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alolanroy · 4 months

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Watch Thread 2024 Pt 1

VOTOMS: Brilliantly Shining Heresy: The animation is great and Chirico does his thing. The ideas introduced could've been developed more, but the vibes were there and what more do you want from votoms. My biggest gripe would be that the romantic angle doesn't work and damages Fyana in a way that gives it a hard fail for the Bechdel Test. 6/10

Votoms: Alone Again: By the end they had me, but man, the actual ending is so abrupt that it just killed the momentum for me. 5/10

Votoms: Phantom Arc: I was almost on board for the concept of 'the side characters do a tour of all the locations from the series' as a bit, but once I realized they were just repeating the actual beats of the show I checked out. This only scrapes by using the charm of the cast, but I was rolling my eyes and groaning 3/10

Portal Revolution: Slick UI, well designed puzzles and writing and voice acting that didn't make me want to die. Dare I say? A bit funny? I love using the portal gun to traverse the varied terrain like in this mod and I have to give them a lot of credit for keeping the gameplay veriety up. It even left me impressed by the final boss and the laser cube mechanic I'd love to see more of. 7.5/10

Ninja Terminator: My first true IFD ninja movie, Ninja Terminator made me understand what people meant when they said these were just random southeast Asian films with white guys with mustaches and ninja outfits stapled on. It sure is one of those. But it also has a lot of wild quirks that make it funny as hell in a group watch: Garfield phone, Omega Supreme shows up in bootleg form multiple times, stolen music from L-Gaim and crabs. The source movie looks fantastic though, in a rediculous sense, like the weird villain, cool clothes, and muff diving. However, the fight scenes were surprisingly fun. -8/10

Slipstream: Don't let the first five minutes fool you with the cool and fairly realized post-apocalyptic setting and badass Mark Hamill anti-hero, this movie is boring as hell. 3/10

Super Ninja: This is going to be the lower end of my spectrum for IFD ninja movies. It feels a lot more like 3 movies stitched together, one of them is a mildly cool Rambo knock-off. Otherwise, hard to follow and it never gave me a reason to.-2/10

Yu Yu Hakusho (Netflix): This had me until it really didn't. Right around the halfway point it remembers that it was a modern Japanese anime adaptation and tried to cram the the Dark Tournament arc in. You can tell they had no faith in the project so they just crammed in all the things people liked. I mean, in Kurama's second fight he busts out Yoko Kurama form. I hope this never gets a second season. 5/10

Doctor Who 2023 Specials: GOOD WRITING IS BACK ON THE MENU, BOYS!

A good refresher. More 'Kiddie' than the rest, but a palette cleanser was needed. Points for trying to make a pronoun joke that is actually funny.

A spooky Episode? Haven't enjoyed one of these in a hot minute. good all-ages TV should be a little scary. The kids love it and the adults love intellectualizing it.

The Doctor has his own Q now, nice. Glad they kinda lampshade the character's racist past by having me be consistently racist to everyone. I wasn't fully onboard for Time Lord Mitosis, but allows Tennant to have a happy ending chilling with Donna's family while letting the new series feel more refreshed.

Gatwa's 15th Doctor has a lot of energy, and I think the series needed that enthusiasm back. Not the weird tryhard enthusiasm where the show tells you to be excited, I mean that the characters are just thrilled to be on an adventure.

Pinning a piece of celery to your jacket isn't exactly straight, but I'm glad the new series is really trying to put different types of diversity at the forefront(though I'm glad I wasn't in the UK when this aired, I imaging not everyone was chuffed). Looked fantastic by the way. 8/10

Votoms: Case; Irvine: I would have actually liked to see more like this, but without the mecha, this could have really been any universe. Good character design and the ending went suprisingly hard. 7.5/10

Votoms Finder: THATS IT! *G-Recos your votoms*

An Armored Trooper with safety features isn't a VOTOM. 5/10

Ohsama Sentai King-Ohger: Adventure Heaven:

The fully CG environments are badly integrated as always, it looks like a DLC area in a videogame

The framing device of a long lost childhood friend screams 'BLEACH movie'

No Quarry :(

The final fight has a great monster costume and over-the-top choreography

All is forgiven 7.5/10

Turkish Star Wars: This movie is incoherent and violently funny at times. The reversed star wars footage that implies the heroes are the empire, the lore dump about Islam and the constant reuse of Indiana Jones music...I think this might be the first movie with a negative Bechdel Test score. -8/10

Andor: I'm resisting the urge to make some kind of snarky comment here, I think because I'm so used to Disney Star Wars delivering creatively bankrupt slop, but like, this was incredible. I can't speak for some of the threads that might get wrapped up in a second season, but this really nailed the banality of evil/tapestry of cause and effect thing it was going for. Is Andor my new favorite Star Wars character? The dialogue was good? like really good????? HUH???? 9/10

Vilja in Skyrim: Sorry 2016 Elder Scrolls community, but this wasn't good. It was 2016 and everyone could handle grating sound quality for a modicum of virtual affection. I however cannot, and I don't intend on fully unpacking that she if a little fantasy racist. 4/10

Half Life 2: Episode 1: VR: This may have been impressive at the time, but the first hour being mostly waiting for Alyx to stop talking to open doors is not good game design. Maybe it was just compounded by the sense of being stuck more since it was in VR, but this convinced me to not finish the episodes in VR. 4/10

The Black Hole: It's painfully dull and in a post-Star Wars world I see why people didn't like it. It has some great concept art ruined by a script that feels like it was out of the black and white era, and I mean that in a bad way. It has the aggressively white futurism and inconsequential woman who screams, but none of the charm that can make those amusing in the modern day. The only interesting thing it does is have the villain go to hell trapped in his goofy robot for some reason. 2/10

The Last Starfighter: Hey look! A hero's journey! Looks like someone actually learned the right lessons from Star Wars. I found this to be incredibly charming and a couple moments (and not just the ones you might be thinking) really stuck with me. 8.5/10

Cowboys & Aliens: Everyone lied to you. This movie whips ass. 7/10

Skyrim Saints and Seducers Extended Cut: Incredible what a little story, some great voice acting, and a small open world space can do to make a paid mod pop...if only another mod wasn't required to make it happen. This thing really puts the bandit camp as content trough to shame. Delightful. 7/10

Armor Hunter Mellowlink: I think this show has a pretty good time with it's novel premise of 'taking a gun to a giant robot fight'. I'm probably not doing enough to praise this show, the episodic structure kept if feeling fresh for most of its run. I do think a few skirts a little too close to well-worn Votoms territory (like the battling arenas) but it does enough to differentiate itself. However, I do think that Arity and Lulucy don't make a particularly compelling team and it makes the last act drag. 7/20

Skyrim Creation Club/Anniversary Edition: For completions sake I actually tried to knuckle down and clear all of these and here are my thoughts.

The Cause - Probably the closest these come to being real content. New environments, reskinned enemies and half-decent quest design do a lot to make me ignore the aura of CC content. I'll admit I was even a little excited when the second quest proc'd. 5/10

Ghosts of the Tribunal - Initially exciting, but primarily fetch-quest content ping-ponging between NPCs that can't really talk gets old. I never really felt like I was infiltrating a cult, more like doing fetch quests for a faction more than joining one. 4.5/10

Forgotten Seasons - OH BOY A HUGE DWEMER RUIN, NEVER SEEN THAT IN A MOD BEFORE. Jokes aside it actually had some interesting mechanics and themed areas. A little light on story. 4/10

Player homes - Meh, at most I used some of these as crafting tables, but I have better ones for mods and I don't really use player homes as anything other than a follower holding area. 3/10

Armor sets/weapons - The majority of the 'quest' framing devices are so paper thin, they should have just thrown the armor in a chest somewhere if most of it boils down to a quest marker from a note you need uesp to find. If they were going to put in this little effort, I would have been less insulted if they just respected my time and not tried at all. 2/10

Fishing - I hate that this is permanently part of my load order. I can't remove it. 0/10

Project AHO: A gem of a little mod. While the value proposition of another player home doesn't really do much for me, I had a blast with this self-contained adventure. If anything, I kind of wish it kept the handicap of being trapped without your items going longer because I felt myself doing the rare role-playing in this RPG. Part of me wishes the ending could have incorporated some form of reform or radical action in response to being enslaved by the Dunmer, but I suppose I could have just gone on a rampage once I got free. But instead of bemoaning what it doesn't have, I'll compliment what it does: Solid writing, fun secrets and some cool spells.7.5/10

The Queens Corgi: This is one of those kids movies you shouldn't let your kids watch. Not because of the monarchism (It makes that look lousy in its own way), I'm talking about the bizarre messaging this thing is loaded. For example, the love interest is explicitly a gold-digger stripper dog. When some 90's cartoons could get away with stuff like that, this movie has 0 charm to back it up. -6/10

Demolition Man: The movie is fun enough and the action is a great watch. However I can't untangle this movie from what it has become in the modern day. Knowing that this is genuinely what a lot of people my dad's age think the real world is like now makes me bummed. whatever commentary is completely droll to me. Even on the positive side, this movie can't really escape the modern lens. At least we got baffled by the international version that has Pizza Hut instead of Taco Bell. 6.5/10

LIFEFORCE: I'd love to see this re-edited to let the mystery breathe. Frontloading the space stuff (obviously meant to be in the middle) and seeing 'based on the book SPACE VAMPIRES' really flattened the suspense in a way I found funny. otherwise, this movie had a lot of great VFX and an unexpected zombie apocalypse in its final act. I like it when a movie escalates and surprises me. Neat. 7.5/10

Mission Impossible I: Getting around to watching the first three of these has put a lot into perspective. This one really is the template for that the series settle into with 4 and onwards. Good action and stunts with fun concepts. I good first draft. 7/10

Mission Impossible II: I'll be honest I didn't really like this one. The Y2K time capsule didn't mesh particularly well with the mismatched John Woo-isms. It would have been more fun if it committed harder to either, but it just didn't work for me. Perhaps to undue focus on a romantic plot that we all know will never be referenced again kind of ruined it. 4/10

Mission Impossible III: Are you telling me that Abrams directed this? I COULDN'T TELL. I'm glad the series took wild swings to find an identity though. 5/10

Indiana Jones and the Dial of Destiny: Sauceless. Every element that makes Indy work is not present here. Action? Meh. Music? Nonexistent after the first 20 minutes. Harrison Ford? Rendered in CG with no light behind his eyes. Humor? I don't think I smiled. Punching Nazis? Somehow they managed to make that not satisfying. Maybe it is the forced late-60s lighting, direction, or modern Disney visuals, but it lacks that tangibility that made the originals so gripping. But once again I am left wondering why Disey's only idea for 'Legacy' intellectual properties is to make Harrison Ford's character old, divorced, and pathetic. I can see how you'd try that angle once, but it seems like such a maladaptive strategy for a company that wants to sell t-shirts and toys to adults. Reminding my dad that things only go downhill is a bad way to sell Blu-rays. 2/10

#watch thread

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amadcap · 2 years

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What The Hell Is Wrong With Me?

I try to live my life as a mix between a science experiment and an art project. I think of a weird thing to do with some aspect of my life and then take the results, hang them on a wall and call it art. Some examples of this include interviewing my ex-romantic partners on the radio, planning my own funeral as a birthday celebration, spur of the moment road trips packing only a camera, etc. It’s not an ideal way to live but it’s working for me.

My latest experiment is a bit excessive, even for me. It started, as most things do for me, as a joke about having been single for almost twelve years now and having only a vague idea why. Friends would say, “I don’t know why you’re single. You seem fine to me.” and I’d have no definitive response other than “I’m just a weirdo who doesn’t go out.” or the ever quippy, “I can’t afford it.”. We all assumed it was because I’m a curmudgeon, hence the pen name, but somehow grumpier, crustier people than me are happily coupled. Why not this old man? Why can’t I do that? Essentially with my latest experiment, I hoped to get closer to answering a simple question. What the fuck is wrong with me?

This new endeavor can be found (at least until I stop paying for the hosting fee that is) at wouldyoudatethisguy.com. If it’s later than that and the website has been retired to whatever void old websites go to, the site was basically a one-sheet personal ad. Complete with photos, likes & dislikes, flaws, what I’m looking for and a very cheesy video I made of me giving a tour of my house while reiterating the info on the page. At the end of the page is (or was) a link to a survey that asked people to rip into me and see if what they found was any good. I could have just found a therapist but this seemed like more fun.

I think I’m funny.

So, why do this? If you’ve read this far, that’s the one thing I’m sure you’re asking. Well, as I mentioned, I’ve not been in a committed relationship in about twelve years. In fact, it’s been around six years since I’ve so much as held the hand of someone. I’ve asked a few different women, with very different personalities, if they’d like to date, but each has kindly and tactfully turned me down. Now, instead of taking the red-pill, incel, blame all women approach, I took a closer look at the situation and realized I am the only common denominator in all my relationship woes. So, therefore, the problem must be with me.

Also, if I’m being really honest, I’m just fucking lonely a lot. I work all the time just to come home to my cat, Leonard, who admittedly is adorable (more on that later) but his life advice stinks. I’m far from being alone in being lonely. We seem to live in a time where loneliness is rampant and actual becoming a full-on public health crisis. The UK even found time around Brexit to appoint a Minister of Loneliness. But since I’m in the US, where I’ve been without health insurance as long as I’ve been without a partner, I don’t think that will help me much, so I guess I have to help myself.

So, in a truly scientific endeavor, I made the website and survey, the most accurate and scientific of tools. I tried to present myself as honestly as I could, for better or worse. Both my virtues and my vices. So let’s go over the results and see if we can figure out what makes me so undateable.

HYPOTHESIS AND INTENT

Let’s get the obvious out of the way. This experiment is not, as one response put it, “-a trick to get girls to talk to you?”. The survey is completely anonymous and I collected no data that gave me a way to contact anyone. In fact, I only received one Instagram, one number, one email and one person who left their name but they only did so just to offer their services in making a better dating profile. I, obviously, did not reach out.

So if this isn’t a strange misguided attempt at finding a partner, what is it? Well, I figured if there is something wrong with me that keeps people from wanting to date me, I am unaware of it. Over the years, I’ve asked out at least a half dozen women and only one has said yes. I’m smart enough to know it’s not because “all women are crazy” or anything like that, so it must be me.

So if there is something that makes dating me such an unthinkable thing, what is it? And just as importantly, am I willing and/or able to change it? Survey says-

DEMOGRAPHICS

Let’s talk about who was brave enough to take this survey.

As you can see from this fancy word cloud, this was a real white woman affair. In fact, I only had a handful of non-white people fill out responses. I don’t know why this is, maybe I just know too many white people or maybe non-white people saw the ad I put on Facebook and, rightfully so, thought it was some white people nonsense.

I did appreciate all the men, gay or straight, that responded but there was a massive gulf in the tone of those responses. While the gay men were kind and very flirty, even if they weren’t interested, the straight boys were very upset at me. Apparently, self-improvement and feminism is gay. But I’ll get into that later.

Also, to highlight just how long it has been since I’ve been in the dating world, there were a lot of people who were not a man or woman, gay or straight. I had to ask a coworker a lot of definitions for all the new-to-me things you can be. I think it’s great but I had trouble when it’s was just the beginnings of a spectrum of sexuality coming into the mainstream culture. I must seem so boring. In the Willy Wonka Chocolate Factory of sexual expression, I’m like black coffee and toast.

One of these new (but not really) types that were a big chunk of my survey responses were people who are polyamorous. I found this to be a very interesting and probably a healthy trend since everyone else who sent in answers that were in a monogamous relationship almost unanimously said they’d rather date me than whoever they’re dating, in some sort of “grass is greener on the other side” kind of situation. Maybe more people should start varying their source of emotional support and sexual satisfaction. Food for thought.

DO YOU LIKE ME? YES OR NO?

These stats do not paint a particularly hopeful picture of my romantic future. The graph makes it look better than the numbers do. Only 28% of people said they would date me and most of the ‘Other’ category was “Maybe” and “No and here’s why…”. Also, as I said before, most of those willing to date this mess of a person were in their own messy relationships. As one Eastern European responders said, “I’m just in a relationship with the wrong guy”. She then went on to chastise me for not taking care of my mental health. Sometimes people give the advice they need to hear.

THE POSITIVES

As we dive into the nitty-gritty of this…whatever this is, I have some good news and a lot more bad news. Let’s start with the good news, which, aside from one very nice European woman who said I reminded her of Kuzco from one of my favorite movies, The Emperor’s New Groove, can be broken down into two main attributes people perceived from my page.

The first positive thing people said about me when pushed, was that I’m open and honest with how I portray myself, flaws and all. This I take as a compliment as I pride myself on my openness. If you hang around me more than a few times, I’m sure to share an incredibly personal tale or any emotion and thought running through me, regardless of how appropriate it might be, without much prodding. There are only a handful of things in my life that I’ve only told one or two people and even fewer things I’ll take with me to my grave. But I admit, this isn’t out of some altruistic sense of being “myself” at all times and is instead a way to weed out people I wouldn’t get along with anyway. If I’m unapologetically myself constantly than it is less likely I’ll waste my time around people I don’t mesh with. A coping mechanism if I’ve ever heard one but you gotta read the room somehow.

The second compliment I got a lot is that I’m “so brave” for putting something like this out into the world. Coworkers, who have experienced first hand the conception and execution of this experiment, have expressed a similar sentiment. Saying things along the lines of how they would not be able to withstand some of the abuse I was reading to them through laughter. This is something I wholeheartedly disagree with. There’s nothing brave about being a narcissistic weirdo. Abuse is relative, at least for me. I just don’t care what some Eastern European, self-proclaimed white supremacist, that has taken a few precious minutes out of his surely busy schedule, to call me names has to say. As I reassured my coworkers, there’s nothing they could say that I haven’t already told myself. Which leads nicely into the bad news.

THE NEGATIVES

Just as in my real life, the people who filled out this survey really did not like me. But, unlike my real life, these people didn’t have a real reason to dislike me as much as they professed to. I guess it was more instinctual for them. Regardless, among the sincere constructive criticism, some trends did emerge.

First off, while some praised me for my honesty, others were very put off by the prospect of it. I think this reflects more on the person taking the survey than on me. As for my part, what I meant when I talked about being “…more than brutally honest, I’m unnecessarily honest.” is that I am lazy. I don’t have the energy to tell the little lies that seem to keep most relationships going. For example, if my partner made a big mistake with something and left something in ruins because of it, I wouldn’t sugarcoat what had happened. I wouldn’t offer empty sympathies like, “it’s ok. It’s not your fault.”. But what I would do is be honest as well as offer solutions. Saying, “You fucked up but here’s what we can do about it.” is more my style.

The main fear that people had about my style of honesty, as well as my “negativity”, which I’ll get to in a minute, was that it was a veiled excuse to be an asshole. The thing is, I’ll fully admit I’m an asshole. I don’t need a veiled excuse to tell anyone that. But to me, there is a distinction between an asshole and an outright dick. The difference is an asshole like me is just going about their day when someone inserts themselves into their life and instead of being nice about it, they let their inner venom out. On the other hand, a dick is someone who is on the prowl for someone the can be mean to and fuck over. When someone asks me if they’re annoying and I say yes, I’m an asshole. When someone calls a complete stranger on the street fat and ugly, they’re a dick. Oscar The Grouch and Dr. House are assholes while your hight school bully and Alex Jones are dicks through and through. Aside from the being fictitious or not, there’s a wide gulf there.

I’m not trying to defend the fact that I “don’t suffer fools gladly” as I’m sure my eventual obituary will read, but after working midnights at a convenience store for almost a decade, among a bunch of other reasons, it’s just how I approach the world. I come from a place where you have to be a little mean to get by. Right or wrong, I don’t think I’d be able to change that now and I’m not sure I’d want to. But to those who think both assholes and dicks are the worst, there might be some comfort in this quote from E.M. Cioran that just might glimpse my future.

“We forgive only madmen and children for being frank with us: others, if they have the audacity to imitate them, will regret it sooner or later.”

Along with my uncomfortable level of honesty, people seemed to be real turned off by my so-called “negativity”, which I expected. If you haven’t gathered it by now somehow, I’m a pessimist through and through. I plan to write more on the subject in the future, which I’m sure people will just love, but basically I see life as pointless and absurd and that view of the world frees me up to try and live as authentically as I can. The prism of pessimism allows me to find what I dislike in the world and make efforts to change it. To put it plainly, if you don’t like my no-bullshit-the-world-is-messed-up-and-we-need-to-change-it attitude, you don’t like me.

Let’s move now from the problems people had with me in the present tense and look to my future or, in this case, a lack thereof. One of the biggest of the issues people found was the absence of future plans for my life. It seemed to them that the only thing I knew about wherever I wanted to go with my remaining years and whatever I wanted to do, I wanted to do it without children. The thing is, they’re right. I, like a lot of people, whether they admit it or not, have no idea what I’m doing. In fact, I probably have even less idea of what I’m doing than most. You see, I’ve always been a mess mentally. I have several attempted suicides in my past along with a host of other mental kinks. So I wholeheartedly did not expect to make it this far in life and I had no plan. Boy does it show.

When I was close to turning 28 and realized I wouldn’t be joining some of my unfortunate heroes in the 27 Club, I had what I’m sure is the first in a series of life-crises to come. I was still trying to be some sort of rockstar while living in my parents' basement, working a dead-end job, driving a van and spending all my money on putting out and buying records. I was a walking cliché. So I quit music, something that had previously been the only thing to make me happy, got a “real” job, bought a house with a mortgage and signed a lease on a hybrid in just under two years. I did all the things you’re supposed to do as an adult in America. But now what? Do I regret all the dream chasing I did? Not at all because I have some weird stories about almost dying from it. But I don’t miss it either. Here I am now though and barring any undiscovered tumor or tragic car accidents, I’m not kicking the bucket anytime soon. So what do I do with myself until then? Honestly, I don’t know. I’m just doing the same thing I’ve always done. Taking it as it comes and hoping I survive. As long as I’m not living in my car again, I consider it a win.

The only thing I am certain of in my future is I will spend it without children of my own if I can help it. Being alone for so long has done it’s part to keep me on track in that regard but it has also significantly narrowed my dating field. Almost everyone I know is chasing little genetic copies of themselves around. Part of the reason behind being so anti-offspring is the aforementioned mental problems that I feel would be cruel to knowingly pass on to a kid. I know what it was like to be that kid and I wouldn’t want to risk putting anyone else through that. Plus, kids are expensive and I can barely feed myself most of the time. How would I be able to afford growing a whole human?

People lecture me all the time about not having children. They tell me it’s a phase and I’ll change my mind but I’ve been saying I don’t want kids since I was 15 and I would still go out and get a vasectomy right now if I could afford it. That right there should be the first sign that I’d be a bad father. There are enough unwanted children in the world without me adding to them. When I got to an age when all my friends started getting married and spawning little ones, everyone thought I’d suddenly get envious and want one of my own. When in fact the exact opposite happened. Being around a screaming, shitting, puking bag of germs caused my sperm to commit a mass suicide. I’ve never been happier to be alone. This may seem harsh but I just don’t have that parenting bone in my body. I like having spending money and a quiet house too much I guess.

One last theme I noticed in these responses was a worry around me stating that I “…don’t take very good care of myself, mentally or physically.”. I have no real defense for this. I make an effort to better myself, just in strange ways. This survey is a prime example of that. The only thing I can really say about it is, I don’t drink and I don’t do any drugs. Instead, I eat greasy gas station food and drink nonstop sugar and caffeine. Everyone has their vices and those are mine. I should probably work on that though but I don’t see any pressing reason to. With no one special in my life, who am I hurting other than my own guts?

So yea, people, on the whole, were not impressed with me. But that was the point of this whole endeavor anyway. To find constructive criticism and decide if those criticisms were valid and actionable. The thing is, not all the criticisms were constructive. Which brings us to, not more bad news, but hilarious news.

THE WEIRD AND MEAN

This being the internet, my website attracted more than just the curious and helpful. It also brought out the weirdos, the hilarious, the trolls and the outright nazis. Because of course it did. There are two universal truths on the world wide web. Whatever it is, someone hates it and someone jacked off to it. It might have been the same person.

In an attempt to get eyes on the survey from outside my immediate circle, I took out an online ad promoting it. For some reason, that ad really took off in Eastern Europe and if they’re anything to go off of, I won’t be stopping in Bulgaria any time soon. These responses were vicious and I’ve probably never laughed harder.

These complaints are all over the place. A lot of guys took this opportunity to call me “gay” and other, harsher terms for gay, which sent me into flashbacks of my middle school experience. One word used a lot was “cringe” or “it gave me the cringe” as the kids seem to say. One woman from “right behind me” provided me with the very specific insult, “It might look like something Michael Cera would take as an inspiration for his next role.”. I’ll be sure to call his agent. Another person skipped every question save the one about what they didn’t like and just wrote a single word, “pretentious”. That made me laugh almost as much as the gay Greek man who, in response to being asked if he was single, said, “we havin’ fun”.

Not every joke landed though. Aside from the worn-out, “you’re gay bro” approach, plenty of people left messages I’m sure they thought was funny. Some of them were maybe part of some Gen-Z humor I just don’t get, like the person whose main comment was “[c o n t a i n e r]”. Kids these days, with their meme humor and their snapchaps or whatever. Then there was the sizable group of responses that identified themselves as goblins and threatened to eat my toes. This might have been the more innocent version of the surprising amount of people who identified as “Apache attack helicopter”. I thought this was a strange inside internet joke I was unaware of or some astonishing coincidence but was then informed by a coworker that this a slight again trans and nonbinary people. Everyone knows it’s a funny joke when it has to be explained. These people are a prime example of the aforementioned dicks.

If there were any prevailing opinions among the more extreme feedback, it was a distaste in my politics. I didn’t need this survey to know that fascism and far right politics are on the rise across the Western world but damn Eastern Europe, you’ve got a big Nazi problem. At least a third of responses, almost exclusively made up of straight men, made references to me being an “antifa cuck” or a “feminist cuck” or, to mix it up, simply a “cuck pussy”. They’re a real clever bunch.

Now, of course, this is exactly the reaction I wanted from people like this when I mentioned my politics. Anyone who openly admits they are a white supremacist is not welcome in my life. Some of these dudes had to prove how macho they really were by really digging into me. The best of all these was Respondent #209 with answers like, “You are not cool. Stop trying to be cool. This experiment will accomplish nothing. Get a real job, please. (Note: I made the whole website and wrote most of this article on the clock at work) Get proper education.” and, “He is a failure in life with no future, trying to make something of himself by begging for attention online. I only made this fake profile to show him how much of a failure he is. Please, stop trying to make something of yourself when you are actually a nobody.” and my favorite, “…he is so ugly he deserves to die in the worst possible way.”. He was a real charmer.

Speaking of charmers, other prime examples of the master race tried to convince me to change into one of them. They told me to “bulk up”, get a Richard Spencer-esque haircut and buy a suit. One respondent pulled a YouTube-like move of relentlessly recommending I check out Jordan Peterson, the misogynistic philosophy professor who is problematic for a lot of reasons. My response to him is the same thing I keep trying to tell YouTube recommendations when it suggests Jordan Peterson, Joe Rogan, Piers Morgan or Bill Mahr. “No, YouTube. Make them go away forever and get back to the Marblelympics.”

THE MOST IMPORTANT QUESTION ABOUT MY CAT

Moving on from the worst of people, let’s talk about the best of the animal kingdom, pets. This one was a simple calculation. If you answered ‘No’, you went right in the trash pile as far as I’m concerned. You can have your problems with me all you want, but Leonard is precious. End of discussion.

ANSWER SOME QUESTIONS

I got a lot of specific questions and comments that were not easily answered in the general terms I’ve been using. So I figured I use some space here to go through them, list style.

#28: “Are you down to explore abandoned buildings, go on three am diner runs, wander around?” Yes to all three. I only eat at 3am in diners.

#189: “Have a shower, discover grindcore and go get ’em champ!” My dude. I used to be one of the hosts on WCBN’s The Seizure Experiment. It was all metal, punk, and noise. I once saw Full of Hell in a 10x10 room as part of Berserker Fest II. Who do you think I am?

#200: “…it would be important to know how you treat family relations (too close to family, or hate them, etc)” I am not close with my family. We are cordial at best. Which is fine. We are just different kinds of people.

#211: “Where do we go after we die?” Nowhere. This is it. So stop using some sort of afterlife as an excuse. (And my favorite color is orange.)

#213: “I’m really interested on how you come up with this and why… can we talk? ahahah kiss” See the whole article above.

THINGS I COULD HAVE DONE DIFFERENTLY AND CONCLUSIONS

So, was this a perfect experiment? No, obviously not. The sample size wasn’t large enough and it had too narrow of a demographic. It’s also more than likely impossible to present yourself in the span of one page and a video on the internet. One of the main responses I got was there wasn’t enough information on the site to make a decision as to whether I was dateable or not. Maybe I should have linked my social media to get those follows and have my notification bell rung. But that wasn’t the point.

This complaint about needing more information also confused me though. This site offered much more than your average dating app. Any platform I’ve swiped on, which has been many, you get a few hundred characters and maybe six photos to sum yourself up and convince potential partners to message you. If anything I think I gave people too much information, as usual.

The truth is I have a decent idea what the reasons I’m single are. Mainly it’s that I never leave my house unless that is, I’m going to work. True, I work a lot between the two or three jobs I hold down at any one time, so, therefore, I’m out of the house a lot more than your average agoraphobic hermit, but most of these jobs have been overnight shifts, more often than not working on my own, just like everything else I do with my time. I love going to the movies alone. I love eating alone. I love the quiet that surrounds me when I sleep in on a rare day off. No obligations. No pressure. It’s the kind of peace and quiet and time to self reflect you can only get with no one else around. I thrive on that.

To be honest, the only time I notice how lonely I am is when I’m out in public. Being around couples on the street just highlights my lack of any meaningful connection to anyone, if there is such a thing. As I go out and run errands I can’t manage to do in the middle of the night and I run across enticing people, I have one phrase that starts to loop in my head. ‘I’m going to die desperate and alone.’. Over and over until I fall into a deep depression and crawl into bed for a few days. The only thing that helps, ironically, is being around a couple. All the bickering and the venom and the passive-aggressive nonsense, always leaves me feeling better off on my own. To borrow from Kafka,

“No, if one takes it by and large, I have no right to complain that I am alone and have nobody that I can trust. I certainly lose nothing by that and probably spare myself trouble. I can only trust myself and my burrow.”

I’ve been doing stuff on my own for so long I don’t remember how to do it any other way. How do people meet each other? What do they say? I don’t know how to flirt. Whenever I do go out in public I will inevitably cross paths with someone I think is attractive but I am just supposed to walk up to them and blurt that out? I have no other excuse to interact with them. Plus, have you seen the sexual crime statistics in this country? If I was a woman and I saw a dude that looked like me approaching me, it’d be throat chop, knee to the groin, mace and go. It amazes me that any white men have partners after the shit we’ve pulled the last 2000ish years. Yet they do, but not me. I have no idea what you’re supposed to do out in the real world. I might as well be another species.

My point is, maybe, in fact, more than likely, I’m just not gonna find anyone and that is ok. Not everyone does. Comedian Daniel Sloss has a great special called ‘Jigsaw’ that dissects Western cultures obsession with finding “the one” and in it he mentions how statistically unlikely it is that, out of the seven billion people on Earth, there would be only one for me and they would live anywhere close to where I live. It’s just as likely that I’ll never meet the right person and I have to learn to be ok with that, which I think, on my best days, I am.

One of the main flaws with this experiment, and all online dating for that matter, is that there are just some things you can’t convey online. Plenty of people said they’d have to interact with me in person to see if “there was chemistry”. There’s a lot of merit to that. When you only have some words and a video on a website to work with, it comes out a bit one-sided. Interacting with people, like any performance, is changed and fed by the audience, who in this case is the potential partner. You have to read the room, so to speak, and give someone the once over with your bullshit detector before you know if someone is a waste of time or not. That’s something it’s very difficult to do on the internet.

Now, that is not to say this was all a waste of time and money. First and foremost, I found it hilarious and I’ve done much dumber and more expensive things for jokes. But I also gleaned an outsiders perspective on myself that I will be taking into account in the future. The traits I thought people would point to as the things that are wrong with me were barely mentioned while things I hadn’t even thought of were. Perception is fickle like that.

One thing is definitely true. I had already been told in the past that I have high standards as if that was a bad thing. From this survey, I’ve realized that maybe those standards are there for a reason. I do not want kids and it would be unfair to any preexisting children for me to pretend otherwise. I am a pessimist. I’m a funny pessimist, but still a pessimist none the less and that’s just not something I want to stop being. Also, my left-wing politics are a reflection of my very left-wing values. So if you’re some alt-right cheerleader with a hard-on for Ben Shapiro, it’s not gonna work out. These things are all dealbreakers and I’d rather be kind of lonely sometimes than miserable with someone I don’t get on with at a fundamental level.

On the whole though, I think the main thing wrong with me is that I was so convinced that there is something wrong with me. That’s not just me crawling even farther up my own ass. I should say, there’s nothing any more wrong with me than there is with anyone else. I’m not perfect by any measure but no one expects me to be. I’m not a Prince Charming or a white knight or whatever else Jordan Peterson wants men to be. I have my strengths and my weaknesses but I try to work on those weaknesses when I can. That’s all I really can do. At the end of the day, I’m just a Midwestern punk weirdo who has a rough exterior but cries at movies, reads constantly, eats shitty food and who wouldn’t mind being with someone if the opportunity arrives. All I can do is continue to figure out my own life a day at a time, trying to live as authentically as possible and occasionally asking someone if they’d like to team up and figure it out together. Here’s hoping someone takes me up on that offer someday. Short of that, a big pay raise and a good therapist couldn’t hurt either.

#science #writing #dating #single life #love

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russett-pots · 2 years

Text

Project Making

Kim Minju

Tags: Innocent sex, Virgin sex, teaching sex, Deepthroat (I know right)

Word Count: 5.6k

Part Two: Eunbi's Dinner

Part Four: The Storm Before the Calm

Thanks @iznsfw the advice.

“Ming? Mingi? Mingi!”

You suddenly wake up from your desk with your vision covered by twinkling lights ,as you try to regain your vision by rubbing your eyes.

“Can you tell me when the United Nations was founded?”

Being slightly disorientated, you try to scan around to see any hints on what is happening in class.

“Sorry, ma’am, but can you repeat the question?”

“I asked when did the United Nations was founded? If you paid attention in class, I would not be repeating this.”

“The United Nations was founded on October 24, 1945, in San Francisco, California when the UN security council (which included the US, UK, fmr. USSR, the Republic of China and France) and 24 other nations ratified the Charter.”

“Ummm- that is correct. Moving on.”

You sit back down and go back to sleep, using your jacket as a pillow.

This is supposed to be your second year in university. However, you flunked World History, not because it is your fault but because you and your teacher had countless political arguments about historical facts and opinions. He failed you out of spite. You tried pointing out to the vice dean, and you got your revenge. Despite his tenure, he was fired from his position, and you got your smug face as he left.

However, you must still retake the subject to get your grade. No big deal, just overload yourself this term to finish this G.E. Anyway, you practically should know all the topics at this point.

“I’ll now announce your first major requirement. I need you to group yourselves into pairs.”

The entire classroom starts pairing up with each other. Being the only Sophomore in class, you aren’t familiar with anyone. Sooner or later, you are alone by yourself in class without a partner.

Raising your hand, you shout from the back, “Teacher, can I work alone? I can’t find anyone.”

“Hmmm, it is impossible. The class roster is an even number.” She ponders for a second. “Is there anyone else who does not have a partner?”

Suddenly, a hand pops out of nowhere in the middle of the crowd. “Me.”

Scooting over towards the voice, you get to glimpse an innocent girl with long flowing almond hair. Once meeting her, you extend your hand to try to introduce yourself, “Hello, my name is Mingi? Yours?”

“I’m Minju.” She quickly straightens her back, putting her hands on top of each other on her desk.

“So, I guess we’re working together.” You sit beside this blushing, innocent, pretty girl.

The teacher quickly reads aloud the instructions, gives out the project's rubrics, then dismisses the class early to give everyone time to brainstorm ideas.

“Do you want to move to the library to talk about the project?” You suggest to Minju.

“Mhmm,” She nods and agrees to the idea.

As you both pack your belongings heading to the library, you notice that Minju seems to be very nervous around you. Her slight fidgeting made you assist her with her books, and she tries to avoid eye contact as much as possible on the way there. But you take notice of her behavior but don’t think much of it.

Entering the library, the automatic doors open, and the cold air surrounds you and Minju. The sudden temperature change doesn’t faze you because of the warm jacket. But Minju walks in slowly, shivering, shuffling her feet on the ground.

Finally, after a good five minutes of looking around the occupied study areas, an empty table in the far corner opens. You point out on the empty table and propose to sit there. After taking your seat, you can see that Minju is at this point almost frozen.

“Are you cold? Do you need my jacket?”

“No, it is fine.”

After ignoring her lie, you reluctantly stand up and plop your jacket on her.

“Thank you,” she says, finally free from the coldness of the air.

But now, you can feel why Minju is so cold but show off your pride; you brush it aside.

Minju brings out her notebook for the class. At the same time, you pull out the rubric with all the project information. It is mainly about presenting the country of your choosing.

“Ummm….I heard you grew up in the Philippines. Do you just want to report that?” Minju suggests for the project.

While scanning through the different parts of the rubrics.“Yeah, I went there to study English. Sure, no problem.” You plop down the paper on the table. “Easier to do research, right?”

You begin to find information about where you are from on google from your laptop—scrolling through Wikipedia to find basic facts like Capital, Size, and Population. Then, it dawns on you.

“Wait, how did you know I am from the Philippines? I never mentioned it in class.”

Minju’s face becomes pale white. Stuttering, trying to spit out an answer. “Ummmm….. I have a friend who knows you. She always talks about you.” Blushing and scratching the back of her head out of embarrassment.

“Who is it? And Why are you asking?”

“Minju-ya!” The suddenly familiar voice made you turn your head. Behind you is your friend with benefits, Chaewon.

Minju runs towards Chaewon embracing her.

“Unnie, help me!!!”

Chaewon walks over with Minju under her arms. “Ah- you finally met Mingi.”

Minju moves up to move in front of Chaewon. “Yes, Unnie, we have difficulty with our project. Umm… Can you help us?”

“What are you talking about? Mingi is very smart. The only reason he failed is that he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“Yeah, yeah, Chaewon. I can’t take the professor. I would have dropped that class if only you could handle the class by yourself.”

“Whatever, I passed, and you didn’t.” She teases while sticking her tongue out.

But then, Chaewon nudges Minju towards you.

“Aren’t you going to tell him?” mumbling to Minju

“Tell me what?” You curiously ask Minju.

“Umm, Mingi-ssi—” Minju starts sweating profusely.

“You don’t need to be formal; you can call me Oppa if you want.”

“Oppa, uhhh do you want to….” Chaewon nudges her shoulder again. “Meet again at another time! Chaewon and I have to go somewhere else.”

“Oh, okay, that is fine. When and where do you want to meet?” You pull out your phone to check your schedule and look for any free time you have left. “Oh- I am busy until 7 pm today, and I am….my schedule is full tomorrow.”

“I don’t thin—” Minju says before being interrupted by Chaewon.

“7 pm tonight is a great idea. Right?! Minju.” *cough *cough* Chaewon glares at her, grinding her teeth, telling her what to do.

“Where do you want to meet? We should get dinner too.” You ask.

“Mingi, is your place an option? I know you two can be alone. So, can you concentrate?” Chaewon deviously suggests.

You just shrug your shoulders. Now, both of you look at Minju, waiting for her opinion.

“I think we can meet at 7 pm. We can meet up at the benches near the front gate…..” She quietly mutters, nervously stroking her arm.

Chaewon slaps Minju’s back. “Now, that is a good girl. Minju will see you at 7 pm. See you later.” Chaewon then drags Minju in her arms, bringing them wherever they are supposed to be.

“Bye Oppa, see you then.” Minju waves at you

You wave back as Chaewon and Minju just run off to the distance and then go back to your laptop to continue to do the project.

What were Minju and Chaewon doing?

Does she lik-? Nah, what are the chances of that!

Forgetting about her for a second, you went back to the usual schedule of your endless classes and long org meetings. Time goes on, Minju keeps on coming back to your mind. Even with the short interactions you have together, you can see the innocent and sweet charms constantly find that cute. What caught you the most was the angelic aura that she had with how she walked and how she talked. Before you know it, you fell in love.

As the day ended, checking the time was 30 minutes till seven. You finish your last class, go to the bench—and sit to wait for Minju. Pulling out your phone, you decide to do a “background check” on her Instagram.

After finding it, you can see a plethora of different photos of her, from the coffee pictures in a café with friends to just the random beauty photos on the street. However, her food picturing skills needs a bit of work. You suddenly stop—seeing her and Chaewon on a beach wearing bikinis. There is the figure hiding underneath the innocent look.

“See what you like?” Suddenly Chaewon surprises you from behind. “Who are you looking at? Nah, don’t tell me. I already know.”

You quickly lock your phone, being embarrassed from being caught stalking someone.

She proceeds to sit on your lap and wraps her arms around your neck. “Who do you think has a better body, Me or Minju?”

“I mean, you both look good. Do you really want me to answer that?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not mad if you chose Minju over me. Even I’m jealous of her.”

You push Chaewon off you to the other side of the bench.

Going up to your ear, she whispers, “Let me tell you a secret, you already met Minju” She goes back, relaxing on the bench. “But I don’t know if you remember.”

“Really? Why not?”

“You were wasted, obviously. At least as far as I know.”

“So….What does she think of me? Does she think I’m attractive?”

“Why are you asking? Do you already have a crush on her?!” She looks at you right in the face, teasing you.

With your cheeks turning hot red. “No! What makes you say that? I don’t fall for a person I just met.” Lying as Minju became the first and only exception.

“That did not stop us from fucking each other during the campus tour.”

“That was just physical, and that’s it. It ended after you started dating someone.”

“That is true. My boyfriend wasn’t much fun tho. Too bad I had to end it. He ended up too needy. Right now, I’m not into dating, but I still want the sex.”

You both hear a loud shout with an almost cracked voice.

“Unnie, you said he can be mine!”

“Ah, sorry, Minju. I was just teasing him.” Minju comes holding a plastic bag with the food that she promised. “I think you should go to your date- I mean project meeting.”

“Chaewon? It is just for the project. That is all.”

“Sure, you are,” She winks at both of you, “I think both of you should leave now. It is getting late. Byeee.”

You stand up and walk to Minju, then escort her to your place.

“Here is your jacket. I forgot to return it to you.” Her eyes light up as she passes it to you.

“Thanks. What did you get?”

She opens the bag. “I got some boneless chicken. Is that okay with you?” Inside is the paper box that has the food inside.

“Yup, I’m actually craving for chicken. As long as it isn’t too spicy.”

“Don’t worry; I didn’t. Ummmm, Chaewon said we should get some drinks before we get to your place.”

For that, you pass by the convenience store you frequent, Minju waddles inside, turning to the drinks section. You nonchalantly follow her then as your turn to see her. There she stands at the alcohol section, looking confused about what to get.

“Are you even 20? You shouldn’t be drinking yet.”

“I already am.” She stomps her foot. “Chaewon suggested something. I just forgot.”

“As long as it isn't too heavy.” You open the refrigerator and pull out the six-pack of your favorite beer. “Chaewon and the others also drink this. This is what you were looking for.”

Minju shyly walks away, but a bright idea comes to her mind “I will get ice cream for dessert. You can go ahead to the counter. I’ll see you there.”

With you coming up to the counter, the usual clerk staffs the cashier who sees you every day.

“You have a party tonight?”

“Nope, just a friend is coming over for a project?”

Minju arrives with a tub of her favorite mint choco ice cream.

The clerk looks at Minju. “Oh, I need an ID.”

“What? I have always come here. Why do you need my ID?”

“Not from you; I am asking for her.” Pointing at Minju.

“It is okay, Oppa. I have one.” She pulls hers out.

The clerk does a double check to make sure it is legit then okays her.

Minju then looks down on her phone as she is texting someone.

But then, the cashier subtly points to the condoms on the counter. You wave no. He continues to insist that you should have one just in case. Giving in, you reluctantly toss a box on the counter, then he hides it underneath all the items as you check out.

You open the door to your apartment and hang your jacket on the coat hanger near the door.

“Wow, I didn’t expect a student to live here.” Minju admires the spacious apartment with a nicely decorated interior with a large balcony overlooking the city.

“It is not mine. It belongs to a family friend. He is a pilot; he is typically out for days at a time. So, I usually have the entire place to myself.”

“Is he going to be here tonight?” Minju asks curiously.

“He just left yesterday and will be back next week.”

You both place your bags on the couch and the chicken and beer on the dining table, then the ice cream tub in the freezer.

“Let us eat first; already, I’m starving. I hope you got something good.”

After sitting down, Minju holds the beer looking confused and trying to find a way to open it. Tired of her futile attempts, you grab your bottle opener and *pop* the cap comes off, and you give it back to Minju.

“Is it your first one?” asking her

She nods with her innocent face.

“Take a sip.”

She smells it and slowly takes one. With only the beer touching her lips, her face shows disgust. She desperately tries to remove what’s little on her tongue.

You laugh at her—remembering when you started drinking.

“It tastes like pee. Why do people drink this?”

“I don’t know why either. But I also said the same thing. Anyway, let’s eat!”

“Jal meokkesseumnida!” Both say as you start to dig in the chicken. In your first bite, your mouth gets engulfed by a burning sensation. You jug the entire bottle of beer; however, it did little to extinguish the pain on your tongue.

“You said it isn’t spicy.” After Running towards the refrigerator, you pour yourself a glass of milk and gobble down a cup of yogurt.

“I didn’t get the spiciest one. I got the second spiciest one….”

“Well, is that any different?!”

Minju then looks down; knowingly, she just ruined the night.

Seeing her disappointed face, you try to make her feel better by smiling back. “Let’s try to finish this. I’ll challenge myself. Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, there is something on your shirt.” Minju points out.

Looking down and seeing some of the sauce fell and stained your shirt.

You enter the bedroom and turn to the closet. Rummaging through the different clothes inside, finally, aside from your formal attire, only two t-shirts are left inside. After changing your stained shirt then exiting your room, you see Minju is at a call with someone.

“I thought you said to buy something spicy. You said he could handle it. Also, unnie, the drink tasted funny. Why do you even like this?”

“Who is that?” You ask.

Minju jumps on her seat. “No, it was nothing.”

“Now, let’s continue to eat. We can’t let this food go to waste.”

“Are you sure? Can you handle it?”

“It is fine. I will try to.”

The chicken was still very spicy as you ate it. You take in a large swig each time you finish a piece, it slightly works, but you hide the pain to make sure Minju is still happy. With you finishing three entire bottles in contrast, Minju barely touched hers.

“Aren’t you going to drink that?”

“To be honest, Oppa, I don’t know if I like it right now.” She sulks—drooping down her seat.

An idea pops up; you go to the kitchen again and grab a bottle of soju, a cup, and a shot glass.

“Okay, we are going to play titanic.”

“What is that? I never heard of it.”

“It is a drinking game. I’ll explain.”

“What! I cannot drink this. What more with soju?”

“Don’t worry; you won’t drink if you win.”

“And if I lose?”

“You’ll see.”

“Okay. Fine.”

Rules: Titanic Drinking Game (Skill) (barnonedrinks.com)

After giving a brief explanation of the rules, you start by slowly pouring a drop of soju.

Minju does the same.

But you know your dirty trick. You pour a lot but just enough to not sink, with all of your experience knowing exactly how much before falling.

“Oppa! What did you do? It is going to sink even if you put a drop on it.”

She grabs soju, tucking her hair behind her ear to give her a better view, even with all her effort to only put a drop. But lo and behold, the tiny droplet sinks the shot glass into the glass of beer.

With Minju sighing in defeat, you stand up and shout in victory.

“Bottoms up!”

“You cheated. You said to put as little as you can. You almost filled it.”

“You gotta do what you got to do. Now you have to drink.”

Minju picks up the glass, looks at it, and inspects it. She sniffs it again and comes out the same look she had before.

“Cheers!”

She took everything in one swig and tries to hold it in.

You see her, it looks like she took it all. But suddenly, she spits out the entire drink at you.

“Oh, I am so sorry.” with her hands covering her mouth

“It is okay. I did the same thing too.”

You direct her where the paper towels are while you assess where Minju sent the mixture of beer and soju on you. Due to your shirt being soaking wet, you had to remove it.

Minju comes back with the box of paper towels, pausing for a second, shocked to see your physic.

“Can you pass the paper towels?” snapping your fingers trying to get Minju’s attention

“Oh, sorry” Finally getting out of the spell, she hands over the paper towels to you.

She assists you in removing the concoction that she spat on you. Her hesitance to touch your body gives you a quick chuckle in the process.

But you check on Minju, seeing that she is also wet. “Oh wait, Let me get you something for you.”

You make her follow you to your room and toss her the last shirt left inside your closet.

“Here, use this.”

“Ummm, thanks…. Can you turn around?”

“Oh, sorry.” You turn your back away from Minju. But you take a quick peek behind seeing her back, showing that she really is the girl from the bikini pics you saw from your research.

“You can look back now.”

As you turn, Minju’s phone goes off, and you see a flurry of texts from Chaewon. It turns out that she had been trying to coach Minju on your now date.

You grab her phone and raise it high. “What is this? Why is Chaewon telling you what to do?”

“Oppa!!!!” She tries to grab her phone, jumping but with her arms raised, but unable to do so. “Give it back.”

“Answer me first. What is Chaewon doing?”

Minju gives up trying to grab her phone from you and sits on your bed. “Oppa, can you sit down beside me? I need to confess something.”

“What is it?”

“Oppa, I like you. We have met before at a party. But I don’t know if you remember, but I do. I hope you aren’t mad. It is okay if you don’t like me back.”

“Oh, Minju, I do remember, but you are so naive to think that today will work out. I could tell that you tried. Look, when I first saw you today, I also felt butterflies in my stoma—“

Minju suddenly kisses you on the lips for a second. As she pulls back, she sees the shock on your face. To save her dignity, she runs outside and grabs her stuff.

Before she exits the door, you grab her arm pull her towards you. You cup her cheeks and passionately kiss her on the lips. Soon, the passionate kiss turns rough. Her tongue starts entering your mouth.

You pull out, “Wow, where did you learn that?”

“Uhhhhh, Chaewon told me to do that.”

“Do it again.”

Going back to kissing Minju, you pull her up as she wraps her thighs around your waist without breaking the kiss. You move her to your bedroom.

You slow, let down Minju on your bed and gently place her head on the pillows. You continue to kiss her passionately on the lips, then as Chaewon instructed Minju, her tongue enters your mouth. As it continues, Minju removes the shirt you graciously gave her. Now below you, her breast incased the same nude front-clasp bra you saw before.

You move your hand underneath her pants, trying to get a feel of what’s inside.

But you stop.

“Wait. Is this your first time?”

Minju nods. “Please be gentle.”

“Hold on.” You quickly grab the box of condoms that you bought and remove one from the pack.

“Wait, you don’t need that. Chaewon told me guys prefer raw.”

“Are you sure? You might get- “

“I know what I am doing….”

With her consent, you unbutton her jeans. Slowly simultaneously pull down both her pants and underwear, revealing her shaven pussy.

“You came prepared.” You look with a surprised face.

She sees you and smiles for a bit.

But you first start licking down her meaty thighs and slowly moving down towards her pussy, exhaling a quick breath on it and one lick onto her. You look up again, and the same facial expression was there a while ago.

Minju whimpers for a bit.

“Okay, here I go.”

You grab onto her legs and place them above your shoulders, and slowly but surely move in closer. You give a quick lick onto her folds, gettings a good taste of it. You poke in deeper and deeper with your tongue, and you grab onto her breast, slowly playing with her nipples.

Minju starts loudly moaning in delight. The volume increases after each pleasurable second.

“Oppa, it feels so good!! Please don’t stop.”

You start moving faster and licking the outer edges of her crotch while playing with her clit, gradually moving faster and faster. This is what makes her feel the pleasure, the action of eating her pussy with until your heart's content.

Her moans become louder after each second as she takes hold of the bedsheet. Her hands grabbed a tight grip onto it.

“Fuc-“Minju shouts but slaps her mouth with her hands to prevent her from cursing.

Laughing for a second, you jokingly remind her. “You can swear here. Cursing is the last thing you should be focused on.”

You move up and kiss her on her lips but then go down onto her breast, sucking it while your right index finger is still inside her, now pulling in and out of her.

“Fuck! It is Good!”

You return back down to her crotch but still continue to hear Minju’s cries of gratification. You ignore her screams of pleasure and continue giving the joys of your mouth and finger. Moving back down to her pussy, and now your tongue moves in place of your finger. It moves all around and in between her walls.

“Stop! Stop! I think I need to pee.”

Ignoring her, you only continue to eat her pussy, knowing what will happen next.

“I said stop. OH NO!”

A wave of girl cum rushes out of her, coating your entire face.

“I'm so sorry! I’ll get the paper towels!”

“It is fine. You just cummed.” You say as your swipe the juice off you.

“Oh? OH?!” Minju sits up from the bed and stares into black space quizzically.

“Now, it is my turn.” You grab her hand and slowly move it towards the top of your pants as she snaps out of her mind.

Minju is getting the signal on what to do. Unbuttoning your pants and pulling down, revealing the hardened cock that was waiting for her.

“This is bigger than I expected.” She begins to wrap her small hand around the long shaft present in front of her; she begins to slowly stroke it while admiring it.

“What’s the sticky thing on the tip?”

“It is pre-cum. There would be more later. You can start sucking it if you are ready.”

She kisses the tip before putting it in her tiny mouth and slowly only taking in half of it. Her head begins to bob up and down as she sucks it, placing her hands on your thighs as support.

You let out a huge breath as she starts. Her small mouth is a tiny hole compared to what’s inside. Her inexperience leads her to a few teeth touching the edges, but her sucking still feels great even with this.

She ups her pace, using her tongue to wrap around your shaft, slurping every inch of it. The slurping sound echoes around the room as she takes in more and more of your length.

“Dam, you are good. Where did you learn this?”

She pops off. “Chaewon showed me.”

You both chuckle; only you can guess what that means. But Minju returns to go back on engulfing your cock.

You start to moan in pleasure, having all her mouth wrapping around your shaft.

But getting the idea of teaching her even more, you grab her head and shove it into your crotch, making your deepthroat her.

As Minju begins to take on everything, her eyes water, saliva starts erupting from her mouth, your tip touching the back of her throat, and her gag reflexes begin to trigger.

After a couple of euphoric seconds, you release her from your grasp.

“What was that? Why did you do that?” She wipes off the saliva on her lips but continues to stroke your cock.

“It is called deepthroating.”

“Do guys like that?”

“Well, why else did I make you do it? Did you like it?”

“For a second, I did, but not for too long.” She smiles back at you.

She continues to suck on you, and the messy sounds of her sloppy blowjob aid the pleasure of being sucked by a virgin.

“Fuck Fuck Fuck! Minju! I am going to cum!”

Removing her head from your cock, she leaves a trail of saliva from her mouth as she gasps for air.

“Why did you do that?”

“Don’t guy only cum once? I still want you to umm… you know.”

You sigh. “I have much to teach you, Minju, much to teach you. Anyway, okay, fine, let's go.”

You instruct her to move into all fours on top of the bed. Now with her smooth bottom in front of you. Giving it a good squeeze, trying to get a feel on her. You use the tip moving up and down between the two cheeks. Touch both the pussy and her asshole.

“Please, no anal. Please, I am not ready for that.”

Damm fuck, wouldn’t that be fun.

“I will go in slowly.”

Teasing her using your tip. Using her legs as support, you pull her closer to give yourself an easier time to enter her. Now getting ready to penetrate her, you slowly push in and gently give you and Minju a good feel on what's about to come.

“Argh, it hurts.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No, it is okay.”

You continuously push in and out. The wetness from her saliva from the blowjob and the cum she excreted earlier was enough to lubricate her inside, allowing you to start faster than usual. As you pull in and out, tiny traces of blood appear.

She wasn’t lying

Minju starts moaning due to the massive girth inside her. The vigor of your hips slamming into her ass creates the audible slapping that sounds to your ears. But still trying to get used to your huge cock inside her. She grips on the bedsheets, crinkling them.

You push in harder and faster, forcing her to scream in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your breath is heavier as you continue to take away Minju innocence. A slight sense of guilt slows you down a bit.

“Oh my gosh, Oppa. You feel so good.”

That guilt gets swiped away. Minju loves this.

You stop. “Turn around.” You pull out, then lie down on the bed, and instruct Minju to get on top of you. “I want to see your beautiful face.”

The only response her face can do is blush. The small compliment brings a smile to her face.

With her pussy hovering right above you, she grabs your cock, gets another feel on the size going in, and guides it inside her. She again screams in the agony of the pain and starts to ride your cock, slowly moving up, down, left, right, forwards, and backward.

“Am…. I am doing…. this right?” Asking between each pant

“Are you going very well? You are very good for a beginner.”

“Yes…. Oppa, I did….my research.”

“You studied really well.”

She begins to feel the pleasure again, allowing her to up the pace again. You grunt as she continues to move. Soon enough, she eventually adjusted to your girth. The smile on her face shows it.

Looking at her face as her expression starts from pain to delight. You sit up, going to support her back.

She rests her chin on your shoulder. Her tiring breaths enter your ear, tickling it as it enters. Her small breasts jiggle as you start playing with them while you kiss her sweaty neck.

You tag team on who moves and who rests. But regardless, the pace quickens, and the room gets filled by the sound of you taking two people in love as one takes the other virginity.

“Fuck Fuck, I am cumming. You need to get off me.”

Minju doesn’t stop but instead moves even faster, grinding your cock and pushing it deeper inside her.

“Did you not hear me?”

“Finish inside. Don’t you want to? I want that.” Her plead turns to cries.

With her permission, you take control and start thrusting faster. Her face looks in joy, but her voice screams so loud maybe the neighbors may have heard that she is going on inside. Falling on your back while pulling Minju with you and slamming your cock inside her trying to speed up on finishing her.

“Okay, it is, cumming; get ready.”

You send all your white sticky liquid inside of her, penetrating deep inside. Each round throbs spurts of your cum, sending it deeper into her womb.

You slow down your thrust and your breaths. “You are way better than I expected for a beginner.”.

“What do you expect? I did research.” She pants, calming herself down from what is a first tiring experience for her.

She pecks you on the cheek before getting off you. You can see the cum dripping out of her pussy

“Do you know what to do with this?” She asks

“Here, let me.”

Moving in and inserting two fingers, you try to pull out as much of the cum as you can.

“Oppa, I’ll go to the shower now?”

“Down the hall first door on the right.”

With The exhausting yet pleasant sex with a virgin, you lay down on your bed, getting ready to sleep. Then, Minju joins you under your arms, still naked. She looks at you happily, finally having her first sex with a man she never thought she’d be with. You look back, seeing her smiling face, a gleeful face, knowing she did what she wanted you to do to her. A final peck on the lips before you drift to sleep.

You woke up with the sun shining on your face. Looking to the other side of the bed, it was empty. You get up to put on pants and head out the door.

As you approach the kitchen, you see Minju in your dress shirt and nothing else but her panties, preparing breakfast. Seeing her struggle with cutting apples, you wrap your arms around hers, essentially hugging her.

“You should cut it like this.” While you are guiding her arms and hands. “One question, are we now dating?”

“I hope so. I mean… I want to….”

You chuckle at the rhetorical question. Minju leans in for a kiss, but you stop her, look to your side and let go of Minju.

“Minju?”

“Yes, Oppa?”

“I am not going to date a girl that cooks spam with the stove off.” She runs towards the stove out of embarrassment, but you turn it on before she can do anything about it.

#minju smut #kpopsmut #izone smut #kim minju

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snifflesthemouse · 3 years

Text

Harry’s the Problem. His wife is the symptom. He is the real Diana 2.0 Wannabe...

Since the Oprah interview aired, my whole perspective regarding the spare and his spouse has shifted. It would seem that I’m not alone in my thought process as more and more media outlets start reporting similar stances. Just recently, there was an article suggesting Harry didn’t change; but rather, he is only finally revealing his true self. The more I think about it all, the more I’ve come to the realization #6 is the real culprit behind everything.

I’m not saying that his wife doesn’t have her own agenda or shares responsibility for her part in all this. Her hands are far from clean. What I am saying is it’s finally time for all of us to consider the cold, hard truth. Harry is his mother’s child. Harry is the bad egg, and his wife is only a side effect of the real problem here.

Had it not been for the Oprah interview, I would have never put it all together. The problem with oversharing is too much information gets put out in the public. Most assume PR firms would worry about oversaturation in the press, but the real problem comes from personal interviews they cannot control in real-time. Puff pieces can be edited before publishing so facts and statements align; live interviews cannot. Over time, one of two patterns form from this oversaturation. Consistencies, repetitions, and similarities can be found in oversaturated truth-telling. Inconsistencies, changes, and huge differences result from those like Harry who prefer their trousers scorching hot from bursting into flames from deception. When you consistently lie, the only constant is the inconsistencies.

Now, those of us who have been following these two already know by now inconsistencies and changing stories should be expected. But the Oprah interview really highlighted some interesting things I had previously missed. The interview with Dax Shephard only solidifies my theories. Up until lately, those two have been together through most everything. Very seldom have we seen Harry alone in an interview or speech. There’s never a time where the missus isn’t popping up. James Corden proved that. Then we have the Oprah interview where she was supposed to be the star of the show. But, that was the moment it all changed. That interview was the moment she became the understudy.

Think about it. Who is the one being used in the media lately? Most people would suggest that the impending delivery of child number dos is why the missus is absent. One would then argue the Apple + special with Oprah started production well before the second child was a topic for discussion. The missus is being used less and less on camera or in the media. Everything is all about Harry. Forget about when Harry met Sally; Harry Met Hollywood!

Harry is the one doing the interviews, dropping projects, and talking with big Hollywood names. Even their announced Netflix projects are focused on one of Harry’s pre-married concepts. All the wife has going for her is a book that’s only number one in the “Books written by ex-Royals who couldn’t hack it” category. Seriously though, as of this posting the Bench is #2130 on the Amazon Books list, #12 in Children’s Black and African American Story Books, #73 in Children’s Emotions Books, and #167 in Children’s Family Life Books. Being pregnant isn’t a disqualifier for being interviewed. But, apparently being just the wife is.

So, if it was his wife’s plan from the beginning to marry Harry, get him to abandon his family, move to California, and become a big star with a Prince for a husband, her plans have been ruined. And if you think about what she said in the interview with Oprah, you can actually see the moments she told us all exactly that. She clearly tells Oprah Harry was her direct link and source to the Royal Family and everything she needed to know. She didn’t misspeak or misunderstand a thing; she was telling us that Harry’s next to be markled. In every weird answer or revelation where she gave her versions for why their child(ren) were without title, saying they wed three days before the chapel, or having to cry out to HR since Harry failed to help her while she was so depressed she wanted to kill herself and her unborn child... all of it. It was all just the beginning. It may seem like she is attacking her husband’s family, but Harry’s the real target now.

In just a couple sentences, she managed to reveal who Harry really was. Harry, of all people, should (and does) know how to navigate the press. Clearly, he failed to not only help her acclimate to Royal life, but it could also even be argued he set her up for failure for the get go. Let me give you an example. When my husband introduced me to his family for the first time, he told me little tidbits of information he found important for me to know. He essentially prepped me for the meeting so things went well. He wanted his family to like me because he loved me. I wanted them to like me because I loved him, too. So, I took to heart everything he told me. Yet, Harry’s wife shared with the world how little Harry cared about that. She credits Fergie with teaching her to curtsey, google for teaching her the National Anthem, and even said Her Majesty made her feel especially welcomed. So how did Harry not do more? If they started seeing one another in the early Summer of 2016, how is it Harry failed to teach or explain anything to her prior to meeting his grandmother, the Queen, when he had months and months of time to do so? How is it he failed his wife so miserably, she didn’t even understand basic UK custom, laws, or protocols? Why might you ask?

Simply put, Harry is so much like his mother, all he knows is how to play the victim narrative while using the link to the Royal family as a nonstop ATM machine. Many people aren’t honest with themselves when it comes to Diana. She wasn’t the Mother Theresa everyone makes her out to be. Mother Theresa wasn’t a Mother Theresa either, though. Did Diana do some great things? Absolutely. Did she do them only because they were nice or great? Absolutely… not. Diana’s PR team would even have her switch up her charity causes whenever they felt it was getting to martyrdom level. They’d refer to her PR stunts as flavors. Does that sound like an innocent woman?

Not to me. This whole time we all have seen his wife as the root of all issues, but she’s the side effect. It’s becoming more clear by the day that Harry searched out her. He wanted someone with the basic Hollywood connections that he could capitalize. Someone that seemed so controlling and ambitious it would be easy to believe they were controlling him, too. Of course he knew she would invite all the celebs she did. He probably inspired that guest list. Instead of guiding her in the press and in British society, he leads her to slaughter. He hides behind her repeated gaffes and wokeness to keep on his own mission.

You see, Harry is obsessed with his brother eventually becoming king, being the “Second Son of Diana” and being the misfit. He is obsessed with his brother and father. They are all he talks about. When you obsess on something like that, it is more revealing than anything you say. Harry’s true motives aren’t protecting his wife and children. His real motive is making a name for himself like his mother did. If he can manage to get some revenge by making the Firm feel some backlash, hey that’s a bonus.

While his wife may think in her mind she will be the next Diana 2.0, the truth is we all missed who really will be. Harry is the one wanting to be Diana 2.0. If that’s the case, then that means the much older spouse for whom there are two children with, aka the wife, would be his Charles. Remember, Diana lost her HRH and titles. And we have Harry being very aggressive and pushy, to the point it seems he is trying to get ahead of a Palace announcement of them losing their titles. But it makes sense now.

They aren’t trying to lose anything, but instead Harry keeps opening his mouth to create pressure in the media. He knows his wife does not want to give those titles back. But if he himself keeps saying outrageous things, then it would put everyone in ultimatum mode. Either Harry will push hard enough that Parliament and the Queen will have enough, or the press will get so critical of the two, Harry will push his wife to agree to returning the titles.

Harry is following the Diana business model. While in the Royal Family, they both were seen as rock stars who had more star power the the Sovereign, which was an issue. Then, they couldn’t take all the abuse, coldness, and inhumanity, so they bolted for freedom. Instead of putting the past behind them, they use the past to monetize grief and trauma in such a way, they become their own brand. Right now, the trauma being monetized comes from the past, but the problem will soon come when that trauma is tapped out. He will need a source of new pain or victimhood. Enters the wife stage left.

The wife is a tool. She of course has her own plans and thinks she is the one in control or the genius. She thinks she is the one everyone wants to work with. But it’s becoming clear to her that isn’t the case and she’s been played by her elite buddies. They all want him, not her. They all duped her for him. If I can see it, and I can see her already finger pointing that Harry is the failure here, then she can see it. And that means paradise will soon be lost in those Montecito hills. His wife won’t go down without a serious fight here. I wouldn’t even be surprised if she eventually causes him to lose his special visa.

Overall, Harry hides behind his wife like a beard or shield protecting him from the press’s glaring lens. He lets her do and say whatever she thinks is great so he can keep plotting his own plans. He allows her to take the fall, look stupid, pull stunts people can see through, etc. for a reason. He isn’t completely sure he can make it in his new California life. He knows he can’t if he keeps her for too long, but he also knows he needs an exit strategy in case it blows up. So, he pins the press to attack her as the true culprit. If they split and he has to, he can return home and play the victim of her. If they split and he is doing okay in Hollywood, she can be the reason he plays victim to big named people like Oprah and Gayle.

I can see it now. An Oprah Special with Harry tonight on Apple +. Something cheesy or corny that is almost plagiarism. Like Narcissus and the Prince or something. Watch. Mark my words. Oprah talking to Harry about surviving the marriage while trying to rescue two small kids, being in the spotlight as a Royal while being gaslit by a narcissistic wife… yes I can see the green screen set up now.

I know this is difficult to digest, but I do ask you to try. While his wife is not innocent, she clearly is guilty for her own part indeed, his wife isn’t the true problem. The true problem here is a man who has a serious issue with living in the shadow of his future-King father and future-King brother, and his future-King nephew, that he has chosen to use the same exact attack model his own mother used to merch and marginally disrupt the institution that made her a star. Harry and his mother both wanted the entire spotlight, but both knew they could never have it the way they wanted it. So, they wrote their own victimhood narrative.

And here we are now. Mark my words. Harry will keep pushing until those remaining titles are removed by them forcing the hands of Parliament and the Queen. Or, they’ll push and push in the press so much the outrage and hypocrisy will leave them no other option but to renounce and re-gift those titles and rights to the line of succession. That is what he wants, even if his missus doesn’t. Also make no mistake about it. Harry is the real Diana 2.0 wannabe, not his wife. Keep an eye out. I have this gnawing feeling that soon enough, there will be plenty leaks from the wife about the husband. She won’t go quietly into the Beverly Hills… but neither will he.

#megxit #6 #harryswife #yankeewally #murky meg #diana2.0

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mirrorforevers · 3 years

Text

here, there, and everywhere • graham coxon/reader

this fic is based on two prompts y'all sent me:

and

this fic really tested all of my blur knowledge holy Fuck. blur as talking heads au i guess. how cool would it be if they

1. had a girl bassist instead of the cheese tory dude

2. werent as unhappy as they were in the mid 90s (just a bit)

3. were just a little 🤏🏻 bit more female friendly lets just pretend this is a universe where the blurjob passes didnt exist heh

it took me everything i had to make this sound as realistic as it could be. u know these girls who think they could fix patrick bateman or don draper? perhaps y’all could fix blur

consider this a gift n not only me writing for your prompt, @nottuned! thank u so much for all your support n encouragement n for always bein so sweet 🥺 i hope u enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

let’s see how many references to unfortunate britpop moments y’all can find in this

also i hope i captured the silliness of the gossip and drama in that era well. if you enjoyed it, please leave an ask telling me more! ur feedback is rly important to me 😔✊🏻

tw (?) reader has shitty parents

word count: 7.938 (this one's quite long!)

smut. set in the 90s. au.

You were unlocking your door when you heard your house phone ring. The shrill sound echoed through the empty corridors as you hurriedly unwrapped your scarf, tossing your keys and backpack on nearby furniture as you ran to answer the call.

“Hello?” You answer, panting.

“Y/N?”

“Dave?” You smile, that call was a very welcome surprise. Your friend owed you an answer.

A few weeks ago, Dave Rowntree, your music classmate who became a close friend, told you that he had teamed up with two other proficient musicians to form a band. Dave was ecstatic, and every day he had new stories about his new friends to tell you between breakfasts and lunches that you shared between the countless hours of rehearsals. Even though you weren't part of the group, you already felt that you knew Damon and Graham like the back of your hand. Yin and Yang. One was expansive, ambitious, vain, impulsive. The other, shy, introspective, anxious and careful.

Damon Albarn wanted to be an actor, Graham Coxon had a firm foot in the visual arts. One was a fan of grand classical compositions, the other was a Beatles fan. They had been friends since they were children, in a seemingly unbreakable bond. Damon dropped out of his theater class not only because out of a sudden he had found a bigger calling in music instead of acting, but also because he couldn't stand being away from his best friend for so long. You found yourself often imagining their faces and voices while trying to make all of the wild and endearingly funny stories Dave told you more tangible in your head.

It was not long before Dave started dropping little hints that they needed someone else for their project. “It’s not that Graham isn’t good at bass,” he’d say, “but we could do better.” It wasn't at the top of your plans to be part of a band right now, especially as you were preparing intensely to join the Royal Academy of Music, and he knew it. When you mentioned the conversations you had with Dave about the boys on your family dinner, in quiet wonder and timid want of being part of something really exciting, your parents wrinkled their noses. Focus on the greater things, they’d say. Don’t let these boys distract you from your goal.

Our goal, they meant to say. Since you were born, you never knew if the things you wanted were really your will or theirs.

But anyway.

That dynamic went on for a while, until the day Dave invited you to audition for them while you shared a Diet Coke in the tube home.

“Will it take too much of my time?” You asked, coyly.

“Bold of you to assume we’ll let you in that quickly.” He chuckles, amused by your confidence. You playfully elbow him in return. He knew how good you were at what you did, though, and there’s lightness in his tone when he continues, “But no, unless you let it. You’ll probably have to stand up to Damon every once in a while.” He sips the drink, handing it over to you.

“What about Graham? How much is he determined to make it big?”

“Damon’s the one who wants it the most. Graham’s studying Fine Arts at Goldsmiths, so. There’s still cautiousness in him.”

“Huh. Okay then.” You reply, thoughts running wild. “Do we have a time and date?”

“Is tomorrow ok to you?”

“Sure. After our class?”

“Perfect.” The train reaches his station. He ruffles your hair: “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you.”

You don’t tell anything about it to your parents, you just warn them that you’ll arrive a bit later than usual. Dave’s intel was crucial to your choice of songs: knowing Graham was the beatlemaniac and also the rational brake to Damon’s tireless ambition, you knew who to please and have as an ally, so you build an innovative and fresh mashup of Paul McCartney’s greatest basslines to play for them. Of course it could backfire, but you didn’t care. You had a hell of a good ear anyway and if Damon wanted you to play anything out of the blue, you would improvise beautifully over it.

The day comes. You didn’t know why you were that nervous for an amateur audition. You weren’t even sure if it was the right path to follow, given that, depending on how focused Damon really was and how contagious his aspiration was, being part of a band could really take you out of your predestinated course. The reason why you were so nervous, now thinking a little more about it, may be because deep inside, you want your path to be a little less predictable. You didn’t want to fill your heart with hopes that you might make it big and travel all over the world because you didn’t even know them. But… what if it clicks? You knew some people in the scene whose work was getting seriously recognized out there.

Meeting them for the first time was an enigmatic experience. Damon was incredibly brash and cocky - not the first theater kid you’ve met in your life. Graham was way more approachable, though also a bit conceited when pushed just right. You wondered if you’d fit in that boys’ club, and decided you wouldn’t be an easy target for discredit or any kind of shit they might give you. “Took me a while to fully get their trust. You’ll do just fine”, Dave said, out of their earshot.

That gave you more fuel to play amazingly well. Damon definitely wasn’t one to be impressed quickly, but he was, when you finished your set. So was Graham - Graham was starry eyed with your performance, actually. Albarn showed you a song and asked you if you could improvise to it, just as you imagined. Of course you could, on the first play. You even suggested some adjustments to its structure. Your feedback was welcomed and noted.

Even though everything went surprisingly well, you still weren't sure if you would be a member of “Seymour”, as they called themselves. (You knew it wasn’t the best name, but you didn’t have a better suggestion at the time so you’ve kept your opinion to yourself.) Graham became eerily quiet out of a sudden and wouldn’t cross eyes with you the entire time you were there. Damon, well, was Damon. Perhaps he thought you were too ordinary and mainstream for deciding to play Beatles when he’s trying to be the new avant-garde Jesus.

But Dave's news was different than you expected. “They really, really enjoyed your audition. As I thought they would.” You can hear the smile in his voice. "When can you rehearse with us?"

Months after, on your first gig as a fully formed and integrated band, Damon was hit in the face by a guy twice his size, Graham vomited onstage and you and Dave had to take care of both. A beautiful way to close the already exquisite day you had, after you fought with your parents, got kicked out of your childhood home and gave up on entering the Royal Academy of Music two days after you received your acceptance letter featuring rave reviews of your entrance exam.

Dealing with these boys - no, grown-ass men - was hard, but not completely unpleasant. If it were totally unpleasant, you wouldn’t give up on your entire life to embark on such an adventure.

You - plural you - were so gifted and Damon’s compositions were so good. You could see that artsy pretentious mess of an act going somewhere. Of course, you were a bit lost in your life, but so were they, as you ran from city to city meeting new people and trying new things in your journey to fame.

Loneliness, once a close friend, became a distant acquaintance. One you didn’t know anymore.

You confess you were getting worried, though, with how much money you had left on your savings and how much you were spending lately now that your parents weren’t an active part of your life. Wanting to eat something you cannot dream of buying without that money being really useful in a much more critical situation, not having nearly enough money to replace something important that broke or got torn off was frustrating. Some basic things became luxuries out of a sudden.

One day in particular, you very briefly mentioned that you were dying to eat a slice of chocolate cake, but your voice was so small and everyone was so immersed in their duties you thought no one gave two shits to what you said. Two days later, Graham arrived late at rehearsal with a small chocolate cake in his hands, handing it over to you like it was a completely ordinary act. Nothing in the way he acted told you he expected a reward, it was so natural and… gentle. You knew no one in your band could buy a chocolate cake without it being apocalyptic to their personal finances during that time.

That day, you were assured by fate that feeling lost together was better than feeling guided alone.

The band finally got on track - strictly musically speaking. Personally speaking, many contemporaries who followed you at parties and other events described you as an ever-growing odd, annoying and intermittently disarming bunch - and Blur and its members became household names, at least in the UK. It became harder and harder everyday to impose yourself as an entire industry and its target public aimed to tear you down. Men couldn’t understand.

(Graham Coxon was the one who tried the hardest to.)

It was four in the morning. You’ve got used to following your bandmates to hospitals, running away from trouble or knowing when to relish in it. But it was the first time you offered yourself to clean up dried blood from one’s face, given how much you hated seeing the fluid and even fainted when younger whenever exposed to it.

You, so delicately, wipe the saline solution-soaked cotton across Graham’s face, who flinches at the cold sensation on his still sensitive skin. He stares at you with the eyes of a child, and you couldn’t help but give him a slight, warm smile in return, which he retributes. Your face conveyed gratitude and affection towards the one you were taking care of. Your hands still struggled to stay completely still after the surge of adrenaline your body received a few hours ago.

Being the only girl in a massive band, and one the music magazines and mainstream media loved sexualizing, meant having paparazzis in your window in odd hours (not that that’s acceptable in any hour, but you had to lower your standards even more these days), meant having different photographers trying to pressure you to get into all kinds of uncomfortable angles with skimpy-ass dresses and just count on the intervention of your fellow bandmates so they would stop, also having invasive male fans who would try to harass you in any way they could.

Of course the day where one of your bandmates would get into a fist fight with one of these men inserted into these categories would come. And even though they were all protective of you, each in their own peculiar, increasingly contradictory way, Graham’s dedication to it was sometimes commendable.

You were making your way through a small corridor of people on your way to the stage when a random guy cupped one of your breasts. It’s not like the venue was incredibly tight, it could not have been on accident and it made your blood boil. You turned around to scream at him, and Graham, who was just behind you, threw a punch directly towards the man’s face, without thinking twice.

And oh boy, took a lot of people and a sweet amount of time to separate the two after that.

After all was said and done, Graham had a few scratches, a black eye and a cut brow. He kept dodging your many “sorrys”, “you didn’t have to do this” and other expressions of guilt. “You have nothing to be sorry about, he deserved it”, he kept assuring you, like a mantra, just giving in to your pleas when you supplicated to take care of his wounds during intermission and after the show.

“I get why you did what you did, Gra. I hate that you took such a risk because of me, but I understand.” you say, voice cracking from not using it for a while after spending some good minutes in complete silence taking care of him. “However,” you soak another cotton ball in the saline solution a roadie got you, punctuating the word with a squeeze to the cotton to remove excess liquid. “I was worried sick about you. What if he… had a knife or something? You could’ve got seriously injured. Or killed.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’m perfectly able to have a good fight,” after wincing from the contact of the cold wet cotton with his dried blood, he purses his lips in a forced, shy smile, trying to light up the mood. He notices your hands are still shaking from the adrenaline, and takes one of them in his bigger ones, trying to calm you down. The fact that he did this for you, coupled with the fear and how tired you felt of having to go through that kind of situation once again, made you cry-laugh from how overwhelmed you felt.

His expression changes to one of pure compassion in an instant. “Hey, don’t--oh my,” he gets up from his chair to embrace you as you pour your frustrations through fat tears running down his shoulder.

“It’s so exhausting,” you mumble, through sobs. “Now I’m putting you in danger too. I feel like I did and I’m still doing everything wrong. I should be the one giving you a shoulder to cry on.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong! Anything at all, I promise you,” he says, tenderly, running his hands through your hair, still holding you tight. “It was his fault! I decided it was the right thing to do. You’re worth the risk. What people have been putting you through is unacceptable.”

“I’m not worth the risk!” You break apart from his arms, trying to get your point across. “What would I do without you if someone killed you? You need to be more careful!”

The silence hangs heavy between you two thanks to the weight of your words.

“You should’ve asked me before you lunged at him, at least. I don’t know.” You wipe your many tears as you move towards the nearest bottle of water to try to calm yourself down. “It’ll never end. I’m so afraid that these situations will get even worse. That,” you motion at his wounds and dirty clothes, “is a bloody tragedy. It’s a tragedy things escalated to this point. You can’t do that forever.”

“This is just a consequence. And something I would do for you in a heartbeat whenever necessary.”

“Graham, I don’t want you to get hurt because--”

“They hurt you. I won’t let you go through that alone. Besides,” he comes closer to you again. “As I already told you, I can take care of myself, most of the time.” He takes your face in his hands, his fingers so delicately running across your cheeks to dry your tears. You knew that gesture wasn’t his way of asking you for anything you weren’t ready to give him yet. He just wanted you to feel safe. “And I want to take care of you.”

“I’m the one cleaning your wounds.”

“A great partnership, I think.” Coxon chuckles softly, and finally gets a smile out of you. As he always does. “And they make me look cool, don’t you think?”

“Shut up.” You giggle, still feeling too emotional to return to the stage. You sigh: “Thank you for being there for me. You know I’m still not very used to it. Just please be safe.”

The roadie returns, a little flustered by interrupting your little moment together. “5 minutes and you’re back, guys.”

“Okay!” You both turn to answer her.

“I’ll be. No need to thank me for anything, Y/N.” He answers, giving your forehead a little kiss. “Let’s go.”

“Give me two minutes. I’ll be right behind you.”

“What’s it like, being the only woman in the band?”

Four eyerolls at once don’t seem to faze the interviewer. She waits for your response.

Apparently the thousand invasive questions regarding Damon’s love life and the same bullshit treatment of women as either rare specimen or sex dolls is what pleases the audience of music TV shows these days.

“What do you think?” is what you say.

“Must be a thrill to have these beautiful boys around you all the time. And we’ve heard you never even took advantage of it!”

You don’t like where this is heading. “Is that… a bad thing? I don’t know what you mean.”

“Perhaps some of our lady viewers might think it is. No judgement though!” She raises her hands. “You do you, it’s just that it’s quite unexpected to see prudes in non-Christian bands. I mean… from what we’ve heard.”

“I’m sorry? What are you trying to say? What did you hear?”

Her tongue clicks while she stares at you with defiance and mischief on her eyes, as she goes a little further and raises her voice so it can overlay yours. “Oh love. You do know what I’m talking about. There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin.”

Your cheek burns intensely and the only thing you wished for was for the ground to swallow you whole. Dave and Graham are especially uncomfortable. Damon’s a bit amused. The three knew almost everything there was to know about you. The one topic that surprisingly they didn’t know about is that you’re still a virgin.

They know you’ve been single for a long time. They know that’s part of what draws so much attention and twisted lore regarding you and your past, but that’s not something they felt they needed to know about you at all, and you truly never felt the need to comment about that with any of them, and they haven’t asked. Not even Mr. “the way to be successful in this game is to make all the boys wanna be you and all the girls wanna sleep with you. In your case that’d work in reverse” Damon Albarn.

“Is that even something that should be discussed in an interview about our music? Is that what your boss told you to ask her about?” Dave answers, his tone venomous.

“Musicians are way more than just music. You’re entertainment in every sense of the word.”

“Who told you that about me?” You asked, not sure if you want to know the answer.

“A lovely elderly lady who lives in Elgin Crescent. She knows you so well.”

That’s your mum. That’s how far low your relationship has degraded. You’re not surprised. That doesn’t feel less like a punch on your gut, but you don’t feel like tumbling again. Not today.

“I know who you’re talking about. Tell her I asked her to go fuck herself and burn in hell. In that order.”

“But that’s your--”

“Yes, she is my mum!” If people are going to expose you anyway, then why don’t you do it on your terms? “We’re truly entertainment in every sense of the word, aren’t we. Not everyone’s mum’s a cunt. Some of us aren’t that lucky.”

“You want to be the next Gallagher sister with the spicy remarks?”

“Not sure. But I do want to be the last person you ever get to interview.”

The management of the band wasn’t at all surprised your interview became UK’s topic of the week. People were heavily divided between family is family and we shouldn’t hate our relatives and blood isn’t everything, family can be shitty too. Your bandmates were proud of you. The management was angry but tried to understand, and didn’t press you for further explanations. They suggested a two-week break from everything so Blur could rest their image and start a fresh cycle after that, and you gracefully accepted it.

The whole thing seemed so ridiculous the more you thought about it. Did your mum tell the reporter about that gratuitously? What was their conversation like? How did that even happen?

You became the butt of jokes in some places. You saw other famous people doing challenges between them, countdowns, all sorts of crude remarks. What a pathetic, sad chapter of your career.

You dial Graham, and you feel like your heart was about to burst out of your chest.

“Hey, Gra. It’s me.”

“Hey, Y/N.” He sounds pleasantly surprised. “How's it going?”

“Better, I guess. I have to take my mind off all that chaos though. Are you available right now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve been owing me a movie night for quite a while now and I miss spending time with you. Wanna come over?”

“Aww. Sure, I--um. Do you want me to bring anything?”

“I’m pretty sure I got everything we need here--ah… I think I don’t have any more beers.”

“I’ll buy some then. See ya in a few minutes.”

Actually, you couldn’t take all that chaos off your mind because that was the only thing in it. You’re feeling so nervous.

The main reasons sex wasn’t a priority for you until now were:

You didn’t have any real opportunities of losing your virginity in your teens. You were impossibly introspective until, like, 3, 4 years ago, and the way your family worked hasn’t really allowed you to get really close to people. Be it boyfriends, girlfriends or just friends. Anything that threatened to take time off the various tasks and classes your parents assigned to you just couldn’t be part of your life. To be honest, you still struggled a bit to form meaningful connections with people thanks to how you grew up.

The moment you stopped being shy, you noticed it was a real man’s world out there, especially in music, classical or not. You didn’t want anyone to think you fucked your way up to the top, you didn’t want any messy affairs. Also, you had yourself, and you didn’t get all of the hype regarding the concept of screwing someone. But apparently there’s a lot you’ve been missing, given the importance people seem to give to it. After that incident, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t give in to any kind of misogynistic pressure, that was one that really got under your skin.

You never really found someone who you felt 100% safe with in that sense until the one who’s about to arrive at your house appeared in your life. Bloody hell, and you don’t even have anything romantic going on. By the time you were a Blur member, you’ve fooled around a bit, but not all the way. You knew how to kiss, knew how to touch yourself and even brought manual satisfaction to some random fool you thought you were into one time. But perhaps this is the time to go all the way. Why not? Everyone knew how close you two were. He made you feel special. He was so kind. And gorgeous. And--

You hear a knock on your door. It’s him. Beers in hand, hair somewhat in place, twitchy as ever.

He comes inside and you feel like your legs will give up anytime. It was not the first time he visited you. It was one of many, actually, and he noticed you were acting… different.

“Y/N, are you okay?” He asks after a brief dialogue between you two, after plating some snacks for both of you.

“Graham...” You sigh, being really careful with your words. “What is your perception of me?”

“My perception of you?” He smiles. “I… think you’re great. You’re fun to be around. You’re one of the best musicians I know, if not the best. Why are you asking me that?”

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. Also, I asked the wrong question. What was your first perception of me?”

“Uh… the day of your audition?”

“Exactly. You barely talked to me that day.”

His eyes lower to his own feet. “I was really timid, actually. I wasn’t used to being near any girl, especially one who… w-would spend so much time around me if everything went well.”

You giggle. “I thought you hated me.”

“Never!” his smile turns into a full blown laughter. You melt at his confession. “Also because it seemed like you were trying to read my mind or something.”

“Of course! Because I thought you hated me!” Now that was a laughter you two shared. You do a voice: “‘Why is that pesky girl trying to get in my band?’”

“My goodness, no! I don’t even sound like that - you know what, I changed my mind. You suck. Because, besides the fact you don’t even know what I sound like, you still haven’t told me why you are asking me that in the first place.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he slightly cornered you physically in one of the kitchen corridors. Graham could be really persuasive when he wanted to.

“Okay. Right. Um. I’ve been thinking about some stuff.”

“What, exactly?”

“Everything that happened this month. The great virginity debacle,” you roll your eyes, and he scoffs.

“You don’t own anyone any information about what you do or don't do with your life. Everyone’s being so invasive. That was incredibly childish of the reporter to do, and we talked about that hundreds of times.”

“Yeah, but… you know what, forget it.”

“Tell me, Y/N. I just said that because I want you to know you were not in the wrong.”

“I know. It’s just… I’ve been thinking that maybe it’s silly for me to… keep closing myself for affection. Any kind of affection.”

“What are you talking about?” His brows furrowed in curiosity.

“I’m not sure if it’s the pressure that finally got under my skin, but… I’m willing to learn what all the fuss is about. Maybe it’s silly that I’m still a virgin.”

He bites his lips, still processing what you just said, expression unreadable. Perhaps you’ve treaded a ground you shouldn’t. You step back both literally and figuratively. “I’m sorry I even brought that up--”

“No, no, don’t be.” He assures you. “I’m just… surprised, that’s all. I swear.”

“And...” You know what. You already went too far, so why not go all the way. You’ve already gone way past the point of no return. “I was wondering if… you would… popmycherry?”

His eyes widen, yours still closed. When you finally open them, he’s closer to you again.

If his head was a machine, you’re sure it would be releasing lots of steam and shaking due to overprocessing. You felt like you just ruined everything.

“Y/N, you don’t need to do it if you don’t really want to.”

“But I want it! At first I thought I didn’t, but then I thought...”

“I don’t want to be part of that if you’re just doing it to fulfill weird expectations.”

“But it’s not that. Not just... that. I asked about your perception of me because I really like you, Gra. I think we should be more than friends and I wanted to know what you think about me. And I want to know what the fuss is about, yes, but I’m not telling you that just so I can lose my virginity to prove some point. I’m telling you that because I like you, I want to kiss you, and I think it would be a great idea if you showed me what it’s like. Y-you know, sex.”

“I-I can’t believe it. Did you even have any movie in mind?” His smile’s back, but you’re still not confident about what his answer will be.

“I didn’t. I’m sorry. You don’t have to--”

He sighs. “I was in love with you the moment I first saw you, actually.” He says it like he’s releasing a huge load out of his back, his arms crossed. Now your eyes widen, and you hold your breath without even noticing. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured. I know how you feel, or, felt about relationships, so… there wasn’t any reason for me to tell you that. And what I said about being timid was just half of the truth.”

“Huh?”

“I also was really intimidated by how pretty you looked. You can’t imagine how.”

“No way.”

“It’s true. I felt like I wasn’t even worthy of looking at you, really.”

“You’re joking. That’s mean, Gra.”

“I’m not. I’m really not.” He doesn’t look like he is joking. He looks relieved. “I’m really not. That’s why I’m so surprised by your request.”

“I’m nothing special.”

“You are everything to me. But I can’t accept your offer, not now.”

“Are you… seeing someone? Am I too late?”

“No. Definitely not. I just want you to be sure you’re not doing it because people are saying you should.”

“Graham, I’m a grown woman.”

“I know.”

Graham carefully presses his slightly chapped lips to yours, kissing you for a few precious, heart stopping seconds before pulling away; his voice is impossibly silky when he suggests, “Let’s watch a movie. How about The Godfather? I heard it’s airing tonight. Then, if in two weeks you don’t change your mind, tell me and I’ll be glad to help you with what you want. Do we have a deal?”

“That’s so unfair. I want you so bad.” You whisper.

“Tell me if you still do in two weeks.”

You sigh, defeated. “...Deal.”

You definitely notice the subtle shift in Graham’s personality and actions after that fateful night. If you were already close, both figuratively and literally, it now seemed like he would use any excuse to always touch you, be near you, sometimes tease you. The shift was subtle, though, don’t forget it’s still Graham Coxon we’re talking about - the constant “is it okay if”s or “is it alright if I”s were still there, as careful as ever. You don’t even talk about your deal that entire time, or even kiss again - sometimes you wondered if it was even real or just a fabrication of your mind.

The way he now caressed your hand discreetly when you listened to Damon’s ramblings, the way his hands now went directly to your waist when your games became too handsy, the way he seemed to be madly in love with everything you were and still are from the start - made you realize you were ready for this man to be a consistent part of your life.

The dust of the controversy was settled, and your own intentions were 100% clear to you now. The societal pressure has waned. The need for Graham to be your first persisted. After exactly 2 weeks have passed, you call him again, yearning to share the answer with him.

One beep.

Two beeps.

Three beeps.

Four beeps. “Hello?”

You release a sigh hidden deep inside of your lungs. “Graham, it’s Y/N.”

“Oh. It’s been two weeks.” You could hear the contemplative tone of his voice.

“...Yeah. That’s precisely the reason I’m calling you.”

“Do you still want to…?”

“...Desperately.”

“Ok.” He chuckles, flustered as hell on the other side of the phone, probably one of the prettiest sounds you’ve ever heard. “Right. Ok. Your place or mine?”

“I think there’ll be an element of mystery if I go to your place this time.” You lose some of the constraints this silly shyness has been tying you on. “Do you have everything we might need there?”

“We don’t need a dungeon, you know.”

“The basics.” You make your smile heard.

“I do have… I do have the basics.”

“See you in a few minutes then.”

“Will you want to… ease into it? Or just go straight to it?”

“God, don’t make it awkward!” Your cheeks burn, your smile turning into contagious laughter. “Maybe… I don’t know. Ease into it, I guess? A movie night… but with s-something else?”

“Okay. Sounds good.”

“Alright then. See you.”

“See you.”

You don’t choose any particularly fancy or sexy clothes, instead settling for a slightly oversized yellow striped shirt he gave you as a birthday present some months ago and some skirt that fit you well. He wasn’t one to lavish his loved ones with gifts all the time, but few things were as precious as the look on his face whenever he saw you wearing something he gave you or, hell, even eating something he paid for you. You’re thrilled to see it again when he opens the door for you, it easing some of your deepest doubts.

2001: A Space Odyssey is already playing on the TV when you arrive. Despite it being one of your favorite movies of all time, and his, you’re not mad it was already halfway through when you arrived. It wasn’t your main priority to rewatch it for the 17th time tonight.

He offers you some wine, which you accept to ease the nerves. You sit on his couch, and he shares the cozy space with you, now mindlessly throwing one of his arms around your shoulders. You cuddle up to him, and everything seems peaceful in the world for a while.

The tip of his fingers softly caress your lifted knee, absentmindedly. You couldn’t help but notice how well his body fits with yours, how your skin was apparently made for him to touch, and the anxiety rumbles in your stomach like a storm in a wild wavy sea. After some minutes, you raise your head, his big brown eyes meeting yours as if asking you a silent question. You leaned up a bit more to press your lips to his, in a silent answer. The sweetness in him makes this moment as precious as every other moment you ever shared with him. His hands enter your hair, making you shiver a bit from the unfamiliarity and the electricity of it all - but it doesn’t sway you from deepening the kiss, wanting more of his taste, more of this, more of him.

“Do you wanna take this to the bed?” He whispers, after noticing your moans were becoming more frequent and needy. You nod, and you are taken by surprise when he carries you bridal style to it, hiding your excited giggles in his broad shoulders.

Graham wasn’t exactly the most organized man in the world - so the fact that his bedroom was now impossibly tidy was something that positively caught your attention. He put some planning into this. He lays you down and you part your legs, beckoning him to meet you between them. He does, and you go back to the breathtaking makeout session. You notice he’s holding himself back a bit, taking his time, his warm tongue moving smoothly, not hurriedly, against yours. His self control falters a bit though, given how he can’t stop grinding against you. You follow the rhythm of his hips a bit timidly and not nearly as in sync as you’d really like, though the pressure his covered cock is creating against your core can already be felt and some particular thrusts are able to fill at least partially the aching, wet need growing within you.

“How do you feel about oral?” He asks, breath warm near your ear, his voice raspy and spent by his desire for you.

“Um… It would be my first time receiving or doing it.”

“Would you like me to go down on you?”

“Wow. I never thought I would hear you saying something like that.” You smile, still assimilating the situation you’re in, trying not to show how badly his voice is affecting you. “Sure.”

“I never thought I would get to propose this to you. Aren’t we full of surprises lately.” He smiles back, warmly. He notices your hands trembling a bit from how anxious you are while you’re taking off your underwear with his help, and as he lowers himself to where you need him most, he takes your hands in his as an act of reassurance. “Tell me what you like. Tell me if what I’m doing works for you. I want this to be a great experience.”

“You want me to get addicted to you, that’s what you want,” He chuckles, lovingly kissing your thigh as a reply. “Okay, Gra. Guess I’ll find out along the way.”

You quickly take a peak below you to see the lower half of his face disappear in the middle of your thighs. The sight alone sets your fire ablaze, as he hooks his arms around your thighs and lifts you closer to his mouth, his lips ghosting over the curls between your legs tantalizingly and his breath catching when your hips jerk forward.

As he begins his ministrations, you immediately notice it’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt. That feeling was completely alien to you. It was even wetter than you expected, and weird, but powerfully pleasant. Before this exact moment, you had a firm belief that hardly anyone else would make you feel the same way, or better, than you do yourself, but apparently you were very wrong. Thankfully you were wrong. “My god,” you gasp as the flat of his tongue drags over your folds, too much and not enough, and you jerk at the contact. “This is great. So weird, but-- great.”

He moans at your response, his movements carefully enthusiastic. He works his tongue between your folds and traces up to curl the tip of it around your clit, and it’s quite endearing and madly arousing to see how he eats out you like you’re the sweetest and tastier dessert he has ever tasted. You involuntarily buck against him with a desperate sound the moment he moves his tongue and lips in a particularly wicked way, something that definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by him, but you still feel the need to highlight in case it didn’t - “That. Keep doing that, please,”

And he does. The building of this climax is also different than the ones you already had by your own hands, and is more coy. As he sees the drops of sweat sliding along your soft skin and the expressions on your face as you get lost in this new but enchanting sensations, his hesitation and self-control fades away; there’s nothing uncertain in the way he buries his face in your cunt now, nothing restrained in the groan he lets out as he devours you and drinks you down as if you’re the first stream of water he has seen in days.

His tongue glides deeper in your folds again and again, swirling up through the wetness you’re coated with to tease at your clit while he grunts and strains closer, squeezing your thighs with both hands tight. The wave of heat inside of you is cresting so fast, you don't even know how to tell him, how to signal that you’re nearly done for and, in the end, it happens too fast to even try. He sucks at your clit, circling it with his tongue, once, twice, and then you’re crying out, shaking underneath him, trying to keep your thighs from clenching too hard around his head as he laps you through it with with urgent whimpers and moans, as if he cannot have enough of you.

You’re still trembling when he rises, the look on his face revealing to you how proud he feels by making you feel this way. It looks so good on him.

You fail miserably at the simple task of connecting words together after that, choosing instead to collect your remaining strength, prop yourself up and beckon him again to keep kissing him and learn, through his talented tongue, how you taste. He kisses the thin fabric of the shirt at your chest that covers you from view, your throat, your jaw, and before he reaches your impatient lips, he notes, sinfully, “Seems like you enjoyed yourself, love.”

“That was… unbelievable. Stars, I want to make you feel good too. Please show me how.”

“Keep kissing me,” he begs, voice still strained from how aroused he is. “I want to be inside you so bad. Let’s get you prepared.” You’re still so sensitive, you tread on overstimulation when his fingers lightly touch your clit, making you break the kiss in a hiss. He traces a line on your folds, inspecting the impact his mouth had on you. “So wet for me.”

“Bit slower, Gra,” He complies to your breathy plea, his fingers now more tame as he slowly spreads your wetness throughout your pussy. He stretches towards the nightstand to grab a bottle of lube, interrupting his contact to spread some on his fingers before unhurriedly slipping his middle finger inside of you. The coldness of the gel makes you shiver in surprise, the easiness brought by it very welcomed. Again - the sensation is odd. Completely unfamiliar. The feeling of having something inside of you for the first time, going further than you ever dared to try, probing, exploring; the coldness of the lube clashing against your burning hot cunt. But it also felt nice. The focused look on his face was adorable, he looked like he was a scientist in the middle of very complex research.

Despite the panting, the messy hair and the fire in his eyes.

Your body already has a lot of new sensations to process simultaneously, so when he asks you to take off your bra and shirt so his tongue can work on your nipples - which you gladly accept, you feel like you’re on sensual overload. His tongue, again, so talented, takes your mind off the slight burning you feel when he introduces his ring finger to your soaked, throbbing core, his focused, carefully overpowering and constant stimulation driving you insane.

“Does it feel good?” He asks, voice muffled by your breast. You nod, carried by the wave of pleasure sweeping you.

“Yes. God, yes.” You pant, tangling your fingers tightly on his thick hair as an encouragement, a desperate sound escaping from your lips the moment he reaches a certain point within you you didn’t even know existed, hot mouth continuing to lick and suck your nipple. Even though you were spent by your last orgasm, he was indeed getting you addicted to those new feelings, and even though this was heavenly, truly heavenly, you needed more. “Gra, I’m ready, I think.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

Releasing your nipple from his lips with a sounding pop, he eagerly frees himself from his trousers - hard as a brick - and puts protection and lubrication on, swiftly positioning himself between your thighs while stroking himself to the sight in front of him. You motion to take off your skirt, and he holds your hand, not letting you. “Don’t. It’ll be really hot to fuck you in this.” He confesses, giving your forehead a kiss in a very different context than before. He aligns his forehead with yours, each of your lips just barely touching while you breathe each other’s air. He looks deep into your eyes, slowly running the tip of his cock between the slick folds of your pussy, coating himself in the remnants of your pleasure. “Do you trust me?”

You trust me to know your limits? Not to go any further if you don’t really want me to?

“Absolutely.”

The only response you get from him is a shuddering, helpless moan into your mouth and you hold him tighter to you, grinding your still sensitive cunt up against his cock while he pulls hard at the soft fur next to your head. You feel your soaking pussy lips part around the solid curve of his length and gradually coat the underside of him in slick with every gentle circle and roll your hips make, as he finally pulls away from your mouth to drop his forehead to your neck. He then, very slowly, penetrates you, stopping when he hears the noises you make indicating you’re struggling to adjust to his presence. Out of everything you’ve felt in the last minutes, this was by far the most painful sensation. “This-- is new,” you note, your face completely incapable of hiding the discomfort. He also notices that.

“Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”

“It’s okay. I’ll get used to it.”

“It’s not supposed to be about endurance, you know.” He says, a bit breathless and worried, caressing your hair. “Tell me when it’s okay to move. Or if you feel too much pain.”

After some long seconds and some deep breaths, you say: “Okay. Go on.”

“As you wish.”

He moves inside you at a very slow pace, the lubrication clearly making it easier for you to handle it. It still hurts, significantly, but the sensation of being filled is also surprisingly arousing.

His hand moves to your sensitive clit again in small, measured circles, your little moans being a mixture of the pain of penetration and the sheer ecstasy of seeing him falling apart because of you. The way his chest heaves while the drops of sweat start pearling his fair skin, the furrowed brows and broken groans, the thickness of him as he rests heavy up against your entrance, the way his voice presses deliciously tight in his throat as he gasps out into the quiet room - everything’s making your chest burst in love and satisfaction. You tighten your grip around him and roll your hips up into his cock, letting it break you open nice and slow; it stretches you wide with a deliciously sharp fullness and pleasure rips through you, and Graham becomes even more vocal as he picks up a steady and gradually faster pace. He turned all of your keys, it’s about time you turn some of his.

“Graham, deeper,” you whimper, continuing to tighten your legs and hoist yourself up, lifting your hips to take his cock deeper inside you. His name rips itself from your throat while Coxon clenches his jaw and starts to lose himself in the pleasure, holding you down into the bed while he allows your desperation to guide him to the perfect angle and speed to sate you. He found denying you to be impossible.

He snarls and curses as he holds you down and rails you, determined to make you sing again before he finishes, and to his delight, your heightened sensitivity gives him what he wants. And this time, he couldn't hold on.

Graham kisses you one last time as he groans and gives in, head dropping to your neck again. You didn’t reach a second climax, but stars, what an experience you just had.

When he comes back to himself enough to realise he still had you practically folded in half, he carefully pulls his softening cock free, taking the condom off and taking the strands of hair out of your face as you struggle to catch your breath. You suggest a shared bath, a suggestion he gladly accepts.

Too tired and too sore for pillow talk, comfortable silence falls as your hand finds his, and you lay, listening to each other’s breathing slowly settle.

I could get used to his little snore on my chest, is the last thought that twinkles on your mind before you fall asleep snuggled with him.

#graham coxon #alex james #damon albarn #dave rowntree #blur #britpop #smut #imagine #reader insert #graham coxon x reader #graham x reader #y/n #fluff #au #fanfiction #blur band

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wizkiddx · 3 years

Text

a father and daughter

I don't normally hop on the whole dad!tom thing, but this idea kinda popped up and wouldn't leave me alone. Hope everyone is having a lovely festive period and wish you all well in the new year x x x

Summary: Tom really struggles to get into the parenting thing, and finds it tricky balancing work and his relationship with baby daughter

Tom loved being a Dad. It had only been a couple of months, meaning your baby girl was still very much a baby - yet still he had no doubt, this was the best job one could ever ever do. To be honest he was quite regretting agree to the few work commitments he had started to ease back into too. It wasn’t like he couldn’t afford to go these months without work, which not many had the luxury of saying - but in this industry work agreements were lined up years before and he was never one to disappoint.

Of course, as soon as you both had found out you were expecting, he’d withdrawn from the big filming project across the world but that didn’t mean he avoided the odd week of press, or a couple days flying abroad for fittings and meetings. By absolutely no means would you ever class him as a slightly ‘absent’ dad, you completely understood and when he was home did way more than his fair share with Amelie.

But Tom felt guilty and he felt like he was inferior to you in parenting ability. And you knew that was for one reason and one reason only. He did not have boobs.

You were well aware that as much as you loved Amelie needing you so much and so often - sometimes being the only person able to soother her - was because all she wanted was to drain you of milk. She was clearly going to be a Daddy’s girl, and who could blame her when her Dad was Tom. But for right now, a mere 5 months old - she loved you because she loved your tit.

The first time you had noticed Tom’s growing frustration was right after his first evening work commitment since her arrivel, he’d been on a UK chat show earlier in the evening and as encouraged by you, had taken the opportunity to have a few drinks after with his brothers and friends. By no means did he return late, barely midnight, but he did return just a little tipsy. You were still up choosing to have a little movie night to yourself, whilst Amelie slept in the Moses basket next to the couch. Just before Tom got back though, she had woken up and for no reason was the smiliest little girl. So when Tom let himself into the front door, he was greeted with the sound of Amelie’s little bubbles of laughter, while you spoke in baby language - pulling ridiculous faces and laughing with her.

“Someones smiley” Tom laughed as he plopped down on the sofa next to you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head and wrapping his arm round your shoulder as he smiled at Amelie.

“Aren’t you Meelie? How was the show love?” You asked, as you held Amelie in a sitting position on your thighs so she was staring at you both.

“Hmm it was nice, couldn’t make myself stay for too long though… just missed my girls.” His voice was a little rough, something that happens after talk show and then almost shouting over the obnoxiously loud music in the pub after. Amelie, laughed again at his words, almost taunting her Dad’s attachment to her, making both of you burst out laughing. She already had you both wrapped round her very little finger.

Shaking your head, you passed her over to Tom muttering needing a wee and made a quick escape. Ever since you had her, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave her unattended - meaning you had almost made your kidneys explode holding in a wee waiting for Tom to get back. Yet as soon as you made it out the door, the bubbling innocent laughter turned into screams - but at that point you’d already made it out the doorframe - marking that as Tom’s issue to handle. Unfortunately the wails continued, very very loud and proud, and when you returned Tom was pacing slowly around the lounge with a grimace on his face as Amelie screamed into his shoulder.

“I’ll stay up with her if you want.” You offered, knowing Tom without sleep and having to listen to her racket all night would have an impressively worse hangover tomorrow.

“No I got it, think she needs a change.” Tom countered, even though you were pretty sure she wanted a feed, since it had been a good couple of hours from the last. He noticed your hesitance and shooed you out the room “I got it love, you’ve had her all evening.”

“You know where I’ll be” You smiled lightly, leaving them downstairs as you got ready for bed.

It was after about 10 minutes of thrashing about guiltily in your otherwise empty bed, you gave in to the still continuous screaming. Amelie clearly was just hungry, even if Tom refused to admit it and bring her to you. So with a deep sigh you gave in, swinging your legs over the side of the bed and trudged downstairs. Tom was still stood up, taking gentle bouncing steps as Amelie apparently tried to deafen him. Once he saw you, with a defeated look, Tom offered her to you. Instantly, as if you just had the ability to turn the crying switch on her off- Amelie stopped crying and blinked away the tears in her eyes, whilst waiting patiently for you to offer her your nipple. While you were busy trying to get her to latch on, you just caught Tom muttering something as he trudged up to bed without so much as a good night.

Then a couple months later a similar thing occurred. Tom had been away in New York for 5 days, a little press stint that he had under no circumstances been able to get off. At first all had been well but two days since he returned, Tom insisted you finally had an evening out with the girls - to be honest, after spending the best part of a week alone with Meelie you graciously took it. Oh, and also of importance for context, Amelie spoke her first word while he was away… Mama.

You’d left that morning, your best friend taking you on a spa day before - so by the time Tom called you at 11 in the evening, he’d spent a good portion of the day with Amelie vehemently denying to do anything at all apart from yell- yelling “NO MAMA.” So fair to say he was pissed. You answered the phone with a soft smile, honestly finding spending this much time apart from Amelie really hard and guilt-inducing.

“Hey Tom everything okay?”

“Um when do you think you’ll be back?” He spoke straight and to the point, clearly not in the mood for small talk.

“I don’t think too long, is everything alright?” His tone made you so much more concerned, now worrying that something had happened.

“No no everything’s fine. Just… just been a long day.”

“Okay well I’ll be back soon I promise. I love you.”

“Yeh yeh um you too” He didn’t mean to be short. Nor to make you worried. He didn’t hate you - far the opposite, he hated how much Amelie loved you.

If he was being honest, he just felt like a bit of a failure of a father. As a child himself, Tom had always been incredibly close to his mum and thought the typical rule was mummy’s boys and daddy’s girls stood. So why then, did his child appear to absolutely detest him with every look. Especially because, given the nature of his job, once Tom went back to actually shooting films again he’d be around much less - and that the relationship between him and Amelie would at least be geographically strained. Unrequited love is always the worst and ultimately most painful, especially when it involves your own child.

This underlying and unspoken tension fizzled away for a decent amount of months and Tom went on his first job. At this point you were no longer breastfeeding, but still you knew that purely instinctively if Amelie was ever scared, upset or unhappy she would seek you first. It was bloody obvious to you that she did love Tom, she chuckled away like no tommorrow when he played with her and spun her round the room. And yet, you could still tell Tom wasn’t completely convinced and still seemed , just a bit aware and hesitant.

In there ever needed to be any proof though, it must’ve been how stroppy Amelie got once Tom left. In short, for you, it was hell. You ended up constantly wearing Tom’s t-shirts, not for you but because the mild but lingering scent of him seemed to soothe Amelie when she was fussing. She would never giggle like she did when her silly Daddy was here to be her personal comedian. She had, however, finally learnt how to say Dada - which now she was shouting impressively at every point apart from when you tried to film it. She was a little devil, its like she knew exactly what to do to make you life as hard as possible - keeping you dealing with an unhappy Tom. You tried to tell him, when you were on FaceTime each evening - but no matter how many times you promised, it seemed that Tom had a hard time believing you.

He was filming in Germany, which meant it wasn’t actually ‘that’ far from your London home and after two weeks he flew back for a weekend. You were incredibly excited- not just to seeing Tom, which of course you where; but also ,hopefully, for him to feel some sort of assurance in his ability as a parent. He needed to see her, Amelie needed her Daddy and you… you needed a rest.

That evening, you had had her balanced on your hip as you rushed to make the house look somewhat presentable (because single parenting was not easy) but Amelie had thrown a fit so with a slightly immature passive aggressive comment to your 11 month old daughter you put her on her play mat and carried on. It was a bit of a risk if you were quite honest, she was more than just a crawler - she perfected the art of bum shuffling and was starting to on occasion try to stand up. But you were in the same room so surely little harm could come to her in the ‘over-the-top-ly’ baby proofed living room - Tom’s doing of course.

So keeping one eye on Amelie and the other on the almost terrifyingly big stack of discarded toys you set about tidying up. It was all going swimmingly until your thoughts about how on earth you were going to hide all the crap were abruptly interrupted with a garbled screech of “DADA!”

You instantly whipped your head round to watch Amelie stumble and basically throw herself the couple of steps to the doorway where Tom stood. You had absolutely no clue how long he’d been standing there but that was all insignificant watching him sweep you little girl into his arms, before she could career to the floor (headfirst of course). His eyes were bugging out of his head, as she giggled and laughed in his strong grasp before astutely throwing her head into the crook of his neck, demanding to be cuddled by him.

It was almost hilarious, how utterly shocked Tom looked at the real life proof that his baby girl had missed him. Once he met your eyes he used the hand supporting Amelies back to point at her in a questioning manner, making you roll your eyes at just how oblivious and stubborn he is.

“She’s missed her Dad!” You smiled, as you walked toward him and pecked his lips. “You got this down here if I finally get some peace upstairs?”

Because yes, you’d missed your husband and wanted to spend all night wrapped in his arms. But really? There was a more important way the evening should pass, finally Tom getting his moment with Amelie. So without so much as even a ‘how was your flight’ you left the two in the living room - you making a beeline to the bath, for just a moment to yourself.

It was perhaps even a little shocking to yourself that you were so confident you could leave them alone for the evening. Because really, if Amelie started acting up suddenly again, this could be where Tom’s confidence as a dad goes from ‘ropey at best’ to ‘non-existent’. Except you were so certain in the fact that just wouldn’t happen. If she was hungry she’d take the bottle from Tom (which she never did from you without arguement ).

And so you had possible the most relaxing time in the bath - actually alone for the first time in two weeks.

It wasn’t until you quietly walked down the stairs two hours later that you got a bit suspicious of the silence downstairs. Cautiously you peered your head round the doorframe and you didn’t even try to stifle the beaming smile spread across your face. Because there was your husband, lying semi-reclined on the arm of the sofa, his arms wrapped protectively round Amelie who looked incredibly content snuggled up to her dad at last. They were both fast asleep and the sight was just so sweet it actually hurt your heart, meaning only naturally you had sneak a picture of them both. It was infuriating how you knew you had to wake him up - it is a little irresponsible to leave her lying on top of him on the couch and you kinda wanted to cuddle up to Tom this evening too.

So with a gentle touch rubbing and down his right arm it only took a moment or two till he suddenly blinked his eyes open, eyes looking quickly between your eyes and Amelie - his grasp on her had instinctively tightened a little.

“Hey” You whispered softly, watching him notice how calm Amelie looked on his chest.

“Mhmm hey.” His voice was slightly croaky, probably from the exhaustion of two weeks of hard work.

“You guys friends then?” You whispered while combing your ginger nails though Amelies little curls at the base of her neck - she was most deifnetly a Holland.

“She did really miss me?” Tom asked, still half not believing as he shuffled up on the sofa so he was sitting more upright.

“To the point she had me wrapping the pillows in your unwashed t-shirts.” You giggled as his bottom lip pouted into a visible ‘awh’.

“Come on lets get you both to bed.”

Without much complaint, but keeping her in his arms, Tom nodded and followed you up to bed. But that night instead of getting your way and having Tom cuddling you, he pouted until you let him lie Amelie down in the middle of the bed between you two .

But seeing the way he grinned at her in the dark, almost fighting to stay awake as he looked at her, the prospect seemed a lot more attractive.

And that was more than fine by you.

#tomholland #tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #dad!tom #happynewyear

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sinkix · 4 years

Text

- What your fav Haikyuu!! Character says about you│Karasuno edition -

Obviously these aren’t meant to be taken too seriously lol. I’ll probably make this into a series at some point where I include the other teams idk this took me way too long to do JWIDJQENWKJQFN WE’LL SEE. ENJOY! <3

2D men are infinitely superior I said what I said.

Hinata:

A sucker for motivational speeches or quotes and they always get you hyped up.

Very ambitious and positive despite frequently getting lost in life

Not as innocent as you seem but still a cinnamon roll lololol

You probably eat fruit as a regular snack n ppl judge you for it

Highkey a dumbass but in a very endearing way so people can’t help but like you

Summer is probs ur fave season

Definitely own several plushies and definitely get defensive about it

The friend people go to when they need cheering up.

You either go to bed at 8pm or 3am no in between.

Your texting style consists of several messages as opposed to one paragraph/sentence with the use of MANY emojis.

You 100% fuck with pineapple on pizza.

Got your head stuck in a cat flap that one time.

Have a hella low alcohol tolerance or don’t drink at all.

Hella clueless when it comes to people flirting with you, they have to hold a neon sign in front of you for you to get the message

“Oh you were flirting with me?” “I was every day for 5 months but thanks for finally noticing”

Definition of a tab hoarder, your pc/laptop frequently crashes because it can’t handle that many but you refuse to get rid of any.

Always get toothpaste stains on your shirt no matter how careful you are.

“Wait we had homework???”

Nishinoya:

You often get random bursts of energy outta nowhere or at 2am and have no clue how to handle it

You can’t help but head bang and scream the lyrics to your fav songs.

Probably have a hella diverse music taste.

Likely an active/outdoorsy person who either does sports or wants to.

Vvv loyal, type of friend you can call in the middle of the night and you’ll be there.

Chaotic good or Chaotic neutral.

You’re either one of the most responsible people in the room or one of the most fuckin chaotic and irresponsible lmao no in between it just depends on your mood.

Frequently pull all nighter’s and doesn’t even feel guilty about it

Chug soda like it’s water.

An extrovert or one of those introverts that are bat-shit once you actually get to know them.

You have zero shame, can and will run across the street stark naked for a cheeseburger and a can of sprite.

Like fuck yeah who wouldn’t for a burger and some sprite y’know??

Despite being a whirlwind you are actually a hella chill person to have as company.

You own a skateboard or want to.

Own at least one pair of converses or vans.

Probably have a bucket list or tons of future plans for travelling/adventures stored in your head.

You really want a dog and would call it something like Dexter or Human Destroyer 9000.

Likely have had several hair colour phases.

A slut for doritos.

You ate glue once as a kid and it was kinda okay and that fact still haunts you.

Tanaka:

Listen to rap more than any other genre and ur playlist is fire

Punched dry wall that one time

Probably have several piercings and plan on getting more

Prefer sports bras to regular ones.

Intimidates outsiders but your friends don’t take you seriously in the slightest lmaoaoaooa

Ppl find it hard to approach you but you’re actually super chill so you get sad

Definition of that Kanye meme “before you talk to me” >:( “after you talk to me” :)

Probably don’t trust people easily

Type of person that once you’re challenged/dared to do something they WILL do it regardless of how stupid bc you hate being called a pussy.

Went through a phase where you only listened to Eminem.

Probably is/was the class clown or wished they were.

You have virtually no patience and a pretty short temper lmao.

You’re a go-getter and hate being told you can’t do something

Definitely snuck out the house several times as a teen.

Walks barefoot outside a lot bc fuck shoes lol

The pairs of shoes you do own are mostly worn down sneakers you refuse to swap out.

You’re that asshole that wears socks with holes in for the sport of it and it doesn’t phase you in the slightest. (dw I do too lmaooao)

Could probably bench press someone’s dad

Enjoy’s drinking coffee.

Kageyama:

Such a picky eater bitch god damn.

Usually hella hydrated and judge people that don’t drink enough water.

Eats spoonfuls of chocolate nesquik powder when no one is looking I said what I said

You like stoic and Tsundere guys who have the outer emotional capacity of a brick wall.

You’re probably the same in that sense and don’t enjoy letting people know what you’re thinking/feeling

Poker face 90% of the time

Type of person to pretend not to find a joke funny but then crumble and start crying with laughter.

Probs an introvert

Once when someone asked you what you wanted for Christmas you responded “to be left the fuck alone” and it still applies to this day.

like fr you just wanna be left alone man but ppl keep bothering you.

You HATE it when people tell you to smile and quite literally take it as an insult.

Your bedtime is 9pm and you stick by it religiously

Always smell really good like damn what you got on??

The most you do with your hair if it’s long enough is throw it in a pony tail and call it a day.

Either have really nicely manicured nails or you’v chewed them down to the nub no in between.

You hate to admit it but you doubt yourself a lot and it really frustrates you.

Probably wet the bed a lot as a kid and you’re still salty about it.

lololol bed-wetter Kags lover

Audibly snorted typing that I’m sorry.

Probably had a ._. face reading that since ur usually hella unamused.

Cute awkward dork though behind that facade it’s just most people don’t see it.

So critical of yourself like chill

An earth sign or an Aquarius idc.

Do not know how to reciprocate a hug but desperately need one

When people flirt with you you somehow manage to make them intimidated with your responses and scare them off.

You called your teacher “mum/dad” once and you get Vietnam flashbacks to this day.

Daichi:

You probably have a daddy kink and lowkey daddy issues with it

Very supportive friend who has a lotta patience

Hella determined and humble.

Mostly wear black because it’s just much easier than colour coordinating and plus you just prefer the simplicity, but you’re pretty vibrant as a person.

The one who stays sober at parties to drive the others home.

Probably haven’t been in many relationships but still do enjoy romance.

seems stern but is actually very friendly and enjoy company bc you don’t like spending too much time by yourself.

Honestly just wants to chill out, go to bed and read a book.

A coffee connessieur but mostly just drinks instant bc ur too lazy to make it properly and just drink it black.

Very reliable.

Often get stuck with most of the work during group projects lololol

People frequently ask you for the answers to the homework/assignment and it really depends on your mood and how charitable you’re feeling as to whether you’ll lend it to them

Low-key a sadist.

100% Old soul

Despite this you are a fuckin dork and have quite an immature but really funny sense of humour.

You have a thigh kink.

Def grew up reading wattpad smut and most of ur sexual knowledge stems from that

probably prefer manga to animated versions

Absolute pro at winged eyeliner and looks v good in it.

Probably give lectures even without realising it.

Shamelessly watches the nature channel for hours on end and what of it.

Honestly just done with everyone’s shit lmao

Sugawara:

Either are the mom friend or the one the mom friend has to look after.

You vibe with pastel colours

Your fav season is either spring or autumn.

oversized hoodies and knitted sweaters are your vibe.

Enjoy drinking herbal tea

Likes the smell of rain and will purposely step outside after a storm and S N O R T the smell of damp concrete. (srry if ur from some dry ass place like nevada lmao it rains alot in the UK soooOOOoO)

Quiet but have a really creative imagination and has one HELL of a loud voice when they’re pissed off

like,, I wouldn’t dare get on ur nerves ion want my ear drums bursting damn.

Hoards flavoured chapsticks and scented lip gloss

Either did or still have your Harry Potter house in your bio and it was probably Hufflepuff.

Gives people advice that they are fully aware also applies to themselves but doesn’t follow it LMAO.

Listens to K-pop and several Korean and Japanese genres.

Played a dating sim once and you enjoyed it but ur still ashamed and refuse to ever talk about it.

Smells like lavender or something hella floral

Probably reads a lot of Yaoi and no one else knows but you.

Would 100% own a chinchilla

Read Killing Stalking and it messed you up for weeks.

Asahi:

The one who was trying to flirt for months and the other person never got the hint

Probably a really pretty crier and vibe with the mascara running aesthetic.

You tear up easily lol.

Probably a water sign.

Low-key a bad bitch though

Looks really good in red lipstick

That one person who’s v attractive but completely unaware and v insecure.

That one friend who seems so soft and innocent but can turn into a banshee when need be.

Crying is your therapy.

You overthink a LOT and it often stops you from achieving what you want.

Actually have a lot of willpower despite ur sensitivity.

Was def a pushover as a kid and still have a chip on your shoulder about it.

Hella artsy and day dreams a lot.

You attract broken souls and often get turned to when people’s problems need fixing yet you’re a total mess yourself

Listens to Girl in red while questioning your sexuality

which you do a lot.

You hate being put in a box or labelled.

Gave up on that hobby that one time and you really wanna get back into it.

Always have at least one hair tie on your wrist that’s basically an accessory at this point.

Own a phat ass fish tank with hella pretty fishes bro it’s such a vibe say hi to Nemo for me.

Yamaguchi:

Too scared to ask for extra ketchup packets so you get your friend to ask instead.

Probably have anxiety.

The time you stuttered once when introducing yourself frequently gives you cringe attacks.

Major animal lover and prefers them to people.

Talked to a tree once and it was a pretty cool experience.

Wear a lot of pink or cute colours and radiate babi energy.

Likely wear skirts

Wear those aesthetic planets necklaces and your tumblr is filled with space related art and themes.

Enjoy staring up at the clouds and figuring out what animal they are.

Has a lot of secrets that they probably tell to their cat.

dw ur cat isn’t a snitch they got you covered.

“meow”

yeah they definitely didn’t just try to reveal ur deepest traumas to your cousin.

If you don’t have a cat you probably would want one and would call it Mittens or sumn.

You’re whipped for freckles and anyone that has them instantly becomes 1000x more attractive to you

Either like 5′2″ or 5′10″ no middle ground

Definitely own a turtle or rabbit and if you don’t then you should.

Forgets your assignments but the professor lets you off because you’re so nervous they can’t scold you.

Oversleeps at least 2 times a week

Will not get up before 1pm on a weekend

Wall flower at parties but people still approach you bc you are so friendly and kind.

Social anxiety intensifies.

Always get’s called on in class when you haven’t been paying attention and it really troubles you.

Has a minimum of 3 blankets on your bed that you cocoon yourself in.

Tsukishima:

Your attracted to snarky assholes.

Sarcasm and insults are your form of flirtation and you get immediately turned off if they can’t take it or get upset.

Probably shy away from your feelings

Random flashbacks to embarrassing events frequently keep you up at night

Judge peoples fashion choices as they walk past you but actually have a really good eye for what works and what doesn’t.

You look like you have your shit together and you kinda do for the most part.

The quiet kid in class that’s listening to some loud ass screamo or rock n roll’ but ppl have no idea.

Definition of the glinting anime glasses pushed up your nose bridge cliche.

When you make a mistake you question all your knowledge and abilities but no one else knows that about you

Refuses to cry since you view your emotions as a personal weakness

If someone hugged you you’d get VERY uncomfortable.

Physical contact is not your forte

Probably a 5′0″ demon.

Would peg a man to assert dominance but you’re actually a lil bitch.

Knows the answer to the question they can’t solve.

Doesn’t study as much as they should but somehow still gets good grades.

Really likes french fries and the taste of strawberries.

Just wants to be left alone

Ennoshita:

The one friend that gets talked over and it really pisses you off but you’re too nice to say anything.

Seems really passive but can actually be hella confrontational when they wanna be

No tolerance for peoples bullshit

Really stable and just an overall reliable person.

People often forget you’re in the room lmao but it’s okay you’d rather listen anyway.

Actually has a really interesting mind and a lot to say but mostly keep it to yourself unless they’re your friend

Answered for someone else in attendance a few years ago and it still bothers you.

People often come to you to vent and you’re chill with it

Don’t stand out much but honestly it doesn’t bother you

Can and will get through an entire book/series in a matter of 3 days.

Quite a minimalist and organised for the most part

You look like you have your shit together and you def do.

Have a controversial taste in pizza.

You have more acquaintances than friends but the ones you do are a v tight knit circle.

Will re take a quiz several times till you get the character you wanted

Radiate Virgo and Libra energy.

Kiyoko:

Type of person to say “step on me” as a way of complimenting and you mean it literally.

Both a sadist and masochist

When someone tells you their not interested it just makes you want them 100x more and it frustrates you why are you like this.

Doesn’t compliment often but when you do it’s really heartfelt.

Looks like your silently judging people but in reality you really couldn’t care.

Just kidding you low-key judge them anyway.

Very picky when it comes to partners.

Independent but has random hella clingy moments.

Despite being quiet, you are capable of roasting a bitch alive if they test your patience.

Like I would NOT wanna get on your bad side

You could deadass send them to therapy, their emotions fenna need some aloe vera for that burn.

Just really calm and relaxed tbh so people enjoy being in your company even though you don’t talk much.

When you do though it’s usually something really interesting or funny.

You just don’t see the point in talking if what your saying doesn’t hold any value??

You hate small talk and would rather slingshot yourself off a skyscraper than partake in it.

Your face is easy to read and you make no effort to hide it.

If your in a bad mood they WILL know.

Look like your plotting someones demise or questioning life’s theories but in reality you’re really just thinking bout what you want for dinner.

Honestly just a sweetheart tbh.

Low-key have a staring problem.

Has really neat and cursive handwriting like who tf taught you that.

Yachi:

Frequently says something then panics that it could be misinterpreted

You overthink literally everything you have ever said and the actions you haven’t even committed yet

Really likes the taste of sherbet

Could cut a bitch if they needed to

You spend most of your money at Urban Outfitters and don’t regret it.

have an assortment of colouring pencils that ppl always try and borrow and never give them back.

You highlight the shit outta your papers and never read them again.

Really like the smell of peaches

Probably have a v interesting earring collection.

Hoard water bottles in your room and you feel majorly guilty about it.

The taste of honey disgusts you but you eat it anyway for some reason.

Somehow managed to burn rice and solidify soup.

You shouldn’t be trusted in the kitchen but you try your best regardless.

I feel like that applies to most things in your life

Like yeah you fucked it up but like you’re trying your best lol cmon

V tolerant of people but have zero time for fuckboys and shut them down instantly.

You frequently get the shakes from caffeine or anxiety

Or both.

You give really encouraging hugs.

Have no clue what you wanna do in life but it’s ok bby it’ll work out.

Takeda:

You’re a very underappreciated and underrated person and I love u

Probably an English/languages major

Really kind and outgoing but high-key mysterious

Actually has a phat fucking temper like damn where did that come from.

Won’t take no for an answer when you want to achieve something.

That one person people don’t realise is there listening to your conversations but you definitely are and now know Becky’s deepest darkest secret.

Fuck you, becky.

Wore contacts once and forgot to take them out for 3 days.

You wondered why your eyes were so itchy.

Your music taste does not match your appearance.

Probably watch a lot of crime shows and imagine you’re an investigator

Aced physics and chemistry.

More than likely an introvert with extrovert tendencies when you feel like it.

Actually quite temperamental but it’s okay since you’re a v genuine person.

Often debate getting a sugar daddy bc that income looking real tempting rn.

Honest to a fault at times but it’s something people come to appreciate about you.

Just really wanna sleep for 15 hours and sit in front of your laptop with some hot coco.

Ukai:

You like older men

The smell of tobacco and coffee low-key comforts you for some reason.

Peed in a bottle that one time while on a road trip and forgot to throw it out until you found it a week later.

You’re a slut for dyed hair and dudes with piercings.

You once got drunk and passed out on a spinning round-a-bout in a park and your friend still has pictures that you refuse to acknowledge.

Bi-curious and just radiate big Bi energy

Would experiment but you’re too hesitant.

Hates the taste of beer but drinks it anyway.

Just wants to be loved man I stg is that too much to ask.

Often wonder if your friends actually like you then realise you don’t really care anyway lmao.

You still love them though.

Tired of working over time and just wanna catch a break.

Amazon Prime is your best friend.

Random ass parcels comin thru’ each day and it feels like Christmas.

A very lonely and one-man party Christmas.

Stop spending your fucking paycheck.

Have a pretty dark/cynical but really funny sense of humour and you often make people laugh.

Have a big ass temper and people KNOW it.

Often fantasised about dropping out and becoming a stripper bc your patience was being TESTED.

Really likes money but who doesn’t tbh.

You radiate Chaotic Evil but keep it under wraps.

#hq #haikyuu #karasuno #ukai keishin #takeda ittetsu #yachi hitoka #kiyoko shimizu #ennoshita chikara #tsukishima kei #yamaguchi tadashi #daichi sawamura #sugawara koushi #asahi azumane #tanaka ryuunosuke #nishinoya yuu #hinata shoyo #kageyama tobio

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emeraldurafreak · 3 years

Text

Sherlock short fic | Inception based AU

Quick thing I wrote while watching inception for the second time, typos are very likely but I don’t care.

Context\ Sherlock-Cobbs | John-Mal

https://archiveofourown.org/works/33693511

“Against the Rest of the World”

“He’s here.”

Sherlock looked over and there he was, standing there as if he hadn’t been there just a moment before. Staring out over the waters edge and after a moment glancing to Sherlocks direction. It was perfect, Sherlocks creation of John in his mind. There was no way anyone could tell him apart from anyone else.

John wasn’t here actually, of course he wasn’t. Sherlock had jumped off a roof and left him two years ago in London, never to see him again. John was lost and Sherlock felt it flood him as he stepped closer to him.

“I thought you might need my help.” John said and he smiled a bit in the way he did when he was saying something just to annoy Sherlock. He was joking, as if this was okay to distract him in this way while he was on the job.

“I’m doing just fine on my own, you don’t need to be here.” Sherlock said and he couldn’t help but smooth the harsh edge in his tone. It wasn’t John but it was and he couldn’t be harsh to John, he found it so hard still to this day to let him go.

John scoffed somewhat. “Of course, you’re not even happy to see me.” The scene changed before them, a room from the mind they were tailoring to appeared quickly. He didn’t recognize it but John sat and settled back as if he belonged there.

“I am.. I’m just working right now.” Sherlock said despite himself, his tone was only getting softer. This figure was so much like his John, as it always was. The aching never fading from his battered chest, even in this state he wore the scars.

“I used to help you work. Remember? Just you and me against the rest of the world..” John looked up at him and Sherlock noticed his skull on the mantle the wallpaper change that of the one of Baker Street. No, not now.

“John, please.. I have to go.” He stepped back and turned towards the window, it was still how it should be and he tried his hardest to get rid of all of Baker Street from his mind. Pushing the window open and glancing down below them, just two floors up he could make it down easy.

“You’re just going to leave me?” His voice was harsher and Sherlock felt his throat tighten as he swung his legs out of the window.

“Yes.” He said firmly and pushed himself out of the window holding onto the edge for a moment before dropping, controlling the pain of his short drop. He didn’t look up to the window again, he didn’t have time. He was busy.

~~~

Sherlock emerged with a gasp sitting up quickly and shaking off the corners of the dream, he pulled the needle out of his arm and his partner pulled the one out of their subject and together they left the building.

They parted ways without a word, there was no need for anything further. The work was done, information acquired and Sherlock was on the run yet again. He went to his hotel room checking it to make sure he was alone first before pulling his totem out of his pocket.

It was wrong, it was terribly wrong but he had taken Johns dogtags as his totem. He held it steady over his hand and swung it, in his dream state the dogtags swung forever, they would never cease motion in his mind.

He watched closely as the dogtags swung, clinking together on their metal chain and slowly came to a stop over his palm. He placed them back in his pocket with a sigh and sat back in his chair. When he was younger he was naive enough to think he wouldn’t need a totem like others, that his mind was strong enough to tell the difference between reality and the dreams.

It was exactly the opposite as he expected. Yes, his mind was greater than others; he was one of the most gifted architects to meet that of the dream world. That was when he could do it. He was wrong. His mind was indeed so great it made him so prone to the limbo state he had nearly slipped there too many times.

When he moved in with John, when he became attached to John, he’d stolen his dogtags and knew immediately they would be his totem. For nothing else would ever be as strong to him as those are. They pained him now to have and he did feel some gully for stealing them from John but they were necessary.

Sherlock was sure that now he knew the weight of them even more than John did. It had been many years since John had even had them, he had asked once where they had gone. Sherlock hated to think of that day now, all it held was pain and he was determined not to fall any deeper into the levels of his mind.

~~~

When Sherlock laid alone in his bed at night, wherever he may be, in a hotel, usually always in a different part of the UK. When he laid in bed sometimes he would pull the briefcase out and connect himself to it, set the timer and he would dream.

He would dream alone, in his world, in his last creation. In a place no one could touch but himself. Here he had layers, places where things weren’t so bad as the real world. Here he could move freely and live through what he wanted and what he lost.

The day he met John, in Barts he would look over to him in the door and see the way his eyes scanned the room and landed on him. A curious sort of fascination behind his eyelids, some confusion and awe as Sherlock spoke to him. He was never angry, he was always so proud and amazed with Sherlock's deductions.

Their first case, circling the pink lady’s body slowly and picking apart the pieces of her murder. John’s eyes lit up as he displayed his deductions, the soft words of encouragement, the brightness in his eyes.

Weeks later, an ordinary day in Baker Street but one that held firm in Sherlock's mind, in his prison. Sherlock was injured in the previous case of the day and John had him on the couch as he patched him up. It was the first time they were ever so close, lingering touches and meaningful gazes. John reprimanded him for being so foolish but he said it so fondly Sherlock didn’t mind.

Their first fight, their first real fight. In which John threw his cup at the wall and was upset for days after, it was Sherlock's fault and he felt guilty to this day. John loved that mug and Sherlock took away that joy. It was so simple and pretty and it seared into his mind.

The Baskerville case, the fear running through Sherlocks veins as he desperately swung John's dogtags in his hand. John found him that way and the confusion and sympathy in his gaze. The kind words he said so softly and guided him to bed, never questioning, just as shakes himself and yet he cared for Sherlock instead. His steady weight on the bed beside Sherlocks hip, the gentle hand on his side allowing him to rest.

A gap.

Hours before he’d leave John, deceiving him to keep him safe. Making John hate him, call him a machine. He never came here but it lived in his mind nonetheless.

Calling John from on top of Barts the emotion he hated in his voice, trying so hard not to convey it to John but use it to comb him of his lies. He was the worst friend to ever walk the face of the earth. He regretted every second of it.

His imagination filled in the rest later on. The snipers not being taken care of, shooting John down and making his whole disappearance worth nothing. John dying only knowing that his friend was a fraud and had lied to him their whole friendship. It was worse than leaving him.

~~~

Too many layers. Sherlock thought as they breached the third level of their subjects' subconscious. He could feel John's presence the further they moved into it, pushing at his mind. Begging for attention, pressing into the corners of his space.

Yellow smiley faces appeared on the walls, biscuits and tea on the tables, Johns gun in his hand, blood on his forehead, the smell of John’s cologne, his clothes in the corner, the dim flicker of firelight in the hearth, so many words on the top of his tongue and so many other sensations and feelings he couldn’t put words too.

It was too much at once, he couldn’t handle it. The emotions and keeping track of the mission and John was there in front of him. He had a gun and so did Sherlock and all he wanted was to hold him.

“John..” he started and John raised his gun to him and Sherlock dropped his, it clattering to the floor loudly

“Don’t. Don't start with me. You left.” John said in the harshest tone Sherlock had ever heard and he felt tears prickling the back of his eyes.

“Please John.. I’m sorry.” He begged him, meeting his eyes desperately, not here. “Please..”

“I can’t believe you.. You didn’t spare me the pain, so why should I give you the satisfaction?” John pointed it right at his head.

“John.. not here..” Sherlock shook his head, stepping back once and John followed.

“You’ve always been so weak..” he snarled at him, following him until he was backed into a corner. “You couldn’t even stay for me.”

“I tried, I did-“

“Don’t!” He shouted and pressed the gun to Sherlocks forehead. “You don’t get to convince me.. you’ve run out of chances.”

Sherlocks body shook against the wall at his back and he knew this wasn’t his John but he felt as if John would treat him this way. If he were alive this is what he would get. Death in the worst way possible, stuck in limbo forever because he’d lost.

He stared into the eyes of the man he trusted more than anyone, more than himself. He would choose his fate and the gun clicked.

“You murdered me.”

~~~

Limbo wasn’t so bad at first. It was all talk he thought, creation was something he’d always enjoyed. He hadn’t been able to do it so freely in such a long time.

John was there. His John. The John that held his hand and guided him to bed, the John that called him brilliant and fiercely protected his reputation. The John that created buildings with him and explored his childhood, mapped through his world easily.

They spent years together, in the comforts of Baker Street. It wasn’t so bad. John loved it here, they were together and everything went as they wanted. He could live like this in a place he wanted to be.

~~~

It was years into it when the spell broke. He knew it would happen eventually, knew the confines of this place couldn’t hold him forever, all it took was three words.

Three words the real John would never tell him. It had been years of being together and just those words broke everything. He didn’t know how to cope. Their world started crumbling, crime scenes and shops falling apart. Streets of London folding in on themselves. Just three words.

I love you.

John disappeared in front of his eyes, he felt his soul break into pieces. Emptiness flooded him and he had no idea if it would be enough but he didn’t want to live anymore. He was alone. John’s dogtags heavy in his pocket as he stood on another rooftop.

“Just you and me.” Sherlock says raspy and tight, the tears flowing so freely he couldn’t even contain it anymore. Tornadoes and storms tearing everything apart around him, the wind was so loud no one would hear his sobs. “Against the rest of the world.”

He fell and that’s all it took. Just one step and he would be free of this pain.

~~~

Sherlock woke in the world he had left with the partners he had left with and things were different and no one would understand how or why but him. He had been gone for years and no one had any idea of it.

He left alone again and back in the hotel he felt strange, he felt lifted and yet weighed down. He pulled out the dogtags after a moment before his phone went off, he returned them to his pocket and opened the message.

It was time to go home.

~~~

Three years later he returned home and nothing felt quite the same as he left it. Three years and decades of experience in his head, he has been gone so much longer and done so much more.

No one would know how Sherlock Holmes had survived. It was okay, he didn’t mind having something private for now, he just needed John. John who was alive and here and waiting and John. Oh, John.

He got to the flat as fast as he could. John no longer lived there but John was there today. For some reason he had gone, mycroft had told him he had forgotten to listen. All he was focusing on was finally seeing his John again.

He opened the door and stopped through, looking around. It was so familiar, dusty and old but familiar and so wonderful to be around.

“I still can’t seem to find them, are you sure you don’t have them In your boxes Mrs Hudson?” Johns voice drifted from Sherlocks bedroom and he gravitated towards it like metal to a magnet.

He stepped into the kitchen and looked down the hallway, Johns back just visible, his gorgeous hair illuminated in the sunlight. He took a step and another before eventually he was standing until he doorway.

His room was covered in boxes but he want even looking at that. He was watching John and automatically his mind came up with what he was searching for before Sherlock even registered it. He was holding Johns dogtags on his fingers, swinging in his hand.

“Looking for these?” Sherlock said in a tone he didn’t think he’d be able to manage if he was thinking with his conscious brain that wasn’t too active at the moment.

John startled and turned quickly staring at Sherlock for a long moment and so many emotions flashed before his eyes. They stared for a long moment just the movement of the dogtags between them before John surged forward and Sherlock was afraid he might hit him.

“Sherlock..” he breathed softly before his lips met Sherlocks and his hands cupped his cheeks, sherlock melted into it immediately. It was new and locket and Sherlock never wanted to leave the warmth of John.

He presses into him firmly and entirely. “I love you.” Sherlock breathed between the kiss and John smiled pulling him closer.

“I love you too..” he said in the same tone and they kissed again, sherlock taking a step back to support himself against the doorframe. Setting the dogtags on the lamp as he could reach to use his hands more effectively.

Nothing else mattered, they were together again, just the two of them finally one in the same.

The dogtags swung from their place hanging from the lampshade, back and forth slowly. But nothing mattered expept the two men and that’s how it should be.

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orionsangel86 · 4 years

Text

Hey Everyone,

As you have probably noticed, I have neglected this blog for a long time now. I haven’t been on any fandom related social media at all actually. But I figured since I am currently in a good mindset, I want to write a post just outlining some things which basically boils down to a goodbye letter to Supernatural fandom.

Long rambling post below the cut...

This year (and the last) has just taken it out of me in terms of general negativity online both in fandom and in the real world. At first I got tired of fandom (mostly because Twitter is a cesspool of policing and bullying) and then I got tired of everything else (the world sucks right now, and my mental health basically stopped me from being able to participate in any form of online activism – just because I’m not blogging about something, doesn’t mean I don’t support the cause ya know?). Earlier this year, right around the time of the UK lockdowns, I had surgery and a recovery period in which I spent a lot of time with family, and just reacquainted myself with the real world. I think perhaps the coronavirus pandemic made me realise that long before lockdown began I had already been isolating myself from my real life and diving further and further into an online black hole.

It was years in the making. Supernatural fandom preoccupied my thoughts for such a long period of time it got to the point where every moment of my non working time seemed to be spent either online scrolling my tumblr dash or twitter feed, or reading fanfic or doing something fandom related. I invested so much of myself into this show and fandom that I think I forgot who I was before I was a Supernatural fan completely.

After my wake up call in late 2019, which lead me to break free from an extremely nasty clique, I have tried to re-enter fandom on my own terms, as well as attempt to enjoy the source material and the fandom creations to ignite some new spark of love and interest in the show. Yet as much as I have tried, I have failed to do so.

I was thinking recently about someone I used to follow years ago before I ever created a blog. When I was still just lurking in the tumblr shadows and followed the likes of Mittens, Lizbob, and other meta writers of the period, there was a blogger whose name I can’t remember but she was the funniest blogger I had come across. But when the show killed off Charlie Bradbury, she quit. I had never even interacted with her, as I was barely getting my blog started at the time, but I’ll never forget a post she wrote about her feelings on the show. She had recently started watching something else (I think it was Sense8 but can’t recall entirely), and that this new show had given her everything she had never thought she could have from her fave before. She wrote about how her relationship with Supernatural had become abusive. That for years the writers of Supernatural continued to throw punches at fans like her – women, LGBTQ+ people, people of colour, and yet she continued to give it all her time and attention, brushing off the punches because she was so damn devoted to the characters. Then this new show had come along, and it was like she had seen the light. The killing of Charlie Bradbury was the last straw, and she dumped Supernatural’s ass and fled into the arms of her new love.

I hope she is doing fantastically today.

What she wrote has resonated with me for years. I was a fairly new Supernatural fan at the time, and therefore didn’t really understand what she meant. A TV show can’t be abusive. Can it?

Of course, we are speaking in metaphor here, and in no way are these metaphors meant to reduce or limit the truly serious situation of actual abusive relationships, but every now and then, when a new episode of Supernatural has left me feeling upset, disappointed, frustrated and grossly let down, in some cases affecting my mood for days at a time, and therefore my mental health. I have thought back to those words she wrote and quietly agreed with them in my head. Yes. This is a metaphorically abusive relationship.

When I discovered earlier this year that Castiel was most likely going to be killed off in some sort of bullshit self sacrifice before the end of the show, I was extremely distressed. When I found out that my favourite person of all time Misha Collins, supported this ending for Castiel, and may have even been the one who pushed for it, I was more than distressed, I felt betrayed by the person I cared about most. I’ll admit to you all now that in my weakest moments I have fantasized about standing in front of Misha and screaming at him exactly just what kind of affect his “ideal ending” for Castiel will have on his fanbase, on their mental health, and potentially their own safety. This fantasy has me guilt tripping him and doing everything in my power to make him feel utterly shit about the decision. I know what you are thinking – don’t blame Misha, the guy has his own problems and we all know he projects his own self esteem issues onto Cas – and yes, I know this, like I said its only a fantasy to get me through my darkest moments. I don’t hate Misha at all. But perhaps I do love him a little less nowadays than I did back at the height of my fandom life. That’s at least still a little bit more than my feelings for Jensen and Jared which now I can only describe as complete indifference.

I am admitting all of this now knowing full well it will ignite shock and anger among the more die hard fans of J2M, to explain why I need to just leave this fandom completely, or more accurately, why I have already left fandom.

Over the past 10 months of 2020, I have watched a lot of TV (there isn’t much else to do during a lockdown when you are on crutches with your foot in a cast!) and the one thought that occurred to me over and over again was “this show is so much better than Supernatural”.

I kept comparing everything I watched, from the quality of the scripts, the actors, the special effects, to the inclusiveness of the shows. Just so many beautiful and interesting stories that seem to understand their audience, and understand how to entertain and impress without resorting to cringe humour, outdated jokes, and prejudice, not to mention misogyny and queerbaiting – yup, I said it.

The thing is, I think these thoughts have been creeping over me slowly for longer than just this year, but I have been desperately batting them away the way Dean Winchester bats away his own gay thoughts. Unlike Dean though, eventually I couldn’t ignore them anymore. I cannot continue to carve out space in my own soul for this show, which incessantly beats me down regardless of my devotion. The creators, the network, the writers, and sometimes even the cast, have all shown that they don’t care about me as a fan. I’m not some gun toting dudebro living in middle America, so why should they give a damn about me? I’m clearly not their target audience, nor have I ever been.

I know many of you will vehemently deny my personal opinion of Supernatural now. That is absolutely fine. I am sorry to be admitting it, but I had to. I feel like once I finally write out these words, I have got it off my chest and can close and lock the door on Supernatural for good.

Without Supernatural, I am able to focus on my real life, I am able to find pleasure in other things, new things, interesting things, that bring me joy and joy alone – not disappointment and frustration. I found a new job this year, which has been a huge accomplishment as I was stagnating in my old one, and several new hobbies under my belt. I moved to a new flat, I have a lovely flatmate who has been a godsend throughout lockdown, and I have rekindled friendships that I was neglecting due to my Supernatural obsession.

All in all, I am finding post-Supernatural life far more rewarding and content than my life in fandom. It has taken me a while, but I am over the show. And whilst I will always hold a special place in my heart for Castiel, it will be as I know him in my own mind; as the wonderful, strong, powerful and determined angel with a soul, who loves so strongly, and who is worth so much more than his own creators give him credit for. He is up there with Aziraphale and Crowley, with The Doctor, and Buffy, as one of the greatest characters of all time.

So the Supernatural writers and creators can take whatever ending they have decided upon, and shove it up their asses. I am sorry to say that Sam and Dean Winchester are also lost to me. Any love I had for them was destroyed by their later season depictions. Castiel alone is the only character worthy of that space in my heart now. If in time he longs for a companion, I will find one for him, but it won’t be the Dean Winchester of the canon show. Canon Dean hasn’t been deserving of Cas for a long time now.

Perhaps I am still a little bitter about the ending. Perhaps the finale won’t be the disaster I expect it to be, perhaps Dabb will somehow turn it all around last minute following whatever travesty Bucklemming have given us in 15x19. Either way, I won’t be watching.

So this is me saying goodbye to this blog, at least until I have decided what else to do with it. It certainly won’t be a Supernatural fandom blog anymore. It wasn’t all wasted though. I did get a wonderful friendship group out of this fandom, and I have certainly expanded my knowledge of film and television analysis, as well as having enjoyed a great many memes.

I guess in the end, my internal war with my inner bitter Cas girl finished with her winning, and writing this post. Once it is posted however, I will put her to sleep with thoughts of a happy Castiel, who has swapped his wings for a beating human heart, and is living on a beach somewhere beautiful, refurbishing an old Victorian house, and greeting his kindly elderly neighbours. There’s a gay bar on the main strip, and the bartender is quite a dish. Green eyes and light brown hair with a killer smile. Castiel thinks he looks familiar, like a memory from a past life, but they’ve definitely never met, because this man is kind.

Now that she is asleep, there is nothing left for me here. Goodbye everyone. Whether you manage to enjoy the finale or not, I truly hope you too, find your peace.

#personal #a goodbye message to fandom

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cristalknife · 3 years

Text

Kadam Week 2021 Day 3 ~ I did not plan for this, but I'm glad you found a solution

This is me trying to not start something on a platform only to post solely somewhere else aka AO3 and ff.net you can find the complete list of Kadam Week 2021 prompts and you might find more stories on the Kadam Week 2021 AO3 collection

That said, the third prompt is Love Letters

During most of the story Kurt and Adam are either away from each other or working at a summer camp around kids there's not much on the side of the description of them being all coupley but I think you could tell anyway they are more than just friends...

I still hope you'll give this a chance and have a good time reading it, so here we go, I present to you I did not plan for this, but I'm glad you found a solution (or read on ao3)

When Kurt signed up for a theatre summer camp for kids as a summer work project, he had honestly thought it was going to be in New York, for he was absolutely sure there was no mention of the camp being strongly discouraging taking electronics especially phones due to lack of data and mobile coverage.

He did recheck once he got home, nowhere it was written that they would have the camp in the middle of nowhere, where the no electronics rule was happily enforced by Mother Nature.

And to make things even worse Adam was flying back to the UK for two of the six weeks Kurt was going to be at the camp…

So even if Kurt managed to go into the town on his free day, and somehow the quaint small town, that was not yet willing to join the XXI century, still had a serviceable land phone, trying an international call was out of his wallet’s options.

Not if he was to take into account just how much he would miss his boyfriend.

It was even worse when Adam just patted his back when both of them met to go together at the airport before flying to their respective destinations.

To his immense surprise, once he reached the camp and his bungalow the camp’s director had a grin on her face and offered him a letter.

Upon taking a closer look a surprised smile appeared on his face.

It seemed his boyfriend had taken notice of how down he was about the whole situation and sent him a letter.

Knowing he had something to look forward to, Kurt managed to concentrate on getting familiar with the place and the other camp counsellors and instructors…

The lighter heart had been a blessing, and while he hadn’t suddenly acquired new bffs, he did manage to learn that the camp had every year an influx of three to five new counsellors.

Mostly all freshmen or second semester students, who had been fibbed into accepting the position, usually those were the ones who had something of value to share, at least in the opinion of their school's teachers.

It wasn’t until late in the evening when Kurt was in his room that he took the time to unpack properly that he found a box he was completely sure he never saw before.

Upon opening it Kurt found it was a stationary box, with adorable doodles on the letters’ paper and exactly six envelopes already with stamps and already addressed to Adam at his parent's place in the UK.

The amount sheets for the letters though was way higher and there were just as many remaining white envelopes to last Kurt the remaining of the month that was not covered by the first two weeks in which Adam was still on the other side of the ocean.

After placing the stationary box on his bedside table Kurt went for the letter that Adam had sent for him to receive upon arrival.

"Dearest Kurt,

I know you weren't expecting a lot of things about this experience, I hope you'll find it fun and enlighten. If I know you as well as I believe I do, by now you've already discovered that this specific camping program had the peculiarity of attracting every year few freshmen or second semester students recommended for the job. All of them usually arriving in here not knowing at all about the lack of modern commodities like data and mobile coverage.

All those students are one that the professors of their schools believe could learn something from the experience, and would be able to not only cope but excel in the challenge posed to them.

Some of the older counsellors have been in the same position you are in right now and then decided to return year after year.

I'm also pretty sure you've already found my parting gift in your suitcase, I know we were thinking of spending more time together and that the news of six weeks with no way of staying in contact with each other had been hard on you.

Don't worry my love, it has worked for thousands of lovers before, and if you’re amenable and desires to, then we can make do with writing letters while we are not able to talk with more modern means.

Usually it takes about a couple of days for a letter to cross the ocean and arrive at its destination. The first couple of letters you'll receive from me were sent before we left, so they could reach you and allow me to be able to put a smile on your face even without being present.

If you don't feel like writing then still please make pictures and send me proof that you're having a good time?

The camp’s director has a printer so don't try to wiggle your way out of this, because my darling I will write to you even if you'll leave me all alone to be a starstruck pining lover.

Know that I love you, and that I believe you will find the experience worthwhile in the end.

With all my love,

Adam"

Kurt was almost in tears by the time he reached the end of the letter and he shook his head grinning, Adam was absolutely wrong if he thought for a single moment that Kurt wouldn't return the sweet gesture choosing to send pictures instead.

Still as they hadn't been together that much yet there had not been a chance yet for Adam to actually see Kurt's own calligraphy set.

It was a pity he hadn't thought of taking it with him, in his misery upon the news of no electronics and no connectivity he had not thought of alternative slower ways to obtain the same result.

In his defence though, he had been under the false impression that there would be at least data coverage until right before leaving, at which point he had already packed and taken everything that he needed already and it was too late to return home and pick alternatives.

Reassigning himself to make do with a normal pen he started jetting down what was going to be the first of quite a few letters. Would they still be considered love letters since they did express the sentiment and were sent between lovers? Kurt wasn't completely sure, but the thought made him grin and blush at the same time.

"My dearest, Adam,

you wonderful man have no idea how much it means to me that you went through all the trouble of arranging this wonderful surprise for me. A way to stay in touch with you while we're apart, I confess by the time I realised how things were going to be, I was too frantic despairing to think that quickly such a simple and elegant solution.

My love, I do hope you were simply offering me an alternative to making sure I would not leave you completely alone and in the dark about how things were going for me when you mentioned eventually sending you prints of pictures.

There is no way I’d leave you pining on your lonesome, especially not while you take such attentive care to my own needs and you made sure to prevent me from suffering such fate.

There will be time to show you all the pictures I'll take, once we're together again and we can spend time in each other's arms.

You might not know yet, but by now you might have noticed that I do have an appreciation for calligraphy, and despite having to do with the poor mean of a roll pen there is no way I could waste this brilliant opportunity to write you a proper love letter.

As you rightly guessed I managed to talk with some of the other counsellors and figured out that there were few returning seniors, and the other first timers were just as blindsided as I was.

The camp’s director had a knowing smile when she handed me your letter. I suspect the others you mentioned were already in her possession but that she would pace releasing them into my hands.

Despite the brief panic you witnessed before leaving, I'm not really that averse to a nice break and being unavailable, but I usually prefer the chance to prepare and be ready for that.

I was very worried for my dad, I sent him a message while I was still in town and talked to the camp’s director about my worries and that I had left a message down at the town’s post office. I'll let you in on a secret, there is a working line in her office, under key of course.

But she allowed me to make a call to my dad when no one was looking, so that if something was to happen I would be reachable, even if I'm officially off the grid until my return to the big city life.

It was a big relief and it lifted another big weight from my shoulders.

I am so happy you thought of this, and I can't wait to hear more of your adventures from back home, as I'll share the adventures from into the woods...

With all my sincere love and admiration

Yours truly

Kurt"

To Kurt's surprise one of the breakfast rituals was the collection and distribution of the mail. With the announcement that even when the kids would arrive, this was going to be a daily ritual. As counsellors they were to encourage the kids to write back home, especially the ones feeling homesick.

As Kurt had suspected, there was a new letter for him on that day as well, and like the previous one, he kept it for the evening to cheer himself up before going to bed.

As Adam has said in his second letter, indeed once the kids arrived it all became at the same time easier and harder.

Easier because the feeling of loneliness and missing Adam had to be put on the back burner during the day. And the letters kept Kurt happy and cherished during the evenings after he socialised with his peers sharing stories of the day with the others.

Harder because his kids were all super excited and easily excitable. In all honesty they reminded Kurt a lot of how he remembered feeling when he was a little younger than them and he still qualified for the Lima theatre summer camp...

By the end of the first week, once every one of his kids had sent at least one letter home, Kurt finally figured out why he had been assigned them. All of them came from small Ohio towns that, like Lima, wouldn't have catered for their artistic inclinations. Kurt made a mental note to check with the head if it had been a coincidence or not.

On the weekend of the second week, once the first period ended and the first turnover happened, the camp’s director announced that more counsellors were going to join them to help out with the new influx of kids since they would be at full capacity from there on until the end of the program.

On sunday’s morning Kurt had run late for breakfast because one of his kids who was going to stay for longer than two weeks, was not finding one of their shoes, and they had to find it before they could join the others.

With things being that way, when he entered the dining hall, all the new counsellors had already been introduced and the mail was being delivered.

Kurt guided his kid to their table and in less than three minutes all his kids still present were giggling and looking ready to burst, while attempting to appear normal. Before Kurt could turn and check what was so funny Adam's letter was being held in front of him by a very familiar hand, with an equally familiar bracelet hugging the wrist.

Kurt automatically grabbed the letter and he turned to find himself face to face with Adam.

Both their eyes shining with happiness, "Hellu Kurt. Surprise"

Kurt grinned and bit his lower lip, the giggling kids at his back reminding him that there was still work to do "Hellu Adam, I should have known you'd be one of the returning seniors, I look forward working together."

Adam nodded still smiling "As I do, I'll let you go back to your day now. I’ll see you later."

Kurt smiled brilliantly and nodded back "I'll see you later, have a good day"

The kids, as Kurt suspected had been super curious and with it being the last day for some, he indulged them in revealing that indeed that was the same friend Adam who had written to Kurt keeping him from feeling homesick in the previous weeks.

That evening once the new kids had been safely tucked in bed Kurt finally had a moment to properly greet his boyfriend "I am so happy to see you in here, though you could have told me you were going to join me in here once you got back to the states."

Adam smiled softly kissing Kurt's temple "But then you would have lived waiting for this day instead of making the most of those past couple of weeks. And maybe you wouldn’t have cherished as much the letters we were exchanging. While we’re on that note. Thank you for yours, they were wonderful and I was so happy to receive them."

Kurt smiled with his eyes closed and his arms wrapped tightly around Adam's waist "They were a balm and the one thing I kept for myself as an evening ritual. Sitting on my bed and reading your letter. I didn't have any day so bad that I had to read them before evening, which is what I had reasoned could be a good coping mechanism. Keep your letter for the night when it was private time, or as comfort if things went south and I couldn't handle them before night fell."

Adam hummed softly murmuring "I'm glad for that."

The next monday’s morning set up the pattern for the rest of their stay. They would both take their kids to breakfast and find a letter in a white envelope with their name and the camp’s address waiting for them to be delivered, just like it had happened for the past two weeks for Kurt.

The remaining month passed in no time at all, the day passed quickly and the evenings were filled with laughters and making new friends while sharing stories with the other counsellors.

Once it was Kurt’s turn for the final interview to wrap up the whole experience, the camp’s director before parting asked curious “So was Adam right? Were you able to see just how many families were touched and gained from your father’s work?”

Kurt looked taken aback so he asked confused “What do you mean?”

She smiled kindly and proceeded to explain “All the kids you took care of, they were all able to be here this summer because your father campaigned and set up a fund for supporting the arts in small towns. He had to prove that there was the request for such support, and he had been challenged to demonstrate it could work starting from the state he was representing.”

Kurt bit his lips “A state notoriously not that art oriented”

She nodded grinning, “And I can tell you we had to limit the acceptance because there are ratios we need to respect for security reasons. But all those kids you took care of came from just as many families who benefited from your dad’s work. Adam was the one who suggested you be their mentor during their stay. And I think he was right, the families and the kids themselves think that too, as every single one of your kids was ecstatic that someone like them had made it and reached his dream school.”

Kurt felt tears forming in his eyes, so he started to try blinking them away. Emotions made it a little difficult but he still managed to say a grateful “Thank you” before leaving and searching for Adam.

Once Kurt found him he hugged his boyfriend tightly and said in a low voice “Thank you for all you’ve done for me this summer, I never thought I’d see first hand the results of my dad’s work. I knew what it meant for me and how I wished those were opportunities I had, but I never suspected it was going to reaching so far and so many.”

Adam held Kurt just as tightly and said back softly “I know you were so worried for your dad earlier on during the semester. So I wanted you to realise that your dad is important for a whole lot more people than you even realise. That no matter how difficult things might get, you’re not alone in wishing the best for your dad.”

Kurt then raised his face from Adam’s chest and said grinning “And you also wanted to make sure I’d fell in love with this camp as much as you are so next year we’d come here together…”

Adam chuckled but didn’t deny the playful accusation.

By the time autumn came around and leases were up, they moved in together, and during moving day it was discovered how each kept their letters into a special boxes safe and easily accessible.

When christmas came around the couple took part into a papermaking and bookbinding crafting course.

By the following valentine’s day each set of letters had been lovingly built into a ecoleather bound diary containing all the letters the couple exchanged since their first ones the previous summer. ~The End~ AN: One last thing that's more a game, if you found the small easter egg in the story, feel free to reach back to me, I can bake you your fave virtual cookie, or make a story out of a prompt you have in mind/wish to see. (hint it's from Hamilton...)

#kadam week 2021 #kadam fic #kadam glee #kadam #glee #glee prompts filling #long post #it's a fic what did you expect #my writing is not suited for tumblr #vcg73 #my kadam fic #my glee fic #summer camp #~3K words of story

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spoonielivingfree · 3 years

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Taking Chances - Chapter One

A/N I finally got round to starting a Holby City and Greys Anatomy Crossover Fic which will feature two of my favs! Not really sure of the logistics of it yet but we shall see how this pans out.

Jac had exhausted all options in the UK. The trial wasn't going to pan out in time, and according to all UK surgeons she trusted the tumour was inoperable. Inoperable. That was it. It had already started to progress. Her headaches were worse, she was getting dizzy, light and sound sensitive, and her dexterity had reduced. She had dropped a scalpel in surgery the other day. She felt shaky, wobbly. It wasn't like her at all. She obviously went to Max, got a scan. The tumour had grown. It was now, or never she had to look elsewhere.

After meeting with Max to discuss the results, she went back to her office to lie down in a darkened room. The headache was overwhelming, and her medication didn't help anymore. She really hoped no one could bother her, and she could rest until it eased and then get into Looking at the other options. Max had prescribed her some stronger medication, but she really couldn't face going to the pharmacy now. She needed the pain to ease.

"Are you okay walking?" Max asked gently, noticing she seemed to be in a lot of pain and disoriented. "I'll be fine." She said. Taking the walk slowly, glad to be curled up on her office sofa. Her head was pounding, and she felt like she was about to vomit. She had sick bags beside her for good measure. The tumour had started causing nausea and vomiting, and she knew there might be a time where she wouldn't make it to the toilets. Why the fuck was this thing in her brain debilitating her like this. She knew it would eventually, but she hoped it wouldn't be so soon. She closed her eyes for a while, trying to will the symptoms away. She really shouldn't be trying to sleep during work hours, but the symptoms were too much. The light made the pain 10x worse, let alone a screen.

Eli walked into her office around an hour later, seeing her on the sofa in a darkened room. "You should go home."

"No, I have work I should be doing. I'll be fine. I just need to feel up to going to the pharmacy to get my new prescriptions. I'm sure they'll work, and then I'll be able to move."

"Okay. How about I go and get your meds then. You need something to ease the pain." He responded, pausing. "Have you been sick today?" He asked, noticing the bags.

"Yeah. I was sick this morning." She replied, passing him the prescriptions that Max wrote out earlier. "Have you eaten since?" "Who are you, my mother? Yes, I've eaten since!" She yelled, wincing, realising it hurt her head more.

"Good. I'm going to get your meds, and I'll bring them back up." Eli said, walking out of the office, knowing Jac just needed to be left alone to rest off the head pain.

After taking her medication and letting it kick in she felt a bit better. So went back out on the ward to do some necessary consults before having to face looking at a screen to reply to her emails and look for a neurosurgeon. She decided to keep the fact that she was looking for one quiet for now. Everyone at Holby would discourage her. They'd say inoperable means inoperable, and she just wasn't accepting that.

She was glad to be sitting back down in her office after doing some consults as she was feeling increasingly dizzy standing up. She replied to the emails she needed to before looking for a suitable neurosurgeon for her tumour. She spent hours searching through the web, in between work emails, calls and projects. There wasn't even anyone she wanted to enquire to. Why would any rational person take the risk of operating on her inoperable tumour? Then she found someone she thought would be up for the challenge.

Amelia Shepherd. She'd operated on many inoperable tumours in the past and done so successfully. This was it. Jac's one shot at life. She sent off an Email with her latest scans and blood test results, before replying to a final few emails and calling it a day.

Chloe knocked on her office door just as she shut her computer down. She groaned, really hoping it wasn't to do with a patient. Her head was killing her. "Come in." She called.

"I'm going for a drink with Eli, Dom and some others from the hospital. Do you want to come?" She asked. The red-headed surgeon looked tired.

"No. I have a headache. I'm going to go home." She barely felt up for after-work drinks anymore. Sometimes she pushed herself to, but today was not one of those days. She needed her bed. She wasn't 100% sure she could even drive home without risking an accident.

"Okay, well, get some rest." Chloe replied.

"Yeah. I'll try to." Rest didn't feel that restful anymore. The symptoms of the tumour affected her no matter what, like an ever present being trying to take over her body and her life.

Once Chloe left the Office Jac ordered an Uber before gathering her things. She could leave the car at the hospital overnight. Once she got in she thanked Emma's nanny for taking care of her and giving her dinner. She took her medication to dull the heavily returning pain and nausea before reading with her daughter.

She was glad Emma was old enough to read herself as the words had started swimming on the page. The deterioration was scary. Emma knew she was sick. The blinding headaches, co-ordination issues, nausea and dizziness couldn't be hidden from the observant child so Jac had told Emma quiet early on but she worried about the day she couldn't care for her child anymore, or even worse, the day she died and was left without a mother.

Once putting Emma to bed she tried to eat something. She had leftover Pizza and hoped her stomach wouldn't revolt. Whilst she was eating she checked her emails for the last time that day. She'd had an email back from the American surgeon, Amelia Shepherd, who was happy to take on her case and set up a video call to discuss a timeline and surgical plan. It was really happening, she might get her second chance.

#Holby City #greys anatomy #jac naylor #amelia shepherd #Chloe Goddard #dominic copeland #Eli Ebrahimi #Max Mcgerry

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georgemackayhey · 4 years

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Sight For Sore Eyes

"Quarantine is making me really sad so could you maybe write a soft George request where the reader is American and they have a long distance relationship and haven’t seen each other for awhile but then she is able to fly in and surprise him, maybe with some help from his family (*bonus they have a sweet romantic night in and they’re both just so happy) also this doesn’t have to do anything with being quarantined. Just a general visit to London for the reader to see her favorite person lol xx"

Quarantine do be hitting hard though. I've been struggling with wifi but we're pushing through y'all! Stay sane out there, nonny. ♡

w/c: 3k

───※ ·❆· ※───

You met George when he'd spent some time filming on location, just outside of your city. He and some of his cast stumbled into the late-night dinner where you and your friends were having shakes and sharing laughs.

One of your dear friends pointed across the way to the group of dazzling strangers, and pretty soon your entire table was swooning over the same silent, sweet looking blonde boy. He kept casting glances toward where you all sat ogling him, stifling giggles and averting gazes when his saucer eyes looked up and over.

When the guy got up and sauntered toward your table, you thought surely your best friends wandering eyes had offended him and he'd come over to say something about it. A hush fell over your friend group as the stranger stood glancing at everyone before his eyes landed on yours.

"What's your name?" He asked gently, in an accent you hadn't expected. Everything about his question caught you off guard, and your friends tore their eyes away from the guy then, so they could gape at you.

"What's yours?" You wondered through a small laugh, eyes locked on his sparkling blue pair. A smile stretched across his face as your friends tried to remain calm. Your waitress appeared, nudging the stranger a few steps away to deliver a couple of milkshakes, but the pretty guy didn't go very far. He came back into your view soon after, to tell you his name.

That's how it all started. You thanked every luck star that aligned that night, for George to have wound up so far from his home and landed just near yours long enough to meet you. After he'd finished filming, you stayed in touch. It was no secret that there was something going on between the two of you and when you finally got the guts to address it, George seemed relieved.

"Now I have no reason to be afraid of asking to see you again when I'm back in the states." He chuckled, voice low and sweet over the phone.

After then George made it a point to come and see you every time he stopped in America. And there were many stops. You were pretty sure half of his visits had little to do with his job, but you weren't complaining.

You were always glad to have him near, to show him around your city and stop in that little old diner where you met. George said it was because they had the best cup of coffee in all the US, but you knew better than that. He kept coming back for you. Enough times to have met (and charmed) most of your family; and to make friends with the little old ladies who frequented the park the pair of you liked to walk around.

But because of money, and time, and a few other miscellaneous frustrations, you had yet to visit him. Every time rough plans started to patch themselves together around a plane ticket to London, something would go wrong. George would say "It's the thought that counts!"

But you were tired of daydreaming, as you hadn't seen your boyfriend face to face for months in a row. He was away, filming and sleeping close to home. And when George's project wound down, and as his birthday neared, you decided enough was enough. It was high time you'd done what George was always doing for you.

You took to your contacts, finding his sister's name. You'd never met her, but she'd popped into enough of George's facetime calls for you to feel as though you had. Once, she even stole his phone and ran to the loo so she could cry to you about something she couldn't seem to tell anyone else.

So as you rang the girl, you felt more excited than scared for the plan you'd been brewing.

After making sure she was alone and ready to scheme, you and George's sister spent an hour piecing together the perfect surprise.

You planned to book a flight for the morning before George's birthday, land in London that afternoon and stay with his sister without him finding out until the day after. It was a grand scheme indeed but with his sister's vow of silence, and you blaming all your extra-long shifts (to afford the trip) on a few newbies getting sacked, George didn't seem to catch on at all.

There were times you had to pretend to be a little extra somber when George wondered when you'd each other again. And one night after a few glasses of wine, you almost spilled your guts over a phone call. But you didn't thank heavens!

By the time you started packing, chattering to his sister over the phone, you were dead nervous. You'd never met his family, hell, you'd never even been to the UK. But his sister assured you that she would be at the airport in time to fetch you and happily hide you away without a hitch.

As you lugged your suitcase to the waiting gate at the airport, your phone buzzed in your pocket. George had sent a text, asking if he could call in a couple of hours. You laughed at the timing and thought fast about how to respond without sounding suspicious.

You settled for telling him you had a busy day and that you'd call when you were able, hoping he'd just think you were swamped with work.

With that, you turned your phone off and bit your nails as you boarded the plane. After a few too many failed attempts to plan a trip much like this, it was finally happening and George had no idea.

His sister was at the waiting gates, dancing in place with her arms outstretched. She jumped into a hug and laughed over how exciting this whole thing was. She was so pretty, with eyes that matched her brothers and a heart just as warm as his.

"Let's be off then, we've got to hide you away!" She laughed, taking your suitcase and throwing it in her car. You'd hardly processed the fact that you were finally in London, far more excited for the prospect of seeing George very soon.

On the ride, you chatted about tomorrow and how George seemed none the wiser. His sister invited him round for dinner, a usual celebration he wouldn't second guess. He'd never expect to show up to you.

You thanked his sister for being so accommodating and excited to help with your plan to surprise George. She was thrilled to have finally met you and said so all the way to her flat.

When you arrived, her very happy dog Lola leaped up to lick you, your second warm welcome of the day. Your host ordered take away and left you to settle in as she dashed into the shower for the night. You relaxed in the spare room, propping your suitcase in the corner and settling on the twin bed.

You finally turned your phone back on to find a missed text from George, checking in on you sometime earlier in the day. You took the moment alone to ring him, somehow missing him more even though he was (unknowingly) closer than before.

"Sorry I've been away, love. How are you?" You sighed, relishing the quiet space.

"S'alright darling, I know you've been working a lot," George assured right away. "How was it today?" He asked.

"Uh, good, yeah good." You fumbled, unable to lie to him but still trying to cling to your anonymity. "How was your day?" You shifted the subject, knowing all your awkward nerves would soon be worth it.

George rambled about meeting up with some friends who insisted on taking him for birthday drinks. He mentioned being lucky to have people in his life who cared so much for him, and who he cared for just as well.

"And my sister's invited me round for dinner tomorrow. Her idea of celebration has always been centered around food." He laughed and you do too, but only because he's clearly oblivious.

"I do wish I was with you, though." George's voice grew somber over the phone and your heart ached and sped up all at once. You hated how sad he sounded as he talked about missing you, but still, he wouldn't have to for long.

Just then, the doorbell rang. Ah, your take away had arrived, and Lola was just as excited to greet the delivery person. Her barks echoed through the hall as you shot up from your slump on the bed.

"Was that a dog? Where are you?" George asked curiously, increasing your heart rate by a million. His sister was still in the bathroom, and the impatient delivery person had rung the doorbell again.

"I'll call you back." You panicked, hanging up the phone in a rush as you hurried to answer the door and the dog. The kid on the porch seemed annoyed to have waited so long. You took the bags of food from his grasp, pressing your back to the door after it shut.

"You almost gave us away, Lola." You nodded toward the little dog who cocked her head to the side as she eyed to take away.

When it was your turn to wash up, you were afraid to call George back, even in the quiet tucked away room. You just had a silly feeling that he'd surely figure you out, if you did. So, you opted to text George not to worry, that you'd talk with him tomorrow. Which was so much more than true.

You joined his sister in the living room, where she'd set up your dinner, proper slumber party style, leaving some sitcom on mute in the background while you talked for hours on end. You told her how Lola almost ruined your perfect plan and she laughed through a bevy of examples of times George was too daft to see what was right in front of him. And while you traded secrets and stories and split bits of dinner, you'd nearly forgotten how excited you'd been to surprise George. His sister's company was so familiar and fun, you joked about calling the whole plan off and spending the rest of the weekend laughing together.

But the morning came quickly. You fought off jet lag through bouts of excitement as you helped George's sister make a birthday cake from scratch. She begged you to tell her the story of how you'd met her brother.

"He's told me a dozen times but I want to hear your side of the story." She laughed, warming your heart. You'd been a bit nervous to make a valuable first impression when you'd first landed in the sweet girl's home, but it didn't take you long to realize George had already done that for you. He seemed to have told his sibling all about you, and she seemed to really care.

When the afternoon rolled closer to the time George had been invited over, every minute passed like an hour. You started to feel bad for keeping your phone turned off. What if he thought you forgot his birthday? Oh well, you figured, the wait was totally worth it.

"God where is he?" His sister complained, turning off the oven that had been keeping dinner warm.

"Fashionably late." You laughed stretching from where you'd been relaxed at the table over cups of tea.

"He does spend too much time choosing what to wear. Always has." She shrugged, accepting her realization.

When the fateful knock on the door came, you were just applying a fresh coat of lip gloss in the vanity of the guest room.

"He's here!" Your host rounded the corner, clutching the doorway with a wicked grin.

You beamed up to the girl, setting down your lipgloss and hurrying to trade places. Last night after dinner had been eaten and you couldn't stop giggling, the two of you planned out just how to handle this moment.

You waited in the doorway, listening to the front door open in the distance.

"Happy birthday!" George's sister greeted from far off. It was finally happening!

"Thank you, kid," George responded sweetly, the sound of his muffled voice like music to your ears. You listened as his sister went on...

"Everything is ready, I figured we could set up the garden table since it's so warm out."

"Shall I help?" George asked, polite as ever.

"Of course. Uh, go fetch my Bluetooth speaker from the spare room?" His sister was so good at making it sound like a passing thought. You glanced at the little blue speaker on the nightstand and bit your lip in a smile as footsteps grew closer your way. You leaned against the doorway as Lola approached, proudly leading the way like she was in on the surprise too.

When George finally rounded the corner, you resisted jumping in his arms to see the look on his face.

"I know it's your birthday but it is rude to be so late, you know?"

George stalled, big blue saucer eyes darting across your figure like he couldn't believe you were real. Your smile grew as his eye pierced into yours again, just before he reached out to wrap you in the best hug you'd ever had. His hands pressed you against him as your wrapped your arms around his neck, laughing into his shoulder.

"You're here!" George excitedly rang into your hair. He stressed each word as if to ask how and when you'd managed to pull this over on him.

"And now, so are you!" You chuckled as you pulled away from your embrace to get a good look at the guy you'd come all this way to see. You placed a hand on the side of his soft face as his eyes stayed wide and grew a little glossy.

"Happy birthday, love." You cooed, searching his sparkling eyes and leaning in to press your lips against his. His hands remained splayed around your waist, holding you close as he returned the soft kiss.

After a few sweet pecks, George lowered his head into the crook of you next, slinking his arms around you to hold you close once more.

Through some quiet mewls and sniffles, George rambled about how much he loved you and how he couldn't believe you were here and how glad he was for it. You smiled at him, soaking up every babble and the sight of him before you.

"Come on ya big softie, it's dinner time." Your fingers intertwined with George's as you pulled him down the hall and into the back garden where his sister had set up the patio table with a cloth and pretty patterned plates.

"Where's my speaker?" She demanded to know through a laugh, resting a plate of warm food down.

You spun in your heels with a giggle and hurried to retrieve the forgotten device, even after all your careful planning.

"Now it's a party." George's sister declared, taking her speaker from your grasp and propping it on a nearby box of flowers. After giving Geoge the mission to play his favorite songs, she poured wine for each of you saving her own glass for last.

"Guys, I don't know what to say... thank you." George cast his eyes across the table and reached out to grab your hand in his once more, giving you that same dazzling glance you'd fallen for long ago.

Some soft pop tunes crackled through the tiny speaker in the corner, and the sun was warm on your back. As you sat and started to eat the warm expertly cooked meal, after you gushed over the taste, George demanded to know every detail of the plan you'd pulled off. You told him how you thought it up but you owed a big portion of the smooth sailing to his sister who went out of her way to help you.

George admired his sister's selfless act of kindness as you stood to pour everyone some more wine.

"Yeah well I don't know how to break it to you, but she's living with me now. You can visit on weekends though I suppose." His sister joked, tossing you a playful wink.

"Yeah, nice try." George reached over to you and pulled you into his lap, keeping you close.

"First my dog, now this." His sister feigned offense, glancing at Lola happily curled under George's feet. The pup had been hot on his trail all night long.

"It is his birthday, after all." You reminded, throwing an arm over George's shoulder, happy to have settled so close after far too long away.

"Oh, that's right." His sister stood with an excitable grin, scurrying off to go get the cake you'd made this morning.

"I'm so glad you're here." George sighed, his hands holding you in place against him, there was no place you'd rather have been.

"Did you get everything you wanted for your big day?" You asked George, who hadn't spoken of a parcel or present besides all the good company he'd been glad to keep.

"Ask me again, tonight." George gazed up at you with a smile that grew when you shook your head with a laugh.

"It has been lovely to stay with your sister but I can't wait to go home with you."

George always called your place home, when he was there. But you realized now, it had nothing to do with location. George was your home. And you were his.

And as beautiful as London has so far seemed, you planned to stay in this visit, with the guy you came all the way to see; who was glad as always, to see you too.

───※ ·❆· ※───

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #george mackay imagine #george mackay fanfic

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muteoilydiscolour · 3 years

Text

Year in Review

Yes I’m posting this way into January. HOWEVER, time isn’t real. I started making this post in Dec and then left it in my drafts, which is something I do pretty much every year! So let’s pretend ‘this year’ means 2020

a picture of you taken this year

This was at an fun exhibition in a huge decrepid warehouse, when things were briefly open in October

talk about movies this year

I work in a cinema so usually watch a lot of movies, but that hasn’t happened as much this year! I managed to miss out on two films because of lockdown 1 + 2 - And Then We Danced and Saint Maud, which I still really want to see!

My fav films I watched this year are The Lighthouse, Parasite, David Copperfield, My Own Private Idaho, Ema (I guess, the plot was wild but the production is great), Shirley, Sunset Boulevard and Nausicaa

talk about television this year

GUYS. It’s taken 6 years but I have nearly finished The X-Files! Or, I’ve made it to season 9. I’ve been a bit put off because I hate Doggett but Reyes is cool and there’s still a lot of fun eps! Other faves from this year: Drag Race UK, What We Do in the Shadows, Succession, I May Destroy You, Feel Good, BoJack Horseman, Schitt’s Creek, Ratched, and Pose (not from this year but I finally watch s2 and loved it!)

talk about books this year

I have literally read 3 books this year: Convenience Store Woman, Song of Solomon and The Body Keeps the Score. All good, esp the latter 2. I bought a bunch of books just before lockdown but then my brain dissolved into a fine mush. I’ve just started The Brothers Karamazov, which I’m enjoying! I didn’t realise Dostoyevsky could be funny.

talk about food this year

food is lyf

My birthday is at the end of March so I spent it essentially alone (my housemates were around but they don’t count), and I spent several hours making and icing my birthday cake.

At the beginning of lockdown I got into making myself nice breakfasts of waffles or pancakes with lots of fruit/yoghurt/honey.

Some recipe recs:

Leek, Pesto and Squash Pie (I made this with added peas/kale/veggie sausage, and mashed potato on top)

Jambalaya (I make this without chicken and use veg stock)

Spaghetti alla Puttanesca (I have only recently started to appreciate the greatness of spaghetti)

Salted Caramel Pear Cake

Carrot Cake

talk about music this year

Spotify playlist of songs I’ve enjoyed this year!

Fav albums:

Fiona Apple - Fetch the Bolt Cutters

Sufjan Stevens - The Ascension

Porridge Radio - Every Bad

Rina Sawayama - SAWAYAMA

Moses Sumney - Grae

Yves Tumor - Heaven to a Tortured Mind (this is currently on repeat!)

Perfume Genius - Set My Heart on Fire Immediately

Jessie Ware - What’s Your Pleasure

Dorian Electra - My Agenda

Having some of my favs release albums means I’ve been able to read lots of interviews with them, such as this Fiona Apple interview.

talk about art this year

I was lucky enough to do a London trip at the end of Feb (and met @angelsofashes IRL!) so I got to look at a bunch of art then, although I think just went to the White Cube Bermondsey and the Tate Modern extension which I hadn’t got round to visiting before.

OH and in the National Portrait Gallery I discovered young Charles Dickens is my doppelganger which I still find hilarious.

something that made you proud this year

I finished my Graphic Arts MA in January and got a distinction! I worked so hard on my final project so it was nice to have that recognised even though it’s essentially meaningless. I also was lucky enough to have a final show.

Other than that, proud of everyone for making it through I guess!

something that made you laugh this year

A lot of bad memes, such as:

something that made you sad this year

*Gestures at everything*

something that made you happy this year

Friends, sunshine, watching people walk their dogs

your favorite photo this year

idk, I take so many photos - but here’s a nice cat refusing to face the camera

what you learned this year

I’ve kind of learned how to use After Effects! Slowly getting better at animation

travel you did this year

I managed to do a few trips around Devon/London/Kent in Feb/Mar, which was pretty lucky. Aside from that... uhhhhhhhh

I also bought a railcard in Feb lmao, and they’re not refunding or extending them, of course

Something which caught your interest this year

I’ve been listening to podcasts all the time (as a substitute for actual company I guess!) Literally one of the few things keeping me sane. Some recs:

You’re Wrong About

Museum of the Vanishing Dog (shoutout to tumblr user @boyhood!)

Caraboo Projects loops

talk about politics or current events this year

uhhhhhhhhh

tbh the US election was a welcome distraction, esp as it happened when I had to Covid isolate - nice for an election result to not be disastrous for once

3 goals for next year

Find somewhere to live (I’m being chucked out of my current place this summer because, mysteriously, they want to make it a student flat)

Survive/stay healthy if possible

Maybe search for that elusive 5-figure salary

talk about things you are excited for next year.

uhhhhhhhhhh

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

#year in review

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matildainmotion · 3 years

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Your Permission to Belong: a Deep Yes and a New Verb: To Matronise.

It turns out we are all imposters, or at least most of us feel we are. Although I knew this - it’s why I wrote a blog about it last month - I am still amazed and troubled that it is true. That so many of us feel like we don’t cut it, even in the context of a group like Mothers Who Make (MWM) that aims to be welcoming, inclusive, accessible. It has left me pondering on the opposite of Imposter Syndrome, on what it is that makes you, me, any of us, feel that we belong, that we have a right to be here. Who says? What or who gives us a sense of permission?

Permission -it’s a difficult word, not the obvious go-to one when on a quest for a sense of belonging. I associate it most immediately with stern, finger-wagging teachers, or ‘keep off the grass’ notices- with authority figures and forces that have the power to deny access. In its origins (Latin, permitere) it means to allow through, to let pass, which is why I think it is the key to our sense of belonging. Before we can belong, there is always a threshold moment, a point at which we are allowed to pass. Imposter Syndrome comes about when you feel you sneaked across the border - you are wandering about without a permit and it is only a matter of time before someone finds you out. No one gave you permission.

This is a top down model. The supplicant asks, waits anxiously to see if permission will be granted or denied by the authorities. It is a hugely powerful model. I still remember the first time I managed to get funding, the money was a minimal sum but far more significant was the feeling that someone had chosen me, had granted me permission to make a piece of work. Given how small the grant was, why couldn’t I have made it anyway?! Because I wanted an external authority to tell me I could. I wanted to be patron-ised.

Whilst, in theory, being a feminist and all, I didn’t agree with the patriarchal structure of this system, I was hopelessly hooked into it. I was a good girl, or desperate to be so, to acquire paternal approval to affirm my right to be or do anything. It has taken me becoming a mother to feel, viscerally, how problematic this top-down model of permission-giving can be.

As someone who had long identified as the supplicant, it was rather a shock, when I became a parent, to find myself in the position of authority- the one to dish out or withhold the permissions, in a hundred small ways, many times a day and I have found it exhausting. Perhaps because of this, I fear I am a permissive parent- I often allow my children to do what they want. Irrespective of what parenting methods you believe in, I think it is significant that being ‘permissive' has negative connotations. To say yes too often is a no-no. When I do say no, I have been struck, as my children grow, by the force of their reactions. They rage at first – which is hard - but then they walk away, which is harder. My daughter goes into a corner. My son has been known to make it out the door and down the lane. Both have told me I am the worst mother in the world and that they are in the wrong family - they don’t belong (their shared sense of melodrama is evidence to the contrary, but I refrain from putting this to them in the moment). My daughter is particularly sensitive to any of her wishes, ideas, words not being given full approval. Her back rounds, her head bows, the tears start. Sometimes this happens, not when I have frowned at her, but when I have condoned her brother. She is convinced that it is impossible for me to love her if I also love him. In other words, if she is to belong, she feels someone else must be left out- her inclusion only counts if he has been excluded. Needless to say, I find this very distressing. This is not what I want for her or her brother. And this is not what I want for MWM. I do not want to lead a movement that makes people feel left out, or as if they are imposters, one that furthers the dominant narrative around belonging- that some are allowed in, while others aren’t. What to do?

I remember back to a project I ran before Mothers Who Make called Permission Improbable, a play on the macho action spy movies, Mission: Impossible. The project, which I lead through Improbable, had the modest ambition of changing the world by supporting more women and non-binary people to improvise. Improvising, at its heart, is a game of permission-giving. In the absence of a writer or director - the usual authority figures - you have to practice giving your permission, saying yes, to the other players, the audience, to yourself- your impulses, feelings, thoughts. You never say no. It is not that every patch of grass in an impro scene can be trampled on, but rather that if someone puts up a ‘Do Not Walk Here’ sign everyone on stage says ‘yes’ to it, to the idea of it being part of the story. How ever many lawns are out of bounds, there is a deeper yes always at work- a common ground beneath the turf.

This presents a different model of permission-giving, not top-down, but reciprocal, and unconditional. We say yes to each other, and we say it together, without deliberation. Saying this deep yes to our ideas and impulses is not easy. We have been schooled to look outside ourselves, and upwards, for permission, and we have been trained to say ‘no’- sometimes with good reason. Sometimes ‘no’ keeps us alive. However too many ‘no’s may keep us less alive than we might be. It takes practice to say ‘yes’ but it is worth practicing. Arguably it is THE practice - the only thing you ever really have to practice, as a maker, as a mother- saying a deep “Yes.”

Image by Zoe Gardner @limberdoodle

I remember there was a time as a teenager when I ruthlessly dismissed my mother’s opinion of anything I did. She was my mum, massively biased - she’d always think what I had made was good so her positive feedback didn’t count. Retrospectively I disagree with my teenage self - I believe my mother’s validation of me counted hugely. I think it always counts. There is a place for discernment, but not at the expense of the first, fundamental practice, the ‘yes’ that gets us over the threshold.

When framed in this way, I actually think I need to be more permissive with my children. I need to practice, every day, saying a deep ‘yes’ to them, even or especially in the moments I am not allowing them to do something. As their mother I am their initial threshold, my body was the border they crossed into life. It is my task to say ‘yes’ to them. Yes, you are allowed to be here. Yes, you belong. I realise the children, in their own way, always say this kind of deep ‘Yes’ back to me, even when they are telling me I am the worst mother in the world. I believe that if I can engage in this reciprocal, unconditional model of permission-giving, it can result in a form of belonging that is not ‘in’ or ‘out’, inclusion/ exclusion - not another binary, but an ongoing dynamic process called community. And that is how I want to run Mothers Who Make, and in particular how I want to run our ‘Matronage’ membership scheme.

Let me do a brief re-cap on the Matronage story for anyone who doesn’t know it. In 2019, after a year of writing funding applications for MWM to councils, trusts (the UK patrons of the arts) and receiving no money - money being the major way in which permission is granted or denied in our culture - I was tired. I wanted to find a way to sustain the movement that was in line with the movement, that supported women/ non-binary carers to support themselves and one another, so I launched the Matronage scheme - if we could reach 300 Matron Saints, paying £1 to 10 per month, we could just about keep going. So far, a year on, we have 150.

My vision for Matronage is to see if it is possible to run a membership scheme powered entirely by the impulse to include, not by patronising ‘exclusive, members-only offers.’ I want to build a scheme that is accessible to anyone, no matter their financial status. There are benefits for signing up as a MWM Matron, but the primary, underlying one is that in doing so you are performing a radical act of permission-giving. It is a way to say a deep, resounding YES, to yourself and to others who care about creating and create whilst caring. Yes, you have a right to be here, Yes, your caring matters, Yes, your making matters too. And, yes, if you are reading this, you belong, no matter what your gender identity is, what your making practice is or isn’t, no matter whether you have children or not. Because, whilst it is important to practice saying ‘yes’ to yourself and your ideas, I do not think it is possible to do it all alone. We do need permission from outside ourselves, but we can give it to each other. Even if, like me, you do not identify as being someone important enough to hand out a permit, actually you are- I see it every time I run a MWM meeting or Mother Den. We can allow each other to pass through to a place of belonging, and it is a practice - we must do it over and over again. Let’s call this process ‘being matronised.’

To become a Matron Saint, you can pay anything from £1 per month to £10 per month - you choose. Most people pay £3, but if you can afford it £5 or £10 is brilliant. If you can’t £1 is fine. And if you cannot afford any monetary contribution then you can get in touch and we can playfully, joyfully, shamelessly, work out another kind of offering that you can make. Money is the fastest, and ironically often the cheapest way of saying ‘yes!’ but there are many others.

For now, when you become a Matron Saint you can:

-Attend as many International MWM peer support meetings as you like.*

-Attend as many Mother Dens as you like.*

-Attend any of the MWM Specials.*

-Write a Matron Saint interview, published online, celebrating you and your caring and creating.

-Apply to our Mother Pot commissioning fund once we reach 300 Matron Saints (when this happens a month of our Matronage will go back out to the matrons).

-Take part in our peer-mentoring scheme when I manage to launch it (watch this space!)

-Last but not least, you will give yourself and others permission. Permission to step over whichever thresholds you are teetering on. Permission to belong. And here is a new idea to make this tangible: when you become a Matron I would like to post you a ‘book of permissions,’ a living document to which you can add and which you will pass on to the next Matron, and so and so forth - a way to matronise one another. Such a list reminds me of what is apparently the nation’s favourite poem - Warning- the one in which the poet (Jenny Joseph) lists the outrageous things she will permit herself to do when she grows old - wear purple, pick flowers in other peoples’ gardens, learn to spit. I want to read your equivalent lists for now - let’s not wait till we grow any older.

Here, then, are your questions for the month, and I hope you will feel able to sign up as a Matron, invite others to do so (all genders welcome, non-mothers too), and write your answers in the new MWM book:

What do you need in order to feel you belong? What permission are you waiting for? Can you give it to yourself? Can you give it to others? Can you say a resounding ‘Yes’ to whatever it is you want to create in this world?

To become a matron go here:

https://www.nowdonate.com/checkout/td65v9xn404udt23p91c

To sign up as a matron and offer something other than money email me: [email protected]

*These particular matronly offers are, unless otherwise stated, open to women and non-binary folk only.

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