#no auction title they are NOT ugly >:(

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls-Season 2, Epsiode 13 ("A Tisket A Tasket") Part 1 of ???

So this is like, the first heavily Jess-centered episode after his debut back in 2/5. He's kind of been chilling behind the counter at Luke's for 8 episodes. He's been seen, he's been mentioned since he lives rent free in the head of every citizen of Stars Hollow. But here, he has truly arrived, making his debut in one of these shitshow eps that combine Dean, Jess, the DALA (Dean and Lorelai Affair), etc etc. A real fucking doozy. PS: All previous commetary is now linked in my pinned post.

What have we here? Oh, look everyone, it's yet ANOTHER fundraiser/excuse for Taylor Doose to embezzle money from the citizens. All proceeds to go to the retirement home, right. Sure. Where is this mythical retirement home that no one has ever mentioned and has never been seen before? I think he mis spelled "All proceeds line Taylor Doose's pockets."

Pictured below: A senior citizen of Stars Hollow after receiving money raised for the retirement home.

Oh, Lorelai is just STARVING for some Dean Forrester today. She’s foaming at the mouth. Patty: Do you have any change? I don't know where all my quarters go. Lorelai: Down some guy's g-string? Patty: Oh no. A quarter would be insulting. Miss Patty for Prez. On my gritty adult Gilmore Girls Reboot titled The Hollow I would make sure we'd see a scene of Miss Patty at the male strip revue, it would be hilarious.

I've never seen "You". Is this "You"? Is Dean Forrester the guy from "You"?

I've warned you two to stop doing this. Time to resort to drastic measures.

Go and get him Lorelai. This fine specimen is right there waiting for you in the Cheese Ball aisle.

The way Jess Mariano's name rolls off of Dean's tongue with such vitriol, such disgust, the way Jess Mariano clearly lives rent free in Dean Forrester's otherwise empty little head 24/7, it gives me tremendous joy. Jess' jacket may as well be the equivalent of a cold blast from a garden hose. It's so ugly that it will put a damper on even the most passionate makeouts (of which Rory and Dean's was not) because you must stop whatever you’re doing and gaze upon it, to wonder what rock-bottom of a church donation bin his mother scraped that thing from, or maybe he took it from one of Liz's lousy husbands who left it behind. I'm telling you, that in my opinion, this is the ugliest man's coat to ever exist, and the other thing that makes it so ugly is that it's way too big on Milo's tiny frame. He's drowning in it. Where was I? *ugly coat ugly coat ugly coat* Uhh, let's get back to it...

Does anyone else think about the fact that Gilmore Girls (2000) was the last time anyone would see Milo with even a single curl in his hair? He had jumped to Peter Petrelli hair by S6 and never looked back.

RENT-FREE. Someone: Can you sum up the relationship between Jess & Dean in 15 words or less? Me: I Gotchu fam.

Rory Giving Dean Completely Sensible Advice: I wish you two could get along. He lives here. You run into him. He goes to school with you. It's a waste of energy to fight with him. Dean:

Alexis Bledel's acting can be pretty wooden, but her "Rory is fucking sick of Dean or Tristan's shit" facial reactions are priceless.

I wrote a Haiku: His ugly brown coat Ugly coat you are so brown Vomit colored brown.

For anyone keeping score, Rory has been snuck up on from behind and frightened by two different people in the span of only a few minutes. Give my girl a break.

Rory: "Dis guy.... sigh." And now for some other Goings On in this episode: Lane has yet another insane and convoluted plan to meet with Henry behind her mother's back, involving her male cousin and using the Line Taylor Doose's Pockets Auction as a cover. If she has to go through all of this to hide a nice Korean boy like Henry (and later, Dave Rygalski, the Best Boyfriend On Tv) from her mother, it once again makes me yearn to see Lane and Jess date openly if for nothing else but to give Mrs. Kim chest pains. This will happen on my adult Gilmore Girls reboot titled The Hollow. Lane: Mom, I had sex with Jess Mariano. Oh and I might be pregnant. Mrs Kim: Evaporates into the ether, ascending to the heavens to meet Jesus. Jackson wants Sookie to move in with him, but she's not getting the hint. Miss Patty thinks Lorelai needs to get laid and has taken it up on herself to try to remedy that, much to Lorelai's annoyance, but Patty is obviously blind to the fact that Lorelai Gilmore waits for only one man.

For anyone keeping score, Rory has been snuck up on from behind and frightened by two three different people in the span of only a few minutes.

Stars Hollow video can be seen in the background in this scene, so I withdraw my take that it was never seen again after the previous episode.

Perhaps there was some deeper meaning, a metaphor of some kind, something AmyShermanPalladino was trying to say, with these repeated references to people being shoved into closets against their will. The bidding wars have begun.

I had to listen to Milo Ventimiglia talk about being Team Dean again this week (we all know he's really just Team Jared) and he said Dean was "A sweet hometown boy" and obviously he doesn't remember this show at all if he thinks that, and he would probably be pretty upset with me if I said I wanted to smack that stupid smug grin off of Jared Padalecki's face right now. Jess, I will give you $1,000 if you burn this coat and I'm allowed to watch it go up in flames. Glorious, glorious flames.

Are we talking about Dean Forrester's weiner here?

Does anyone else wonder where Jess gets $90 of easily disposable income from? Not like he can make that in the short time he's been working at Luke's since his uncle is probably paying him sub minimum wage and no one in Stars Hollow pays for their food or tips their servers.

Just a baby! Just a little guy, in an ugly brown coat!

When his lips get real thin you know he's mad. Guy behind him in the black coat is like ha, you putz, you almost spent $80 on a basket for a girl who won't even put out until you're already married to someone else.

Kiss my ass, Doose.

Okay, that was just the first TEN minutes of the 42 minute episode. We may have a 4-parter on our hands, people. Be patient for the next chapter.

#gilmore girls #lorelai gilmore #rory gilmore #jess mariano #milo ventimiglia #literati #denise rewatches gilmore girls #gilmore girls season 2 #a tisket a tasket #a-tisket a-tasket #anti dean forrester #dean forrester can stumble face first into an active volcano #virgin sacrifice #ugly brown coat #ugly coats

[afpwestcoast]

The UC Theatre, Berkeley, CA, 12/31/23

As I was about to board my flight from Portland down to Oakland who should run up - after boarding was well in progress - but Amanda Fucking Palmer herself, with a large bag from Powell’s Books over her shoulder, which is so on-brand it’s not even funny. The whole crew was on the same flight with me. Cosmic coincidences.

The inimitable Kat Robichaud dominated as Mistress of Ceremonies, and she brought along some friends from the Misfit Cabaret, so this promised to be a great night from the start.

Kat kicked things off with her original song Charade, then The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence provided a series of short, pithy blessings for the new year that managed to be funny, touching, and queer in equal measure.

Snatch Adams did an amazing burlesque routine involving a leaf blower and a giant balloon that she somehow got completely inside … and then removed her clothes.

Another original from Kat, and an extremely sexy dance from Aurora Rose, and it was time for the Dresden Dolls.

In 2017 Amanda did an NYE show a week after having a miscarriage and barely made it through the show. This show was similarly performed amidst some personal tragedy. Amanda had just learned that a good friend from New Zealand - whom she was actually en route to go visit - had died suddenly and tragically. And the longtime landlord / den mother of the artist collective Cloud Club, where Amanda “grew up” as an artist, was in hospice on his death bed (he passed early on the 2nd). While she did talk about this a little on stage for the most part she just powered through and delivered a killer show.

My favorite way to ring in the new year is with Amanda and/or the Dolls, and this show went a long way towards explaining why. Flamboyantly talented people providing astounding spectacle; who could ask for anything more? Halfway through the show my friend Nikki turned to me and said, “I can’t imagine being happier than I am right now!” I couldn’t agree more.

Annotated Set List:

Good Day (Brian on guitar to start)

Sex Changes

Gravity

Modern Moonlight

My Alcoholic Friends

Shores of California

Welcome to the Internet (Bo Burnham cover) - Before this song Amanda often asks, “Are there any young people in the audience?” and she typically chooses one to serenade during the ‘Waiting for YOOOOOU!’ bridge. Tonight this turned into a bit of a bidding war in which we started at 18 and worked our way down to 5. At one point Brian became an auctioneer, “I’ve got 16 here do I hear 15? 14! 14 going once, can I get … 13 over here!”

Mandy Goes to Med School

Amanda said she wanted to repeat the collective primal scream they had done last NYE, and while that’s true the tradition actually started at the very first solo show Amanda did in the States post COVID in August of ‘22.

“Close your eyes, and on the count of three I would like you to scream as loudly as possible to release the good, the bad, the ugly, the better, the unfulfilled, the loneliness, the whatever you fucking went through last year it’s now gone and you’ve got about an hour to sit with it if you wanna be sad or happy and then it’s all gonna go away and we’re gonna go into 2024 into a bucket of unicorn dreams!”

PRIMAL SCREAM!!

Mister God

Amanda said that she and Whitney had come up with a working title for the new Dresden Dolls album: Downer Bangers (“That was my nickname in high school!” quipped Nikki.)

“I found out this morning that a really good friend of mine from New Zealand just died really suddenly and tragically, and I’m in the middle of losing someone else in my life, and it’s just one of those days where you’re like, ‘This is happening, and I still have to play a show.’ This has happened to me enough that I know how to do it, but I’ve gotta tell you that it’s still really weird to get up in front of everybody while I’m going through what I’m going through. And here’s the great thing about being in the Dresden Dolls: I have a song for that! So I’m gonna play it.”

Houdini

Another Christmas (Brian on guitar, Amanda on jingle bells)

Amsterdam (Jacques Brel cover) (Brian on guitar, Amanda on beer) - At the beginning of the second stanza Amanda lost track of the lyrics. “In the port of Amsterdam, there’s a sailor who … ”

“Dies!” I helpfully yelled

“Dies … sorry, Tom.”

Hey don’t apologize to me; I live for this shit!

Missed Me - Brian has taken to really going all out on this one, often performing entire melodramatic vignettes. Tonight he just … left. Got up, left the stage, disappeared. He has played with briefly “leaving” during this song, but this time he was just gone. And Amanda had no idea what was going on. She was talking to the crowd - he’s really gone, I’m all alone, what do I do? sort of thing - when a large, potted plant crept up behind her. As Brian was creeping about the stage hiding behind the plant like a cartoon villain Amanda said, “This is the same guy who during soundcheck was like, ‘Let’s keep the intro really short.’” The antics went on so long that Amanda got flustered and got confused about where they were in the song. She looked at me and asked, “Is this right?” I gave her a big thumbs up.

Backstabber

Astronaut (A Brief History of Nearly Nothing) (Amanda Palmer cover)

Mrs. O - Quick restart after Amanda thought she detected a medical issue in the crowd, something that happened at both the LA and SD shows earlier in the month. It was a false alarm, and the band played on.

Delilah (featuring Kat Robichaud AND Whitney Moses (the OG!)) - Double Delilahs for double the pathos. Before starting Amanda entreated the crowd to sing along. “I want you to sing this song tonight for someone who needs it. And that someone might be you.”

Sing - Amanda was keeping one eye on the clock and the tempo on this one was a bit faster than normal so they could get it in before …

MIDNIGHT! Balloon drop! General pandemonium!

(You Gotta) Fight for Your Right (To Party!) (Beastie Boys cover) - Everyone on stage!

Coin-Operated Boy

War Pigs (Black Sabbath cover)

——

Girl Anachronism

Photo Gallery: Preshow family portrait.

Destiney performed as a living statue before the show.

Snatch Adams, ladies and gentlemen.

The Dresden Dolls!

Welcome to the Internet

Another Christmas

Amsterdam!

Sometimes you just can’t see the drummer through the trees.

Dual Delilahs!

MIDNIGHT!!!

Submitted without comment.

Good night!

Traditional selfie with Whitney Moses and post-show family selfie featuring Michael!

#dresden dolls #amanda palmer #happy new year

[starsoforionwrites]

Hi! A couple of people have asked me about binding policies etc, so here is my official stance on everything I can think of. This can also be found on my AO3 profile.

Binding I'm thrilled to see bindings of my work, as long as it's not for profit in any way. This includes charity auctions, commissions, binding as "gifts for patreons" etc. Binding for personal use, gifts for friends, or binding exchanges with friends are fine by me.

Please let me know if you bind anything of mine, I'd love to see the finished result so much ❤️

Art You could send me a stickman drawing captioned in Comic Sans and I would cry ugly tears of joy.

AI This is a hard no. Please do not use my work in any kind of AI programme. This includes using fragments of text to generate AI images. This is not the venue for a huge post on my feelings on AI, but I'm very much against it for any creative uses at all, so basically if it has any relation to AI in any way it'll be a no from me.

Goodreads / Storygraph I would really rather you didn't post my work on any of these platforms. This, for me, is really about the context of comments. These platforms are used for reviews, while I interact with people on AO3 as conversations. Personally I see zero value in reviews in a fanfic space. So many works are crack one-shots, or inspired by a single phrase or a song title. Published books, no matter how "bad" you might think they are, are picked up and published based on their marketability. They are professional works, edited and proofed and targeted at a specific demographic. My fanfics are a dream I had inspired by a trope and too much caffeine.

Downloading Go nuts. If you have the patience to wait for a story to be completed before downloading it to your Kindle and reading it in one go, more power to you! That said do please drop by the comments and say something, even if it's just "EARARAGHGRHAGRHGHG!!!!"

#dramione #fanfic

[fallseidol]

*The guards were loyal, perhaps to a fault.* *They thanked their lord and obeyed without question, leaving Koschei practically alone in Cronus's presence. Those chains were meant to be for the protection of the rest of the palace's residences, and the threats were purely meant to keep the intruder in his place to show respect. Koschei was but one creature standing in the same room as a god...what actual danger and harm could he possibly be to the mighty all-powerful Cronus?* *As it happened, not much except shoot him multiple expressions of skepticism and...confusion? It was hard to tell what was actually going on inside that horned head of his.* Koschei: "Well, then you certainly have an eye for creativity." *His face instantly beamed into a polite smile, his tone friendly and talkative.*

Koschei: "The styles are very varied, no question. I guess it's thanks to you, aspiring artists who would never have the spotlight they deserve for their hard work won't have to live knowing their passions were in total vain and doomed to fade into obscurity. Well done, you!~" *He beamed at Cronus congratulatory, his eyes closed and head cocked to one side.* Koschei: "Except..." *His yellow-ish orange eyes snapped back open.* Koschei: "Now, please forgive me for saying so, but I could've sworn I saw a piece belonging to none other than the infamous Daphne Georgiou. A common citizen from any other point of view. I believe the work in question was...the Ruby Tree. Did you know- I mean, of course you already know, but still, that she spent whole fifteen years working on it?" *His eyes narrowed a little* Koschei: "Not necessarily on the painting itself, no, but rather, trying to come up with it. Trying to find a style that appealed to everyone, trying to become a truly great artist- her whole life she'd wanted that, to be a great artist I mean...to prove her personal ambitions meant something, to be given glory for following her dreams and told she was right to follow her heart, and...I suppose that's exactly what you've done, my lord! An actual god has given her the praise her work deserves! :D " *It was true, someone like that couldn't hope to be more grateful! Koschei's tone was bubbly and grateful, he seemed to be almost giggling to himself.* *And then it stopped abruptly.* Koschei: "Except..." *That word again...* Koschei: "Her desires nearly tore her apart. She spent fifteen long years trying so hard to get it right, she started taking care of herself less and less." *His tone hardened, just a little,* Koschei: "It started to create wedges in her relationships, it started affecting her every-day life at work, at home, until eventually she cried out in agonized realization her 'dreams' were tearing her apart. The only thing that stopped her from destroying the painting when she finished it was the fact it served as a useful reminder...a memento to the life lesson you don't need the praise of others to live your life, that you don't need others to respect your dreams...only you." *Koschei turned his head thoughtfully.* Koschei: "And so, she gave up professional painting and had no intention whatsoever to publicly display the Ruby Tree." *He looked directly at Cronus now...his gaze was piercing.* Koschei: "And yet, there it is, hanging on the gallery wall of the grand palace of great and generous lord Cronus..." *Was that finally anger in his eyes...or smug disdain?* Koschei: "By the way, the name's Valeyar Koschei...would you like a root-beer drop? :) "

Cronus eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The smile on his face froze into place, a mask of genteel patience.

"What an absurd rumour." He chuckled, "I bought that painting from an auction for magical items. The title appealed to me more so than the actual work of art. I had no idea it had such a colorful background! Really, you must tell me more. And I would LOVE a root beer drop, thank you."

Cronus had solidified this creature in his mind. A Trickster. Possibly even a trickster God. Ugly as Pan and with the mind of a madman. He'd need to tread carefully. Rules. Social norms. So long as he didn't react to the tricks, as long as he was polite and a good host, he'd be fine.

[bus-stop-to-kpop]

Price of Love (Ravn x Reader)

Pairing: Ravn (Kim Youngjo) x gn!Reader (Reader wears a dress as disguise and gets called miss once but like it’s a disguise so... could still be gn)

Requested?: Yes

Genre: Mafia!au, slight angst ig

Trigger Warning!!: mentions of death, mentions of wounds (but no actual injuries in the story), fire

Summary: You’re on a heist to steal precious artwork together with your boss turned boyfriend, but he suddenly changes the plan and leaves you worrying for his safety.

Word Count: 1,528

A/N: Once again I am apologizing that it took mw so long to write this T.T

But like writing is a creative task and sometimes I’m just not creative enough... Anyway I finally made it yayy. Enjoy it :)

Also about the title idk how to name it so yeah they’re at an auction and in love so that was the best I could come up with, sorry -Admin J

As you walked through the entrance of the auction house, you instantly felt as if all eyes were on you.

The clothes you were using as a disguise made you feel uneasy. Usually, people in your line of work didn’t care for what you wore, it was more important if you were holding a loaded gun to their head or a knife to their throat.

But right now, the flowy black dress you were wearing to hide your silhouette, the blonde wig that was tightly secured with a scarf draped over your head and the pearls around your neck, made you feel incredibly uncomfortable. Yet that was still better than exposing who you were to those rich snobs all around you.

“You’re looking pretty. Maybe we should have you wear a dress more often.” The teasing voice of your boss turned boyfriend rang through the earpiece that was hidden under your wig as soon as you sat down at one of the chairs of the auction hall.

As much as you wanted to talk back, you refrained from doing so, to not blow your cover. Looking around you found Ravn dressed up as one of the guards at the side of the stage that would soon present the items for the auction. You ignored the sly smirk on his lips as he watched you.

It wasn’t hard to remember the first time you had seen him smirk like that. You had been found guilty of stealing from a club that belonged to him. Begging on your knees, to stop him from killing you, you advertised yourself to him as best as possible. Saying that whatever dirty work he needed to have done, you’d do it without asking any questions.

And in these past years you did not only manage to earn his respect but also his love.

Which brought you to the current situation, an auction with the finest and most expensive art pieces from all over the world. To top it all off they would be presenting the most expensive diamond ring known to man, but Ravn had made it clear you were only here for the art.

He’s always had this fable for arts, which you couldn’t really understand, many of those drawings looked like the were made by kindergarteners, why would they be that expensive? But if you could make your boyfriend happy by stealing him an ugly but crazily expensive artwork, you’d do it anytime.

As the auction began with the first piece, you were having fun by bidding together with the rich people in the room. Of course, you had no intentions of actually buying any of the items, but it was fun to compete with the rich and push the price to unbelievable numbers.

Once in a while you could feel Ravn sneaking glances at you, to make sure you were doing fine. He was happy to see that you were enjoying toying with other bidders as he knew you weren’t very interested in art, he had feared you would get bored.

When they finally rolled in the last item of the auction after what felt like eternity, you couldn’t take your eyes off the diamond ring. It had been one of your biggest dreams to one day possess a ring like that. The way it made the whole room sparkle as the bright lights of the auction room illuminated it enchanted you.

So when the fire alarm started blaring through the building it ripped you out of your trance and you jumped a little, even if you knew about this plan all along. As the smell of fire and dark smoke spread panic arose, people were trying to storm out of the building as fast as possible the guards guided everyone out of the room to safety until only you were left in the room.

“Miss, you need to leave there’s a fire!” A guard came up behind you. “Oh, shut up!” You declared, knowing fully well it was Xion under that disguise. He laughed and nudged your shoulder as he walked by you to get the artwork from backstage. The auction house was trusting the guards to lock away the art pieces safely in the case of a fire, but there was one thing they weren’t aware of, they all had been replaced by Ravn’s workers.

“The van is at the back entrance; Ravn is getting the fake paintings right now. Put the real ones in this bag and bring them to the car. Tell Leedo to drive right away, Ravn and I will make sure this whole place is burning to the ground. We’ll meet you guys back at headquarters afterwards.” Xion explained as he handed you a bag.

You felt uneasy, this wasn’t the original plan, what happened to taking the paintings, replacing them with fake ones to make everyone think they burned and getting out of there as fast as possible? Why would the two of them stay here any longer than they must? But it wasn’t the right time to question their plan, if Ravn wanted it that way there was nothing you could do.

As you were walking to the bag door, clutching the bag of paintings tightly you actually met Ravn on your way. “Be careful!” You warned him, he was probably fully aware that you didn’t like his decision to stay here instead of coming back to HQ with you. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll see you in my office later. I have a surprise for you then.”

Before you could even question what he was talking about he was pressing his lips to yours. For a second the blaring fire alarm and the smell of smoke were completely forgotten as you melted into the kiss, after all there was a possibility, it would be your last. But as the heat in the building was rising, you became aware that you were actually in an actively burning building and it was best to leave, with that the two of you parted and went your ways.

Leedo was already waiting at the back entrance, just as Xion had said. The sliding door of the van open for you to jump right in. He seemed to be aware of the plan as he stepped on the gas before the door was even fully closed.

“Why are they staying there?” You asked Leedo as you climbed to the passenger seat of the van. His eyes were focused on the street as he shrugged. He didn’t know either, he was just following the orders Ravn had given.

~*~

Back at the headquarters people were cheering upon seeing you return with the bag full of paintings, usually you would be celebrating with them, but right now you didn’t feel like celebrating anything if Ravn wasn’t by your side. You walked straight to his office. Something in you was wishing that if you opened the door, he would be there waiting for you, but how was that possible. He couldn’t have gotten here quicker than you did. Especially since Leedo was Oneus’ fastest getaway driver.

Just like you thought, his office was empty. You put the bag of paintings down at his neatly organized desk before you let yourself fall back into his black leather chair. A sigh escaped your lips as you were on the verge of crying, you were trying to calm down by telling yourself he had survived so many dangerous situations. Every time he had escaped sometimes with gun wounds, stab wounds even broken bones, he said they were like scratches to him. But Fire? That was something completely different, he couldn’t control that or fight that.

You started pacing around the small office, letting your hand wander over the metal surfaces of his shelves to check for dust, just to distract yourself. Of course, there was no dust, his office was the place he treasured the most, so it had to be spotless.

You were standing with your back to the door as you heard it open, your whole body froze. It scared you, what if you turned around and it wasn’t Ravn standing there, but one of his men telling you he wouldn’t return.

“Y/N.” A breath escaped you that you didn’t even know you were holding. You couldn’t hold your tears anymore, they just started flowing. That was his voice! Turning around you rushed into your boyfriends’ arms and hugged him tightly. Your fist hit his chest, “Why did you have to do that? Why couldn’t you just stick to the plan?”

He didn’t answer at first, tightening the hug and stroking your hair. When he was sure you had calmed down, he wiped your tears with his thumb before speaking, “Well the plan didn’t involve getting you this.” He pulled something out of his pocket, it took you a second to realize what it was. The diamond ring!

“Will you spend the rest of your life with me?” This question alone had you crying again and your arms wrapped around his neck as you pulled him into a kiss. “Is that a yes?” Ravn chuckled when you parted.

“Of course it is!”

#oneus #oneus x reader #oneus ravn x reader #oneus fanfic #oneus imagine #oneus ravn #oneus mafia!au #oneus scenarios #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop mafia!au #challenge: make the characters say marry me #admin J: no #admin J

[gregorylevin6]

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#bonus chip

[curryberg50]

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[olsson55burch]

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#gta modders

[littleguymart]

(source)

#toycore #kidcore #aliencore #yellow #plush #alien #no auction title they are NOT ugly >:(

[devildom-dedicated-daydreams]

An Unlikely Backer (Mammon x Reader) Chapter 2

Previous Chapter is here: Hello, Fake 18th Century France (or is this England?)

Full arc title: The Unfavored Daughter Chooses an Unlikely Backer (link to arc masterlist here)

Chapter title: All That Glitters is Not Gold

Word Count: 4 K

Pairing: Mammon x FMC, Mammon x F!Reader

Warning: domestic abuse, bullying, sexual harassment, dark humor/dark comedy

(Image: Le Pont-Neuf Et La Pompe De La Samaritaine, Vus Du Quai De La Mégisserie (1777) by Nicolas Jean-Baptiste Raguenet)

You didn’t encounter the stepmother or stepsiblings on the way out the mansion, though you could feel the judgmental stares of the maids on you and their barely suppressed comments about today’s ensemble.

Even the footman, an elderly man who has served the Rosewaters since the current earl was a boy, had done a double take before bowing his head in apology.

“Will you not be taking a maid with you, milady?” he asked, offering his hand to help you into the carriage.

“I have no need for one.” Your trusted attendants have been replaced, anyway.

“I understand.”

You made yourself comfortable on the cushioned seat and pulled back your hood.

“You know how I know this isn’t a real place?”

The system flashed a question mark on its screen.

“There’s barely any odor.”

It’s not that the early humans were dirty, after all, an animal that doesn’t clean itself is either sick or dying, but they had a different idea of cleanliness. In the century that inspired the birth of this world, people didn’t bathe regularly, especially those in nobility. Yet the people who have made appearances in the webcomic, in other words, every minor or major character, didn’t smell or had ugly teeth, unless they were intentionally drawn to appear unhygienic. (Curiously, and thankfully, there were modern toilets here. But the indoor plumbing was restricted to that only. Considering the comedic nature of “They Call Me Prudence,” there must’ve been a scene that involved some toilet humor.)

Speaking of dentistry, there was no proper toothbrush here, or toothpaste for that matter, and while it seemed effective, you refuse to use a brandy-soaked sponge on your teeth as everybody else did. (Well, not everyone, according to your memories, others used water or vinegar. Fun.) So you decided to do what you did for the emergency mission:

“Uwak, open the catalogue.”

“For the system store?”

“No, for tonight’s pretty boy auction—yes, the system store.”

The system sourly presented the catalogue and you pressed the category “hygiene,” revealing a whole new menu of products.

You have learned that the For that Forever Fresh Smell Mints, literally meant “fresh smell,” and never actually felt fresh to you, but the “forever” part was bogus. The minty scent would only last for a day. A single piece was worth 25 reward points, which was too much for your budget.

You could purchase the dental set you bought before, the Like the Pearly Jaws of the Great White Shark set, which consisted of an “electric” toothbrush and a toothpaste that polished your teeth until they shined like, well, pearls. It also came with a working sink which could be summoned and returned at will.

But that was too expensive, so you settled on the 50-points-worth Bare Minimum Care for Your Barely Clean Mouth set, which also came with a working sink, but it couldn’t clean your teeth into shark-levels of shining beauty.

After brushing your teeth, the system opened its monitor so you could play gin rummy to pass the time and distract yourself from the biting morning air.

About three hours of cards and Uwak crying for only winning five times, you heard a cacophony of sounds outside the coach and snuck a peek through the window.

You passed gargantuan cream-colored stone buildings, their roofs were covered with a layer of untouched snow. The stone roads were filled with vendors shouting in an attempt to appeal to the passing commoners, who were decked out in white wool and browns, blues and blacks.

A gust of wind blasted your face and you shut the window, keeping it closed for the rest of the ride to the palace.

If the royal attendants noticed your change in appearance, they did not show it and brought you to the Queen’s tea room, which, like the rest of the palace, resembled Versailles. The parquet floor was inlaid with floral details. Gold vines curled up the powder blue walls and directed your eyes towards the intricate crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. The warm glow of the candlelight seemed to make the solid silver furniture sparkle.

“Holy cowplant.” You ran your fingers over the cushion of your chaise lounge, admiring the black and orange koi illustrations on the aquamarine fabric. “Imagine becoming the mistress of this entire place.”

The system was quiet. Knowing its Host, it wouldn’t be surprised if you decided to change your mind and seduce Cyril instead. Knowing the Host’s skills very well, you’d have the scumbag eating out of your hand like a dog no problem.

Your drooling was interrupted by the doors opening.

You rose to your feet, curtsying to the Queen.

“What a lovely surprise,” she uttered, curtsying back to you before opening her arms.

Queen Cyrilla’s thick figure was decorated with a silk deep green gown with a black fleur de lis pattern sewn all over. Amethysts encased in platinum bejeweled her wrists and decolletage. Two loose strays of grey hair framed her face, the rest of her tresses were knotted into a neat bun. Her wrinkled smile was lovely and full of maternal affection.

You gave her a hug, the heavy scent of roses, the national flower, enveloped you. “I’m sorry if I haven’t gone to visit you more often, my Queen.”

“Nonsense, nonsense. Come, let us sit.”

You placed yourself back on the lounge, sitting across from her.

“I know that the past months have been difficult for us all, with the war and everything,” she started, preparing tea for both of you. Every movement of hers, even the mere act of tilting a teapot, was practiced and graceful, befitting her status. “So I don’t blame you if you’ve been busy worrying.” She picked up the sugar tongs and dropped a cube into your teacup. “However, I would like to remind you that, as future queen, you must remain composed, even as you face death straight in the eye.” The Queen threw a glance at you.

You understand her subtle implications, naturally. It is impossible for the Queen not to have heard of her son’s scandal and interest in Prudence. She knew that you knew and must’ve assumed that you became depressed and discarded your manners. After all, in this setting, makeup and jewelry were status symbols, and the lack thereof suggested a lack of wealth, class and culture.

Though you did wear some powder, your lips and cheeks lacked highlight. The cold temperature did not help either.

You nodded. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“But I’m certain that you did not come here to listen to this old gal prattle on about propriety.” She handed you the teacup. “Why have you come here, dear?”

She leaned back in her chair, eyes peering over her teacup to look at you.

This was a test.

You put on the best kicked-dog face you could make and answered, “I’ve come to greet Your Majesty, for it felt wrong not to have been in contact with you for so long, and to speak with His Royal Highness.”

Her brows arched with fake shock and she put down the teacup. “You have? What for?”

You shook your head. “It is nothing that Her Majesty must concern herself with. We had a lovers’ spat through our letters and I wished to make amends. It’s been a while since I’ve quarreled with the prince, though…”

“Though…?”

“This is embarrassing, but…” You coyly lowered your chin. “Fighting with him somehow made my love burn hotter.”

[BUWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—]

The system detected your smile flash dangerously and backtracked.

[—HAhabuphufft, ahem…ahem.]

The Queen appeared equally surprised, though her expression softened.

“I’ll have his wandering behind dragged into this room immediately—”

“Oh, please don’t, Your Majesty.” You reached for her hand. “With the two of us here in your room, he would feel cornered and act out. Please, let me handle him.”

The Queen sighed and squeezed your hand. “I trust your judgment, my dear.”

“Thank you.”

“He’s currently practicing fencing.”

“I understand, that’s good to hear.” Though no matter how much he practiced now, Cyril would lose to a masked competitor in the future. That competitor was Prudence, who, through a hilarious chain of events, had to participate in place of a friend. Then, a separate hilarious chain of events caused Cyril to lose focus for a second, giving the female lead an opening to attack and win.

“I will wait for him to finish.”

You and the Queen drank tea and discussed fashion trends and novels and queenly lessons. You didn’t bring up the topic of Cyril’s growing ardor for Prudence.

“Pardon me, Your Majesty, Lady Rosewater,” politely greeted a lady-in-waiting. “It’s about time His Royal Highness finishes his training.”

“Thank you.” The Queen then looked at you. “I will have one of the maids lead you to the training grounds.”

“There is no need for that.” You used both hands to squeeze her hand before standing up. “I know the palace like it’s my own room.”

“Ah, yes. Silly me.”

“Thank you so much for accommodating me, my Queen.” You curtsied one last time.

“But wait, do you want to use my makeup?”

“I appreciate it, Your Majesty, but I want to face Cyril the way I am right now, hopefully he will remember our earlier years as little children playing hide and seek.”

The Queen touched her chest. “I understand. Straighten him out.”

You gave her a smile and then bade goodbye to her and her attendants before exiting the room and making your way through the halls.

“Add internet and a working computer and I may never leave this place.”

[Host, please focus.]

“I am perfectly focused.”

Your conversation was then interrupted, “Look who came for a visit.”

It was the weiner prince.

He wore a magenta coat jacket with shiny gold buttons over a white dress shirt and a cravat. His muscled legs were covered by tan full-length trousers paired with dark boots that reached up just below his knees. The outfit created a beautiful silhouette not too different from 21st century suits. It would be a good ensemble in a Pride and Prejudice-esque world, but it was a far cry from the frock coats and silk stockings of the 1700s.

Still, you could forgive the anachronism because you loved a good suit.

“I do wish you would send me a letter of notification before you drop by. Even if you are the Queen’s favorite and my future wife, you need to be careful with how you act,” so he blabbered as he dabbed his sweaty forehead with a silk handkerchief with very poor embroidery and very much not from you, his fiancée.

You smiled and curtsied. “I do apologize, Your Highness.”

He unsubtly scrutinized your appearance and smirked. “Trying out a new trend? I haven’t seen you in pastel since we were children. But you shouldn’t leave the house without makeup, you’ll look like a whore.”

“I will take note of that. Thank you, Your Highness, but since the war has been won, I thought to celebrate by changing my style.”

He frowned at the mention of the war. This prince failed to defend three different territories and was still bitter that the other sons of noblemen received the glory for winning the war.

“It’s still not won,” he replied. “We still haven’t heard from the last troops.”

“Yes, but the major territories have been reclaimed and are now fully guarded.”

You hummed silently as you examined his figure.

He was tall (taller than you, anyway), had a symmetrical facial structure and straight, straw-blonde hair with bangs reaching up to his eyes, which were the same dark blue that his mother had.

You were unimpressed.

He was not unattractive, but his most interesting feature was his eyes, which were so dark they looked black sometimes.

He was basic, to say the least. It was a good thing he didn’t have black hair. Or black hair and blue eyes. Or black hair and red eyes. About ninety percent of the male leads in all the webcomics you’ve read were described as “tall, raven-haired beauties with skin like snow and eyes the color of rubies/sapphires/some other shiny thing a miner picked from the Earth.”

Fancy words for boring, black-haired, pasty-skinned, gemstone-eyed archetypes with emotional constipation.[1]

Not that there was anything wrong with that, but when you see the same shit over and over and over and over and over again, you tend to get sick of it. And then there’s the toxic ass-soul occupying that body…

“Well, until the celebratory ball takes place, I will not acknowledge our victory.” He sighed. “You must be tired, I know I am, go tell the maids to prepare the tea—”

“There will be no need for that.”

“What?”

You wanted to laugh. You didn’t know what shocked him more: getting interrupted by someone except his mother for the first time in his life, or you saying “no” to him for the first time in your life. But you kept your cool as you proceeded, “I cannot be here for too long, I am afraid. I only made the trip so that we can discuss a small but relevant topic.”

“Which is…?”

You smiled. “Our break up, of course.”

His eyeballs popped out and you chuckled delicately into your hand. “Do not fret, Your Highness.”

“What?”

“You see, there have been rumors floating about.”

“Rumors?”

“Yes, rumors, about you and some mystery girl getting locked in a tool shed.”

“Nothing happened between us!”

The system was almost struck speechless by this man’s stupidity.

[“Nothing happened,” he says. That’s the same as confessing that he was stuck in a shed with her!]

Cyril grabbed your shoulders. “Nothing happened, so don’t go gossiping about me or Prudence!”

The system called him an idiot and you shot the prince a look cold enough to freeze his face.

[SYSTEM WARNING: Character settings dropped by 2%. SYSTEM WARNING: Host must keep character settings above 80%.]

You lovingly shrugged his fingers off your shoulders. “Calm down, my Prince. If you become hysterical, how shall I speak properly with you?”

This was how Cyril talked to the original MC when she confronted him about his behavior, that is, when began pursuing Prudence whilst still engaged to her.

“Don’t overreact,” “You’re too emotional to converse with right now,” “Is this how you’re going to act when I take up concubines in the future?”, “If you become hysterical, then don’t blame me if people start looking down on you.”

You gave him a warm smile. “It was my attempt at cheering up His Highness because he seems down lately, but with how you reacted, it seems my comedy skills need improvement.”

“That was a joke?”

“Partially.”

“...what?”

“I propose that we take what I would like to call a ‘break’.”

“A ‘break’?”

You nodded. “Even before the rumors about the shed, I have long noticed that His Highness has become infatuated with the Lady of Leopold. As your most loyal supporter, I want nothing but your happiness.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. I thought that you’d be interested in dissolving our engagement so that you could court her properly.”

“Dissolve the engagement?”

“Temporarily, of course. Although she and I barely speak outside of balls and some tea parties, I’ve seen how she behaves and speaks. I know for a fact that she is not interested in marriage with a man who is already engaged.”

“Is that so?”

“Anyway, that was my idea, but it’s foolish, isn’t it? It would never work. Once you and I get back together, she’ll just hate you.” You covered your mouth. “Forget I said anything, Your Highness.”

“No, it’s brilliant!” he declared, rubbing his chin. “After she’s fallen for me, I’ll propose to her. Once she agrees, she can’t take it back. And once you and I get married, I can take her in as my concubine.”

You curved your lips into a dainty o. “I never thought of it that way. You’re too smart, Your Highness.”

“This is perfect!”

“So…um…” You pretended to think.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, but does that mean you and I are no longer engaged as of now?”

He chuckled, “Starting today, you and I are unengaged.”

“So will I tell the Queen or…”

“Did you not hear what I just said? You can’t break off a royal engagement, it’s against the law. I can’t believe you forgot something so important.”

“So…does that mean that His Highness will do it?”

“Of course, leave it to me.”

You sneered behind your hand and praised him, “My prince is so dependable.”

After that, you told him you had to go home and he was too overjoyed with “his plan” to be offended by you rejecting his invitation to tea for the second time.

But you didn’t head home yet.

As your coach neared the street market, the footman asked for the third time if you truly did not want to return to the estate and come back here with maids and a knight.

“I shall be fine. Wait for me here.”

You secured your cloak over yourself and went to examine each stall carefully, noting that, naturally, there wasn’t much to sell aside from headgear, socks and other insulating apparel as it was currently winter.

[My Host hasn’t even eaten anything since this morning and the sun is about to set. Maybe we should continue the tourist trip tomorrow?]

As Uwak suggested this, you encountered a loud and bright tavern situated between the apartment buildings.

The system recalled vivid memories of its Host getting stabbed and begged, [Don’t do it…please.]

“We only live once, Uwak.”

[You already died! You’re technically dead!]

You entered the place, men and women drank, ate and sang around their respective tables, illuminated by candle-light, it was like stepping inside a chiaroscuro painting.

There were two free seats by the bar, one next to a couple sucking each other’s face off, and the other next to someone with a hood over their head gulping down his third pint of beer.

You chose the latter.

The barmaid flashed you with a toothy smile, “Hey.” She had freckles and clearly did not wear makeup.

“Hello.”

“You new here?”

“What makes you think that?”

She shrugged. “Never saw you here before.”

“Call me a ship that passes in the night.”

“Tryin’ to be mysterious, I see, haha. What can I get you?”

In addition to the modern toilet, you were grateful that this world had soap, which meant that the people here should be washing their hands. “Let’s see—”

“‘nother one of these, Winnet!” The man next to you slammed his empty pint on the wooden counter.

Winnet shook her head. “Yer scaring the girl, ease up, will you?” Her smile for you became apologetic. “I’m sorry, he gets rowdy when drunk, but he’s harmless.”

“It’s fine. Um, is it just me or does everyone seem especially happy today?”

“Damn right, we’re happy!” the man sang and the rest of the room joined him in cheer. “C’mon, next round is on me again, Winnet!”

She sighed.

You grinned. “Go ahead and serve them first, I want to think of my order first.”

She nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

The man beside you stretched his arms. “This isss the best day everrr.” He yawned and then—

Boing!

His fist bounced off your breast.

[Oh, my god…]

The man stilled and, confused, he unclenched his fist and felt your chest.

[Oh, my god.]

Then he squeezed a boob. “Whaaat isss thisss thing? A sheeeep? It’ssss sooooo soooft.”

[Oh, my god!]

You thought about your options: A) Slap him and get yourself murdered in a bar fight, or B) Punch him and get yourself murdered in a bar fight.

You did not like your odds.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening! the system cried to itself. If this man wanted you dead, you would die and you won’t finish the mission task, which means you fail the mission task, which means you will be sent to a punishment world! Main System, God, Buddha, Jesus, the Virgin Mary, the Devil, help!

As you ruminated between assault and worse assault, followed by your death, the man squeezed your breast again and your palm met with the side of his face, pushing him off his seat.

[Host!]

Gaining back your senses, you pulled back your arm.

Crap.

“Um, this is…huh?”

The man sat up on the floor, hoodie no more. His white hair fluttered as he bent over to rub his olive face before raising his gaze to meet yours.

“What’s your problem, lady?” he yelled, ocean blue eyes roaring and…was that a hint of gold in his irises?

“Hey, you.” A hot trail of blood drizzled down your nose. “What’s your name?”

[Oh, god.]

“Hah? Now you’re acting friendly?” He pushed himself up so he could look at you straightly, the faint pinkness in his cheeks and ears suggested he was still somewhat drunk. “You hit me in the face!”

“I can hit you in other places if you want.”

“No!”

“I see, so do you want to touch me again? I can let you touch my other places,” you whispered.

He squinted, thinking, then his eyes widened with realization. “No!”

You giggled into your hand. “I apologize, you’re so cute, I couldn’t help but tease you.”

He froze before his whole face flushed crimson.

“Please sit, I’ll buy you something more filling than beer and…beer.”

The young man clicked his tongue but sat next to you.

The system short-circuited with awe. Only its Host can pull a reverse uno on sexual harrasment, then make it a date.

“You haven’t told me your name.” You watched him, admiring the bounciness of his hair.

“Sorry, but it’s gonna take more than a slice of bread and beef to get my name.”

“I take it you’re someone special?”

“No…”

“Then you’re just a nobody.”

“No!”

“Don’t be shy, I don’t bite. Besides, two strangers meeting like this is fate, isn’t it?”

“Spare me the sappy stuff. Tell me your name.”

“Hmmm.” You stared at the gold flecks in his blue eyes before answering, “Call me Goldie.”[2]

“What kind of name is ‘Goldie’?”

“The kind that sticks.”

“Fine.” He grabbed his refilled pint. “Call me Aurum.”

You cackled and he nearly fell off his chair again.

“What is your problem?”

“Nothing. Great name.” Aurum was Latin for “gold.” It wasn’t a language in this setting though, so it was quite the coincidence.

You changed the subject. “So I hear you’re happy.”

“Yep. You should be, too.”

“Why?”

“We won the war.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“You have?”

“Gossip travels faster than fire.”

“Right.”

“Mm.” You bit into your roast beef as it was Aurum’s turn to watch you.

“So why are you here?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

“For real, though. Why?”

“I got my heart broken recently and wanted a drink.”

“Oh.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s sweet.”

“Shut up…”

You laughed and ate together in silence.

When he noticed that you were done, he tried to inhale the rest of his meal. He swallowed. “Wait for me. I’ll walk you to a coach.” Then he took another bite of beef and bread, racing to finish.

“You stay here and enjoy your meal.” You laid out stacks of gold and silver on the bar. “See you around.”

He wanted to call out your name but his cheeks were stuffed and Winnet had arrived with one last pint.

He gulped down the remaining food in his mouth, informed Winnet that he will be back to finish the beer, and ran out hoping to catch up to you.

But you were nowhere to be found.

He brushed back his hair in frustration.

And just then, two knights in dark blue coats and yellow trimming approached him. Before any of them could talk, he asked if they saw a lady with your height, cloak and dress.

“Are you certain that she wasn’t wearing makeup?”

“Positive.”

“Then she must’ve been a prostitute.”

He shook his head. Your accent, your posture, your table manners all pointed to a noblewoman. “I’m worried that she might get robbed or worse.”

“We’ll tell the others to keep a lookout. In the meantime, Your Grace, how many times do we have to tell you not to come here without bringing a guard?”

“Hey, I can take care of myself.”

“And for that matter, you didn’t even tell us you got back today!”

The other guard pacified his partner. “Now, now, you’re kind of new so you don’t know this, but it’s tradition for Duke Mammon to sneak back to the kingdom and drink here alone after winning his battles.”

“What, why? That sounds like an awful waste of time.”

Mammon scanned the area, but there was not a trace of you.

He exhaled, his breath forming a thin cloud in the air as he spoke, “Come on. The others are probably at the halfway point, I need to go regroup with them before daybreak.”

[1] You can't deny that black hair, blue/red eyes and white skin is hilariously common in many webcomics, webnovels, mangas and otome games. At some point, those guys just blend together in my mind and become this singular basic bitch. Except Lucifer. I've grown fonder of him since that memory incident. (If you know, you know.) And Sebastian from Black Butler.

[2] When I first typed in "Goldie," I thought "That's a cool name for a stripper," and then only after that did I realize that it could also be short for "Goldilocks." I'm sorry, I dunno. It's 5:45 a.m. and I'm still awake. Good night.

For reference, this was the silhouette during the mid-1700s:

source: Formal ensemble, about 1765. Museum no. T.137 to B.1932. [Digital image].(n.d.) vam.ac.uk/content/articles/i/introduction-to-18th-century-fashion/#:~:text=At%20the%20beginning%20of%20the,with%20frills%20and%20linen%20underdrawers.

And this is what the male silhouette evolved into at the 19th century:

source: Matthews, M. (n.d.). Caricature of Beau Brummell by Robert Dighton, 1805.[Digital image]. Mimi Matthews. mimimatthews.com/2016/10/03/a-century-of-sartorial-style-a-visual-guide-to-19th-century-menswear/

Anyway, as lovely as the men's clothes were in the 18th century, I don't see that style drawn that often (if at all) in manwhas and mangas. It's likely because the silhouette comes off silly to most modern readers. Also, I just really love the modern suit, it fits all body types, just *muwah*

Chapter image source: Le Pont-Neuf Et La Pompe De La Samaritaine, Vus Du Quai De La Mégisserie by Nicolas Jean-Baptiste Raguenet (1777). [Digital Image]. Retrieved from: parismuseescollections.paris.fr/fr/musee-carnavalet/oeuvres/le-pont-neuf-et-la-pompe-de-la-samaritaine-vus-du-quai-de-la-megisserie#infos-principales

Arc 5. Chapter 3: Today I’m a Cute French Maid

#Obey me #shall we date #qt #quick transmigration #mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x y/n #mammon x mc #historical romance au #historical fantasy au #pseudo period drama #fluff #comedy #dark humor #dark comedy

[softinkshadows]

㊙️Secret facts㊙️, or Things the JJK sorcerers would rather die than tell anyone (*ノ▽ノ)

Headcanons, crack edition, of our favourite sorcerers! (partly in homage to @snk-headcanons)

Some extensive contextual references to both the anime and manga ahead ~

----

Itadori Yuuji

Itadori has had a six pack since elementary school. He has also remained at the bottom of his cohort for academic grades since elementary school. Itadori isn’t actually good at cooking; meatballs are his only specialty. His wardrobe only contains hoodies. Itadori really ate his boogers as a kid. Itadori is so bad at reading cursed energy he still can’t tell the difference between a curse and a sorcerer. Nanami once asked him if he considered therapy. Itadori’s favourite mode of transport is Fushiguro’s demon dogs. On some days, Itadori thinks Fushiguro looks better than Jennifer Lawrence. 

Megumi Fushiguro

Fushiguro once tried to pick up smoking in middle school. He gave up because he was irritated at how popular it became amongst his schoolmates when he did. He has a drawer full of un-replied confession letters. Fushiguro can’t sleep without a bolster (he gets touchy in his sleep). Fushiguro cuts his own hair. His go-to drink is strawberry milk. Fushiguro is so unused to smiling he practices in front of his room mirror before giving up. In reality, when he’s genuinely happy his eyelashes grow by 3 centimeters. On some days, Fushiguro admits that Itadori is the person he will always count on to save him.  

Nobara Kugisaki

Nobara likes to dress up in her room and pretend to be a cover girl or fashion model. She once found Inumaki-senpai attractive. But this was probably because he was quiet. Nobara actually got lost in Harajuku station before meeting Itadori and Fushiguro for the first time. Nobara only processes emotions by yelling. Nobara does not feel pain. Ever since arriving in Tokyo, she has been scouted for several television shows. They were all makeover specials. Nobara has a personal grudge against the mirror in Shibuya’s UNIQLO store. She has a private photo folder in her phone dedicated to snaps of city lights, skyscrapers and Maki.  

Inumaki Toge

Inumaki likes to visit convenience stores to look for new onigiri flavours. He assigns expletives to a different flavour every week, and enjoys swearing at others without them realizing. His uniform collar serves a dual purpose of concealment when he sticks his tongue out at people he doesn’t like. Inumaki likes flirting. Inumaki secretly stocks up Yuta-senpai’s favourite snacks just before he returns from missions. Inumaki longs to be kissed (on his beautiful, cursed mouth). He keeps a written diary of things people say to him and and things he would like to say back to them. Inumaki’s favourite verb is “susumu” (keep going). 

Panda

Panda is intrigued by meat, particularly fried chicken, even if they cannot eat it. Panda does not like cooked vegetables. Panda gets PR packages from apparel and household brands with panda designs; they do monthly unboxing videos for over a million subscribers. Panda’s favourite tv shows are Oprah and Japanese crime dramas. Panda reads religious texts on Shintoism in their free time. Panda’s third core is a koala. 

Maki Zenin

Maki once lost her glasses at a party and almost burned down an entire restaurant to look for it. Maki does not like spicy food because it makes her blush. Maki giggles at memes. She has timed crying breaks in the bathroom. Maki secretly names her cursed tools after her favourite celebrities. Maki always buys herself two birthday cake slices. 

Aoi Todo 

Todo drinks protein shakes more often than he would like to admit. He has never won Maki in an arm wrestling match. Todo’s IQ fluctuates between 80 and 155. He has only been part of Takada-chan’s fan club for 6 months. 80% of Todo’s memory is fabricated fantasy. Todo’s teary face has made both children and grown men cry, out of fear. His dream is to open a pancake house. 

Ijichi Kiyotaka

Despite his looks, Ijichi is skilled in Jujitsu and Aikido. He pre-orders extra sets of Itadori’s uniform every month. He has at least 3 Fast and Furious movie posters in his bedroom. He likes to daydream about being part of an A-list sorcerer team with Nanami, with Gojo as his personal chauffeur. Ijichi keeps a treat money jar for every time he feels slighted or overly stressed at work. To date, he has used the jar to visit 3 Michelin-star restaurants. 

Geto Suguru 

Geto developed a sweet tooth after enrolling in Jujutsu High. His first kiss was stolen by Gojo in a supply closet when they were both sixteen (the latter did it for fun). Geto was once dared to shave off all his hair and had to stifle a sob at the thought. Geto’s non-sorcerer disinfectant spray is coincidentally a rose-scented line of luxury cologne called Infinite Love. On a bad day, Geto finds himself indulging in dessert. 

Gojo Satoru

Mostly shameless, Gojo feels the most self-conscious with his eyes uncovered. Gojo gets turned on by an exquisite pair of sunglasses. Gojo doesn’t like drinking alcohol. Gojo once injected sugar into his blood, partly in jest, partly because he was curious. Gojo reads critical theory. Gojo uses SK-II facial treatment essence. Gojo likes reading fanfiction written about him. He keeps a scrapbook for deliberately ugly doodles of Jujutsu society’s higher ups. He is the owner of tabloid news twitter account @jujutsushits. He is also the owner of twitter account @RealNanamiKento. When he has a bad day, Gojo scrolls through old, defunct chats between him and Geto.  

Nanami Kento

Nanami has never suffered from hair loss problems. He earned a university degree after leaving Jujutsu High, where he majored in economics and minored in comparative literature. Nanami freelanced as a poet-writer for 2 months. He is so respectable in jujutsu society that he once sold (more like auctioned) his pair of men’s leather shoes for 500,000 JPY. The buyers were all women. He has a drawer of XXL condoms. He did not buy them (Gojo did). He keeps a slogan t shirt that reads ‘Hot Stuff’. He did not buy it (Haibara did). Nanami is fluent in 5 languages. Nanami’s hobbies are ironing his blue dress shirt and getting into existential crises. Nanami has an excel sheet detailing his weekly expenses titled ‘letsgetthisbread.exe.’ When embarrassed, Nanami is prone to hiccups.

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna has a personal list of ‘Top 10 Sukuna Badass Moments’ playing on loop in his head. He sings when Itadori is in the shower to spite him, but mostly because he likes the sound of his own voice. Sukuna has a bad memory, having been alive for more than a thousand years. Sukuna hates contemporary fashion, but has a fascination for Crocs. He prefers jazz to imperial court music. Sukuna delivers lengthy, oftentimes ultraviolent monologues to Itadori when he is bored. He thinks he would make a good university professor. Sukuna is still terrified of motorised vehicles. 

----

Notes: writing this was so fun, but some of it made me sad... 

----

Taglist (っ˘ω˘ς ) : @encrytpta @wilddreamer98

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #itadori yūji #megumi fushiguro #nobara kugisaki #inumaki toge #maki zenin #aoi todo #geto suguru #gojo satoru #nanami kento #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen crack #jjk crack #jujutsu kaisen hcs #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji headcanons #megumi fushiguro headcanons #nobara kugisaki headcanons #inumaki toge headcanons #maki zenin headcanons #aoi todo headcanons #geto suguru headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #ryomen sukuna headcanons

[royalpain16]

Can You Spot Queen Elizabeth? Photo from Queen and Princess Margaret's Teenage Play Goes Up for Auction

Queen Elizabeth was once a different kind of leading lady

STEPHANIE PETIT 

January 05, 2022 03:54 PM

A rare photo of Queen Elizabeth and Princess Margaret from their teenage days is up for auction.

In the 1944 picture, the two princesses pose with the full cast of Old Mother Red Riding Boots, a Christmastime pantomime play held at Windsor Castle for Armed Forces personnel and local children to raise spirits during World War II.

The 18-year-old future Queen, who starred as Lady Christina Sherwood in the show, stands at the center in a sparkling gown. Next to her is Princess Margaret, at 14, who played the Honourable Lucinda Fairfax.

The then-Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret helped stage and performed in a series of pantomimes from 1941 though 1944 to raise money for the Royal Household Wool Fund, which supplied knitting wool to make comforters for soldiers.

Queen Elizabeth II and Princess Margaret

The 12-inch by 8-inch black and white photo and show program belonged to Stanley Williams, who served as superintendent of Windsor Castle and Buckingham Palace during the time.

As of Wednesday afternoon, the auction held by William George had a highest bid of £600 ($813).

Until Jan. 31, 2022, visitors to Windsor Castle will have the chance to see six surviving costumes worn by Princess Elizabeth and Princess Margaret during the World War II-era Christmas plays. Brought together for the first time, the costumes are on display in the Waterloo Chamber, where the pantomimes were originally performed 80 years ago.

Pieces from the Old Mother Red Riding Boots play are included, such as a long-sleeved pink satin and lace dress worn by Elizabeth and a chintz shirt, trousers and sunhat for a seaside scene in which Princess Margaret wore a blue taffeta dress with cream lace bloomers.

The display also features outfits from an Aladdin pantomime, where the future Queen played the title role wearing a gold brocade and turquoise jacket with turquoise dungarees and matching hat. Meanwhile, Princess Margaret wore a red silk dress and matching jacket to play Princess Roxana.

Pantomimes are a slapstick-style show, which is a family tradition around Christmas in Britain. Typically based on fairy tales, the farcical musicals can be laced with some innuendo-laden rhymes and songs and require frequent raucous interventions from the audience. They often have older men playing female parts, such as the Ugly Sisters in Cinderella, or young women playing male leading roles like Peter Pan.

#queen elizabeth ii #princess Margaret #royal photography #princess Elizabeth #princesses pantomime display #Aladdin pantomime #old mother red riding boots

[dramioneasks]

Hi do you know any fics where draco buys hermione— either auction or slave kind of thing?

The Auction by LovesBitca8 - E, 41 chapters - In the wake of the Dark Lord’s triumph over Harry Potter, the defeated must learn their new place. Hermione Granger, former Golden Girl, has been captured and reduced to human chattel. Sold to the highest bidder as the top prize at an auction of Order members and sympathizers, she is thrust into the rabid, waiting hands of the Death Eaters. But despite the horrors of Voldemort’s new world, help—and hope—seem to arise from the most unlikely of places.PART 3 of the RIGHTS AND WRONGS series.

Title: Master Author: AkashaTheKitty Rating: M Genre(s): Angst, Romance Chapters: 1 Word Count: 10, 251 Summary: The war drags on and Hermione Granger is caught and then bought by her old enemy Draco Malfoy. But why did he do that when he obviously isn’t really interested in using her for anything? AU, very ugly themes, ONESHOT!

Anyone know any more?

- Lisa

#anonymous #auction #hermione: slave #master/slave

[kneamet]

Set in the roaring twenties with reader being a rising artist or writer but goes under a male pseudonym. Nobody know her real identity but F. Scott Fitzgerald who keeps her hidden away because either he is jealous, or fear that she will be taken away from if exposed to the world, or jealous that someone else will take his place as her “muse”. The reader’s works would focus on entrapment or helplessness. Maybe there would be an auction going on for some of the reader’s paintings.

Trigger Warning: obsession, yandere, kidnapping.

Word Count: 1607

Character: Scott Fitzgerald/reader

Summary: The roaring twenties. Y/N being a rising artist but goes under a male pseudonym. Nobody know her real identity but F. Scott Fitzgerald.

POV Scott

"So, the next picture..." said a deep voice that echoed in the large, bright hall. The man himself was ugly: a fat belly that clung to his dark coat; dark greasy hair; small, tiny eyes that looked at people who came to bargain, trying to get a picture of this or that celebrity, with a sly and slightly arrogant look; of course, the rich are just as important for prestige. The man on the stage was short.

Scott pursed his lips, biting them lightly. A disgusting man. He knew this as soon as he sat down in the seat that had been so kindly allocated to him by the owner of the place, and also by the person who had arranged this auction.

Fitzgerald didn't particularly like it. He did not like all this ostentatious wealth, in which people, even without understanding the simple, immediately buy it, simply because, you see, if it is expensive, then it means quality and beautiful. It's just that the others don't understand the beauty and genius of the picture.

The man blinked, standing up slightly and straightening his favorite gray jacket, which was tucked into a tie of the same color. It was his favorite costume, because it was what his muse loved.

"...the next picture was painted by Henry Williams, " the man chuckled slightly at the name. His moustache lifted slightly. Scott's eyes widened and he looked up in surprise, as if there was no such depressing pessimism towards the stage, lifting his elegant chin. Why was the name of his favorite muse called?

His favorite muse. Oh, how beautiful she was. So unimaginable and perfect: her lovely eyes, looking at her husband with a dependent and needy gaze that always gave a little touch of inspiration; the soft and smooth hair that he liked to caress and tie in a bun; the needy lips, responding with excitement to Scott's demanding and jealous kisses. She was perfect. Created by God especially for him.

He knew he couldn't let her travel the world with her work; he knew he didn't want to let her go anywhere; he knew he couldn't let anyone see her face. All people could know was your name. And even that is fake.

You couldn't walk, paint, or put your paintings on display under a woman's name. At least, Scott understood and thought so. He didn't think you could break into the "men's world" and become famous. Moreover, he believed that you were more likely to be blamed by men and no one would agree to be with you.

"...the title of the picture is "The Trap of the Word". Starting price: one hundred dollars, " the man said cheerfully. Scott's brow furrowed.

Depicted on a dark canvas in black tones, a young woman looked at the audience, who directed her fearful gaze at the mirror, inside which a man's body was reflected and the window, from which light poured into the room. The woman herself had her back to the window. Fitzgerald had an uneasy feeling that spread down his spine.

His brow furrowed. He didn't remember the picture. He didn't remember you drawing that. He knew all your paintings, but he didn't have one in his memory. It didn't even look like your old work, since he knew that the style you were putting on display wasn't that long ago.

"I'll give you four hundred dollars!" someone suddenly shouted from behind Scott. It was a man's voice; very loud and clear. He didn't like them.

There was another silence. The whispers that used to be heard from every other person suddenly subsided. Fitzgerald looked around, not understanding what had caused the people to fall silent.

"Three," the man in the frock coat, whom Scott had already dubbed "broad coat," began to say, scratching his nose and, apparently looking for the right person to reflect the price in a more profitable direction, chuckled slightly. "Two..."

Scott grinned, shaking his head, and in a cheerful voice with a slight hoarseness, said something that no one expected anymore. He would not allow anyone to admire the beauty of a painting he had never seen.

"I'll give you a thousand dollars,"the man's eyes lit up a little. Being a gambling man, it was difficult to subdue his temper.

Suddenly, light whispers began to pass through the room. Everyone seemed to be in a bit of a shock. Well, never mind, he'll surprise them yet. Balgo had a lot of money; earning money as a writer turned out to be a simple matter. True, the inspiration was not always there, but the money for this could be obtained excellent.

The man resumed his calculations. Scott, on the other hand, sat down in the chair he'd been sitting in earlier, straightening his tie, and grinned, closing his eyes.

"So, the final price: a thousand dollars. The picture "The Trap of the Word" goes to Mr. F. To Scott Fitzgerald, " the man smiled prettily, handing a packed picture of a not particularly large size to Scott, who was sitting in the second row and forcing the writer to get up from the chair again.

Fitzgerald smiled falsely, as if trying to force himself, and put his hand in the palm of the"broad coat". She was very sweaty.

"Congratulations, Mr. Fitzgerald, you have become the owner of a painting by an artist whose face no one knows yet."

***

POV Your

"My muse, I'm home!" a loud voice, whose baritone you can't mistake for anything else, suddenly rang out above the silence you were enjoying. And how can you confuse your captor?

His footsteps echoed in the apartment. Loud footsteps. Tense footsteps. You could guess his mood from his footsteps, and now you knew that he was deeply unhappy. The main thing is that he does not take out his anger on you, as he often did. Your hand touched the wrist where he left the marks this morning. Fortunately, now, it can be seen from was not.

You didn't want him to tag you. You were definitely not his property and you didn't need this constant monitoring. The control he constantly applied to you.

Your hand trembled and you touched the canvas with a light brush movement, leaving small remnants of paint on the image. A dark picture, as usual, focused on a closed trap.

At these moments, you wanted more people to see your paintings. I want them to notice that back then, ever since you got together with Scott Fitzgerald, the famous writer, your paintings began to reflect helplessness.

You always cherished the idea that you could become a famous artist. You didn't care what people thought when they saw your work. You just wanted other people to see your work, your soul invested in the paintings.

Helplessness. Helplessness because you were forcibly, literally, even in spite of all your resistance, you were still locked up here.

"Honey," a voice rang out on the threshold of the studio where you worked, and suddenly you felt a light weightless touch on your hair. Scott's hand began to stroke them slowly.

You flinched. His touch, and any interaction with you, Aunt did not like. It was forced. However, you had to portray how much you loved Scott. He wasn't supposed to know how you really felt about him.

You were thinking of running away. I really did. Unfortunately, however, even the hints in the paintings about freedom immediately ran into a wall named Scott. He was carefully analyzing your paintings, trying to find any hint that you didn't like it here and were asking for help. However, sometimes you still managed to sell paintings, while he does not see.

But this rarely happened, and recently it was not possible at all. But the hope in you never died. It's always been there, warming your soul.

Interrupting your thoughts, you felt a light touch on your skin. It was the lips that slowly descended with light kisses. You knew the taste of Scott's lips, but you never liked the way he made you kiss him.

"My muse..."

Oh, that was your constant nickname. You never liked it because you didn't understand why Scott called you that. He always said that whenever he looked at you, he felt a slight rush of excitement and inspiration. And it was unpleasant.

Scott was a writer. A famous writer, whose role was supposed to be similar to what writers look like. Usually, at least the writers you knew didn't flaunt their money and tried not to draw too much attention to themselves, to their antics, not to mention their appearance.

The man who captured you was completely different. As if he wanted to show off his good looks, and as if he was also a heavy drinker, he was always known for his antics: he would ride on the roofs of taxis with his wife, or he would not appear in public for months, thinking about what to write about and trying to find inspiration.

The only thing you recognized about Fitzgerald was his appearance: golden hair that was styled in light curls in the style that was fashionable these years; dark green eyes that always watched him closely, what you wanted and how you did it; thin lips that constantly clutched cigarettes. And the taste in clothes was not bad either.

"My dear, my dear muse, tell me honestly," the man paused dramatically, pulling away slightly and stopping the set of kisses. "Are you trying to get away from me?"

Your heart sank, overshadowing any noise from the man. It became scary.

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston gif #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #hiddleston #tom hiddleston x you #Scott Fitzgerald #scott fitzgerald x reader #yandere scott fitzgerald #obsession scott fitzgerald #yandere #yandere loki #yandere Tom Hiddleston #loki #dark loki #dom loki #loki x reader #loki x you #yandere loki x reader

[timextoxhajima]

Playlist Feels

Member: *at the point of writing this i haven’t yet decided but i went out today and this song started playing and my heart just starting beATInG SO faST

*update: ended up settling for san

A/N: I won’t write smut/anything aggressive for jongho (or any ‘00 liner for that matter) so until they turn 21 internationally, i’ll refrain from writing anything nasty. this goes for other idols who are ‘00 liners and younger.

Genre: shitty-ass angst, aggressive shoving lol idk, what’s a desire-inspired fic if there’s no smut heh (lowkey fifty shades vibes irdk what im doing at this point of time) *kind reminder that it’s been too fucking long since i’ve written some smexy smut so please bear with me ;_;

Word Count: 3.6k

you could almost smell the money that everybody in the room collectively have under their belts. everybody was fitted in suits and extravagant gowns and blazers and dresses-- it was difficult to believe that these people would ever wear anything else besides whatever they were wearing now.

your parents had gone off to greet the older, more important people of the organisation, or bureau, or whatever group that coordinated this event was called. you were stuck staring at your glass of champagne while your fiance picks at the little nuts in the tray that was sitting in the middle of the small table. 

fiance, more like annoying family friend you’ve been actual friends with for nearly ten years. 

“do me a favour and cut it out, would you?” you glare at him through your long, false lashes, bringing the champagne glass to your lips and taking a sip. mingi looks at you and pouts, quickly throwing a nut into his mouth before he wipes the crumbs away on his shit-expensive Saint Laurent blazer. 

you groan under your breath, rolling your eyes so hard that you could see the insides of your head. 

“who picked out the gown? i know you have a thing against gowns so why’d you let them fit you in this one?” mingi munches on the nut and nods towards your fit. you don’t bother to look down at yourself, because you couldn’t stand the sight of it. 

the v-neck cutting was so low down your chest that if you pulled it aside with any considerable amount of strength, your chest would’ve been exposed. 

it didn’t help that the gown was red, and on top of that, there was a long, ridiculous slit up the dress by your left leg. 

it’s like you were a walking target. 

“does it look like i had much of a choice?” you eye him with an annoyed look, finishing whatever was left of the champagne. “in fact, i don’t even remember the last time i made a decision for myself. fun.”

mingi gives you a pathetic smile and wraps his arm around your shoulders, the soft material of his blazer grazing against your skin. 

someone pushes the door open to the function room, and everybody around starts making their way in. your heels would’ve been caught stepping on your gown, so mingi offers you and arm to hold while you grab a bunch of material with your free hand to make walking easier.

your fiance helps you settle into your seat before sitting down next to you. the function room starts filling up, every now and then some ceo or businessman or someone walks by your table and you have no choice but to stand up to greet them. 

but all you wanted to do was to go home to the comfort of your bed and binge watch your favourite series.

not stand here, in the middle of a function room in the country’s most expensive hotel, and let these middle-aged, possibly married-with-children, men caress your hands like they didn’t already know you had a fiance. 

“you seem to have a way around men, don’t you?” mingi teases quietly, helping you push the chair in as you sat down from shaking some stranger’s hand. 

“it’s the dress, and the hair and the make up. otherwise, i’m pretty sure they don’t give a fuck.” 

mingi sucks on his teeth at your straightforward statement, noting that your parents were coming round the table. you look up to search for them upon mingi’s announcement, and you notice they were talking to another couple with their children trailing closely behind them. 

“oh god, another one--” you spit under your breath. mingi elbows you a little, standing up and cuing you to do the same as your parents come by with the other couple and their clearly-uninterested son and overly-enthusiastic daughter.  

“mingi, y/n, this is mr and mrs choi, and this is choi haneul and choi san,” your mother gestures to them as the couple reaches out for a handshake. you and mingi take turns to shake their hands, including the two children. 

you were so used to faking a smile that you were sure nobody could’ve been able to tell you absolutely hated being here. 

but your ‘service’ smile struggles to remain loyal to your need to be the perfect chaebol when you catch their son staring at you, with eyes that could kill. 

you reach your palm out to him, and he takes your hand with a firm grip. 

you almost feel something similar to static, but you shake it off by giving him a bright smile.

he reciprocates, offering you a wide grin that exposes his dimples and folded his eyes into long, slits. 

that 180 degree switch... psycho.

you pull away, and you feel his reluctance to let go for a split second. 

a frown appears on your forehead in that instant, but he releases your hand quickly, as if noticing the change of expression on your face. 

your parents wave them off as they make their way to another table. you return to your seat, now sitting between mingi and your mother who just wouldn’t shut up about the choi family.

something about splitting the company into two so each their children gets an equal half. 

something about them being very capable. 

blah blah blah...

the function hall gets filled up and every table was fully occupied. name tags were placed on tables by the seats the guests were allocated, and your eyes run through the many names and titles. you couldn’t find a single one that didn’t have a big company name attached to them. 

mingi humors you the entire dinner, and being your only source of entertainment, you couldn’t help but still feel lucky that he was chosen to be your fiance.

there were so many things about being a chaebol that was so wrong and so pathetic, and mingi knew very well how much you hated it. both of you grew up as childhood friends, for the sole reason that both your parents were partners in an important project. 

so big, rich people gatherings? your weekend plans for almost ten years straight.

when you were told that a marriage was in plan for you though, you remember threatening to run away from home unless your fiance was mingi.

and since mingi was a chaebol himself, your parents were more than happy to let the both of you get engaged, even if the two of you didn’t actually love one another. 

there was some dumb auction going on with the mc yelling into the damn mic every ten minutes, not even giving you the peace of day to eat your food that took forever to come. mingi tries to get you involved by raising your name tag, helping you offer three million for a premium yacht.

you hiss at him, nearly giving him a slap across the face when you won it.

your mother reminds you not to have too much wine and champagne, but you didn’t even want to be here in the first place. you were going to get married into the song family anyway, so it gave you the courage and liberty to do whatever the hell you wanted. 

you were so used to drinking champagne and wine that mingi doesn’t stop you until your face finally flushed bright red, and you were beginning to smile and giggle at the mc. 

an unfamiliar sight for your fiance. 

“do you need to go to the washroom to get yourself together? you look tipsy,” mingi leans into your ear and asks with concern. his question pulls out an ugly look on your face, and you reach for your champagne glass, only to realise that it was empty. 

you huff in disappointment. mingi gives you a blank look, knowing that you weren’t done with whatever attitude you had up your sleeve tonight. 

“i’m gonna hurl out all that fucking champagne and you better have my glass refilled when i get back,” you try to whisper to mingi, but you belch out all the gas that was in your stomach. 

“disgusting--” mingi winces at the scent of the alcohol. you laugh, pushing yourself out of the seat and grabbing your purse, leaning over to your parents to inform them you were heading for the washroom. 

it was a good thing you weren’t drunk, but you definitely would be if you had returned for more champagne had you not stuffed your finger down your throat. you wretched loudly, knowing that you deliberately searched for the most out-of-the-way washroom in the building, and there was nobody around to hear those inhumane noises. expensive liquid flushes out your throat and you choke on the sight. the burning sensation wasn’t a good experience, but you couldn’t be any less bothered.

you lick your lips, still cautious that you had lipstick on. turning around, you struggle to your feet and head over to the sink, head hanging low and palms pressed flat against the marble surface. 

you gather the tap water in your hand, slurping it up to try and get rid of the taste of stomach acid and alcohol in your mouth. 

didn’t help. 

you mutter some curse words under your breath, looking back up at the mirror to fix your hair and your lipstick, pulling your shoulders back so you were standing with the posture your mother spent most of your life scolding you about. 

you take a step out of the washroom, and your eyes were so occupied with mentally berating the hell out of your obscene dress that you physically ram yourself into someone’s shoulder. 

the impact throws your balance off completely, but you feel an arm snake around your waist just moments before you got fall flat on the ground. 

“oh, you.”

you fidget with uneasiness, anxiously getting your balance back in check and shoving him off you. you look down at yourself, making sure your boobs were still under the material and your slit didn’t get any higher up your thighs. 

“you’re welcome, by the way.”

you return your attention to choi san, who now had a sneaky smirk drawn across his lips. he was in an all white fit, with small black details like his cuff links and black gemstone accentuating his entire look. 

“sorry.”

you clear your throat, feeling your face flush from the realisation that you could’ve been completely fucked over by your parents if they saw the way you responded. 

‘that’s no way of thanking someone,” they’d say. 

“what are you doing here anyway? it’s such a far walk from the function hall.”

you raise a cocky brow, tongue looking for small bits of food stuck in the crevices of your teeth. you couldn’t be bothered to maintain your image now that you’ve already acted like he was molesting you. 

“me? i could ask you the same,” you tilt your head to the side, hands looking for the slit of your dress to push aside. you wouldn’t want to trip on your walk away from him. 

“i don’t like these functions. i like meeting people but i definitely don’t like watching them spend their money on ridiculous items.”

you sigh, wondering how long you were going to be stuck in this meaningless conversation with him. 

“you do realise the proceeds all go to charity anyway, don’t you?” 

“is that why you bought the premium yacht for three million?”

“no, my fiance used my name.”

“so you’re saying you didn’t want to provide the financial assistance to charity?”

your eyes harden at his accusation, and you couldn’t be more frustrated. if you weren’t in your obscene v-neck gown with that useless slit up your thighs, you would’ve already gotten your heels off to whack him on the head. 

all your emotions must’ve been put up for display all across your face, because choi san flashes you a devilish grin, eradicating any hint of his dimple-smile from before. 

the same 180 change.

“my family and i do enough charity every year. this three million doesn’t mean shit,” you take a step forward, not letting his demonic presence faze you. he was just about a few inches taller than you, so confronting him like this was nothing compared to mingi.

“so, mr choi,” you hiss under your breath, your nose just right under his. “if you’ve got nothing else constructive to say, then do excuse me. i have an event to be at.”

you gave it a few moments for him to flinch or react, but he fails. you smirk to yourself, convinced that you’ve won this showdown. you turn, ready to walk away from him, but he grabs your arm just as you walk past him and wraps his arm around your waist. if he had invested more effort into the act, he would’ve easily picked you up.

“what the fuck-- let me go!” you try thrashing yourself out of his grip, but he only pulls you harder into the hidden lift around the corner. you try to make a run for the door before it closes, but he holds you back as he hits a button on the lift panel.

he shoves you up against the wall, your rear resting against the bar that lined the walls where people could hold. he rests his palms on the bar on either sides of your hips, and he pushes his face dangerously close to yours. 

you were fuming at this psycho, but deep down in your heart, you knew you were the one to blame for inciting it. 

“you know...” he drags a finger down your earlobe and your jawline. it takes you awhile to realise that you were slowly turning away from him, gradually becoming unable to continue this power play with him. “you haven’t said ‘thank you’.”

you scoff, eyes shifting to meet his without turning your head. you wipe your canine teeth with your tongue, trying your best to read his face. 

but all you could see was that devilish grin you don’t think you were ever going to forget. 

you try to hold back from saying anything, knowing that every word you said from this moment on was going to decide his next move. but you were angry with this piece of shit, and your temper invites you to spit out the words you had on the tip of your tongue. 

“or what?”

i should not have said that. 

“that’s completely up to you.”

choi san smirks again, and you’ve never seen someone look so lustfully challenged before. the look in his eyes was enough to rile you up to it as well. though your head was screaming at you, telling you to stop, but your heart and body say otherwise. 

he sucks in a deep breath as he takes a step back, letting the lift doors open to the hallway where all the suites were. 

you expected him to grab your wrist and pull you along, but he doesn’t. confusion wasn’t the right word to describe the overwhelming feeling that ate you up, and you hated yourself for it. 

you watch in dissatisfaction as he calmly walks out of the lift and walks down about four doors. he stops right outside the cream colored door, his white fit contrasting the brown hallways, and turns to look at you.

that devilish smile was gone, replaced with a look you couldn’t begin to describe. 

you feel your stomach churn as he reaches up to his neck and starts to undo the top few buttons, exposing his collarbone. his free hand pulls out a card from the inside of his blazer, and he gets the door open. 

your hands were balled up into fists, and you could still feel his trace on your jaw as you watched him walk into the room. 

don’t do it.

you suck in a deep breath, frozen in place. 

don’t fucking do it. he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

the lift doors begin to shut. 

don’t. do. it. 

your needs and desires engulf you like flames in a burning building, and you found yourself storming straight into the suite, eyes only searching for him. before you could even notice the size of the room, you were shoved backwards against the carpeted wall.

hands were hungrily searching your body for any crevice for him to dig into, and you could already feel your lipstick getting smudged between both your lips. 

his fingers find the material of your dress that goes over your shoulders instead, and he doesn’t hesitate to pull them down your arms. you struggle to get his white blazer off, completely ignoring the rare gem that was pinned above his breast pocket. 

you were already running out of breath, teeth clashing and your tongues messily swirling around each other as his hands find the zip on your back. by the time your dress pools around your feet, you get the buttons on his shirt undone. 

you run your hands down his chest and toned stomach, but was interrupted by him picking you up against the wall. he doesn’t hesitate to attach his lips to your breasts like a hungry kitten, and the heat between the two of you becomes nearly impossible to contain.

his hair gets tangled in your fingers, desperately trying to find something to grip while lewd sounds escape your lips.

“you must not like losing,” he pulls you away from the wall, eyes looking up at you as he walks elsewhere in the room. you expected yourself to be thrown on a bed, but instead you find yourself pressed up against the window panel of the room, with the city right below your feet. 

“don’t you fucking dare,” you threaten with a low voice. but you hear him scoff, arm wrapped around your waist as he positions himself so that you were pressed flat against his chest and your breasts against the cold surface of the window. 

“but i already did.”

he whispers into your ear, somehow finding both your wrists and holding them in one hand while the other snakes down your stomach and under the only piece of clothing you were wearing. 

you bite on your bottom lip, shutting your eyes tightly upon the contact of his fingers on your sensitive spot. you hear him chuckle and he realises that you had absolutely no control over what your body needed - or wanted.

“aren’t you going to tell me that you have a fiance?” his voice was low, and almost threatening. he hooks your underwear by the side and pulls it off the curve of your rear, letting it pool around the heels you were still wearing. 

you gulp and huff heavily, listening to him undo his belt while your wrists were still trapped in his left hand. 

“answer the question, mrs song.” he presses his already hardened manhood against your core, and the contact sends chills up your spine to your head. you could feel yourself slowly losing all sense of control by the second, and him psychologically pushing you into a corner to make you submit to him wasn’t helping. 

“we could always stop now, and you could go back to the function hall like nothing happened.”

now you don’t feel the material of his underwear, but the bare skin of his manhood rubbing against your naked core. the sensation finally pushes you over the edge, and you choose your desires over the fucking obligations you were born with.

“please don’t stop.”

you brace yourself as he pushes himself into you, and he doesn’t give you much time to process the explosive feelings of need in your abdomen. picking up his pace, you feel his grip on your wrists tightening as the excessive thrusting pushes you nearer and nearer against the glass.

you hear nothing but the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin, and the combination of the mewls and groans the both of you were offering one another. 

his free hand finds your sensitive nub, and the combination of his ramming into you with the circles drawn with pressure pushes you closer to your climax. your legs tremble under the overwhelming feeling, and he finally releases your wrists. he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you up while he continues fucking you against the window. 

you feel the weight in your abdomen get heavier after every thrust, and your irregular moans tell him that you were reaching your high. 

something inside you snaps, and you raise your head to look at the window, water vapour already collected in messy patterns on the surface. 

he pulls out and you feel his load landing on your lower back, the only sounds you could hear now was the panting from the both of you. 

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

you take your seat between mingi and your mother again, legs still shaking ever so slightly, and you were hoping nobody was going to notice that your hair didn’t look at neat as it was before.

“i thought you got lost in the bathroom,” mingi looks at you while you down a whole cup of water before attacking the champagne. 

“well,” you shrug, eyes catching a glance of choi san returning to his seat. “i’m here now, aren’t i?”

#timetohajima #timetohajima playlist feels #san #choi san #san smut #i fucking finally wrote a smut #ateez smut #ateez san #san imagine #san scenario #san fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #san one shot #ateez one shot

[howaminotinthestrokesyet]

Whatever Happened To...Guns N’ Roses Edition

Stephanie Seymour

The former Sports Illustrated and Vogue model was in a relationship with Axl Rose in the early 1990’s. She had been featured as the female in the music videos for “Don’t Cry” and “November Rain.” She was slated to star in “Estranged,” but the couple went through a very ugly breakup. In 1993, Rose sued her for assault, while she in turn countersued claiming self defense. Seymour was no stranger to controversy in her personal life. At 16, the model had a very well known public affair with John Casablancas of Elite Model Management. The one thing..he still was married to Jeanette Christiansen, and yes their son was in fact Julian Casablancas of the Strokes. Since 1993, Seymour has continued to model and endorse products in fashion including becoming an international spokesperson for Ester Lauder in 2014. Immediately following her relationship with Rose, Seymour began dating art collector Peter Brant. They would marry and have 5 children together, but get divorced in 2009. They would reconcile one year later.

Erin Everly

Before dating Stephanie Seymour, Axl Rose had a volatile relationship with Erin Everly. The two would actually marry in Las Vegas in 1990 only to have Rose seek to get it annulled 48 hours later, while they would actually divorce 10 months later. She was the daughter of Don Everly of the musical group, The Everly Brothers. The lyrics to the song “Sweet Child O’ Mine” actually represented a love letter by Rose to Everly. Their breakup largely came about just after she had a miscarriage. Axl Rose would later comment on the downfall of their relationship. “Erin and I treated each other like crap… Sometimes we treated each other great, because the children in us were best friends. But then there were other times when we just messed up each other’s lives completely.” In 1994, she would sue Rose for emotional and physical abuse, which would later be settled out of court. This came a year after Stephanie Seymour had sued the singer, while Everly was actually subpoenaed in that case to testify about Axl’s history of abuse. After their relationship, she would go on to date other celebrities like David Arquette, Anthony Kiedis, Donovan Jerome Leitch, the son of the singer Donovan, Matthew Nelson, and Matthew Klyn. In 1997, she married Jack Portman, moved to Atlanta, and had 3 children, but they would get divorced in 2006. In 2010, Everly would be arrested for attacking ex-boyfriend Matthew Klyn with a knife. In 2013, Rolling Stone reported that she put up for auction several items related to her relationship with Rose including a marriage certificate.

Paul Tobias

Some Guns N’ Roses fans have referred to Tobias, former rhythm guitarist for Guns N’ Roses from 1997 until 2002, as a Yoko Ono like figure. They see the musician as someone who interfered with the relationship between Rose and Slash. His reason for leaving the band in 2002 was that Tobias did not like to tour at all, so he was replaced by a guitarist from the Psychedelic Furs. Although he was no longer touring with the group, Tobias still contributed as a guitarist on 10 tracks for Chinese Democracy. He did have another band called Mank Rage, who planned to release an album around 2002. Four years later a Myspace account was opened for the band posting three demos of possible tracks for that album. Nothing else came of this as Tobias has stayed completely under the radar in recent years. The only other news came in 2013 when he contributed to an album produced by former GNR producer Brain called Eclectic Cinema.

Gilby Clarke

Upon Clarke’s ouster from Guns N’ Roses, he already had other projects lined up. The guitarist had recorded with Slash in 1993 on a series of demos that would be released as an album in 1995. Slash’s Snake Pit as the band was called even toured in support of the new record. Yet, Slash disbanded the group as commitments for Guns N’ Roses soon sprang up. At that time, Clarke went and recorded a second solo album released in 1997 entitled, The Hangover. He had previously released a debut solo album in 1994 called Pawnshop Guitars by Virgin Records. The guitarist would go on to release two more studio albums, as well as a live one. Clarke also kept busy as a producer with his most notable work being the 2000 to LA Guns title, Shrinking Violet. In 2006, he joined with drummer Tommy Lee and former Metallica bassist Jason Newstead to create the band Supernova. They decided to use the television show Rock Star to find the lead singer. Eventually they chose Lukas Rossi, but the band really never got off the ground because another band called Supernova claimed they had legal right to the name. They filed an injunction against Clarke and company from doing anything related to the band, which a judge upheld in court. Finally, they renamed the group Rock Star Supernova. In 2012, Clarke joined Duff McKagan, Slash, Matt Sorum, and others to perform at the Guns N’ Roses Rock and Roll Hall of Fame induction. Axl Rose and Izzy Stradlin were not present, while it must be noted that Clarke was not inducted into the Hall of Fame at that time.

Tracii Guns

Guns was actually an original cofounder of Guns N’ Roses. His LA Guns band had decided to merge with Hollywood Rose featuring Axl Rose and Izzy Stradlin. The LA Guns portion of the new group went their separate ways fairly quickly as Tracii got into an argument with Axl Rose. This led to Slash joining the group to replace him. LA Guns would go onto reach moderate success on the charts, but never the kind of success that Guns N’ Roses had with their career. LA Guns, in their second stint, would last from 1985-2002. They had first formed in 1983, but the group would disband for a few weeks as they tried to join up with Axl Rose on two different occasions. In 2002, Guns joined supergroup Brides of Destruction, who went on to release an album in 2004 that charted at number 94. The band had been started by Nikki Sixx of Motley Crue as his band went on hiatus. The band was broken up in 2005 as Sixx returned to Motley Crue. At that time, Guns was planning to continue the band without Sixx, but that never happened. He even offered his services to Axl Rose to join GNR, but he was rejected. The guitarist then returned to another stint with LA Guns until 2013. They would also have a reunion in 2016 of the classic lineup from the mid-1980s. He also started a blues group in 2012 called League of Gentlemen. Guns has also been a member of some other well-known bands for a very short time including Poison in 2000 and Quiet Riot in 2005.