hate this. i wrote this on goodnotes w a prompt i got from google in non fanfic form turn fanfic form. so enjoy or hate it idk
**fem pronouns
-
Yn sighed contently as she sat in the First Class seat, a pod directly next to her on the left. She took in her surroundings a bit before bending down to grab her phone, iPad, and anything else she needs as the long plane ride begins, not realizing the person sitting next to her was entering the pod.
Harry just saw the back of her head as he put his bag on the floor, running his fingers through his hair and putting his other bag in the overhead bin. Yn sat up and Harry’s eyes widen with his stomach swarming with butterflies and his mouth went dry. Yn slides her headphones over her head, doing a double take and dropping the headphones around her neck as she looks up at her ex husband.
“Oh my God, Harry, hi.” Yn smiles, standing up and the two hug over the barrier. “You’re heading to Paris?”
“Uh.. yeah. Just.. need to clear my head.” He nods. Yn can’t help but scan her eyes over him. It had been 2 years since the divorce and nearly 18 months since they’ve last seen each other, so they both took their time checking one another out subtly.
“Well, I’ll leave you to your head clearing. Enjoy your trip, H.” Yn smiles and sits in her seat putting her headphones on. Harry sat in his seat and smiles, grabbing all the things he needed for the beginning of the plane ride. Once in the air and it was allowed, Harry opened his laptop to work on some music.
Yn got up to put her sweater on and couldn’t help but peek over at Harry who worked intently on his laptop. Yn sat down and bit her lip, pulling down the divider and Harry pulled a headphone off his ear.
“I’m sorry to bother you, and I have no business as your ex-wife to ask, but can I please listen to what you’re working on?” Yn bit her lip softly and Harry smiles, sliding his headphones off and hand them to her.
“Of course, Peach. You have all the business asking, you’re my number one fan.” Harry winks and she blushes, sliding his headphones on. “I’ll pick something for you.” He took a minute scrolling before taking a deep breath and hitting play. Music filled the headphones and Yn sits back with a smile, but her smile doesn’t last for long as she list. He’s singing about being the love of his life and not knowing what is lost until you find it. Tears streamed and the song stopped.
“Really good.” Yn compliments as she wipes her cheeks and Harry shifts in his seat.
“It’s.. not finished. “I have others to play.” Yn nods with a sniffle.
Harry loved watching her reaction to the songs, especially since most were about her.
“These are beautiful, Harry. You have such an amazing talent.” Yn boasts and it was Harry’s turn to blush.
“You’re my muse so it just naturally flows out of me.” Harry looks at his laptop and the two fell silent. Yn looks at the plane screen and saw they have 10 hours. “Why did we divorce?” Harry asked.
“Well.. I wanted to start a family,” Yn looks at Harry then back at the time they have left. “And you wanted to focus on your career.” Harry’s lips fell into a thin line. “We talked about having kids. We were gonna have 2, maybe 3. Buy a big house, one with a pool and a big backyard for them to play together. I had so many ideas.” Yn smiles to herself, her eyes going blurry from tears once again. She looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers in and out slowly.
“Yn..” Harry starts but she cuts him off.
“No, really, I’m okay. I’ve had a while to get over you. Maybe I’m not there but I’m getting damn near close. Besides, I don’t blame you for choosing your career, look what’s happened. I’m so happy I didn’t hold you back from it.” Yn put the divider back up and headed to the bathroom, taking a few deep breaths.
Harry sat in his seat, staring at the light blue divider. A few people looked over and he just clenched his jaw. He knew he was wrong, he know he broke the marriage. It was his fault.
Yn looks at herself and takes a deep breath before doing her skincare and brushing her teeth. When she left the bathroom the cabin lights were dimmed, meaning people were heading to bed. Yn quietly heads back to her pod and accidentally made eye contact with Harry who quickly looked back at his computer before she sat down.
Yn opens her phone and sees 20 text messages from Harry. His demos. She smiles widely and hearted every single one. Yn brought the divider down once more, Harry already looking at her.
“Thank you Harry.” She grins and he nods.
“Go on a date with me.” Harry blurts and it catches Yn off guard.
“Harry, what? We-”
“What? We’re both going to Paris, it’s perfect. We can see the Eiffel Tower after dinner or get lunch then go to an art museum.” Yn blinks a few times and looks at Harry. “Go on a date with me, Yn.” Yn tries to bite back a smile.
“Yes, Harry. Yes, I will go on a date with you. In Paris.” She giggles and he slaps a hand over his heart.
“Beautiful. Don’t worry about anything, I will take care of everything.” Yn nods with a chuckle. “Sweet dreams, Peach.”
“Goodnight H.” Yn slowly put up the divider and put on her headphones, playing Harry’s demos as she slept while Harry got to planning.
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wolfythewitch · 8 months
Note
Hi, audio book anon again
I was going to start listening to the illiad and I had found a good unabridged version (shout out to the people in the comments of my original ask)
But after reading the reviews I found several people complaining it wasn't the full version because the trojan horse and achilles death weren't in it
So I looked it up and google says those things just aren't in the illiad at all and are in the aeneid
But I wanted to double check with you and other greek mythology enjoyers on tumblr, because I trust you more then google
Also follow up question should I listen to the aeneid before or after the odyssey ?
Iliad first, and then Odyssey, and then the Aeneid. Technically The Odyssey and the Aeneid can be switched because they both follow different main characters, but the Aeneid Does reference the Odyssey a little bit. And yeah! The Trojan horse is in the Odyssey and Aeneid mainly, the iliad mostly details like a small bit of the war. I'm not sure which poem mentions Achilles's death explicitly, but you do meet his ghost in the Odyssey and there are depictions of it in antiquity
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justagalwhowrites · 7 months
Text
New in Town - Ch. 7: First Double Date
You and Joel go out with Tommy and Maria. A continuation of New in Town chapters 1-6 found on Tumblr here.
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Pairing: Best Friend's Dad!Joel Miller x Female Reader
CW: Smut. No use of Y/N. Age gap (reader is 35 Joel is 47, not a focus of the fic). Minors DNI, 18+ only
Length: 5.5k
AO3 | First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter
“I swear to God Joel, if you make fun of me…” 
“I’m not gonna make fun of you, Beautiful.” 
“Oh you say that now.” 
“I’m really not,” he laughed a little.  
“I did like… research and shit,” you said from the other side of your bathroom door. “I Googled, OK?” 
“I’m sure you look incredible,” you could hear the smile in his voice. “Just come out here.” 
You sighed.
“Fine.” 
You knew you shouldn’t be nervous with Joel and, usually, you weren’t. But this felt a little different. You opened the bathroom door and came into your bedroom, doing a little spin as you did to show him both sides of the outfit. His face shifted from a smile to something almost hungry as he looked you up and down from his spot on the edge of your bed. He checked his watch. 
“What?” You frowned. 
“Just seein’ how much time we have until Tommy and Maria get here,” he said, looking back at you. “Think if we’re quick and leave that little skirt on…” 
You laughed and all but jumped on his lap, kissing him. 
You were going on your first double date with Joel, with his brother and sister-in-law of all people. You’d met Tommy and Maria at Sarah’s cookout a few weeks earlier but hadn’t seen them since. You had, however, heard plenty about them since then. Especially after Joel told you that his brother knew about the two of you. 
Your eyes had gone wide when he’d told you that. 
“Are you sure it was a good idea to tell him quite yet?” You asked. “We haven’t told Sarah and they’re pretty close…” 
“Yeah, I didn’t… uh…” Joel awkwardly cupped the back of his neck. “Didn’t exactly… tell him.” 
You frowned. 
“What do you…” 
“Maria… might have heard us in the bathroom at the cookout.” 
“What!” You yelped, eyes wide. “Oh my GOD, Joel!” 
“It’s fine…” 
You groaned and collapsed all the way down onto his couch, burying your face in the arm of it. 
“They must think I’m some kind of ridiculous slut!” Your voice was muffled by the cushion. “This is mortifying…” 
“It’s really not that bad,” he rubbed your thigh soothingly. “Really. They like you! A lot! And they kept sayin’ they’d never seen me this happy. Honestly, Tommy was just happy to see me with someone I wanted to fuck in a bathroom.”
“Jesus Christ,” you groaned. “Well, it’s been great, Joel, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to change my name and move to Antarctica…” 
He laughed and tugged you over until your head was on his shoulder instead of the couch. 
“Sounds cold,” he said, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll have to find a coat.” 
If you’d been falling for Joel before, you’d fully fallen for him over the past two weeks, ever since he’d found out everything about your childhood and your dad. 
You’d almost expected him to look for an out once it all settled in. That, when all the baggage had been sitting there for long enough for him to take inventory of it all, he’d run. 
But he hadn’t. He’d done the opposite. He spent that weekend holed up with you. Making you dinner, holding you close while watching Sharknado, changing the locks on your front door and installing a doorbell camera so you could see if he stopped by. He dropped you off at work Monday morning and picked you up that afternoon, heading straight to a car dealership after handing you a small pile of print outs. You frowned, looking at them. 
“What…” 
“So I took what I was asking you about cars over the weekend and found some good options for you,” he said. “Four of ‘em are at one dealership so I figured we could start there unless these are really not what you’re lookin’ for…” 
You flipped through the pages, all cars that were makes and models you were already thinking about wanting to look at, just tracked down at places around you instead of an abstract thought in your head. 
You teared up, a hand covering your mouth. 
Joel frowned. 
“We don’t have to do this today,” he said. “I don’t mind drivin’ you for a bit, happy to do it if you need a little more time or just aren’t up for it or…” 
“No one’s ever done something like this for me,” you dabbed at the corners of your eyes, trying to keep the tears from actually falling and ruining your mascara. 
“Told you I’ve got you, Beautiful,” Joel said. “Meant it.” 
You ended up buying a car Tuesday, Joel not a fan of how the salesman you talked to at the first dealership seemed incapable of talking directly to you and instead looked at Joel when answering all your questions. 
“That’s just how it is,” you shrugged as you headed back to his truck. 
“Don’t matter,” Joel said, opening your door for you. “It’s bullshit. We can always come back if we come up empty but you shouldn’t give your money to that jackass.” 
The second dealership had a saleswoman who would actually talk to you and not your boyfriend - boyfriend? - and ended up getting you a car with even nicer features than the one your dad had totaled for about the same price. You dropped Joel’s truck at your place and you drove the two of you to a restaurant you’d found on a local food blog, running your hand over the dashboard when at red lights. 
“Happy with the car?” Joel asked, smiling almost proudly. It was one of the cars he’d found and printed the information on. 
“It’s perfect,” you beamed at him. “Thank you so much for just… everything the past few days. This is the best I’ve ever felt after a visit from my dad.” 
You were feeling pretty good on Wednesday when you got a Nest alert on your phone. Your dad was standing at your front door, trying the key he still had. You took a screenshot and texted Joel. 
“Guess who,” you wrote. “Glad you changed the locks.” 
He replied almost immediately. 
“I’m staying over,” he said. “Got his parole officer’s number?” 
When your dad came by that night and actually rang the bell, you stayed just out of sight, watching the reflection of what happened in a mirror on your entry way wall as Joel answered the door. 
“Oh,” he said when he saw Joel. “I’m sorry, I must have misremembered the apartment…” 
“You didn’t,” Joel said, his voice cold. “Know exactly who you are. You’re not welcome here. Come by again and I’m calling the cops and you’d better hope they get their hands on you before I do. She’s blocked your number.” He handed your dad a business card. “If it’s an emergency, you can call me but you’re stayin’ the fuck away from her. You had your chance, you blew it. Now go, before I make you go.” 
“I don’t know who the hell you think you are or what my daughter’s told you…” 
“I’m her boyfriend,” he snapped. “And she’s told me plenty. Was probably nicer than you deserved about it, too, knowing her. Last chance to leave on your own.” 
Your dad was silent for a moment. 
“Take care of her?” He said quietly. 
“I will,” Joel said, tone softer. “Do a better job of it than you did.” 
“Good,” he said. “Tell her bye for me.” 
Joel closed the door and the second you could reach him you threw your arms around his neck, pressing your whole body against him. You kissed him, hard and frantic, tugging him back toward your bedroom as you did. You all but ripped his clothes off of him as you stripped down yourself, racing to get him inside you, not really able to calm down until he was. 
“Fuck, Beautiful,” he groaned, his hands on your thighs as you straddled his hips, his cock deep inside. “What’s this for?” 
“Needed you,” you said, dropping your forehead to his as you panted for breath. 
You were sure you loved him then. You weren’t sure how to say it yet but you were sure you felt it. 
Which is part of why you were really trying for this double date. You were in love with Joel, you wanted to impress his brother and sister-in-law. The two of you hadn’t really talked about it but, ever since he called himself your boyfriend to your father, that’s what he was. And you liked it that way. You wanted him to want to bring you places. 
Including University of Texas football games. 
Even though you knew fuck all about college football. You’d basically spent your entire college career studying or working, going to sporting events hadn’t been too high on your to do list. 
So you’d done some research, looked up what people wore to things like college football games. You decided to go all out and settled on a denim mini-skirt, a v-neck University of Texas shirt, cowboy boots and little orange longhorn temporary tattoos on your cheeks. 
“Wonderin’ if we should just cancel on them,” Joel kissed down your neck to your cleavage. “Look too good, don’t want to share you.” 
“Yeah, we’re not canceling on your brother so you can get me naked,” you laughed a little. “But you can get me naked later.” 
“Good luck stoppin’ me,” he nipped at your chin. 
Your doorbell rang and Joel groaned, dropping his head to your chest.
“Tommy has always had terrible timing,” he sighed. 
You laughed and got off his lap. 
“C’mon you horn dog,” you teased. “Let’s go watch the sportsball.” 
“One thing first,” he reached under your bed and pulled out a straw cowboy hat. “Thought you might need one of these to complete the look.” 
You squealed and grabbed the hat, popping it on your head. 
“How long has this been under my bed?” You gaped at him. 
He smiled a little. 
“Snuck it in the other day,” he said. “You’re a Texan now so you gotta have at least one.” 
“I love it!” You looked in the mirror and adjusted it a little. “Thank you!” 
You tipped it at him.  
“How’s it look?” 
He smiled. 
“Beautiful. Just… Beautiful.” 
Tommy’s truck was loaded down with coolers and a grill, your eyes going a little wide at it all. 
“How many people are going to be there?” You asked Joel as you got in the back seat of the truck. 
“It’s a tailgate,” he shrugged. “Can never tell.” 
“Give Tommy an excuse to drink while grilling for a crowd and he’ll take it,” Maria smiled, twisting around in the front seat to actually face you. “Good to see you again!” 
“You too!” You smiled, trying to resist the urge to jump out of the car when you thought about the fact that she heard you going down on Joel. 
“I’m excited to have another woman around for this whole thing,” she smiled as Tommy started the truck. “They do this once a year and I swear it’s like they pack a whole season’s worth of football stuff into one day.” 
“I keep tellin’ ya, get me season tickets and we’ll spread it out,” Tommy teased. 
“You think I want to do this every weekend?” Maria asked, incredulous. 
Tommy scoffed. 
“Who wouldn’t?” 
Maria gave you a look as if to say “See what I deal with?” And you smiled as Joel took your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 
You helped get the tailgate set up before settling into a folding camp chair with a beer next to Maria, the two of you watching as Joel and Tommy put meat on the grill, serious looks on their faces as they worked. 
“So,” Maria smiled, taking a sip of beer. “You and Joel, huh?” 
“Me and Joel,” you nodded, smiling a little back. “Not too insane, is it?” 
“I mean, the circumstances might be a little odd but otherwise,” she shrugged. “He likes you.” 
“I sure hope so,” you laughed, taking a drink of beer yourself and looking out at the crowd that was gathering to tailgate. The truck across from you was setting up a game of cornhole. Someone a few trucks down had started playing country music at top volume. “I’m a little fucked if he doesn’t at this point.” 
She laughed, too. 
“Look, I’ll be honest,” she said. “I know Joel better than most sisters-in-law probably care to know their brother-in-law. Him and Tommy… You marry one and you get the other, too. Package deal and all that.” 
You nodded slowly, watching the two of them work while talking conspiratorially themselves. 
“I’ve never, not once, seen him show this kind of interest in anyone,” she continued. “Honestly, Tommy and I figured he’d be single forever. Maybe a date here and there but… It never really seemed like a priority for him. He’s never even mentioned a woman before let alone brought her around.
“You seem to make him happy. Really happy. And I want to support him. But… I need to know that you’re in this for the long haul. That man doesn’t get attached lightly but he’s attached to you. Hell, he had me trying to interpret your texts a few weeks back, trying to make sure he didn’t fuck up…” 
You winced. 
“I was dealing with some family stuff,” you said. “I should have just talked to him about it from the get go and…” 
“Hey, I get it,” she cut you off. “Not like you’d been seeing each other long, I wouldn’t have told some guy I’d just met anything all that personal, either. I just want to make sure you care, that you know he’s not just screwing around with you. Not that he’s said that but I know the guy. Tommy knows the guy. This is a first and I’d rather not watch his heart get stomped on.” 
You looked at Joel. He was laughing at something Tommy said, his smile wide and beautiful. You couldn’t help but smile, too. Just looking at the guy made you happy. 
“I’m in it,” you said, still watching him. “Trust me, I’m very in it.” 
“Good,” Maria said. You thought you could hear the smile on her voice. “Because I really do need another girl around these two, they’re insufferable.” 
Once the grill was going, Joel put his arms around your shoulders and led you around the tailgate. Tommy’s set up, you soon realized, was relatively modest. A few people had come with campers and had big TVs set up outside, chairs on rugs out front watching other games from around the country. The two of you stopped and played ladder ball with someone who worked with Joel, him smiling proudly as he introduced you as “his girlfriend,” making your heart soar. You even ran into one of your copywriters as he chugged a beer shirtless with an orange X painted on his chest. 
“Oh shit, hey Boss!” He laughed. “Good to see you! Who’s your friend?” 
“This is my boyfriend, Joel,” you smiled. It was the first time you’d gotten to say that. Joel beamed and the two shook hands. “Joel, this is Steve, one of the copywriters at work.” 
“Want a beer?” Steve asked. “I’ll give you two if you promise to forget you saw me like this.” 
You laughed back. 
“Don’t worry, Steve,” you said. “I’ll be doing my best to forget that, anyway.” 
“So not all these people are going to the game?” You asked as you walked slowly back toward Tommy’s truck. Joel’s arm was draped over your shoulders again. 
“Nope,” Joel said. “People just come out to party. There’ll be a lot of people around the TVs later.” 
“Football is weird,” you scrunched your nose and Joel laughed. “But I’ll still watch it with you.”
“Oh really?” He teased. 
“Yup,” you smiled up at him. “But only because you’re hot.” 
He laughed. 
“Better get in the game time while I can, then.” 
When you made it back to the truck, food was ready (“Still got a lot to learn about grilling a great burger, Tommy,” Joel teased his brother, who just rolled his eyes) and you and Joel lost at cornhole to Tommy and Maria. 
“Do people really play stuff like that all the time?” You gaped at Tommy after he sent another bag directly into the hole on the opposite board. Yours were scattered on the ground around it. 
“We’ve got a set in our backyard,” Tommy said after he punched the air in victory. “You and Joel will just have to practice, don’t know if he can handle me kicking his ass.” 
By the time the game started, you’d almost forgotten that you’d come there to watch a football game, having so much fun in the parking lot outside that it seemed like the main attraction. 
You tried to mimic how other people reacted to the events on the field, not really understanding any of it but having fun watching Joel have fun. It was about half way through the first quarter when Joel leaned down to whisper in your ear.
“You don’t understand any of this, do you?” He asked. 
You winced. You’d tried to watch some informational videos on YouTube and read some basic explainers of the game over the past week but it was like it was in a different language, you hadn’t been able to absorb any of it. 
“Never had anyone to explain it to me as a kid and never hung out with anyone who was into it as an adult,” you replied. “So no, not a damn thing. But it’s still fun!” 
“Here,” he put his hand on your waist and pointed toward the lineup of men on the field. “We’re on offense right now, that means we’re trying to score and we’ve got the ball. It’s second and eight…” 
Joel kindly, patiently, walked you through the basics, going back over things when he could tell you were confused or had forgotten something when it happened on the field. 
“It’s really OK,” you said after a few minutes. “I don’t want you to spend all the time you’re supposed to be having fun talking to me…” 
“Talking to you is fun,” he replied. “I’d rather talk to you all the time than watch any game. And I want you to have fun, too. Which I know you won’t if you don’t understand what’s going on because you feel better when you know things.” 
You looked up at him, at his warm smile and soft eyes and the one curl that had broken away from the rest to start curving over his forehead, and you couldn’t help it. For a moment, the feeling overwhelmed you and it just spilled out of you before you could stop it. 
“I love you,” you said before you realized you said it. 
Then your eyes went wide and your face fell and you scrambled to take it back. It was too soon to be saying this to him, you’d only known the man a few weeks and things were still insanely complicated, you’d barely figured out that you were in a full blown relationship let alone ready to bring something like love into the mix. It didn’t matter that you felt it and that you wanted to say it, it wasn’t the right time yet.
“Shit. Ignore that, please ignore that, pretend I didn’t say anything, I don’t want…” 
“I love you, too,” he cut you off, smiling so big his whole face lit up with it. 
You just blinked at him for a moment. 
“Really?” 
“Yeah,” he laughed. “Yeah, I do. I really, really do.” 
He tipped your hat up and kissed you, his arm sliding around you to pull you flush against his front. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding tight to him, never wanting to stop feeling just like this. 
“Look!” Maria patted your shoulder urgently. “You’re on the kiss cam!” 
You pulled away from Joel just in time to see yourselves on the giant screen and you laughed, going back to kiss him again. 
***
“I’m glad you two seem to have figured your shit out,” Tommy had told him while they set up the grill. “She really does seem great.” 
“She is,” Joel said, watching you talk with Maria, looking so damn pretty in your little skirt and boots. “Fuck, she’s incredible.” 
“Anyone who can actually get you to feel something is a winner in my book,” Tommy replied, hooking up the propane tank. “Not sure what’s thicker, your skull or the space around your heart.” 
Joel laughed but he knew his brother had a point. He hadn’t been in a relationship - a real one - in a very long time. It had been even longer since he’d felt anything close to this for anyone. He’d gone from falling in love with you to just being in love with you and it had happened so quickly it was hard for him to even see it at first. 
He’d just known it when your father had shown up at your door that day. Joel knew what he was after - some other way to manipulate you, he was sure - and it made his blood boil. He had to consciously stop himself from hitting the man. The only reason he didn’t was because he knew it would hurt you if he did. But he knew he had to protect you, had to be the one standing in between you and the man who’d done nothing but neglect and harm you your entire life. 
His whole body burned with it. He wished he could have gone back in time somehow and protected you then, too. Made it so you didn’t have to go through any of it and stand between you and anyone who had ever so much as looked at you wrong. None of them deserved you. Neither did he, for that matter, but he could at least protect you from the worst of them. 
He knew he loved you then. He couldn’t conceive of how anyone could look at you and do anything that would willfully hurt you, how anyone could look at you and see anything but one of the greatest things the world had ever let happen. 
But he didn’t want to scare you off, so he kept it to himself, instead just doing everything he could to take care of you, get you to spend some time with him. 
It turned out, he didn’t need to try that hard. It seemed like you were just as eager to see him as he was to see you. 
You texted him over lunch on a day you were working from home, a picture of all the makings for mac and cheese and a BluRay of Jupiter Ascending, a movie Joel had heard was laughably bad and he’d been meaning to watch at some point. 
“Your place or mine?” You asked. 
Joel smiled. 
“Wherever you are, Beautiful, I’ll be there.”
You asked to come to his place so you could actually get out of your house for a bit and you showed up not long after Joel had gotten out of the shower, a pan of macaroni and cheese ready to go in the oven and a grocery bag over your arm with all the fixings for Bloody Marys. 
“I. Found. Bacon. Vodka,” your eyes were wide and excited. “It’s going to be amazing!” 
You were right, it was amazing. Everything with you was amazing. 
Because he loved you. 
“You told her yet?” Tommy asked as they say next to each other on the gate of his truck during lunch. 
“Told who what?” Joel asked, looking down at his phone for the umpteenth time since his lunch break started. You’d texted him a picture of a rather pathetic looking sandwich. 
“This food truck’s a bust,” you said. “Feeling very let down. I require real food. Dinner?” 
Joel was about to type out a response when you sent a selfie from what had to be a bathroom stall at your office, your shirt unbuttoned an extra button from what it had been when you’d gone your separate ways that morning. 
“In case you needed motivation,” you wrote. 
“Tell your girlfriend that you’re in love with her,” Tommy said. 
Joel frowned and actually looked up from his phone. 
“I didn’t…” 
“Don’t need to say it,” Tommy clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m not blind and I might not be a genius but I ain’t that dumb. You’ve got it bad.”
Joel glared at him for a second. 
“S’too early,” he muttered. “Don’t wanna scare her off.” 
“You’re practically living with this woman,” he said. “She brought steak to your house the other night. Besides the blip, what’s the longest you’ve gone without seeing her since you started dating?” 
Joel was happy that, after the mall incident, Tommy was understanding without Joel needing to be too specific about what happened with your father. He’d just told Tommy “It was a tough family thing, makes our shit look like child’s play.” Tommy just said “Damn, poor girl, shit’s rough” and had only ever called it “the blip” from then on. 
“Just a work day, really,” Joel said. 
“Don’t think it’s too early for shit, man,” Tommy said. “Just don’t fuck it up. And figure out how to tell your kid because I’m shit at keeping secrets.”
Joel sighed and nodded to his brother before texting you back. 
“Never need much motivation with you,” he said. “Can’t let you starve on me. Come over, I’ll grill you a burger.”
When you fell asleep naked in his bed that night, he just watched you breathe, wondering how to tell you how he felt and how to tell his daughter that he was head over heels for her best friend. 
So when you’d all but blurted it out at him at the game, it was a relief. He’d been terrified it would slip out of him for almost two weeks now. That he’d hand you something, you’d say “thank you” and, instead of “you’re welcome” he’d say “I love you.” That he’d kiss you on the way out the door in the morning and instead of “goodbye” it would be “I love you.” That he’d be looking at your perfect face as you rode him and he’d gasp “I love you” as he came deep inside. 
It was a relief to know you felt it, too. It was a relief to say it out loud. It was a relief to feel the sense of security that settled into him at those words, the sense that this wasn’t something that would be easily undone. That this was something he could be safe in feeling, that he could rely on the connection he had with you that had gone from tenuous to vital so fast it made his head spin. 
The rest of the game, he couldn’t keep his hands off of you. You were either perched on his leg or standing right in front of him for the rest of the game, his hands on your waist, pressing his lips into your neck and cheek, each kiss just another “I love you” in his mind. He couldn’t even tell you the score by the end of the game, only knowing that UT won because everyone else around them seemed almost as happy as he was. 
Joel was eager to say his goodbyes to Tommy and Maria when they dropped the two of you off at your apartment. It’s not like he didn’t always want you - he always wanted you - but it was urgent now, a driving need more than a want. 
You, it seemed, were on the same wavelength. The front door was barely closed when you took fistfuls of his shirt and pulled him against you, kissing him deeply as you walked backwards deeper into your home. 
He pulled your hat off first, tossing it on your loveseat on the way back to your bedroom. You went from using his shirt to hold him close to tugging it up and over his head as he did the same with yours. 
In the bedroom, you turned so he was against the bed as you deftly opened his pants and pushed them and his boxer briefs down and off. You nudged him down onto the bed and looked him in the eyes as you slipped your panties down your legs, leaving on the little miniskirt that Joel had so wanted to fuck you in before the game. 
You straddled him, your arms resting on his shoulders, his hands on your back, fingers spread wide to touch as much of you as he could. He slowly, almost reverently, removed your bra, cupping your breasts for a moment before holding onto you again. You aligned your entrance with his cock, the head of him just inside of you. 
He held your gaze, his nose brushing yours, breathing the same air you were. He looked deep in your eyes as you started sinking onto him, your breath hitching as you did. 
“I love you,” he breathed, mouth so close to yours his lips brushed your own when he spoke. 
“Joel,” you managed, your body soft and warm against him as you took him into yourself. “I love you, I…” 
You gasped as he bottomed out within you and he clutched onto you, needing to be as close to you as he could possibly be. 
The two of you just looked at each other for a moment, your skin on his, his cock buried deep within you. 
He realized then that he’d never been inside someone he was in love with before you. He’d tried with Sarah’s mother but her resentment kept any real affection from becoming too deep. Everything before her has been for fun, he hadn’t been looking for anything permanent. No relationship had lasted long enough to actually fall for anyone since. 
It was an intense thing, knowing you loved him back while being a part of you. You always felt incredible, better than anything or anyone else he’d ever felt, but it was different now and he never wanted to be anywhere but with you. 
You took a deep, shaky breath before rising slowly over him. He could feel every inch of you, the tight grip of every ridge, the wet heat of you holding him perfectly inside. He kissed you as you started to ride him, moaning into your mouth, sinking his fingers into your soft skin. 
Your skirt bunched around your hips and you ground your clit against him and he relished it, loving the feeling of you finding your pleasure with his body. 
He met you stroke for stroke until you came over him with a whimper, kissing him deeper, pussy gushing over his cock. 
Joel moved you below him, settling between your thighs, his body still tight to yours for a moment before he separated from you. 
“Joel,” you whimpered, breasts heaving. He slid a hand up your stomach, drinking you in, eyes lingering on the place disappeared into you, your sex swollen and slick. 
“Want to see you,” he panted, moving his hands to the inside of your knees, slipping them over your thighs until one thumb found your clit and the other slipped around your hip to your lower back, your sexy little skirt pushed up around your waist now. “Want to see you come for me.” 
He started driving into you, pulling back almost reluctantly to thrust back as deep as he could reach, watching it move through your body, the ripple of your skin, the bounce of your breasts, the desperate look on your face as he worked your clit, your channel tightening around him. 
“That’s it,” he panted as you ground your hips back against him when he thrust deep. “Are you close, Beautiful? That perfect little pussy about to come for me?”
You nodded and moaned, one of your hands flying to the bed and tangling in the blanket. 
“Good,” he said, all but breathless. “Need you to come all over me, need to feel you come, need to watch you come. Just let go baby, just come for me.” 
He watched your orgasm take hold half a second before he felt it, your face lost in pleasure, your clit throbbing as he felt you come apart around his cock. 
Joel fought to hold his own orgasm off for at least moment, wanting to enjoy your pleasure for as long as he could. But he didn’t last long, thrusting deep and all but collapsing on top of you as the peak of your climax triggered his own. 
Once he’d come down from his high enough to be able to think, he rolled onto his side and took you with him, still buried deep in you, kissing you gently as he held your face in his hand. 
“I love you, Joel,” you said softly. “I’ve never really said that to anybody but I love you.” 
“I love you,” he said, letting the feeling wash over him as he was so impossibly close to you. “I love you so much.” 
As he fell asleep in your bed with you in his arms, he wasn’t sure he’d ever meant anything more. 
Next Chapter
A/N: AHHHH THEY SAID IT!
I just love these two, they're so cute working through their relationship shit. They're getting there, they really are!
Thank you for being here and for following their story. It's been so fun to share with you! Love you!!
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gabessquishytum · 5 months
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This Vacation Romance/Honeymoon Suite one set off fireworks in my heart!!: https://gabessquishytum.tumblr.com/post/732821235748225024/dream-is-the-one-left-at-the-altar-too-much-too
I’m incomprehensibly attached to the Accidental Engagement trope — i.e. one character thinks they’re engaged and the other doesn’t realize. ALSO, I have this whole elaborate headcannon about how the Endless have no idea how marriage works because marriage has been SO many things in the billion years/species/cultures of existence. So like what if…
Dream visits Hob sometime after 2022 while he’s trying to make up for being gone/walking out on Hob & he’s agreed to see what this century has to offer. (And maybe his siblings are leaning on him a bit to actually experience the world a bit more — I mean, he’s the only one of them that has an actual very knowledgeable human guide! What a waste not to take advantage, right?!) So Hob — kind of panicking when Dream shows up asking to go on vacation — books the first available all-inclusive resort package Google serves up, and in a few hours they’re on a plane (because transportation is part of The Experience and sand is cheating). But at the front desk, there’s a problem…
Hob: Welp, they’ve double booked us. Damn Expedia! But good news! They’ve got an extra room after some last minute cancellation. It’s the Honeymoon Suite though, so… ah… *shifts awkwardly while yearning to spend a night in the Honeymoon Suite with Dream*
Dream *very seriously accepting this eternal commitment*: Ah, I see. Yes, Hob Gadling… Yes, I… I think I should like this. 
Hob: You sure? I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you feel…
Dream: I am certain. 
Hob: Really, we don’t have to! *really, really wanting to*
Dream *even more into it after seeing how gentle & caring Hob is being toward Dream’s feelings* : I understand. I accept this proposition, Hob.
As Dream follows Hob solemnly up to the penthouse Honeymoon Suite, he thinks about all the different ways he’s seen dreamers bound in union over the eons. This feels a bit abrupt, but it’s hardly stranger than some of the traditions that have existed. What a lucky chance that he should stumble into this experience with Hob!
(It might be Desire more than chance, but they are definitely not telling.)
As they approach the gilded door at the end of the hallway, Dream shyly takes Hob’s hand. If they are married now (and he saw the woman put their names into the computer, so it is done), then surely he need no longer suppress his feelings, so long as Hob is amenable.
And, yeah, is Hob amenable! He’d only imagined maybe getting a touch, even a lingering glance by the end of the week. But Dream melts into him and — though Hob checks in frequently to make sure Dream’s ok with everything — they spend a long, hot week tangled in the bedsheets, sipping margaritas, and getting up only for room service and bathroom breaks.
Back at home, he expects that that’ll be it for a while. Dream must’ve needed to blow off some steam after his imprisonment. But Dream shows up every day that week. He’s very busy, but he makes sure to pull the finest food out of the most renowned chefs’ dreams; he even packs some away every evening to make sure Hob has something to take to work the next day. He reads or sits quietly while Hob does his marking or lesson planning. Then they gently wash each other in the shower, and then Dream slips under the sheets with Hob. 
It’s so great that Hob is starting to get worried. 
Hob *taking Dream’s hand*: Dove, what is it? I’m not complaining, but are you… alright?
Dream (who has been self-conscious as he is still catching up on what husbands want/are like in 2022): It has been many years since I… since I was in this position. Is this not what you wish from a sworn partner?
Hob *sworn partner?*: I… yes?
Dream: When you asked me to complete the Honeymoon Suite rite, I thought of how I had… disappointed those I was sworn to before. As a husband, I have hardly been as thorough in my responsibilities as I have in other areas of my function. And yet, my heart leapt at the chance to try again — even on the spur of the moment — and our courtship had spanned so many centuries, that it seemed to make sense…
It is as Dream speaks, unravelling several millennia of complex emotions, that Hob realizes he has a spouse. Oh, and that he’s been dating Dream for six hundred years?!
This is so wonderful and delightful and I love the dialogue you've written between them SO much like omg it's so soft. The honeymoon suite rite 😭😭😭
Imagine how gentle Hob is with Dream, even while his heart races and he tries to navigate his brain around the idea of being MARRIED. To DREAM. He's pulling Dream in close to his chest and rubbing his back while quietly freaking out. He's so mad at himself for not knowing that they were courting this whole time! No wonder Dream was mad when Hob called him lonely and started banging on about friendship in 1889! Holy shit!
He should have been showering Dream in love, courting gifts, affection and all of that stuff!!! He has SO much time to make up for, he's so lucky that Dream agreed to marry him when Hob has accidentally been the worst boyfriend ever for 600 years...
Dream peeks up out of Hob’s chest and he's like "am I performing my duties as a 21st century human husband adequately? It is very important to me that you should be happy in our marriage." And Hob nearly hyperventilates (in like a good way) and just pulls Dream closer to convey that a) he is a very satisfied husband and b) he intends to be the best damned spouse that Dream of the Endless has ever had <3
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sleepanonymous · 5 months
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im trying to get into sleeptoken - one of my friends is dragging me into it and i love it - can you just give me like a huge timeline and lore overlook? im looking around your feed, and im SO confused but also SO intrigued !! would love to hear from you :)
Hi! New fans always make me so happy! I’m glad you’ve been shown Sleep Token and you like what you’ve heard so far! I always recommend this video and this article regarding Sleep Token lore, but… yeah, I will take a stab at a complete timeline for you. I’ll be honest: I never was very into the lore of “Sleep” as much as I was curious about the band itself (which is typically why I recommend the two above sources for lore purposes). I know that much of the lore is from fans’ deep analyses of Sleep Token’s lyrics and not anything official from the band or Vessel. Almost everything is fan-made, so there are a lot of differing opinions—anything official or stated by Vessel and the band in interviews I included. If anyone is interested in my take on the lore, I might make a separate post about that.
This ended up becoming a massive post. Take what you think is massive and then double or even triple it. Fun fact: I aggressively fact-checked this and actually learned some new things about the band myself. I have marked any unverifiable statements and opinions in this post with an asterisk. Due to the band’s secrecy, the sentences with an asterisk are either heavily opinion-based or my best guess at what might have happened during a specific time period. Take them with a grain of salt.
Anyway! I have a problem; below the cut, I am making it everybody else’s problem.
In September of 2016, a video was posted to YouTube. The video was a black-and-white depiction, through short clips and flashing images, of what appeared to be a lone masked man, Vessel, performing a ritual by candlelight. The music over the video, a hauntingly beautiful mixture of indie pop and prog metal, was met with heavy praise from commenters. The description had three links to a new band’s social media and a Bandcamp account. Below the links was the following description:
Sleep Token are a masked, anonymous collective of musicians; united by their worship of an ancient deity crudely dubbed “Sleep”, since no modern tongue can properly express it’s name. This being once held great power, bestowing ancient civilisations with the gift of dreams, and the curse of nightmares. Even today, though faded from prominence, ‘Sleep’ yet lurks in the subconscious minds of man, woman, and child alike. Fragments of beauty, horror, anguish, pain, happiness, joy, anger, disgust, and fear coalesce to create expansive, emotionally textured music that simultaneously embodies the darkest, and the brightest abstract thoughts. He has seen them. He has felt them. He is everywhere. Sleep Token, led by the perpetually tormented, supremely talented Vessel, creates music that brings to the fore our most submerged thoughts and feelings, coaxing them from the desolate, terrifying caves of our subconscious mind.
The band officially formed in April 2016 (The YouTube channel, for reference, was created on April 14, 2016), but things had already been in the works for nearly a year before the uploaded Thread the Needle music video. In July 2015, Vessel came into contact with a talent scout/independent project manager by the name of Tom (I won’t provide his full name since Googling him brings up biased, embellished, and most likely false information about the band and its members).* In 2015, Vessel was already a skilled, trained, and experienced musician with the ability to play several instruments, including the piano, guitar, and bass, and the knowledge to compose and produce his own music. That being the case, Tom introduced Vessel to a drummer, dubbed II, as well as a skilled producer by the name of George Lever.*
On November 10, 2016, a second video was posted to Sleep Token’s YouTube channel, a music video for the masked collective’s second release, Fields of Elation. Much like Thread the Needle, Fields of Elation was met with enthusiasm and praise by Sleep Token’s growing fanbase.
Finally, on December 2, 2016, Sleep Token independently released their first EP, aptly titled “One”, on their Bandcamp page. The EP included Thread the Needle, Fields of Elation, and a new song: When the Bough Breaks. Accompanying the three songs, the band also included piano renditions of all three songs, performed solely by Vessel.
On the last day of February 2017, Sleep Token posted another video to their YouTube channel, a sombre piano cover of Outkast’s Hey Ya. Following the release of “One” and the cover of Hey Ya, Tom, now acting as Sleep Token’s manager, got the band signed to a label called Basick Records.* By May 2017, the band had another three-song EP, dubbed “Two”, already written and set to release that summer. This was announced via the release of Sleep Token’s third music video, Calcutta. By this time, Sleep Token’s manager had gotten a stand-in bassist and guitarist, dubbed III and IV, respectively, for the band’s first live Ritual. This was mentioned at the end of Sleep Token’s first-ever published interview with Louder. You can read it and the accompanying short article here.
On June 17, 2017, less than one month after the release of the Calcutta music video, Sleep Token took the stage for their first Ritual at The Black Heart in London. The band played seven songs live, including the three songs from “One”, Calcutta, two unreleased songs, Nazareth and Jericho from their upcoming EP “Two”, and their cover of Hey Ya. Very little is known about this Ritual. Most online sources seem to not know of its existence at all. The only concrete facts known about Ritual I are that doors opened at 7 pm, it was 18+, and tickets were £8.00 each. It is unclear how many people attended the Ritual; no footage or pictures have surfaced from that evening.
Sleep Token’s second and third rituals were performed in London in October and November 2017. The band opened for Motorpsycho and Perturbator, respectively. Because they were openers, any visual or audio documentation is nearly non-existent, but the band did appear in a few online articles reviewing the concerts.
In this article, author Roger Trenwith wrote the following about Sleep Token’s Ritual II:
“The support act Sleep Token was an odd mix of metal and pure pop, played by a band in horror masks and cloaks. Musically they were somewhat formulaic, in the tried and trusted quiet-loud-quiet-F’KIN LOUD nature of most of the songs, and accompanying theatrics by rote. When they diverted from the formula, they showed some promise, mostly down to the singer, whose extraordinary range made them just about bearable.”
Ritual III was met with similar criticism. This article, written by a much more helpful and open-minded Chris Keith-Wright, stated the following*:
“Remarkably, by the time Sleep Token take to the stage to start the evening off, there’s a very respectable amount of people front and centre to check them out. Perhaps this is due to the up-swell of media attention on the band since their signing to Basick Records and the release of their second EP, cleverly titled Two, that landed this summer. [...] The conceit surrounding the group is that the band are representatives of an ancient deity known only as “Sleep”, and that their frontman is an appointed-one dubbed ‘Vessel’. Whatever one makes of that, the fact is that Sleep Token’s Vessel has a most extraordinary set of pipes. [...] With a lighting show in time with their music and Vessel’s strong, soulful melodic voice featuring some impressive falsetto, they quickly engaged the audience. With the amount of vocal harmonies and extra musical depth that came over the sound system, I have to admit that it felt throughout their set that they were missing a band member, someone who could control and wield the keyboards, samples and electronics in a live setting. Donned with the obligatory cloaks the band produce a strong performance with their points of difference, clearly thought out prior to their live debut only a few weeks before. Their odd masks obscure their faces and during the quiet, vocal-led passages the guitar and bass players stood stock still. It’s simple, understated, but effective, producing quite the spectacle. Sleep Token’s transition between soulful, repetitive vocal melodies and brutal Meshuggah-esque riffery, and after a few songs this formula felt well-trodden. This is unfortunate as on record these transitions between the two disparate styles are far better executed – live there was far too much juxtaposition. Despite this, I and the majority of the growing crowd were transfixed by their performance.”
In March 2018, Sleep Token opened for two Holding Absence/Loathe shows, two bands with which Vessel would later collaborate. By April 2018, Sleep Token had parted ways with their manager and the Basick Records label.* It is unclear if both of these departures were related or amicable. As a once again independent artist, Sleep Token released the single, Jaws, on June 3, 2018, using footage filmed for their Nazareth music video that their previous label did not utilise. Through the spring and summer of 2018, Sleep Token performed their rituals at UK music festivals, further growing their fanbase.
In August of 2018, Vessel gave his second interview to Kerrang! UK. Interestingly, the article refers to the frontman not as Vessel but simply as Him. The main focus is on Sleep Token’s music and the single Jaws, released two months prior. A transcribed version of the article can be found in my Google Drive
Following these successful rituals and the Jaws interview, the band released another single, The Way That You Were, on October 8, 2018, along with its music video on YouTube.
This release preceded the last Ritual the band would perform that year. On October 11, 2018, Ritual XI was held at St Pancras Old Church in London, dubbed the band’s Inaugural Headline Ritual. It’s rumoured that all 120 tickets to the Ritual sold out in seconds. The band performed ten songs in total, including the live debut of the song Blood Sport. It is also worth noting that this is the first ritual Sleep Token performed with an opener being a band called Exploring Birdsong, which would become a staple opener for later ritual dates. Several members of Exploring Birdsong would also later become touring members of Sleep Token as the Choir.
At an unknown date in 2019, Sleep Token signed with a new label, Spinefarm Records. Together, the band and label began releasing music from Sleep Token’s first full-length album, “Sundowning.” Starting with The Night Does Not Belong to God on June 20, 2019, the band methodically released a new song bi-weekly at sundown BST until the record’s full release on November 21, 2019.
Interestingly, Sleep Token’s biography on Spinefarm differs from what the band had previously had in the description of their first two music videos. It is as follows:
Beneath the Sleep Token banner, lies the unique, broad-based vision of one individual – anonymous, silent, masked, armed with a staggering vocal range, a deft touch on the keyboards, plus a live approach that is never less than fully engaged.
While all factual statements to Vessel’s capabilities and talents, it appears that the band and their new label had retconned the lore surrounding them, granting the creation credits solely to Vessel himself. This is further evident by the Kerrang! Interview Vessel had previously given, which was removed from the internet, as well as the band’s Facebook page getting scrubbed of all posts prior to April 2019. Replacing them is a video of Vessel sitting at a piano and removing his mask, reminiscent of what would later happen at The Room Below Ritual in 2022.
Sleep Token would return to the stage on July 2, 2019. During this Ritual, Sleep Token opened for Amaranth and headliner Babymetal. This Ritual is notable because two key stage members, the guitarist IV and the Keyboardist, were replaced. The new guitarist took on the same moniker of IV, and the Keyboardist was replaced with three women from Exploring Birdsong, forming the Choir (or, as fans have dubbed them, the Vesselettes). The Choir was not yet a ritual staple, and there were several festivals and rituals where they did not accompany the band on stage, such as Sleep Token’s first US tour from November 7 to December 15, supporting Issues on the Beautiful Oblivion tour. The replacement for IV, however, did accompany Sleep Token on this tour.
With the release of “Sundowning,” Sleep Token once again gave an interview to Kerrang! UK to accompany an article reviewing the album. The article can be found online here, but no longer has the accompanying interview section. A photo of the original magazine review + interview, and a transcription can be found in my Google Drive.
Returning to the UK, Sleep Token performed several more rituals in late January 2020. Due to COVID-19 and subsequent lockdowns, they did not conduct another ritual that year. Nearly one year after the release of Sundowning, the band released a deluxe version, including new covers of Whitney Houston’s I Wanna Dance With Somebody and Billie Eilish’s When The Party’s Over, a piano version of Blood Sport, and a new original song titled Shelter.
Sleep Token would not perform another Ritual until the Download Pilot festival on June 18, 2021. Despite being Sleep Token’s first Ritual in over a year, this festival also had IV replaced again by another guitarist donning the same moniker. The Choir also returned to the stage with Sleep Token, completing the lineup that we know today. This festival was the same day that Sleep Token dropped their new single from their upcoming second album, Alkaline, along with a music video on YouTube.
Another reason the Download Pilot ritual was significant is that it was the first time a spoken message had been given to the attendees of a Sleep Token ritual, not by a band member but by a prerecorded, AI-generated voice. The following text was the message:
Let’s not deceive ourselves There is a reason we are here It follows us wherever we go We were in love We are in love It is what floats above us as we try to sleep It is what stands beside us as we gaze into nothingness It is drowning us It is eating us alive A million outstretched arms in complete darkness They will reach forever Remind me We’re both dying to find out what happens when we die We’re both scared of being We’re both stolen pieces of each other We’re both exploring our own frontiers of grief We’re both just strangers We’re both just particles We’re both so lost in what it means to be lost We’re both a house that remained unoccupied for too long Let’s not deceive ourselves.
Sleep Token released another music video for their upcoming album’s second single, The Love You Want, on August 6, 2021. Sleep Token played the same spoken message before taking the stage at the 2021 Heavy Music Awards on September 2, 2021. On stage, they performed several staple songs from “Sundowning” along with new singles Alkaline and The Love You Want, with the latter including the same dancers from the music video.
Two weeks later, on September 17, 2021, Sleep Token released their third and final single from their upcoming album, Fall For Me. Unlike the previous music videos for the band, this video focused on a single man, whom keen-eyed fans had identified as Vessel, though he was maskless, paintless, and in street clothing. Over the video, words will flash across the screen. When strung together, they give the following message:
The truth is I am due a harsh lesson In truth itself and how bitter it can be  Will you teach me? The truth is, I am ugly, I am inadequate, I am lost, I am no god The truth is, I want to want to live And so do you I just can’t do this any longer I am afraid Are you afraid? I want to understand what it is to let go So for now let me serve as a living drama of your pain If we are to be submerged let us be submerged  Together
One week later, On September 24, 2021, Sleep Token released their second full-length album with Spinefarm Records, titled “This Place Will Become Your Tomb.” This album was the first to find a spot on the UK music charts, reaching #39 for UK Albums.
That following November, Sleep Token had their first multi-date headline tour supporting their second album. They toured with another of their staple openers, AA Williams, and played eight rituals in total throughout the UK.
On November 26, 2021, an instrumental version of “This Place Will Become Your Tomb” was released, stripping all songs of Vessel’s vocals, except for Missing Limbs, which was not included. Surprising fans, just over one month later, on January 2, 2022, Sleep Token released a cover of Loathe’s song Is It Really You? The cover is listed as a collaboration between both bands but is simply (though still beautiful and enrapturing) Vessel singing alongside a piano rendition of the original song.* A year later later, the vocalist of Holding Absence, Lucas Woodland, would also announce that his band had collaborated with Vessel on an unreleased song on his Twitter.
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This unofficial announcement accompanies another that was made in March of 2019 by Lucas, who stated in an interview that Vessel assisted Holding Absence with playing the piano in the song Purge.
On March 30, 2022, Sleep Token released an instrumental version of their first album, Sundowning. Nearly a month later, on April 29, 2022, Sleep Token, or rather Vessel and the Choir, performed an intimate ritual at the Lafayette in London. The Ritual was dubbed “From the Room Below.” This performance is one of the most significant rituals for two reasons. Vessel sang and played guitar for the first several songs, then removed his mask and played the rest of the set while sitting at a piano with his back to the audience. The second reason is that Vessel, once again, played an AI-generated message to the crowd of 600 people while he openly sobbed on the piano bench. His full message to the audience was this:
We are here to silently connect. To project ourselves onto one another. We are here to remember. We are here to forget. We are here to worship. Some time ago, I was given a message. It was a message that originated from one of you. Someone possessed by a strong desire to tell me something. The message read very simply: You saved me. I have thought about this message a great deal since. It left me with a feeling that I have somehow been mistaken for someone else. I did not save anyone. I do not believe I have the capacity to save anyone. All I have ever given anyone was a small window into the emotional waiting room of my mind. I do so whilst doing everything in my power to minimise my own vulnerability. In this way, I am selfish. I chose not to give what others can, and yet I am the benefactor of this thankful praise. I experience a great deal of pain in my life. However, I do not believe I have suffered as you have suffered. Perhaps that is another reason why we are here. At the very least, we have all suffered. I would also like to take this chance to tell you something. To love oneself is not the easy task we are sometimes told it is. We are all limited by something. We are all guilty of something. My own path towards a place of greater self-acceptance is paved with the art that I create. It is a path that I continue to stumble down at the expense of everything else. I am nothing without this music. I am nothing without this mask. So, in this sense, the message I received was true, but only in an inverse sense. The truth is I did not save anybody. You saved me.
After this first Ritual of 2022, Sleep Token had a busy year of touring, performing rituals in the UK, for the first time in Australia, and returning to the United States. In all, fifty-four rituals were performed, making 2022 Sleep Token’s busiest year— until 2023.
On January 4, 2023, Sleep Token dropped a new YouTube video, a visualiser for a new song, Chokehold, from their upcoming third studio album, “Take Me Back to Eden.” One day later, on January 5, Sleep Token posted another visualiser to YouTube, this time for the song The Summoning. This song is specifically responsible for Sleep Token’s sudden skyrocketing into the spotlight of modern music. To date (late November 2023), the visualiser has over 13 million views on YouTube, and the song has over 80 million streams on Spotify.
Around the same time as Chokehold and The Summoning were released, Sleep Token also added new merchandise to their store. Among the new “Take Me Back to Eden” themed shirts and pullovers was a crewneck sweater with a poem written in runes. The poem read as follows:
I am hunting something, and in turn, that same thing is hunting me. The beholder, the void beyond. I am the line between. I am the teeth of God.
Sleep Token released six singles for their third studio album: Granite on January 19, Aqua Regia on January 20, Vore on February 15, and DYWTYLM on April 19. “Take Me Back to Eden” was released on May 19. Dubbed the end to a trilogy, Sleep Token’s third album reached a peak point of #3 for UK Albums and #16 for the US Billboard 200. With this success, Sleep Token and Vessel were featured on several magazine covers, but the accompanying articles lacked an interview by the band or their servants.
Sleep Token spent the time between single releases touring Europe, the UK, and Australia. In September of 2023, the band returned to the US, for the first time with the Choir, for a headline tour, using AA Williams as their opener. At every date on this headline tour, a series of interludes were played between songs. All four interludes are below.
Interlude I Mask: They think you fake it Vessel: What do you mean? Mask: When you cry on stage, they don’t think it’s real. Vessel: That’s a reasonable assumption. Mask: Do you fake it? Vessel: No, I don’t. But it is something I do consistently, so if I was a member of the audience, I would probably assume that it wasn’t real. Mask: Do you ever see them crying? Vessel: No, I can only ever see them smiling. That’s good. I want them to smile. Mask: Do you think they want you to cry? Do you think they like it? Vessel: Not as such; I think they just want to know that I am feeling something, feeling what they are feeling, perhaps. Mask: Do you think that this amount of crying is healthy for you? Vessel: I don’t know. But at least I feel something; if I don’t feel anything, then why would I even do this?
Interlude II Mask: Why am I here? What is my purpose in all of this? Vessel: Your purpose is twofold. You protect me from them, and you also protect them from me. Mask: How is it that I serve to protect anyone from anything? That makes no sense. Vessel: In order for all of this to work, there has to be a certain boundary in place. They need to be able to project themselves onto this without anyone else’s identity getting in the way. In turn, I need to be able to show my true self to them in a way that does not compromise their ability to connect. Mask: So that’s what I am? A boundary?  Vessel: Yes. Mask: I don’t believe you. I believe there is more to it than that. I believe you are afraid of something.  Vessel: We are all afraid of something, are we not?  Mask: What is it you are so afraid they will see? Vessel: That I am exactly like everyone else.
Interlude III Mask: Are you afraid of me? Vessel: Sometimes. Mask: Why? Vessel: I think I am afraid of becoming you. Mask: What does that even mean? Vessel: My life is becoming gradually consumed by you. Before long, all that I am will be contained within you. Then, one day, when I no longer wish to wear you, there will be nothing else left. Mask: It seems you have forgotten who you are. Before you had me, you were nothing. All of this artifice, all this pathetic conjecture about your identity, it is nothing but a manifestation of how short-sighted and solipsistic you have become. I lifted you from misery and obscurity. You would be better to become me. You are nothing without me. You always were nothing without me.
Interlude IV Vessel: You. Are. Wrong. In the end, my fractured sense of self was only another piece of fuel for the fire that burns in the eyes of these people before us. They, too, are pained. They, too, do not know who they truly are. They are each stood alone on a stage of their own. And yet, they are here. United by that sense of never truly belonging. They see something beyond their own bleak horizons. And they reach for it. Together. So let us join now. To reflect their joy and to serve as a conduit for their anguish. To swallow their fear.
Though only one month remains in 2023, Sleep Token still has a set of rituals to complete in Germany, as well as their largest venue as a headliner: OVO Wembley Arena, with a staggering 12,500 capacity—tickets sold out in ten minutes when they went on sale earlier this year in June. With the band’s continuous and foreboding statement of “nothing lasts forever,” many fans worried that this would be the last we ever saw of Sleep Token, with everything starting from “One” and culminating to a peak with “Take Me Back to Eden,” only to evaporate into nothing come the new year. Fortunately, several 2024 tour dates have already been announced for Sleep Token, including a tour in Australia where the band will be supporting Bring Me the Horizon and a festival date for the USA in April. Though all we can do is speculate what may come next for Sleep Token, one thing is for certain: This is only the beginning for our favourite band.
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darlingsfandom · 6 months
Note
Can I resquest for a drabble? Maybe something where Cillian is dating an athlete? Maybe he watches a game of hers? I would also love it if the reader plays volleyball ☺️ thank you, lovey!
I'm going to be honest... i don't remember the last time I've played a sport, so I used google to look about information on Volleyball! So if it's not completely right, I'm sorry !!!
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You stood on the sideline biting your fingernails as you waited for the game to start. Cillian was no where to be seen and it made your heart break a little bit. Your thoughts disappeared when you heard the sound of the whistle being blown. You ran out with the other girls as your sneakers made some noise on the gym floor. You did one final scan of the large crowd and to be fair, there were a bunch of people so it was heard to see but you could spot his eyes a mile away.
"Hey! You okay?" Your team mate asked as you line up for back line player positions.
"Yeah yeah I'm fine! Just overthinking about Cillian." You shrugged and before your team mate could answer the ball was coming at you , so you ran forward as fast as you could to dive and spike it over the net. You got it over and scored the first point for your team. Your team mates gave you high fives as you all repositioned. As you looked around, your heart stopped when you seen Cillian sneaking in and he gave you a smile wave which made you pay more attention to him than the ball which hit you on the side of the head. A loud sea of gasps were let out as you stood there with your jaw on the floor. Your hand went on the side of your head and gave it a rub before you shook your head.
"I'm fine!" You yelled out and held up your hands. Your coach double checked that you were okay before he let you play again. Back in the game, you were giving it your all. You made two more scores for your team!
Cillian kept his eyes on you and cheered you on when you got the ball over the net . "That's it baby!! WHOO'" he clapped his hands together before he sat back on the bench . You looked over at him with a bright smile and focused back on the very close game. Cillian watched as you bent forward. He shouldn't be turned on but the way the shorts fit your ass was a nice view. The game came to an end and your team won as your best friend made the winning spike!
Your team ran and hugged each other in a giant group before you seen Cillian walking towards you. "And you thought he wasn't coming!" Your best friend smirked at you before she pushed you into his direction. "Have fun love birds!" She teased you while making kissy faces.
Cillian stood there holding a small bouquet of flowers. "These , they're for you!" He handed you the flowers before giving you a kiss on the cheek. You blushed a little bit before he wrapped his arms around you and swayed back and forth before he walked with you to get your bag. Once you had your bag, he took it from you, put it on his shoulder and held your hand as he took you back to his car.
"Ya hungry love?" Cillian tossed your stuff in the back.
"I could eat... but I do believe that since I won.... you owe me something." You leaned in and Cillian kissed you hard before his tongue slipped inside your mouth.
"Mmmhmm but I mean actual sex cillian!" You mumbled against his lips.
"I know baby, I know. Dinner first and then I'll take ya home and give ya everyting ya want!" Cillian kissed you heavier this time before he pulled away to start your very adventurous night.
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lululandd · 6 months
Text
rabid; (iv.)
pairing: simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader
word count: 1,671
warnings: comedy, unhinged topics, ghost has feelings
note: this is the last one i promise, thanks for reading and sticking around :3
summary: “We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”
part i. | part ii. | part iii.
“Ghost?” Soap nudged him.
The day was sickly humid, temperature rising by the minute as sweat beaded down his forehead. His mind was somewhere far away when Soap called him, “Yeah. Here.” He replied as he placed a gloved knuckle on his eye, getting rid of the sweat gathering on his lashes.
“We need your interrogation magic, LT. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Ghost sighed deeply at the situation they got themselves into. He looked around the makeshift interrogation room–if they can even call it that–as half of the wall was torn down and there was no roof above them. There could be a UAV coming to pinpoint their location any time now. Soap was right, they don’t have much time.
He stared at his men, all of them looking tired but otherwise alert. He checked his pockets for anything that can be used in an interrogation and took out two of his knives. Gaz and Soap picked up on what he was doing pretty quickly and they handed him pliers, a magnetic pickup tool, while Gromsko and Enzo handed him wire cutters and a swiss knife. To his surprise, Arthur produced a 45° double angle hook from the pocket near where Merlin dangled on his backside.
The man held onto the hook for a moment longer than necessary as Ghost took the item from him, subtly indicating he wanted the item back.
The unnamed Cordis Die member kneeling in front of them stayed silent as Ghost stood in front of him. The others had stayed a little bit away, either keeping watch or just giving them some space. He looked young, late twenties at most, Ghost couldn’t tell very well with all the muck and grime. He crouched down in front of the bound man, asking him in the nicest voice he could muster. When he refused to answer at all, Ghost weighed the items in his hands with vexation as he knows these aren’t the correct tools to make this man talk. His expression didn’t even change when he eyed them in his hands.
He would need to think of something else, and fast.
Simon had to hold in his laughter as he loaded his dishwasher, as you and your online friends were onto something wicked which had you laughing and giggling the whole time ever since you started. He heard something about a little celebration but he didn’t quite catch what it was for, but he knows you’re celebrating with a couple drinks.
As he got ready to wind down for the night and crawl into bed for another possibly sleepless night, he perked his ears up to listen in harder on your conversations as you’re getting quieter to probably not disturb him, your only neighbour. It’s cute that you think of him after the soap incident, lowering your voice if you’re going online later in the night. He sort of wishes you didn’t, because of the things he’s gonna miss. Just like tonight’s.
Oh how he would love to hear all the sides of the conversation.
“No, I don’t know what a sheep’s dick looks like. Why would I know what they look like?” A pause. “Nah, I was raised in the city.”
Another info he jolts down in his mind. “Okay. is it more fucked up looking than echidnas?” Simon realised he had no idea what an echidna looks like. He knows what Knuckles—Sonic’s friend—looks like, but not the actual animal. So he googled.
“Man, I really don’t wanna click that link.” He heard you say. He thinks echidnas are cute. They're like pet hedgehogs but with longer snouts and large mole-like paws. He was lost in his thoughts as he scrolled before hearing you squeal out, “No!! What is that! Why does it look…Like that..?” Imagining you wildly gesture at your monitor brought a smile to his face.
Self-restraint was second nature to him at this point, but bloody hell if it didn’t take all of his power to not google what sheep genitalia actually looks like, especially when you continued, “Are you sure you didn't just come across one that’s brok– Oh yeah I see them now. Holyshit they’re all look so fucking mangled.”
Swearing under his breath, Simon typed the words he didn’t want to type onto his search engine. Regret with a capital R hits him and he was too late to hold his voice in and lets out a disgusted noise that was louder than intended.
His notification bar popped up on his phone from you.
SORRY HAHA i was trying to be quieter DID YOU GOOGLE THEM
i did. guess im not sleepin tonight
thats what you get for listening in heheh >:3  maybe you can traumatise your friends with this newfound knowledge?
:)
Groaning, he racked his brain on how to word what he was going to say in the most atrocious, horrific, macabre way possible but also came off nonchalant.
He mulled over the thought and dug in the deepest crevice of his vest to produce his phone. Soap fidgeted in his peripherals.
“LT, what tae fuck.”
He heard the tied-up man snort.
Oh. He thinks the Lieutenant in the skull mask is an idiot for bringing his phone to the battlefield. This is a start.
“It’s all right, Sergeant. This is important.”
He powered his phone on, typing his password the moment the screen lit up. The battery showed 62%. It should be more than enough. The sim card was taken out and he had one of the IT staff tinker with it when it was brand new. Opening the gallery and scrolling a little bit, he found the picture he was looking for.
He puts the brightness up to max before talking to the man. “So. Do you know what a sheep’s dick looks like?” Not waiting for an answer, he showed him the picture on his phone. It doesn't look like anything but shredded meat. “Yours will look like this if you don’t tell us what we want.”
Flinching a little, the man tried so hard not to react but Ghost can see him breathing harder.
“I don’t have a picture for the second option, but you’ve heard of anal prolapse, right? It’s when the last bit of your large intestine drops out of your arse. Nasty thing. You can’t control your bowel movement, there’s blood and mucus comin’ out, all that shit.” He handed the tools he was holding over to Arthur, the closest one standing to him. “But did you know there’s a urethra prolapse? I can’t describe it very well because of all the blood but it looks like a lil’ purple doughnut on the tip of your dick. Magenta If I can be fancy with my words.”
Arthur tensed next to him, making the dog let out a distressed whine.
“There will be three choices for you today. One. You tell us the info we need. Two, I mangle your mediocre cock so bad you wish I’d cut it off, or three, I make two doughnuts. Back and front.” He pointed downwards, vaguely to where his crotch is.
“Ghost that's against the Geneva Convention.” Soap spoke up.
The man comically nods.
“Nah. If I start using him as a meat shield out there, then it's against humanitarian laws.” came his cold and calculated answer. “Does he look like he’s surrendered? He’s not even hors de combat. If we do this to him after he gives us good intel, then we'll get tried at the Hague. No. This guy fell into a paper shredder dick first you see. Pure accident.”
Gaz cleared his throat uneasily, realising what could have happened with the raccoons they collected a couple months back. “Ghost…”
He stood up, asking for the tools he handed over earlier. Tilting his head towards the man, he commanded, “Soap, take his pants off.” 
It was silent for what seemed like an eternity with no one daring to move before the unfortunate Cordis Die member gritted out the information they needed with what looked like hot tears in his eyes. Soap relayed the info to Laswell while they moved to a more secure place, preferably with a roof and all four walls intact.
Arthur spoke up for the first time as they checked their weapons and placed all their tools back in their respective pockets. He walked closer to the man, “Y’ Should learn about humanitarian laws, does a lot of good in these situations.”
“Oh come oan Arthur, why tae fuck are you teachin’ him tings?”
His face was completely hidden under his golden metallic mask but everyone could tell he’s frowning, “He’s young, maybe if more people taught him he would have known better than to join Cordis Die.”
Laswell had estimated their extraction would not be for another three hours so they all had a little time for themselves. Arthur had let Merlin out of what Soap called “the arse papoose” and the rest of the men had joined in giving the dog pats and bellyrubs. Merlin had been relieved off of work, and Ghost would be lying if he didn’t eye the pup with envy.
Soap approached him with the widest grin he has ever sported on his face while holding onto the top part of his vest and Ghost wishes he could disappear into thin air right now. He has seen the same gesture and expression coming from Price, so he knows he’s gonna get made.
“So… Urethras eh?”
“What, Johnny?” He glared at the Scot with all the leftover anger he could muster, which is barely any since their mission went well and he didn’t have to use excess force on another soldier.
His Sergeant didn’t even regard him seriously and continued, grin wider than ever. Man was practically beaming. “Was the raccoon their idea too, then?”
Soap couldn't see Ghost’s face, but he has been around Simon long enough—been in many dire situations together enough—to know just by looking at his eyes that the stupid Brit is smiling brightly.
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jo-harrington · 3 months
Note
so teeth? really?
Anon...yeah teeth? I'm weird, I'm here for the weirdos.
I've decided recently that I'm going to be a certain actor who shall only be named in the tags arch nemesis. If there's no one out there talking about his false teeth and his stained nails and his disgusting capitalist tendencies, it means I'm dead.
So in honor of a certain someone who'll only be named in the tags 30th birthday, please enjoy the sequel to this weird RPF.
Pairing: Disgusting 30-year old capitalist B-lister who's lucking out on his career x CorporateBadass!Fem!Reader
TW: RPF, Smut, jealousy, a little angst, a little degradation, and he's gross
Tagging @courtingchaos @deathbecomesthem @dr-aculaaa and @tomtomslongdong @bettyfrommars because you liked my games last time.
18+ WEIRDOS ENJOY! NORMIES STAY OUT.
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It came in an email.
It always did.
Forwarded from your work email to your personal email, then forwarded onto his with several question marks. No phone numbers, no WhatsApp. An occasional GChat if you had trouble compromising over different time zones. But generally, your interactions were limited to a familiar face in an unfamiliar place; not casual conversation during normal, every day life.
You joked once, in an Uber on the way to the airport as you were fixing your disheveled clothes after a quickie before check-out, that you might as well sync your google calendars and that…seemed pretty appealing to him, if only someone else didn’t handle his calendar for him.
“Must be nice,” you joked. “Big important star with an assistant.”
“It’s one of my manager’s assistant,” he argued. “And you have an assistant too.”
“It’s an admin for the department. And they only book the travel. They don’t manage individual calendars. Sorry I’m a peasant dragging my cadaver up the corporate ladder.”
Regardless, he woke up to your email one morning—some remnant of your personality from a former life—at the top of his inbox with the word “London???” above an itinerary for two weeks of franchise meetings and property tours around the city he called home.
His city. No coincidences, no “accidental” run-ins at LAX or JFK that the two of you bent in your favor. You were coming for to him. During a week that he otherwise had no plans.
He acted on impulse. Perhaps a little desperately. Especially considering how little he knew you.
“If you want, you can just stay here. I have plenty of room. You’ll have your space. Pretend it’s a VRBO for the week.”
Realization hit him once he hit send. Dread.
Invite you to stay at his house, a house that he was just settling in to being a home. Where all of his things were, where he had pictures of family and friends.
His house.
Where he was someone and not no one.
He hoped that you would realize the impropriety—as improper as it could be after he’d stuck his cock in you more times than he could count at this point—and be the more level-headed of the two of you, as you usually were, and decline the offer.
It took 48 hours for you to respond. 
He thought that meant he was in the clear.
Until your reply blipped in his inbox between emails containing sides for self tapes and negotiations for his next potential public appearance.
“Great, thanks. I won’t take up too much space. I’ll barely be there.”
Followed by the airplane emoji and the sleep emoji.
He got irrationally angry for a moment.
How could you do this? How could you cross this boundary? Partial anonymity…that’s what you both agreed on and here you were…suddenly reneging on that agreement. 
Invading his space.
Only you weren’t invading, he invited you in.
Invited you to know Joe a little more than you knew Joseph.
And he could know you too. 
He missed getting to know people; he chose not to know people. He knew enough people.
Now he’d get the chance to get to know you.
You’d be here in a week.
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And suddenly you were.
Not an email away. Just there.
You sent him a WhatsApp from the car—a necessity now that you’d be with him for a prolonged time—double checking his street. Then suddenly you were ringing the bell.
He went over the mental to-do list that he’d made ahead of your arrival—schedule planned so he’d be available if you wanted or needed him anything, the cleaning service came through, groceries were delivered, and he’d even got flowers for your room…just a nice little thing he thought of—and then he opened the door.
It had been awkward, the initial greeting.
It wasn’t like your typical hotel room rendezvous. It wasn’t straight to business. You both just stood there staring.
“Consider me a vampire,” you joked, slightly jet lagged and weary since you had gone to meetings straight away after you’d landed. “I need to be invited to come in.”
“Of course,” he stepped to the side to let you in. “Make yourself at home.”
You let him carry your suitcase and shoulder your backpack as he led you straight to the guest room. Then you touched his cheek fondly, thanked him…and promptly shut the door in his face so you could sleep.
Well…he at least thought he was going to get something more than that.
But he didn’t get much more than that. For almost an entire week.
At first it was fine. You were busy, and so was he.
He made (ordered) breakfast for the two of you for the first morning. You grabbed tea and a biscuit (“when in Rome…yes I know…but this was part of the Roman Empire so…No I thought it was funny Joseph ok see you later then”) and ordered an Uber to make it to your first walkthrough of the day. He had a copy of your schedule in his email, made sure to run his errands, make his appointments, and hang out with friends while you were busy so he could be there when it was time for you to return at the end of the day. Only to get another peck on the cheek and be thoroughly ignored as you trudged off to bed.
He felt a little bad. He knew those days where they just never seemed to end; come back to wherever he’d been put up only to check his phone and pass out. 
Then he’d hear you around midnight, waking up from a dead sleep and tapping away at your keyboard. Sending communication to your boss or your team or whoever else back home. He didn’t know if you knew he was awake, or if you would venture out of the guest room to find him or get a drink…something. But you never did. Didn’t roam around, didn’t even chat him on WhatsApp; you just clicked away until the clicking stopped and you passed out again.
That’s when he got annoyed.
Because he’d been patient enough; he waited. Waited for something for those first few days. Some kind of sign that you were here with him. He’d sit and watch the telly, pick something from netflix or YouTube, read a book waiting for you to say more than hello to him when he opened the door for you. Have a conversation with him. Something! Sure that wasn’t really how the two of you operated, but even when he still had a roommate and they lived a very separate schedule there was at least a “hey mate, how’d the day go” and it gnawed at his insides that you couldn’t even be bothered.
Who were you? Just some no one, playing at possibly having an executive position one day. 
And who was he? He was Joseph Quinn. Eddie fucking Munson, as much as he loathed it. He had people screaming for him, screaming his name. You even screamed his name from time to time. 
Just not now.
Was he even going to get to fuck you at the end of this torture? Probably not. You’d be off to Heathrow to catch your flight back home with a simple peck on the cheek and a pat on the head.
“Good boy Joseph, letting me stay in your guest room, thank you for the red carpet treatment.”
So after three days of radio silence, he stopped playing such a gracious host. You insisted that you weren’t even there? He would act like you weren’t.
He stopped living his life around your schedule, left you a spare key so he wouldn’t have to make a fool of himself and open the door for you. Got dinner with his friends, drinks with some people his manager wanted him to meet, all on his own time. 
He did exactly what did, he ignored you.
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And that’s what got your attention, or so it seemed.
He saw you “in the wild” a bit more. You and your American lean against the bar at the pub he frequented, wine glass in hand as you chatted with someone in a suit; he decided he’d rather get a beer somewhere else that night. Came home late from a friend’s party on Friday to find you in the kitchen, with a sandwich, going over some contract. You waved at him, maybe a hello or to get him to join you, but he just walked away. Woke up late the next morning to find you actually sitting on his couch with coffee in one hand and phone in another. Your eyes brightened a little when you saw him.
“Morning! I have an appointment at 1, but…dinner?” You asked. “I’m getting so sick of cateri—“
“M’busy,” he cut you off. He didn’t like the way you just nodded, just pressed your lips together accepted it. The way his plans meant nothing. Still, you were out here. Instead of in your room…or just gone.
“Maybe tomorrow night?” He offered, a little more gently.
“Sounds good.” He smiled. “I’ll put it on my calendar.” And the smile went away again, and so did he.
You put him on your calendar like another business appointment; he shouldn’t have felt bad about it, it’s what you always did when you met up in one city or another…but he did. Because this wasn’t “make a run-in happen” this was a meal with the person whose house you were living in for two weeks.
He probably should have asked someone if he was overreacting—probably should have asked you to be honest—but who could he ask? His friends didn’t know about you; they gave him enough shit about his current situation as it was, let alone some American airport fling. Couldn’t exactly tell his manager, they’d have you in to sign an NDA or something; all of the times he planned his travel around “running into you,” he just said it was meeting up with a friend.
So let the feeling stew in his head all day. He came home late again Saturday night to avoid you, and stayed out the entire day Sunday, missing the time you’d made for him on your calendar. Good riddance.
Until he rolled in at 1am, well on his way back to sober after a night out, to find you sitting on his couch, some YouTube chef on the telly, Diet Coke in hand, and his takeaway box of leftovers from dinner the night before on the coffee table.
“That was mine,” he accused. No greeting, just fire as he walked over and looked at the remnants of his gnocchi carbonara.
“It was really tasty,” you nodded.
“I know, because it was mine.” He scoffed and crossed his arm over his chest. “You know if you were really hungry, there’s plenty of other food in the kitchen. Or you could’ve gotten a sausage roll or something. Ever heard of Uber Eats?”
“No I ate your pasta because you told me once that you don’t eat leftovers but you always felt bad that they’d just go in the garbage at the restaurant,” you explained calmly. A little too calmly. “Instead they’d just go in the garbage here. So I enjoyed your scraps, cold, like a peasant, oh King Joseph, most conceited and decadent of all. Because you forgot we had plans for dinner.”
“S’that what we had? Plans?”
“Yeah, I blocked off time for you and everything.”
“Talk about most conceited,” he grabbed the takeaway box and started walking towards the kitchen to dispose of it and this conversation, but you were hot on his heels.
“Excuse me what was that?”
“You heard me, conceited,” he threw the box in the bin and then turned back towards you. “Lemme pencil you in on my calendar, Joe. Dinner, Sunday, 8 o’clock does that work?” He mimed holding a notebook and jotting down the appointment. 
“Have you lost your mind? That’s what I need to do if I want ten minutes to myself, let alone a whole dinner. You know I didn’t even put sleep on my calendar for this trip?”
“Lemme not even say good morning because I have a call I need to get on Joe, thanks for the biscuits.”
“Did you miss the entire point of me being in London when I sent you my itinerary? Or did you think this was just me coming to fuck you for two weeks?”
“Maybe not the whole two weeks,” he sneered at you. “But even a how was your day would have been nicer than being treated like the hotel manager.”
“At least the hotel staff cleans shit up,” you scoffed at him. “You know I went out for drinks the other night, went to that pub you told me about, because we finally figured out a contract and I spilled wine on myself. Came back here to throw it in the wash only to find the machine full of dirty clothes. That was really fun to see your stained and faded tighty whiteys at the top of the load. Were you just waiting for the maid service to come back to start the wash for you? You’re so famous now that can’t even hit the damn button yourself?”
The next scathing remark stopped dead on his tongue at that, and then he felt the shame build up.
But only for a moment, because before he knew it, you were crossing the distance and smashing your mouth to his. It was a quick play for control as usual, neither of you caring that you’d just butt heads because the real winner would be whoever could succeed at your little game first; he was in such a mood, such a state, that he actually tried to put up a fight, wanting to get you to cry out for him like he’d been wanting all week. Wanting to be wanted, needed.
He pulled away to remove the bridge from his mouth, mindful of the complaint you’d made about kissing him last time you’d met up, and you did something unexpectedly delicious.
“You rich rat,” you growled at him as you tugged his shirt free of his waistband with one hand and started working his belt loose with the other. “You better be wearing clean underwear right now so help me god.”
And damn if he didn’t get hard just from your words alone. 
The aggressive snap of his belt hitting the tile floor also helped.
“They should be,” he grinned cheekily and pulled your sleep shirt over your head. “Agnetha did a load before you got here.”
“You’re pathetic.” You worked the buttons of his shirt as quickly as you could. “How much is this shirt? ’S it dry-clean only? Does she take your dry cleaning in too? Bring it back and make sure it’s folded nicely only for you to shove everything in the drawer anyway. Like the useless boy you are.”
Yeah that was doing it for him.
“She washes the sheets too.” He dropped to his knees before you now as you leant against the counter, fully intent on pleasing you right here in the kitchen. “Changed them right before you got here. Shouldn’t be any more questionable stains.”
“Useless,” you hissed at him but ran a hand softly through his curls as he kissed along your abdomen and peeled your leggings down your legs. “Utterly useless.”
The thing about you though was your self-restraint, your discipline. You didn’t like to lose; you’d deprive yourself of things to get some advantage over your adversaries—usually corporate adversaries—and come out on top. And you made that very well known in the bedroom too when this little game got started. You’d gotten him to cum easily the first time you slept together and then used him to chase your own pleasure, commanding his mouth and tongue here and fingers there. 
Just like you were doing now. No moans, just little hitches in your breathing as you steered his head and used the leg you’d thrown over his shoulder to bring him deeper into your center. 
When you got close to completion, you used the upper hand again to push him away and you both descended together. His trousers and pants shoved down to his knees with his shirt bunched up under his head so he wouldn’t be sore from smacking it against the tile when you sunk down onto him. And when he felt the delicious squeeze of your cunt, he couldn’t help himself from throwing his head back; good for you to have the foresight. 
He had the foresight too though. He knew your moves, they made him see the light of God, seductress that you were. You told him your secret once as you basked in the afterglow when you’d rendered him particularly speechless.
“Spell the word coconut.”
“C-o-c--“
“No, I spell the word coconut. As I’m on top. Read it in a magazine or something during my last layover.”
And he could feel it now, predict it. Feel the motion of your hips, around and around and up and down and squeeze.
He couldn’t tell just by looking at your face, he had to feel it; close his eyes and feel the tempestuous slide of you over him, bringing him higher.
Maybe he would win the game tonight?
He wasn’t one to lose either; he could be competitive just like you. In fact, he was excellent at manipulating a situation in his favor. School, money, life. And with you he’d won enough times to know it could be done. You’d made him feel so…meaningless over the past week—even if he’d misunderstood and overreacted—that a win would be even better than the pleasure itself.
You pried one of his hands off your hip where it was clinging for dear life and directed him to play with your clit so you didn’t have to. For a moment, he lifted his head and watched his own nicotine-stained nails and your prettily manicured ones mingle against the engorged and glistening junction of your sex, and where any other time it would have him groaning at the sight, he couldn’t help but notice how disgusting his hands looked in comparison to your own. For a moment the confidence faltered.
When had he last washed them? Maybe you were right, he was gross and pathetic…
But then you moaned, and from his point of view It looked like it even surprised you even. You stuttered in your pace and your eyes went a little wide. 
He felt all the doubt leave him. 
He would win tonight…
He took advantage, used his leverage, to turn the tables. To sit upright and guide you to take his spot; you couldn’t even protest before he pistoned into you, before his fingered took an unrelenting pace on your clit.
He could spell coconut too, and he did. He would tell you all about it after his victory. Boast over using your own tricks against you.
You watched him with unblinking eyes as your nails dug into his bicep and shoulder, as you bit your lip so hard he was sure you’d bite right through it, and you kept the little whine that emanated from your throat as soft as you possibly could. Still, he could hear it through the desperate, wet sounds of your fucking.
He closed his eyes and focused on the finish line, focused on keeping the tension of his mounting pleasure back as he could feel you grip tighter and begin to spasm around him. He needed to win, it would be glorious.
“Joe,” you moaned, and he thought it was over. But there, underneath the neediness, lay the condescension, the obvious upper hand. “Can you hurry up? I have a call at 7am”
He came, seconds before you did. Collapsed against you and spilled inside of you before you found your own release.
On his kitchen floor, spent, laughing together, basking in the ridiculous pleasure found in the presence of one another, another game came to an end.
And he might have lost, but in the end, did he really lose?
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Happy Birthday asshole. I'm following you into 30 in 10 months with a vengeance.
No love lost, The better Jo(e) &lt;/3
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