#suzy x sara

[randoimago]

You've been exhausted lately and they've noticed and have been preparing something special. You get home and they have you follow them to the bath. The tub is filled with bubble bath, your favorite scents are in the air and it's already so relaxing. They help you strip and they do the same.

Your back is to their chest with their legs spread out around yours as they hold you close and just cuddle in the hot water. It's soft, sweet, and a moment they hope you cherish.

Genshin Impact :: Thoma, Diluc, Ganyu, Kujou Sara || My Hero Academia :: Twice (mask stays on), Ryukyu, Gang Orca, Rock Lock, Mandalay, Fat Gum, Gentle Criminal || Haikyuu (time skip) :: Suga, Asahi, Yamaguchi, Akaashi, Kita, Atsumu, Kiyoko, Yachi || JoJo's :: Jonathan, Caesar, Bruno, Abbacchio, Holy, Susie Q.

Bonuses:

Yachi + Twice - makes sure there's a rubber duck

Susie Q. + Holy + Suga - 100% splashes you playfully

Atsumu + Abbacchio - said he prepped the bath for himself but you came home too early so he's sharing so you don't complain (liar)

Caesar + Akaashi - gives you lots of neck and shoulder kisses

Asahi + Gang Orca + Fat Gum + Jonathan - Too big for the tub, pouts as water gets on the floor (promises to clean it up)

#my hero academia x reader #jjba x reader #genshin impact x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #diluc x reader #kujou sara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #asahi azumane x reader #thoma x reader #miya atsumu x reader #jonathan joestar x reader #caesar zeppeli x reader #suzie q x reader #holy kujo x reader #twice x reader #fat gum x reader #mandalay x reader #gang orca x reader #ganyu x reader #ryukyu x reader #rock lock x reader #gentle criminal x reader #yamaguchi x reader #kiyoko shimizu x reader #yachi x reader #kita x reader #akaashi x reader #bruno bucciarati x reader #leone abbachio x reader

[pers-books]

Celebrity Bake Off 2024 line-up revealed: Jodie Whittaker, Danny Dyer and more

Here's your guide to all the celebrities taking part.

By Katelyn Mensah Monday, 5th February 2024 at 8:00 am

A brand new group of celebrities will be getting ready to show off their baking skills, as The Great Celebrity Bake Off for Stand Up To Cancer returns to Channel 4 this year.

Over the course of five episodes, hosts Alison Hammond and Noel Fielding will welcome 20 famous faces we all know and love to the Bake Off tent, all of whom will be vying to impress Paul Hollywood and Prue Leith with their bakes.

Within their groups, the celebrities will compete against one another in order to be crowned Star Baker at the end of their episode.

The likes of Danny Dyer, Jodie Whittaker, Mel B and Oti Mabuse are amongst the celebrities taking to the tent this year.

But who else is part of the dazzling line-up? Read on for all the celebrities taking part in this year’s Great Celebrity Bake Off.

Celebrity Bake Off 2024 line-up: Full cast list of famous contestants

Here is the full line-up of contestants for Celebrity Bake Off 2024. More information on each celeb is available further down the article.

Jodie Whittaker

Paloma Faith

Munya Chawawa

Spencer Matthews

Danny Dyer

Rhod Gilbert

Yinka Bokinni

Leigh Francis

David O’Doherty

Oti Mabuse

Gabby Logan

Suzi Ruffell

Dermot O’Leary

Greg James

Fern Brady

Mel B

The Reverend Richard Coles

Sara Cox

Joe Locke

Adam Hills

Jodie Whittaker

Age: 41

Job: Actress

Instagram: None

X/Twitter: None

Jodie Whittaker is an English actress who many people will recognise as being the Thirteenth Doctor in Doctor Who from 2017 to 2022. After three special episodes in 2022, it was revealed that David Tennant would take over as the Doctor for the 60th anniversary special, before Ncuti Gatwa took over full-time.

Whittaker previously told RadioTimes.com at the Radio Times Covers Party that she finds it emotional being referenced in current episodes of Doctor Who.

She said: “It’s amazing. It’s so emotional as well because, for us, it was such a present thing. We were in it and we were living it in real time, and now to be part of the canon and reference points, it’s really magical.”

Other roles Whittaker is best known for is as Beth Latimer in Broadchurch, Orla O’Riordan in Time and as Tess in One Night.

The Great Celebrity Bake Off for Stand Up To Cancer will be available to watch on Channel 4 later this year.

#Jodie Whittaker #Celebrity Great British Bake Off #Stand Up To Cancer

[leonwrites4u]

Updated list of what I will & won't write for!!!!

What I will write for

Danganronpa

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Ouran High School Host Club

Genshin Impact

Inside Job

The Owl House

Amphibia

Feel Free To Request

Fluff

Crack

Headcanons

One shots

Character x reader

Angst

Platonic relationships

What I Will Not Write For

Non-con

Pedophilia

Smut

Anything else that isn't appropriate or gross

Characters I will gladly write for (favorites)

Danganronpa: Rantaro Amami, Makoto Naegi, Izuru Kamukura, Kazuichi Souda, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, Shuichi Saihara, Kaito Momota

JoJos Bizarre Adventure: Rohan Kishibe, any JoJo, Any SDC, Suzi Q, Yukako Yamagishi, Koichi Hirose

Ouran High School Host Club: The twins (seperately) Tamaki, Kyoya, Mori

Genshin Impact: Kaeya, Chongyun, Any Anemo boy, Kujou Sara, Thoma, Ayato, Xingqiu, Tartaglia, Arataki Itto, Kuki Shinobu

Inside Job: Reagan Ridley, Brett Hand, Andre Lee, Ron Staedler

The Owl House: Luz Noceda, Amity Blight, Hunter, Willow Park, Gus Porter, Eda & Lilith Clawthorne, Collector

Amphibia: Anne Boonchoy, Marcy Wu, Sasha Waybright

Characters I Will Not Write For

Danganronpa: Junko Enoshima

JoJos Bizarre Adventure: TBA

Ouran High School Host Club: Any lobelia student

Genshin Impact: Fatui Harbingers (Until there's more information about them)

Inside Job: TBA

The Owl House: Belos/Philip Whittebane

Amphibia: Any frog

Feel free to request!! I'm always happy to write for you all !

#reader insert #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa v3 #genshin impact #jjba x reader #genshin headcanons #jojo's bizarre adventure #inside job #inside job x reader #amphiba #amphibia x reader #toh x reader #the owl house #ouran high school host club #ouran x reader #ouranhighhostclub #drv3 #sdr2 #danganronpa thh #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss #hazbin hotel vees #hazbin vox #charlie morningstar #lucifer Morningstar #alastor #angel dust

[imsociallyanxiousgetoverit]

Stranger Things Canon

—

Relevant (& not) Information About the Show

(All Canon Information From *The Wikia Timeline, Show, or Books/Comics. I’m Only Human So I May Have Made Mistakes)

—

—

Y- Year Born

A- Age in Season 1/1983**

N- Name/Identifier

S- Season Introduced****

?- Unknown Information***

x- Dead

—

Y A N S

‘19 66 Victor 4

‘23 x/62 Virginia 4

?? ?? Sam Owens 2

?? ?? Brenner 1

?? ?? Wayne 4

‘38 47 Ted 1

‘38 47 Yuri 4

‘42 43 Joyce 1

‘42 43 Hopper 1

?? ?? Karen 1

‘44 41 Murray 2

‘44 x/12 Alice 4

?? ?? Neil 2

?? ?? Sam Mayfield 0

?? ?? Alexei 3

?? ?? Susan 2

‘47 38 Becky 2

‘47 38 Henry 4

‘47 38 Bob 2

‘48 37 Clarke 1

?? x/?? Benny 1

‘51 x/34 Terry 1

‘64 21 Kali 2

‘65 18 Eddie 4

‘66 17 Steve 1

‘67 16 Argyle 4

‘67 16 Eden 4

‘67 16 Jonathan 1

‘67 16 Jason 4

‘67 16 Tommy 1

‘67 16 Heather 3

‘67 16 Carol 1

‘67 16 Nancy 1

‘67 16 Billy 2

‘67 x/16 Barbara 1

‘68 15 Patrick 4

‘68 15 Robin 3

‘68 15 Chrissy 4

‘69 14 Fred 4

‘69 14 James 1

‘69 14 Troy 1

‘71 12 Angela 4

‘71 12 Jake 4

‘71 12 Stacey 4

‘71 12 Max 2

‘71 12 Dustin 1

‘71 12 Mike 1

‘71 12 Elle 1

‘71 12 Lucas 1

‘71 12 Will 1

‘71 x/12 Sara 1

‘71 12 Suzie 3

‘75 7 Erica 2

‘80 2 Holly 1

—

—

E- Experiment Identity

N- Name/Identifier

A- Age in 1983

I- Important Information

P- Known Powers

C- Major Connections

H- Health Status in 1983

—

E - N (A, I, P, C, H)

001 - Henry/Vecna (38, Telekinesis, Cognikinesis)

002 - (25, Telekinesis, died 1979)

003 - Ricky (25, Pathokinesis, Alive)

003 - (died 1979)

004 - (25, Telekinesis, Telepathy, Alive)

005 - (died 1979)

006 - Francine (25, Precognition, Died 1978)

006 - (Telekinesis, died 1979)

007 - (died 1979)

008 - Kali Prasad (21, Illusions, Rainbow Room, Alive)

009 - Jamie (17, twin to Marcy, Heat, Rainbow Room, Alive)

009 - (possibly died 1979)

009.5 - Marcy (17, twin to Jamie, Psychic?, Rainbow Room, Alive)

010 - (*****ESP, died in 1979)

011 - Elle/Jane Hopper (12, Telekinesis, Scrying, Rainbow Room, Alive)

012 - (possibly died 1979)

013 - (possibly died 1979)

014 - (possibly died 1979)

015 - (possibly died 1979)

016 - (twin to 017, died 1979)

017 - (twin to 016, died 1979)

018 - (possibly died 1979)

—

—

*The Wikia Timeline

**If they are Dead in 1983 then I’ve included that w/ the age they would have been

***If their year/age is unknown I include them where I believe they would be but is not an accurate depiction

****0 means they were never introduced visually in show

*****What ESP Means

—

—

Once again I want to emphasize I may have missed or mistaken information here. Please make your own list using this one if you want to see changes made.

#this took me a literal year #I had posted part of it already awhile ago but #jeez and jello this took forever #I tried so hard yall #please be nice about this #really hoping I didn’t fuck up too bad #stranger things #canon #stranger things canon #st #st canon

[porcelain-rob0t]

is it gay to discuss witches with your dance school roommate?

this movie has such gay vibes, im surprised it hasnt been claimed as a gay film

#suspiria #suspiria 1977 #screenshot redraw #suzy bannion #suzy x sara #sapphic #digital art #art #fanart #movie fanart #movie #lesbian #queer #giallo #horror #horror movies #giallo film #dario argento

[misandriste]

“Suzy. Sara. I once read that names that begin with the letter “S” are the names of snakes!”  [hissing]

- BARBARA MAGNOLFI as OLGA in SUSPIRIA (1977)

#suspiria #suspiria 1977 #dario argento #giallo #filmedit #filmgifs #horroredit #gialloedit #moviegifs #userfilm #userstream #userhorroredits #userrobin #usershrlby #usersavana #watching her gfs fight is a usual occurrence for suzy #suzy x sara x olga #????? #the ultimate ot3 #sapphogifs #by misa #gifsbymisa

[bellamer]

The Lords + Duke as songs on my playlist:

Karl Heisenberg:

Seasons (Waiting On You) by Future Islands, BADBADNOTGOOD remix

What You Waiting For ? By Franz Ferdinand

Pisse by Fahrradsattel

The Devil Wears A Suit And Tie by Colter Wall

Wrong by MAX

Mighty by Caravan Palace

Lone Digger by Caravan Palace

Lay Down by Caravan Palace

Source by Fever The Ghost

Put it Together by Langhorne Slim & The Law

Fight Dirty by Mischief Brew

Wild Side by ALI

That Man by Caro Emerald

Verbatim by Mother Mother

Powerful by Major Lazer

Womanizer by Franz Ferdinand

Machistador by -M-

I Periodically Lull by Mississippi Voss

You Don't Exist by Von Smith

Onto Something by Von Something

No You Girls by Franz Ferdinand

Can I Really ? By Von Smith

Nothing Like This by Von Smith

Simple by Von Smith

Crazy by Seal

Goodbye Yellow Brick Road by Elton John

Roundabout by Yes

Come And Get Your Love by Redbone

Rock it For Me by Caravan Palace

Panic by Caravan Palace

Maniac by Caravan Palace

Cotton Heads by Caravan Palace

Clash by Caravan Palace

Trust Me from The Devil's Carnival soundtrack

Shovel and Bone from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

Down At The Midnight Rectory from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

After the Fall from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

A Left Foot Trapped in Sensual Seduction/Falling Into a Trap With a Sexy Lure from the Hellsing RAID soundtrack

Survival on the Street of Insincerity from the Hellsing RAID soundtrack

The Japanese Alphabet Road with Chinese Bellflower's Sweet Smell from the Hellsing soundtrack

Corner of Sighs from the Hellsing soundtrack

Hatred Guy of Sinfulness from the Hellsing RUINS soundtrack

Gospel of The Throttle by Minutes Till Midnight

Lady Dimitrescu:

Supersonics by Caravan Palace

April by Caravan Palace

Cosmic Girl by Jamiroquai

The Prize by Von Smith

Sara Smile by Hall & Oates

Killer Queen by Queen

Black Betty by Caravan Palace

Jolie Coquine by Caravan Palace

She Wants Me Dead by Cazzette

About You by Caravan Palace feat. Charles X

Shoot Him Down by Alice Francis

All Men Are Pigs by Studio Killers

Hitting on All Sevens from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

Donna Beneviento:

Haunted Heart by Christina Aguilera

Love and Truth by Mother Mother

Many Different Worlds by Von Smith

Long Ago Maybe by Von Smith

Wonderland by Caravan Palace

Suzy by Caravan Palace

Kiss The Girls from The Devil's Carnival soundtrack

Salvatore Moreau:

Weak For Your Love by Thee Sacred Souls

The Night Begins to Shine by BER

Not Good Enough from Ducktales

Touchtone Telephone by Lemon Demon

Carnival of Life by Von Smith

All of Them:

Stalker's Tango by Autoheart

The Song with Five Names a.k.a. Soapbox Tao a.k.a. Checkmate Atheists! a.k.a. Neospace Government by Will Wood and The Tapeworms

Out of My Mind by Jamie Berry

Don't Stop by Foster the People

Mr. Capgras Encounters A Secondhand Vanity by Will Wood and The Tapeworms

Ghost by Mystery Skulls

Hellbent by Mystery Skulls

Fire Treasure from the Lupin the Third soundtrack

In All My Dreams I Drown from The Devil's Carnival soundtrack

My Time by Bo En

Comics by Caravan Palace

Qui De Nous Deux by -M-

Everybody Wants To Rule The World by Tears For Fears

Do It All The Time by I Don't Know How But They Found Me

Dramophone by Caravan Palace

Aftermath by Caravan Palace

Midnight by Swingrowers

Tangled Up by Caro Emerald

All Aboard from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia Soundtrack

Alleluia from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

Mercy in The Cathedral/Bodhisattva Cathedral from the Hellsing soundtrack

The Duke:

Money by Mystery Skulls

Je Dis Aime by -M-

Kiss From A Rose by Seal

The Mystery of Mister V by Von Smith

I Can't Go For That by Hall & Oates

La Caravane by Caravan Palace

Dragons by Caravan Palace

Beautiful Stranger from The Devil's Carnival Soundtrack

Grief from The Devil's Carnival soundtrack

Bells of the Black Sunday from The Devil's Carnival Alleluia soundtrack

A Penny For A Tale from The Devil's Carnival soundtrack

#resident evil village #resident evil 8 #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #alcina demitriscu #lady dimitrescu #re8 the duke #the duke re8 #lord moreau #lord heisenberg #lady beneviento #my music taste is a mess

[agcock]

Updated list of (200+) wlw artists that don’t sound exactly like clairo and girl in red

The Aces: Alternative pop/rock

Acraea: Synth pop

Against me/Laura Jane Grace: Punk/alternative rock

Alex Lahey: Alternative rock/pop

Alex the Astronaut: Folk pop

Alice Gas: Hyperpop/experimental electronic

Alice Longyu Gao: Hyperpop/ experimental pop/electronic 

Allison Ponthier: Pop

Allison Russell: Country/ Country pop

ALMA: Pop

Alyson Stoner: Pop

Amandla (Stenberg): Experimental pop

Amy Sargeant: Ambient 

Amythyst Kiah: Folk/country

Amy Winehouse: Soul

Angèle: Pop

Angel Olsen: Pop/alternative country/rock

Ängie: Pop/trap

Anitta: Pop/funk

Ashnikko: pop/alternative rap/electronic

Asiahn: R&B

Astu: Pop/R&B

Auli’i Cravalho: Musical theatre/pop/children’s music 

Austra: Dream pop/synth pop

Bali Baby: Rap

BbyMutha: Rap

Beatrice Eli: Alternative pop/dance

Be Steadwell: Pop/R&B

Beth Ditto: Synth pop

Black Dresses/Black Squares/Girls Rituals/Devi McCallion/Ada Rook: Noise pop/industrial/experimental electronic

Black Ends: Experimental rock

The Blow: Electro/lo-fi/pop

Boyfriend: Pop

Brandi Carlile: alternative pop/country/folk rock

Brandy Clark: Country

Brooke Candy: Rap/electropop

The Butchies: Punk

Camp Cope/Georgia Maq: Alternative rock

Carlie Hanson: Pop

Cássia Eller: Alternative rock

Charmaine: Rap

CHIKA: Rap/R&B

Childbirth: Garage rock/punk

CHLOBOCOP: Rap Christine and the Queens: Pop/electropop

Chlothilde Grace: Experimental pop

COBRAH: Experimental electronic

Courtney Barnett: Alternative rock

Cupcakke: Rap

Dai Burger: Rap

Destroy Boys: Punk/riot grrl 

Diana Starshine: Hyperpop/experimental pop

Dizzy Fae: Alternative pop

Doja Cat: Rap/pop

The Dollyrots: Pop punk

Domo Wilson: Rap

Dounia: R&B

Dove Cameron: Pop

Dream Wife: Pop punk/indie

Dua Saleh: Rap/pop/R&B

Dusty Springfield: Pop/soul

Dyke Drama/G.L.O.S.S: Punk/hardcore/queercore

Elijah Woods x Jamie Fine: Pop

Ellen Loo: Pop/folk pop

Emily Vu: Pop

ERA: Experimental electronic

Eris Drew: Electronic 

Ethel Cain: Dream pop

Ezra Furman: Art pop/folk pop/indie rock

Fabulous Disaster: Pop punk

Fanxy Red: C-pop

FIA: Trap pop 

FLAVIA: Pop

FLETCHER: Pop Foxgluvv: Pop

Gaby G: Pop

Galen Tipton/Recovery Girl: Hyperpop/electronic 

Gia Woods: pop

Gina Young: Folk

GIRLI: electropop/pop punk

Girl_Irl: Hyperpop/electronic 

Gossip/The Gossip: Rock

Grace Jones: Disco/art pop

The Greeting Committee: Indie rock

Hands off Gretel: Punk

Heartsoft: Lo-fi

Holly Miranda: Folk

Hope Tala: Pop/R&B

IAMDDB: Alternative rap/urban jazz

Iamdoechii: Rap

The Internet/Syd: R&B

Ivy Sole: R&B/rap

Jaewynn: Rap

Janelle Monáe: pop/rap/R&B

Javiera Mena: Electropop

Jen Foster: Folk pop

Jill Sobule: Folk rock

Ji Nilsson: Pop

JoJo Siwa: Electropop

Kaash Paige: R&B

Kali Uchis: R&B/pop

Kate Nash: Indie Rock

Katie Pruitt: Country 

k.d. lang: Country/folk

Kehlani: R&B/pop

Kelela: Electronic/alternative R&B

Kelsey Lu: Alternative pop

Kesha: Pop/electropop

K.Flay: Rap/pop-rock

Kitty/Kitty Pryde/The Pom-Poms: Rap/synth pop/hyperpop

Kodie Shane: Rap

Lady Gaga: Pop 

Lady Leshurr: Grime/rap/pop/dancehall

La Roux : Synthpop 

Lauren Jauregui: Pop

L Devine: Pop

Left at London: Pop

Leikeli47: Rap

Lesley Gore: Pop

Lez Pop: Electropop

Lido Pimienta: Synthpop/latin

Liniker: Soul/R&B

Lizzo: Pop/rap

Louisahhh: Experimental electronic 

Lowell: Pop/dance

LP: Pop rock

LUDMILLA: Pop/funk

Luísa Sonza: Pop/funk

Madame Gandhi: Electropop

Maddie Ross: Pop

Madison Beer/K/DA: Pop

Malía: R&B

Mani Blu: Hyperpop/pop

Ma Rainey: Blues

Mara Levi: Folk pop

Marija Šerifović: Pop

Marika Hackman: Pop

Mary Lambert: Pop

Maththegamergirl: Hyperpop/electronic 

Megan Thee Stallion: Rap

Melissa Etheridge: Country rock

Miley Cyrus: Pop

Mitski: Indie rock/alternative pop

MØ : Electropop

MUNA: Pop-rock

Nasty Cherry: Alternative rock/alternative pop

Nikki Blonsky: Musical Theatre 

NIMMO: Dance/electronic

Octo Octa: Electronic 

Only Fire (Not sure if whoever is behind this is wlw but they have a funny lesbian song so whatever i’m including it): Parody/comedy/electropop 

Orion Sun: R&B/soul 

Pale Waves: Pop/pop-punk

Partner: pop-punk/alternative rock

Peaches: Alternative rap/elecropunk/synthpop

Petal Supply: Pop

POCAH: Funk

Poly Styrene/X-Ray Spex: Alternative pop/neo-soul/punk

Pomme: Folk pop

Pussy Riot: Punk/ Riot Grrl

PVRIS: electropop/alternative rock

Queen Latifah: Soul/musical theatre/R&B 

Rachael Sage: Folk 

Raveena: R&B/pop

Rebecca Black: Pop/hyperpop 

Remi Wolf: Pop/neo-soul

RHYME SO: Electronic

Rina Sawayama: Pop

Romy/The xx: electropop

Ruby Waters: Pop 

S3nsi Molly: Rap

SASSY 009: Electropop/synth pop 

Sateen: Disco/pop

Sevdaliza: Electonic/avant-garde/experimental pop

Shona Laing: new wave

Shura: synthpop

Shygirl: Rap/experimental electronic/club

Siena Liggins: Pop

Sinéad O’Connor: Folk rock

The Singing Nun: Folk

Sir Babygirl: Pop

Sister Rosetta Tharpe: Rock 

Siya: Rap

Sizzy Rocket: Pop/pop-punk

Skinny Girl Diet: Punk/riot grrl 

Slayyyter: Pop

Sleigh Bells: Noise pop/pop punk 

Snow Tha Product: Rap

Sofya Wang: Pop 

Soko: Pop/folk-pop

SOPHIE: Experimental electronic/pop/pc music/avant-garde 

Stand Atlantic: Pop-punk

Studio Killers (the singer isn't wlw but the character Cherry is so im including it idc): Electropop/dance

St. Vincent: Indie rock

Summer Luk: Pop/synth pop 

Suzi Wu: Rap/electropop 

SZA: R&B

Tami T: Electronic/dance

Tayla Parx : R&B/pop

Teddy Geiger/Teddy <3: pop/pop-rock

Tegan and Sara: Pop/indie rock

Tinashe: R&B/pop

Tommy Genesis: Rap

Tove Lo: Pop

Tracy Chapman: Folk/soul

Uffie: Electropop/dance

UMI: Pop/R&B

Victoria Monét : Pop/R&B

Wendy and Lisa: Pop/funk

Willow: Experimental pop

Yaeji: House/dance 

Young M.A.: Rap

Yung Baby Tate: Rap

Zolita: Pop/electropop 

070 Shake: Alternative rap 

#wlw #music #this is mostly for myself but you can rb if you want lol #there are people i left off for various reasons including that i just dont like them #not that im a fan of all of these ppl but i dont actively dislike them dfjgkg #im open to suggestions also but i cant guarantee ill add them #txt #mine #.

[randomontheinternet]

Our Life Voiced Names A-Z

I heard some people wanted a list of the voiced names so far, so I took the time to copy down all of the names from A to Z. The names are under the cut to not clutter.

A

Aaron

Aayria

Abby

Ace

Adrienne

Aeon

Aeriie

Aesilng

Aga

Aine

Aisha

Aisling

AJ

Aki

Akira

Akua

Alaina

Alex

Alexis

Alfonzo

Ali

Alice

Alijah

Alison

Alvis

Alyssa

Amanda

Amber

Amelia

Amy

Anaïs

Andra

Andre

Andrew

Andri

Angel

Angela

Angie

Anima

Anita

Anna

Anna-Maria

Anne

Annie

Annika

Anthony

Antoine

Aoife

Arabella

Aram

Ari

Arielle

Arrow

Arthur

Arturo

Arty

Ash

Asher

Ashla

Ashleigh

Ashlyn

Aspen

Asteria

Astrid

Athena

Atticus

Audrey

Aura

Aurora

Austin

Autumn

Ayanna

B

Barbie

Basil

Beach

Beata

Bec

Becky

Bee

Belen

Ben

Bethany

Bia

Blue

Bobbi

Bonnie

Boyd

Braden

Brian

Briana

Brielle

Brittany

Brooke

Brooklyn

Bryony

Bunni

C

Cadence

Cai

Cam

Cami

Cara

Carmine

Casey

Cassidy

Cato

Cecilia

Cecily

Celestia

Cerise

Chance

Chantal

Chara

Charlie

Charmaine

Chelle

Chris

Christie

Christina

Chuck

Ciara

Ciaran

Cillian

Claire

Cléo

Coco

Col

Conny

Cookie

Cora

Cori

Corrina

Cristal

Cristina

Crystal

Cygnus

Cyina

D

Dan

Dani

Dante

Daphne

Dara

Dayton

December

Denny

Deremy

Desiree

Desmond

Destiny

Devyn

Dexter

Diamond

Diana

Diane

Dorothy

Duane

E

Eddie

Eden

Elaine

Elda

Eleanor

Elegance

Elena

Elenus

Elissa

Eliza

Elle

Ellie

Eluned

Elysa

Ember

Emilith

Emily

Emma

Emmy

Enjel

Ennae

Eric

Erica

Erii

Erin

Ester

Eve

Evren

Ezekiel

Ezra

F

Felicia

Felicity

Felix

Fianna

Finist

Finn

Flynn

Francesco

Franklin

G

Gabrielle

Gaby

Gail

Garnet

Gavin

Gemma

Genevieve

Gerry

Gigi

Gin

Giulia

Glen

Grace

Gray

Gwen

H

Haley

Halima

Hana

Hannah

Hanni

Haru

Hazel

Heather

Helena

Héloïse

Hime

Hiyori

Hollis

Holly

Hon

Hunter

I

Ian

Iga

Illidan

Imani

Irene

Iris

Isabel

Ishan

Isla

Isolde

Issa-Kabeer

Ivy

J

J.R.

Jacob

Jade

Jaden

Jaiet

Jake

Jan

Janice

Jas

Jasmine

Jasper

Jatin

Javi

Jax

Jay

Jaycie

Jazz

Jeannie

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Jemma

Jen

Jennifer

Jenny

Jess

Jesse

Jessica

Jessinia

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Joelle

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Jordanna

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Josh

Josie

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Juleyma

Juli

Julia

Julianne

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Jupiter

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K

Kaden

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Kaleton

Kalina

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Kat

Kate

Katelyn

Katrina

Kay

Kel

Kellie

Ken

Kendi

Kenton

Kevin

Kia

Kiara

Kiba

Kie

Kien

Kim

Kimberly

Kimory

Kira

Kirsty

Kisa

Kit

Knox

Kodie

Kozmo

Kra

Kristen

Kyan

L

Laëtitia

Lanz

Laura

Lauren

Lavender

Leaf

Leann

Leina

Leo

Leon

Leslie

Letty

Levi

Lex

Lexi

Lia

Libbi

Lidia

Lilith

Lillian

Lily

Lindsay

Lindt

Linley

Lisette

Liss

Livia

Lotus

Lucy

Luke

Luna

Lyla

Lyric

Lvsander

Lysella

M

Maddy

Madeline

Mae

Maggy

Mahari

Mai

Maia

Mali

Mallory

Malyia

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Marcel

Marcella

Marcia

Marco

Margaret

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Maria

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Mariposa

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Martina

Mary

Mary-Elizabeth

Mason

Matina

Matthew

Maus

Max

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McKenzie

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Mel

Melanie

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Melody

Merlin

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Mich

Michael

Michelle

Michiko

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Mikey

Mimi

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Minette

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Mira

Miranda

Mishal

Missy

Mizuki

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Monica

Mordaine

Morgan

Morgana

Moriah

Morina

Muriel

Mykaela

N

Nakira

Nancie

Natalie

Natasha

Nathaniel

Neelam

Nessa

Nessi

Niamh

Nicole

Nier

Night

Nikki

Nina

Noah

Noe

Noel

Nui

O

Oda

Oliver

Olivia

Ollie

Omar

Onyx

Opal

Ori

Osmond

Oumou

P

Paige

Parvati

Patience

Patrice

Patricia

Patrick

Peter

Philippe

Phoebe

Phoenix

Polly

Priya

Q

Querriana

Quinn

Quinniece

R

Rachel

Rain

Rainie

Ran

Randi

Raphaël

Raven

Rayne-Beau

Rayraye

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Reed

Rei

Reina

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Ren

Revan

Rhiannon

Rhi-Rhi

Rhyne

Rika

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Riven

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Robyn

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Rose

Rosetta

Rosie

Rowan

Runa-Lucienne

Ruth

Ryan

Rye

S

Sabrina

Sage

Salem

Sam

Samantha

Sammi

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Sara

Saro

Sasha

Savannah

Season

Selena

Selkie

Serena

Shaelei

Shakyra

Shay

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Shelbie

Sid

Sienna

Silvia

Simmy

Simon

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Skye

Skyla

Skylar

Soffia

Soleil

Sonja

Sora

Soraya

Stacey

Star

Stefan

Stevie

Stella

Steph

Stephanie

Stephen

Story

Susan

Suzy

Sydney

T

Tama

Tammy

Tanisha

Tanya

Taylor

Ted

Teddy

Terra

Terrence

Terry

Thomas

Thorgunna

Tiago

Tida

Tobias

Toki

Tokiko

Tom

Tommy

Tomoko

Trey

Tricia

Tristan

Twila

Tye

U

Uma

Undyne

V

V

Vaeril

Van

Vandy

Vaughn

Vaylin

Velise

Venla

Vera

Verly

Verv

Vesper

Vi

Vicky

Victor

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W

Wendy

Westley

Whispthera

Winnie

Wonder

X

Xander

Xavier

Xiri

Y

Yasmin

Ylthin

Yon

Yoonie

Yuki

Yukino

Yuli

Yvette

Yvonne

Z

Zachary

Zack

Zae

Zariyah

Zayla

Zen

Ziya

Zo

Zoey

#our life beginnings & always #our life #ourlifeba #the final list if more names don't come out #last update- feb 17

[jksangelic]

peaches & piercings (m)

↳ rating: M

↳ genre: punk!jimin, e2l, college au, very explicit smut, one-shot, jimin is a whole asshole

↳ pairing: cheerleader!reader x punk!jimin

↳ warnings: explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, sub/dom themes, casual sex, be t r ay a l, alcohol (and weed? idk) consumption, oral sex (male receiving), squirting, thigh-fucking, kind of exhibitionism?, jimin is pierced (that’s all i’ll say), just expect the worst from me tbh

↳ summary: jimin, dipped in hair-dye and pierced in so many places that you just couldn’t keep track, doesn’t think you’re his “type”. you call bullshit.

↳ note: i reallyreallyreally hated this fic. loved the idea, hated how i wrote it. i’ve had this bad boy sitting in my archives for months and months and months and couldn’t gather the courage to post it until NOW! partially because this is an apology fic for my inactivity and more so because i just think i’ve read it too many times that at this point, i’m just being nit-picky and need to move on.

a special thanks to the lovely @14statelier whomst unwillingly received dong pics for the sake of this fic. i’m so glad i found someone as sweet as you to beta for me + become an even better galpal! love u always xx

also thanks to my gal @jungshookz, i’m pretty sure (78% positive) i sent her my idea via snapchat and was probably inspired by her in some way, per usual.

OKAY i’m done you can read now hehehe

↳ words: 11.6k

↳ parts: one | two (complete)

“Jungkook, if you’re not going to throw it then get your grabby hands off my waist,” you warn, eyeing him as he stands behind you and delays in one-manning you into an extension or ogling your ass in your skirt.

           “You’re just so wobbly today, I’m waiting for you to chill out a bit,” he lies with a smirk. You smack his hand but exhale deeply as you firmly grasp his wrists and count.

           “1, 2!” With mutual timing, Jungkook dips down with you before heaving your body above, squatting to catch your heels mid-air, and pumping back up into an extended position. He’s right, you wobble a bit, calling out, “Bail!” and feeling his hands disappear beneath to re-catch your thighs and bring you down safely on your toes. You curse silently under your breath but pat Jungkook’s shoulder as a symbolic “thank you”.

“It’s too fucking early for this, I’m tired,” you say, only making excuses for yourself.

“Well, liven up. The doors are going to open soon and no freshmen want to join a failure of a cheer team.”

“Hey, stop bickering,” the captain, Suzy, orders, “Y/N, you’re fine to just handle the flyers, I’ll stunt with Jungkook.” You squish her into an exhausted hug.

“This is why you’re captain,” you coo.

With that, some of the staff open the gym doors, welcoming an intimidatingly large group of people in with smiles. You fake one yourself, ready to get this over with as soon as possible so you can go back to your dorm and sleep. Within ten minutes, you had a group of girls and a handful of brawny guys already watching Suzy and Jungkook’s exhibition, a mixture of oohs and ahs being rewarded. You handed each of them a thin, poorly-made flyer with pixelated clipart of a girl doing a toe-touch before they scrambled.

After a while, most of the initial commotion dies down and you people-watch each clueless face, thinking how adorable they are, so young and so lost, as if it weren’t you only a few months ago. You’re only a sophomore, but in your head that gives you enough authority to judge the freshmen.

You snap out of your daze upon boots clicking in the distance, soon revealing a man seemingly darting through the crowds to exit across the other side. You would’ve ignored him if it wasn’t for his peachy-tinted hair, long and slicked back atop and close-shaven near his neck, his thin but fit stature dressed in all-black, and the glint of metal, that you soon realized was a septum piercing, in his nose. He has a dark sleeve consuming his right arm and you wonder what eighteen or nineteen year old has a fully-developed sleeve.

Although his eyes were covered with chunky black sunglasses (in the gym, at that), the rest of his appearance sent your pierced-and-tatted-hot-boy alarm berserk. Suddenly awake, you wait for him to head closer to your booth before hopping next to him.

“Hi there, freshie. Care to take a tryout flyer for this year’s cheer team?” you ask with a pitch that’s much higher than your own, kindly handing him one of the shitty-looking papers. He mutters something under his breath that you don’t catch but speaks before you can ask him to clarify.

“Not a freshman. Do I look like someone who cheers? I’m just looking for the counseling center to turn in my transfer papers.

“Also, can you, like, give me some personal space?” he continues in a mock valley-girl tone.

You jump back, completely caught off guard with his sudden hostility and attempting to regain your composure by clearing your throat. Someone must’ve shoved a stick up his ass this morning.

“Oh, uh, sorry. Once you leave the gym, you head right, pass two sets of restrooms, head left, and it’s behind the big statue where the foyer is.” Your voice sounds much better.

His eyebrows rocket upwards over his glasses, completely frazzled by the number of directions you gave him, “Shit, okay. That’s a lot.”

“Here, I’ll just walk you,” you say, not giving him any time for him to probably decline. You don’t even question if he’s following you or not, the obvious clunkclunkclunk of his boots giving it away.

Unsurprisingly, the man doesn’t try to talk to you on the way to the counseling center. At most, he walks side-by-side, at least three meters between you for good measure. And even though it’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to talk, you ring him out a little more anyway.

“So, you’re not a freshman. Underclassman or upperclassman? And you’re a transfer? From where?”

Pass two sets of restrooms and head left.

“Senior. From Busan.” He doesn’t even show a hint of feeling. Emotion. Does this guy even breathe?

Straight until the statue in the foyer.

“Great. Well, it was nice to meet you, senior from Busan. I’m Y/N. If you ever need help or anything, feel free to ask me,” you deadpan, swiveling on your feet to salute him.

He leans on one hip, taking a hand with an incredible amount of rings on it and pushing his sunglasses over his hair like a headband. You certainly weren’t expecting a reveal of the kindest puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen in your entire life. He almost looks permanently sleepy—eyes drooping flat on the lid. Your trance distracted you from his brief once-over, unpredictably impressed by your looks, if he had to admit it.

“It’s Jimin. Jimin, senior from Busan. See you around, cheerleader,” he says with a sly tilt of his lips before swinging the door open and slithering into the office. Past all the glitter and bright colors that poured out of that hideous uniform of yours, Jimin found you really cute.

Jimin waits patiently for the front desk to call him up, lounging in one of the hard, black plastic chairs that never failed to give his ass cramps. Though he didn’t seem like it to new faces around the campus, he was ecstatic to be starting college again in a whole new atmosphere. He even got to room with another male originally from Korea, Min Yoongi, in a small condo not too far a walk from the area.

He could even prospect cuties like you during his year, undoubtedly positive he could busy himself judging by the attention he’s attracted so far. All it would take is a hungry stare, a lick of his lips, an all-knowing smirk. It was easier here than it was back home, if not child’s play. He could have you in three hours flat. But then he thinks of you choosing the obnoxious cliché of college cheerleader and cringes at the idea of associating himself with such… American-ness. He could at least go for some sort of indifferent, grunge hipster that might actually have some thought to her. Yeah, more his style.

The woman at the front finally calls for him, so he arranges his papers and shoos away any daydream of hooking up with the girl in a tight skirt and ankle socks.

Taking the long route back to the gym, your imagination sputters through all the possible reasons why you should hate that guy, bad-guy radar ringing and shrieking and threatening to punch you square in the eye if you even think about it. Eventually, it comes to the conclusion that he was just new, he was probably having a rough moving-in, and you shouldn’t judge a transfer by their hair. Book by its binding? You don’t really remember how the saying goes in this situation.

“Hey, good job on snaking yourself out of flyer duty. What, did you bang Asian Hot Topic on your way?” Jungkook snickers.

“And did Cait break up with you because you can’t dom for shit? Hand me my jacket.”

He guffaws, practically throwing the clothing at your face, “We didn’t break up, asswipe. How am I supposed to act when she suddenly calls me ‘daddy’ without previous warning? I’m not ready to be a father.”

“Kook, you’re dumb as shit. Maybe I should bang Asian Hot Topic and give you pointers of how a real dom works their magic.”

Jungkook crosses his arms in denial, “Pfft, you don’t even know him. He could be a receiver for all you know.”

One, two, three seconds. You both chortle at the impracticality.

You take one final look in the body mirror, adjusting the slinky grey dress and hanging an oversized burnt-orange corduroy jacket over your shoulders for that final touch of unnecessary, but fashionably-adept, garnish to your outfit cupcake. Not having enough time to do your hair, you sweep it over to one side and leave it as is.

“You look fine and you’re ten minutes late so get out already,” your roommate, Sara, whines. She practically pushes you out, slamming and locking the door for emphasis.

Waving off your discombobulated roommate, you start your trek to the humanities building (which is so far away) with a skip in your step. A new school year meant new people, new classes, more lunchtimes with subpar food and occasional parties that could potentially lead to you getting arrested. Who knows!

A new school year, however, didn’t mean that you would know your way to your new class apparently. Bummer.

It’s only by your fourth circle and a glance at your phone that you panic, fifteen minutes somehow passing in the midst of your scrambling. Pace quickening, you pull out your paper with sloppily written notes of what class room number was at which time, simultaneously half-jogging past classrooms and—

“Oof!”

You land straight on your ass.

“Ow, watch where you’re going stu—oh, it’s you.”

You look up groggily, pain stinging through your legs from the brunt of your fall and lazily making eye contact with a pair of puppy dog eyes. Jimin stands above you, rubbing his chin where, you suppose, your forehead made rough contact with and indiscreetly staring at your bright blue panties where your dress failed to cover.

Hopping up and dusting yourself off, you pick up your fallen bag and paper before glaring at him, “Sorry, I got lost and wasn’t paying attention.”

He scoffs, “Aren’t you the cheerleader? You’re supposed to be, like, the girl scout of the school, right? You shouldn’t be lost.”

You roll your eyes, “Yeah, well. I am,” you mutter to yourself, “I don’t even think there’s a 207 in this building…”

“Oh, 207? Intro to psych, right? That’s where I’m going too,” he admits, eyes blown wide. Welp, certainly not the highlight of your morning.

“Great. By the looks of the current time, we’re both lost and,” you wave around the empty corridor, “there’s no one who’s going to help us.”

“I’m not lost. I just woke up late,” he answers nonchalantly, a warm glow to his face like he couldn’t give two damns about his class.

“W-What? Then let’s go! Where is it?”

Jimin twirls and walks a different direction, mumbling, “I’m not your escort, rich girl.”

You prattle at his comment but follow him anyway. When you find the correct lecture hall, you groan at the fact that you already passed it several times. He opens the door quietly, not even bothering to hold it for you as you scramble to catch it. A couple of the back rows look back at you two, annoyed by the minor inconvenience.

“Well. Welcome to my 10AM psychology class at,” the professor booms through the hall and peeks at his wristwatch, “10:36. Go ahead and take these two free seats.”

Jimin shrugs and walks towards the front of the room, a quiet and embarrassed you tiptoeing behind him. Being this late and having to sit next to this ass wasn’t how you wanted your first day to go at all.

For the remainder of the 24 minutes until the first break, you skim over the contents that you missed in the syllabus and want to ram your head into the closest wall. Participation and attendance by themselves are 30% of your grade, homework and assignments (thank god) being a measly 20%, and the final plus tests and quizzes a hunking remainder of 50%. What even was this system?

During your ten minute break, you silently scroll through your phone notifications, setting it down irritatingly when the hall refused to grant you enough service to respond to any of them.

“Don’t have LTE, princess? Might as well watch paint dry without your phone to entertain you,” Jimin snickers beside you. You scowl menacingly at him and he giggles more.

“I don’t know what your problem is, but back off, Jimin. Sorry I don’t, like, play the electric guitar in my free time or whatever.”

He doesn’t respond immediately, still smiling and blowing bubbles with his gum, popping them quite obnoxiously, and quite intentionally.

“What, do you think I play the electric guitar? Are you stereotyping me as some sort of garage band drop-out punk?” he jesters.

“And do you take me for some sort of pink fuzzy consumerist? You don’t know me. Buzz off.”

Jimin had definitely tucked you into his mental folder of “tough gals”; his aloof tactic of flirting not seeming to penetrate that pretty skull of yours. He could just take the path of least resistance and approach you normally, but where was the fun in that? You were too interesting a specimen to just use-and-discard.

Jimin suddenly thinks you look attractive with furrowed brows and pouted lips. It was most definitely working for you, so he lets it slide for now. When class ends, you all but bolt before Jimin can even look your way, sure he’d find another surface flaw to pick at.

You suddenly think of what all of the adults in your life have said during your upbringing: people that went out of their way to bully you were either jealous or had an embarrassingly crushing “thing” for you. Jimin, on the other hand, was just annoying.

Of course, to your dismay, class isn’t the only time you ever saw him. You weren’t totally stupid. The campus didn’t stretch for miles and you were bound to see him sometime and have to deal with the efforts of avoiding the man at all costs but fuck were you praying to whoever controls your Sim above that they would grant you some mercy.

“Just tell him to fuck off if he’s so far up your ass,” Jungkook argues, crushing his juice box in one gulp and biting his massive cafeteria burrito.

“You don’t get it, Kook. I have. So many times, in so many different instances. Did I tell you about the time I thought he was helping me get a textbook from a tall shelf but he ended up taking that last one for himself?” You angrily rip a bite from your limp sandwich. You really did hate Turkey Thursdays.

“Eh, first come, first serve. Maybe he didn’t know you were trying to grab that one.”

“My ass, Jungkook. He claimed that if I really wanted it, I would ‘do something in fair exchange’ for it. I’m not looking to going into prostitution anytime soon.”

“Respect sex workers,” Jungkook criticizes.

“Oh, no, totally. Sex work just isn’t my forte.” Kook shrugs.

“Okay,” you continue, “how about the time I went to IKEA to buy that ceiling lamp and was obviously struggling to one-trip everything from my car? The dumbfuck passed by and asked if I needed help, so I was like, ‘Yeah! Sure, it would definitely make up for the time you asked for sex in lieu of my psych book,’ but instead of helping me carry anything he took my coffee, drank some, and left.” Jungkook starts a rebuttal but you cut him off short, “Then he showed up to my work the other day, god knows how he even saw me in there, and started taking a video of me when I wasn’t paying attention!”

“What the hell,” your friend sports a face of disgust, “like, he’s stalking you?”

You scratch the back of your neck, “Well, not exactly? I think he was just maybe—see, A$AP Rocky may or may have not been playing on the speakers, and I didn’t know anyone was in the shop! So. I don’t know. I started—”

“Started rapping with a rolled up poster as your microphone,” he deadpans. Finishing your horrid sandwich, you crumple the saran wrap and chuck it at his eye, satisfied when we wails exaggeratingly.

“Maybe that’s just his way of flirting with you, he’ll get bored eventually.”

“I think he just hates my guts and thinks of me as an equal to the gum under his thick, goth boots,” you mumble.

“Does it matter? So what if Danny Phantom doesn’t like you?”

“He’s causing a problem though. Besides, everyone cares if someone doesn’t like them. It’s bullshit if they tell you otherwise; bullshit or a lack of sympathy.”

“So what are you going to do about it? Because I’m totally your friend and all but I don’t necessarily want to hear about your boy problems all the time.” You harrumph at his negligence and slump back into your seat.

There really wasn’t anything you could do about it; it wasn’t bad enough to the point of distressing tyranny. You simply couldn’t befriend the guy, it was obvious he didn’t want that. You would just have to pray to all things good that he would eventually lose interest, stop harassing you out of kindness, or have a change of heart and treat you like the saint you were.

If only it were that easy.

Sylly-week kicked ass, to say the least. Even two days prior the hectic week from hell, your body aches from partying while your wallet cries from all the textbooks and supplies you paid for.

Sara slept beside you, forehead stuck to the desk with her laptop stuck on some sort of half-assed document and you couldn’t fathom a better picture to represent college.

Although it was already around 11, you hop out of bed and throw on your windbreaker from cheer and some spandex, shuffling into a pair of your sneakers and bolting out of your room with your bag. The amount of sodium and sugar you consumed from Cup-O-Noodles and off-brand cookie dough bites made you feel disgusting, and you know running a quick mile at the gym would get your blood pumping enough to make you: 1) feel better about yourself and 2) put your ass to sleep.

The walk is short, the air still a little heavy with heat but cool enough for you to be comfortable in a long-sleeve. Some tired students exit the library, really the only other people you see at this hour. You would’ve thought it creepy if the campus wasn’t so well-lit and played background music through the announcement speakers. If you died or got kidnapped, at least it was to some groovy jazz.

You swipe your card across the sensor beside the athletic building door, waiting for that subtle beep before the gears clank and allow you to heave the door open. Immediately, the smell of sweat poorly masked with air freshener fill your nostrils and your adrenaline builds. You’re no body builder, but a run certainly sounded nice right about now.

You practically skip through the halls, rounding a corner to enter the weight room before you stop in your tracks to see someone in the room across. You squint suspiciously, peachy hair striking a very strong familiarity to…

“Jimin?” you whisper to yourself. You shouldn’t be surprised that he’s at the gym, but you are because he isn’t. He’s in the dance studio. Before you bolt, your eyes glue to his sensual movements, legs gliding across the floor and body free-flowing alongside the bass-filled music. No previous bias could deny that he looks like an angel in his room, dancing smooth as meringue and practically skating across the floor despite those clunky black boots of his; and powerful, hitting every note and beat with intention and vigor. You’ve never seen anyone dance like this.

After a few seconds, you render that you’re spying on him and continue walking, nervously scuffing your sneakers down the linoleum and immediately, and unfortunately, catching his attention.

He first sees you in the mirror. Ignores you. Then realizes it’s you and turns into the most ungraceful bag-of-bones as he scurries to pause the music and chases you down the hall.

“Hey!” he yells, grabbing your elbow.

“Don’t touch me,” you strike back, jerking your elbow out of his grasp and staring him down.

He looks apologetic, genuinely worried for a second before he breathes deep and tries again, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you like that. Um, why are you here?”

“Um, because I can be? I was going to go to the gym, dickwad.”

It takes all of his patience not to insult you, “Okay. You’re right. Were you… were you watching me?”

You give him a sickeningly-sweet smile, “Don’t flatter yourself. I was just passing by.”

He nods solemnly, straightening his tank as if it wasn’t already wrinkled and damp with sweat, “Okay. Okay, cool.” He starts to turn before he keeps going in a 360.

“Can you keep this between me and you? That I was here? That I was here and I was—”

“Dancing?” you ask quizzically, “Why does it matter?”

His eyebrows stitch together in frustration, “Y/N, do I look like I’m a dancer?” He gestures to his piercings and his sleeve, waving his hands about in so many different places that your lewd curiosity wonders what he looks like naked—for the sake of knowing how many piercings and tattoos he has though, obviously.

“I think you look like a dancer. Just not a contemporary dancer. Did you take ballet?” you half-tease, crossing your arms and beaming slyly at him.

Jimin huffs, impatient, “Will you just keep it locked somewhere in that airhead of yours?”

“What’s in it for me, Jiminie,” you pout, “what do I get as reward for keeping your secret?”

He falters a moment, licking his plump lips and walking dangerously close, “You want a reward? I don’t take you as that kind of girl, Y/N.”

He must be delirious, eyeing him so and shoving him away, “Ew, no. I just meant, like, be nice to me from now on. And help me with psychology. That class is nothing but a memory test.”

He blinks dumbly from your rejection; who ever rejected him? He waves it off.

“Okay. I can be compliant. I won’t treat you like the rich bitch you are, and I tutor you on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Deal?”

“I’m not a rich bitch. I have student loans like the rest of the student population, thank you very much. Deal.”

You smile at each other devilishly, ready to part ways before bursting out with an instant, “Wait!”

Jimin looks over his shoulder curiously. Damn, you could really see how toned his shoulders were in that shirt.

“There’re dance majors here, is that what you transferred for?”

He turns all the way, leaning sideways against the wall and sighing, “Honestly, yes. But my family thinks I’m transferring to finish my business degree and that I would have better opportunities here. I really did it because there’s some great studios in the area but—” he catches himself rambling, “I don’t know how they would feel about my grand decision.”

You shrug, “You’re a great dancer, Jimin. Honestly, you could open your own studio here if you wanted to. You do have great opportunities.”

His sleepy eyes stare you down, a half-smile drawing itself out before he can take it back. “Give me your phone,” he orders.

You don’t know why but you do.

He dials into it with his overly-accessorized fingers, giving you a moment to get a closer look at his septum and the abundance of ear-piercings he sports before he hands it back. You’re pretty sure one of them is Gucci and you bite back a chuckle. Rich bitch.

“That’s my number. Text me when you’re free on study days.”

And with that, he re-enters his room and resumes the music.

The first time Park Jimin meets with you at a Starbucks on a Tuesday, like he instructed, you thought you somehow managed to get yourself stuck in the Twilight Zone.

“Hey, it’s Y/N. My last class ends at 3 on both days and there’s already a quiz this Friday. Help.”

 You sent the text without emojis. He didn’t deserve any.

You had barely got to Instagram before he texted you back. With multiple messages.

 “u text like a gramma”

“but ok”

“starbucks at 330? i’ll buy”

 You giggled to yourself at his joke, sending a single “(:” and putting your phone to sleep.

 To your disbelief, he really did buy you a cheese danish and a tall, iced, caramel macchiato. You sip it gingerly while he pulls his things out of his bag: a couple mechanical pencils (the industrial, expensive ones), a 1-inch binder organized by subject with dividers, and notecards. You grab them and hold them up like it’s evidence from a leading murder case.

“Notecards? You are way too organized and functional.”

He snags your pastry before you can grab it and takes a huge bite, “Yeah, but ih’s gonna het you a bedder ghrade.”

Whining, you get it back after his second bite, somehow only half remaining.

“Okay. Let’s get started. It should only be a vocab check because that’s really all he’s asked us to study so far. We’ll start with my wonderful notecards,” he waves them in the air for effect, “and see which ones you do and don’t know.”

You nod, waiting for the chaos to begin. Who were you to tell him that you haven’t actually studied any of the vocab yet? He holds the first one up. Abductive reasoning.

“Uhh… is that like, something detectives use on kidnapping cases?”

“Wh-What? No. Well—are you thinking of ‘abductions’? Abductive reasoning is being able to use the two states of induction and deduction alongside your intuition to reach a conclusion,” he pauses and tilts his head a little, “ I guess the best analogy is giving out a verdict on a criminal case. Without being 100% sure, they use the evidence to tie together as many different points as they can to come to a conclusion. So, I mean, you got it wrong, but you can easily remember the definition with that.”

You’ll take what you get (majority of his reasoning went through one ear and out the other, anyway), wiggling your eyebrows in justified approval. Jimin laughs at you, eyes squinting to slits and shaking his head. He takes notice that you aren’t wearing much makeup today, your cheeks and the bridge of your nose a tad red with irritation and a bit dry where the sun burnt and eyes daintier without so much eyeliner on them. You threw on a tank and some workout shorts and look like the epitome of… comfortable, in your head. Jimin thinks you look effortless.

“Park?” you wave your hand in front of him.

He catches himself staring and jumps out of his seat, chair screeching across the tile.

“Sorry,” he coughs, “I’m going to take a whiz.” Stupid. He practically trips over himself to get to the restroom.

You watch him hurry to the back. He probably had much better things to do than help you study in the middle of the afternoon. A couple of younger girls watch him as he passes, giggling like a pack of fangirls and combing their hair out of their faces. If they only knew.

Did he even have a girlfriend? Most likely not, right? He only just transferred here and despite his well-endowed looks, he was still intimidating. Like a giant “don’t touch, I bite” sign constantly hung around his neck.

He comes back shortly, and before you can deduct that you would rather save the embarrassment than to quench your curiosity, you ask, “Are you dating anyone?”

“Because you get a lot of followers,” you reason, shamelessly pointing out the girls who ogle his tattooed biceps. They giggle again when he looks their way. God, so many giggles.

He rubs the back of his neck nervously and that intrigues you, “No, I’m not dating anyone. I think if it weren’t for my… accessories? And the fact that I’m foreign, girls wouldn’t like me as much.” You find tiny comfort that he’s single but squish the thought away.

“How ‘bout you? Dating that guy on your team?” he retorts.

“Who, Jungkook?” you snort, “No. He has a girlfriend and he’s all brawn over brain. I’m not dating anyone, actually. I don’t like guys that are so competitive to win females strictly for the points, and there’s a lot of that here. S’gross; we’re not animals.”

“We kinda are,” he argues, but smiles understandingly.

“Okay, but not in the way where your possible significant other has to perform an instinctual mating dance?”

He juts up an eyebrow, “Really? Because I could easily arrange that.”

For the first time, you both laugh. At the same thing. Who knew that Jimin could dance of all things? And pay for your food? And actually be a nice guy who’s really smart? Thinking about it, today has gone so polar-opposite of what you expected that you contemplate if this is Jimin’s identical twin that just happens to have the same piercings and ink that bully-Jimin has.

Twilight Zone.

“Okay, let’s continue,” he says, resuming the queue of notecards.

“Define abulia.”

“Hello? Earth to Y/N?” Jimin waved a hand in your face.

“Hm? Sorry, say it again.”

Jimin packed up his supplies, then grabs yours and tucks them into your bag, “I said, ‘Are we going to your place right now?’ You said you picked up Black Panther on DVD so I want to watch it.”

“Oh, yeah, sure. Cats and shit.”

You both stand up and stretch, the rest of the students in the lecture hall slowly filing out. Midterms were already approaching, which meant that you and Jimin had known each other for quite some time now. His tutoring was ditched weeks ago after you were finally comfortable with the material and able to comprehend what the professor was saying without Jimin to interpret. At first, meeting up stopped completely. You two would talk occasionally during class break and that’s all, and after a while, you just figured your deal was completed and Jimin finished his case and you both separated onto your different ways.

But then Jimin had asked if you wanted coffee at the same Starbucks you had first studied at, but for no specific reason. Just to hang out. So, you did.

Hanging out once or twice for coffee turned into twice getting lunch turned into four or five times lazing about your dorm, and now, you were just completely, wholesomely, friends. It was hard not to be on edge at the contrast of current Jimin to hell-on-earth Jimin, but you took what you could get.

“Is something on your mind? You’ve been spacing out for a long time,” he prods, taking your bag himself and throwing it over the same shoulder his own bag was on. The

walk to your dorm building was short but you could feel your feet dragging from sudden exhaustion.

“I think I’m just tired? I’m fine. Ready to Black Panther it up and all that jazz,” you chuckle. He takes the hint and resorts to quietly humming to your room rather than talking. That’s one thing you liked about him, he always knew when your mind just needed simple white noise.

Unlocking the door and jostling it out of its stickiness, you make a running jump to faceplant onto your bed. The mattress dips next to you when Jimin sits.

“I know you like cheer and all, but I think you need to take a break,” he says.

“Easier said than done. And I have mandatory captain conditioning in 3 hours,” you groan, propping your head on the palm of your hand to watch Jimin as he eats a stale bag of chips that he found on your nightstand. His face contorts in repulsion and throws the bag away.

“Okay, well, you’re not going. Tell them you’re sick. Let’s watch some DC movies and eat popcorn and have, like, a girl sleepover but I’m not a girl and I don’t want to spend the night,” he says, counting each point on his fingers.

“First of all, you lunatic, it’s Marvel not DC. Second, I don’t have popcorn. I can’t just skip conditioning because if I gain one pound Jungkook will sense it with his nose or something and attack me.”

“What,” he says in disbelief, grabbing your waist with one hand and squeezing a little, “you’re fine. You’re not going today and that’s final.” It’s not very often he touches you and as much as you try not to show it, you feel your face heat and mouth gape open and closed, ready to combust. You don’t particularly know why; guys touch you all the time (not in that way, thank you very much) but when it was Jimin, it was like you had been raised feral and failed to receive any means of human interaction.

He notices, taking his hand away as quick as he placed it and looking at the floor. Despite your lack of proper reaction, you would be lying if you said you didn’t feel a little twinge of disappointment. God, you’re so confusing to yourself.

“How about you? Your vampire ass won’t dance in sunlight so you must be tired too. How long do you normally dance for when you’re in the studio?”

“Well,” he lays flat on his back and stares at your popcorn ceiling (your dorm building was extremely outdated), “I try to workout at the actual gym in the morning before I get ready for class, and then I dance from 11 to whenever I feel is enough during the weeknights. That is, if no one’s there.”

“Why do you even follow this whole path of disliking mainstream trends and ‘rebelling against the world’? Isn’t that tiring? Aside from dance, do you, like, make your own skateboards and go to secret underground bars or something?” you tease. He rolls his head towards you in annoyance and mouths a “ha ha”.

“No, I just. I don’t know. I don’t like people telling me what to do or where to go or how to look,” he showcases his tatted arm. “This is all mine. I don’t want to be another puppet controlled my whole life to consume and work off a never-ending debt just so I can only live comfortably when I’m old but too old to actually live.”

“Wow, bro. That’s deep,” you pretend to smoke a pretzel stick. He continues anyway.

“Recently I made some friends that are in one of my labs. They’re from Korea too. If I’m not studying or working or hanging out with you, I’m probably with them. Partying or something,” he says, stealing away your “cigarette” and crunching on it loudly.

“Woah, you work? How do you find the time to do that?”

“Kinda. Nothing official, I just tutor people sometimes. Charge them by the hour and make some decent pocket change for food or whatever.”

You contemplate. How come he’s never charged you for your tutoring before? You ask him, studying his side profile and admiring his jawline when he talks. Flexing then easing; taut then relaxed.

“Because we had a deal. We agreed that I would help you in psych as long as you kept my secret, in which you did, so I figured that was good enough. Besides, you’re too cute to charge. I look like a bad boy but I’m not evil.” You giggle, resembling a middle-school fangirl and exaggerating a flattered stature.

Jimin laughs again, light and refreshing staccato notes that you could honestly listen to all day. It was therapeutic in its own crackhead way.

You’ve been unintentionally staring at him more and more often, Jimin finally taking notice within the last few minutes. He knew how to read a girl; how revealing they make themselves to impress him or how their eyes dim in any sort of suggestion that his hands should somehow find place on their body. But with you, he has no idea what that stare means. For the most part, you carry yourself so independently to the point of being standoffish and Jimin just can’t figure you out. He sought the day you would give in and beg for a night with him just like most of the other girls in his classes did, and when you didn’t, he wanted to know why. Not out of inflated ego or need to get into your pants—okay maybe because of that initially—but even more so that he just needed to dissect you. Know how to get you going, what kind of person you really are, which was completely different from what he originally imagined.

You were talking amidst his thoughts, not paying attention to the strings of sentences that fell out of your lips and before he knew it, he held himself directly above you, hands on each side of your head and staring right down into your disordered doe eyes.

“What makes you so different?” he asks aloud, more to himself than you. Puzzled and not under the impression that it was a rhetorical question, you shake your head.

“I don’t u-understand. What are you doing, Ji—”

He tucks a loose strand of yours out of your face, causing you to hiccup. “I feel like when I think I know you, I’m actually far from it.”

You don’t particularly know what you’re supposed to say to that.

“You didn’t ever need to get to know me. You just needed to make sure I kept your secret,” you play along. Knowing it wasn’t really the whole case, your own statement stings a little. If it weren’t to save his own ass, would he even be here right now?

Like he read your mind, he answers, “Why would I be here? I haven’t needed to help you in weeks. I’m with you all the time because I want to be. Because I—”

“Because you…?” you trail on, heart beating so hard you swear he can hear it. You wanted him to say it, maybe that’s what was keeping you from confirming your feelings. You needed validation; that this wasn’t just you or that this was some one-sided longing because you doubted someone like him could ever like someone like you.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks instead, so hesitant and delicate and worrisome all in one question and you ponder if this is the same boy you first met at orientation.

“Please.”

He dips down slowly, eyes half-closed in anticipation of what your face looks like so close, pausing an inch away when you shut your own. You feel his warmth near your mouth, waiting for that first touch, any contact, until it seems like it’s been far too long. When you peek, you see nothing but his perfect… cheekbone? He stares, jaw stuck open and eyes fluttering, at the intruder in the door before swinging himself off the bed and coughing awkwardly.

“Oh, Sara. I didn’t know you were coming home so early today,” you squeak out. You sit up yourself, brushing off nonexistent dust from the bed and watching Jimin gather his things in a rush and squeezing past a concerned Sara in the doorway. He doesn’t even turn back, ears stinging red and peeping a quick, havetogotextyoulater. Great, the asshole left you to face your roommate alone.

“Was that Jimin? Park Jimin? The fucking transfer student?”

“Oh my god, Sara, what’re you freaking out about?”

Dropping her stuff in the middle of the room, she shrieks annoyingly and grabs your shoulders, “Are you seriously fucking with the Park Jimin? Y/N. Nuh-uh. No way. Do you know what you’re getting yourself into?”

“Chill out! We’re just friends. He tutors me sometimes.” Not quite a lie.

She eyes you and deadpans, “Yeah, I didn’t know tutoring also included a one-on-one session of how to have sexual intercourse.”

“You’re so dramatic,” you remove her hands, which were digging crescents into your skin, and pretend to arrange your bed, “we haven’t even kissed. You just walked in at an inconvenient time.”

Sara sighs, rubbing her temples and sitting on your bed, “Look, babe. Just be careful. I’ve been to parties with him and have heard some awful things. Shit you expect from a movie where the girl gets fucked over because the guy doesn’t know how to keep his dick in his pants. I just want the best for you, okay? He’s not as sweet as you might think he is.”

He isn’t sweet at all, you said internally. But still, your heart clenches at her words. Sure, he acts like a dick, and you shouldn’t be surprised if he really does get around as much as Sara suspects; but there was just some sort of denial that lingered. If he really was such a player, why would he have stuck around with you for as long as he has, as platonic as it has been until now?

“I… I didn’t know that. I’ll be careful,” you assure her.

All it took was a squinty-eyed smile and a tiny caress to the small of your back on the way into the lecture hall for you to completely melt into his hands. You were simply putty, magically molding into some gross, odd-smelling ball of love just because of the almost-incident yesterday. You can practically feel the radiating disappointment from Sara if she knew how easily you gave yourself up for him.

His face reoccurs in your daydreams for days, all the way up until the weekend comes up from behind and smacks you on the ass.

“Focus,” Jungkook taps you through you skirt again. Oh, or maybe it was Jungkook.

The stadium speakers blared with announcements and you’re brought back to the world of clashing helmets, captain’s orders and Jungkook’s strong hands residing on your waist for partner stunts.

You didn’t need to be reminded, you were much more stable than you were weeks ago. He throws you in the air during the signaling note of the band and catches your right foot with ease above him, keeping you stable as you pull a heel stretch and present a pretty smile. The crowd roars along, inspiring the team and singing along with the cheers.

By the end of the game, you’re exhausted, tearing down paper signs from the concrete walls and shuffling your poms into your bag in a hurry.

“Hey, are you going to the feed after? Everyone’s going, I could give you a ride,” Jungkook offers, but you shake your head.

“I’m pretty beat. I’ll go next time.” He shrugs, finding more interest in catching up to someone who is interested than trying to convince you otherwise. By the time your clean-up is done, most of the fans are gone, the stadium a comparable difference of quiet than how it was only twenty minutes ago.

“You’re sure taking forever,” a sudden voice pipes up. Outside the gate stands Jimin, all-black tank and jeans, per usual. “You looked great out there.”

You smile, suddenly awake and jogging towards him, “What’re you doing here? I thought you didn’t like football.” During all your rushing do you realize that you relax around Park, time always seeming to slow down in his presence and you dissolve into his effect.

“I don’t. Such an American moneymaker. They’re all cons.” He takes your bag like he always does, leaning against the gate and looking excited, “Mind if we stop by my place? I have something to show you. It’s not far, probably only a 5 minute walk from here.”

You nod before he even mentions how long it takes to get there, heart palpitating at the thought that he’s inviting you over. You’re sure you smelled from cheer and you probably looked like the opposing team warmed up suicide runs over your sweaty body, but you nod.

“Were you here the whole time? Or just towards the end?” you ask, slightly insecure towards the fact that he could’ve been watching you cheer.

“Was here since halftime. Got Yoongs to watch with me at the gate where I was before for the most part. He left halfway through fourth quarter though, said he got tired from seeing others exert themselves so much,” he chuckles at the thought, eyes squinting and crooked tooth visible from the side. Your heart swooned, you were even starting to notice the little things. How he acted. His habits. What he did and didn’t like.

You were in fucking deep.

“I did get to see you cheer though,” he answers your unspoken inquiry, “you looked pretty, Y/N. It’s like watching a whole ‘nother person compared to how you act outside of uniform.” You’re still stuck on the word “pretty” and nod along like you’re listening.

“You should see how people look at you,” he draws on, “like they’re entranced. Even when you were just relaxing on the sideline, not doing anything, you stand out.”

“Oh my god, Jimin, where is this even coming from? One more compliment and the world might explode from the paradox you’re creating.”

He shoves your shoulder lightly, laughing at your tomato-red face, “What do you mean? I can’t compliment you?”

“No that’s not—I just mean. You know. You used to hate me and now you shower me with praise like I’m the best person in the world. It’s just crazy how much our relationship has changed. And… And yesterday—”

“Yo, can’t believe you really stayed for the rest of the game,” a raspy voice outbursts. You just realize that Jimin stopped you in front of a house, presumably his house, as a mint-haired ball sits on the porch. He inhales from his cigarette and exhales through his nose before throwing it underneath his boot.

“Hey, Yoongs. This is Y/N. Y/N, Min Yoongi, my roommate. Has a bad smoking habit and have only recently gotten him to smoke outside.” Jimin snickers, offering a hand to lift Yoongi off the step and welcome him into some bro-hug.

“You smoke too, bastard. Just did it ‘cause I knew you were bringing someone home tonight,” Yoongi retaliates, eyeing your figure. Shivers run down your spine at the comment.

Jimin coughs unexpectedly, then anxiously laughs as he pulls your arm behind him and into the house, “We’ll be in the living room. Go sleep or something.” Yoongi only clicks his tongue in response.

“Sorry,” he says once your inside, “he can be a little too personal sometimes. He’s really nice once you get to know him.” You shake your head, giving him a comforting smile that eases the tension in his shoulders.

He settles you on the couch, host-like politeness apparent when he asks if you want anything to drink, tells you where the bathroom is, and hands you the tv remote before disappearing to find his laptop. His home was cozy, minimalist furniture often in gray, black, and an occasional blue spread throughout the rooms. You weren’t sure if the boys were attempting to be modern or if college tuition only allowed them this sort of set-up, but nonetheless, it was way nicer than you expected.

“Back,” Jimin plops onto the couch right next to you, Apple laptop unlocked to a default background. He looks to you briefly before setting up some page on Google, “Have you signed up for your classes for next quarter yet?”

He looks different, your eyes scanning over his face to figure out just what it is, “Basically, just gotta confirm and pay and whatnot. Have you, Jimin?”

It’s his septum, you discover, that he’s taken out. He looks handsome either way. Propping the laptop suddenly on your lap, he beams, “Yeah, go ahead and take a look.”

You scroll through the page, humming to yourself, “Mhm… Mhm… Accounting, business 101, contemporary repertory… God, you’re going to hate sociology with Doyard, she’s a complete psycho!” You trail, giggling at his misfortune. Once you’re done, you meet his discontent face.

It takes a few takes from his face to the screen, back to his face, until oh shit!

“Wait does ‘contemporary repertory’ mean something important?” you squeal in rushed excitement. “Is that a dance thing? Are you taking a dance class here?” Before he can even explain, you shut the laptop and safely place it on the coffee table before tackling the man, withdrawing an oof from his lips.

“Easy, girl. Please don’t break me before I even get to show up on the first day.”

“Jimin, this is amazing. You’re finally doing something you want to do, during regular hours, at that!” You nuzzle into his warm chest, “I’m so happy for you, Jimin. I hope you have fun.” His heart clenches at that; how could you be so fucking caring about him? He knew you’d be surprised, but not genuinely happy for him. His hand glides over the skin between your midriff and skirt, an inkling of a gasp floating out of your throat.

“Sorry,” he whispers, moving his hand higher and locking eyes with yours. Time is always slow with him but now, it’s like it was screaming at you to take the opportunity. Unwinding one of your arms from around his neck, you smooth his hair up so you can see those prepossessing eyes.

“You can touch me,” you confirm just as softly. His features harden and you hope you didn’t read the situation wrong.

“I… I never got to kiss you that night.”

“Then you can kiss me now, if you’d like,” you say, pleading in your voice and it’s all he needs to hear before he burns his lips into yours. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve wanted this,” he pants between suckles to your bottom lip. He kisses like he dances: powerful and in perfect control with his body, molding it to yours and massaging the skin he just apologized for touching only seconds ago.

You cup his face and look down at him with sultry prowess, “I want you, Jimin. I’ve always thought about this, hoping you would just make a move, idiot.” You dive back into him, his moans prominent when you lick and nip at his lip. He lowers his grip to your ass, squeezing and pushing his hips into your own.

“Well, I’ve always thought about fucking you in this cursed uniform,” he growls, forcing a giggle out of you. Grinding down into him for effect, your mouth travels to his ear so you can state a small confirmation.

“I’m flexible, babe. I’m all yours.”

He hums his praise, latching his mouth onto your neck, laving and peppering blues into your skin before he carries you off the couch. You wrap your legs around him instinctively, “Where are you taking me?”

Heading into a hallway and taking a sharp left, he kicks his door open, “I don’t know about you, hot stuff, but Yoongs doesn’t need to see you getting dicked down in our living room,” he jests. When he lays you back onto the foot of his bed, you briefly scan his room and find it hard to believe that it’s relatively clean, the posters on his walls the only thing that seemed cluttered. This guy was your high school self’s wet dream. Scanning him promiscuously, you chuckle.

“I can be into it,” you drawl playfully.

Earning an unimpressed scoff, he fingers the hem of his shirt, “You’re mine,” he sheds it in a swift pull and throws it to the side cockily. Marveling at each detailed divot and curve of muscle, you can’t help but bite your lip in frustrated anticipation. “Unless, you don’t want me,” he finishes with a tilt of his head. He knew what he was doing, simulating innocence to draw you out of your transfixed stupor to hear those three words string from your mouth. You reach out to touch his abs, tracing over linework of ink and watching him shiver from your touch. Knowing exactly what he wants to hear, you gaze into oblique eyes and mouth the words, “I do want you”.

Goading him on, you lay back and extend your legs above you, shuffling your spandex tantalizingly slow over your skin. Jimin whistles at your show, staring at the white g-string you sported under your skirt and wandering his hands over the supple skin you expose.

“Jesus, you fucking tease. Leave the skirt.” Tittering at his request, you dig your heels into his back to propel him down towards you, his ringed hands keeping himself afloat and a winning smile winking down at you. Bless your heart you didn’t faint right then and there.

He kisses you like a man starved, lips burning hot with desire and aching to be bit—so you give him that. Sinking your teeth gently into the flesh, he punishes such action with a slap to the underneath of your thigh, then holding it close to the side of his abdomen and rolling over with you on top. Practically suffocating from lack of air, you dislodge yourself, quite reluctantly, from his mouth and soothe his complaints with brief kisses to his thick neck.

“Why didn’t we do this—ah, before?” he pants. Sucking a particularly tender spot of his jugular, he moans out and bucks into your hips. You continue your way down, leaving no inch of skin untouched until you reach where his skin ends and the nuisance of clothing began.

“You don’t make things very easy for me. Can I suck you off?”

“Fuck, don’t ask. Just do it. Turn around, though, I’ll finger you at the same time,” he offers, propping himself up on his elbows as you readjust yourself with your head towards his bulge and your ass facing him, knees keeping you up on one side of his torso. “Perfect,” he commends.

Unbuckling his ridiculously tight jeans, you hook your thumbs under the denim and whisper a quick, “Up,” to pull them off when his hips lift off the mattress. Your pride inflates at the sight of his bulge resting in the crook of his thigh, adorned by simple black boxers that hugged him in all the right spots. All but drooling at the member, you place a loving kiss where you know his head resides, mouthing at it gingerly and soaking the material with your saliva.

He ruts into your face as he watches such indecency, “You know, I should probably tell you something,” he says rather seriously, shuffling your skirt up above your ass and mischievously prodding at your sex with his thumb.

“Hmm,” you mumble, sliding his boxers down enough to suck at the pink tip that oozed of precum and spreading the liquid around with your tongue. The bitterness that came with it was all welcomed, slightly sweeter than others you’ve ever tasted and you appreciated it much more when a man this good-looking was laid out before you.

He groans, “Ever heard of a Jacob’s Ladder? Fuck, right there, underneath a bit…” You suck and nip at the skin of his frenulum, knowing he was bound to like small dosages of pain mixed with his pleasure—a guess all too correct when he cries out in ecstasy and gives your ass a light spank.

“A Jacob’s what?”

“Just—just look at it. If you don’t like it then I can just take them out,” he sighs, all too impatient to give you a rundown of whatever a Jacob’s hoo-ha entailed. You perk a brow at his vocabulary, halting your mouth and sliding his boxers the rest of the way down.

If you weren’t riled up before, you were hot, ready, and willing to beg on your knees to be stuffed with Jimin and his… accessories. You understand the term “ladder” now, three rungs of metal pierced on the underside of his shaft and glinting up at you with intimidation. You hope Jimin can’t see the now overflowing amount of arousal oozing out of your pussy, squeezing thighs together in a useless attempt of hiding yourself.

“Fuck, didn’t that hurt?” you question, hovering fingers over the balls of silver that protruded on each side in complete awe.

“Of course it did, honey. It’s all worth it, though. It’ll make you feel good too. Need me to take them out?” You shake your head a little too vigorously, earning a chuckle and his middle finger to slide in between your folds unexpectedly. Yiping at the sudden entrance, you cast a glare over his shoulder with his only response being the curve of his digit.

“C-Can I lick it? Can it get infected if you don’t use a condom?” you bombard him with questions, entirely unfamiliar with the subject and entirely enamored by it.

“It’s all healed up, baby. You can do whatever your little heart desires with it. And I would oh so much prefer going bare,” he confirms, and your heart flips at his pet name for you. That, and the thought of his thick, pierced cock penetrating you condom-less.

You wrap your lips around him once more, unafraid to take more and more of his length until you feel the cold metal—your stopping point. Call it your lack of experience, but you prefer not to catch your teeth on those piercings today. You make up for it by sliding a hand back under his scrunched boxers, fondling his balls as you bob diligently. He curses and struggles to keep his body still, digging another digit between your legs to slow your own ministrations. When it works and you moan around his cock, Jimin can’t help but want to play a little game.

“Should I give you a challenge, babe? It’s super simple. Whoever makes the other cum first gets to request something. Anything. Deal?”

“Deahl,” you muffle, swirling your tongue lavishly around his crown. Everything with Jimin was much more… intriguing. Even your first time having sex was turned into some lusty escapade of unexpected metallic embellishments and cheeky gambles. It made you feel something in your veins, wanting more and more of whatever poison Jimin was.

Taking a breath, you lick broadly over his entire shaft and scarcely taste the titanium—more than anything, it was just cold. Jimin shudders at the feeling, punishing you with a third and final finger and pushing downdowndown into a spot all too sensitive for you to focus.

Try as you might, your now pathetic attempts of sucking him off is all forgotten in your own haze of chasing your orgasm. Instead, you rest your head on his hip and writhe against his hand, fucking back onto it while he simultaneously prods your g-spot over and over again until you see stars.

“Giving up already? You were doing so well for a while, you could’ve won,” he lilts.

“Jimin, please make me cum. Oh god,” you wail, legs straining for just that final push…

“Is this what you want?” He slides his thumb across, swiping whatever he could collect and using it to knead at your neglected clit. It’s all you need, pleasure washing over you in tandem of near oversensitivity, a near scream tearing through your lungs that only comes out in ragged whines against his leg.

“Beautiful, sweetheart. Fuck, you’re ruining my sheets over here,” he criticizes, removing his hand with an obscene squelch and moving around in the bed.

The torpor you caught yourself in didn’t render what he was saying, just letting him move you about so your head rests on his pillows while he places himself between your legs.

“Jiminie,” you babble, “fuck me.” He strokes your hair away from your face and smiles, that cute puppy smile that turns his eyes into crescents. The rest of him, though, is purely sinful. Hair sweaty and pieced to perfection as his body taunted you with toned muscles.

“I don’t think you’re ready, honey,” he answers, “even though you’re dripping in your own cum.” He leans back and stares at your pussy without embarrassment, pulling your knees together and watching the juices flow even more. “I should put it to use.”

You peer up at him, curious as to whatever the hell he’s dreaming of over there and inexplicably stunned when you see his dick between your legs. “J-Jimin, what are you doing?”

“Shh, just keep them closed tight,” he orders, fucking himself between the lips of your heat and the warm skin of your thighs. You can’t help but ravish the sight of him as he slicks himself up, eyeing you down as his hips roll into you agonizingly slow. His piercings graze against your nub occasionally, warmth once again growing in your stomach.

“Fuck, you’re so soft and so wet. Who did this to you, hm?” You moan maniacally, angling your hips as to catch him and push inside, but he only laughs degradingly and intentionally misses.

“You think I’m going to fuck you if you can’t even answer this simple question?” he sneers. “Answer like a good girl, then I’ll fuck you into oblivion.”

You scramble for words, initially incoherent and struggling. “Jimin! Shit, Jimin. You made me this way. Ah, you m-make me so wet, so please put it in, put it in and—ha, aah!”

He shoves his length in like it’s all he knew what to do, your ankles to his shoulders so he can drink up your moans with his reddened lips. He was right—the piercings didn’t feel like any dick you’ve received before, it was so much better. This was pornographic, it was so good. He all but pistols into you, his cock grazing places previously untouched. Indulging in his heaven sent strokes, you cry and groan at each relentless thrust.

“Hush, baby, Yoongi’s going to hear your pretty self,” he warns, but you don’t give a shit. If anything, you moan louder with a know-all glint in your eye, testing Jimin’s patience. “Brat,” he spits.

He pounds into you repeatedly, completely removing himself before filling you up again and again and again. Between the pressure to your g-spot and the added stimulation from his Jacob’s Ladder—your stomach heaves, an unfamiliar feeling washing over your abdomen contrary to anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh, Jimin, wait!” you sob, halting his hips from another brutal shove a little too late. The second he pulls out, your second orgasm (and first ever untouched orgasm) of the night reigns over, briefly showering his lower stomach in your own wet arousal.

“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot. Did you just… squirt on me?” he growls, not taking the time to hear your answer as he lifts you into his lap, legs wrapped around his muscular back and arms gripping around his shoulders for dear life.

He sinks back into you deliciously, filling you to the brim with your added weight and rutting up into you to chase his own release. Everything is soaked and sticky, Jimin’s ragged breathing and groans so close to your ear that you’re sure it’ll be engrained into your memory forever, his thrusts so deep inside you wail once more.

Consequently, the banging on the wall next to you comes as no surprise, Yoongi’s angry, “Shut the fuck up!” clear as day. Jimin waves it off.

“Don’t listen baby. Moan louder for me. Tell me where you want my cum.”

The slaps of skin become louder; it wouldn’t be long before Jimin came. “Inside, Jiminie, please. Cum inside me, pump me full,” you squeal, lust sparking inside you knowing that his roommate could hear you getting fucked senseless.

One, two, three more aching pounds before he spills into you, his pretty moans music to your ears. You flop back as soon as he takes himself out, suddenly aching all over from how much he stretched your legs and groaning at the pain.

You slap his eager hand away when he fingers his cum back into your abused lips, “That hurts, idiot.” He smiles and sucks your intermingled cum off his fingers with a pop.

“We taste good together,” he husks. Fuck. “By the way. You came first. Stay the night?”

You oblige with or without the pressure of the bet, dog-tired from your beating and not even fathoming the trek back to your own room. Jimin takes charge in your state of haziness, washing you off in his shower, replacing your uniform with a t-shirt of his own and laying you beside him on his mattress (sheets replaced and refreshed).

“You have piercings in your dick,” you state in the middle of the quiet.

Jimin snorts at the outburst, looping an arm around your side and melding his body to yours, “Yeah, is it weird?”

“… Robot dick,” you whisper, words cracking at the face of your laughter.

“Oh my god.”

“So, when you’re going through metal detectors at airports and whatever, do you have to tell them that the metal’s in your penis? Do they have to check?” Titters are awarded with light jabs to your side, which are then led to screams and kicks to his legs.

Yoongi bursts through Jimin’s door, brows stitched together in heated anger parallel to the flames of hell, “I swear to fucking god, if you two don’t quiet down I’ll mount your heads on my wall, it’ll make a great decoration.”

“What the hell, what if we were naked? Don’t just go busting through—”

“Yeah because you obviously care if I know you two are fucking. ‘Don’t listen, baby! Tell me where you want my cum, baby!’” Yoongi mocks. Pillows are flying and insults are thrown as you watch them bicker sleepily, all fading into white noise as you begin to drift off.

Sleep itself feels like a blink, so exhausted that you don’t dream. Waking in the same position that you were last conscious in, the only difference in picture is the fact that: A) the sun is shining through Jimin’s skylight and B) Jimin is no longer in bed with you.

But before you can even question where he’s run off to, his sly self sneaks back into the bedroom, shirtless and face clean from washing up just now. You don’t even hide the fact that you look down to check out his tight briefs, metal detector in your brain trying to scope it out.

“You’re awake. Sorry if I was loud,” he smiles, crawling on top of you as you stretch out like a mangled cat. You shake your head, combing his hair back with your nails as he dips down into your chest. “I like when you wear my shirts.”

“That’s pretty stereotypical,” you whisper out, voice low and raspy from your slumber. This isn’t fair, you think, he got to brush his teeth already.

He sits up and gives you A Look, making you giggle and giving you the leverage to feel up his abs as he flexes haughtily.

“I can get used to this,” you purr.

“I bet you could,” he mumbles into your neck, nipping at the places he already marked last night. He doesn’t push, just relishes in your warmth and fondles you carefully as you continue to wake up and it makes you shiver.

“I wish you would’ve done this a long time ago,” you sigh.

“You hated me.”

“You didn’t make it easy for me to like you,” you retort, gasping when he bites your collarbone, “Now—Now I like you.”

He stops abruptly and pulls away, landing on his side with an elbow and tilting his head towards you, “Well, I hope you don’t start liking me too much.”

You squint, “W-Why? Don’t tell me this was just a one night stand or anything.”

“No! I mean, not just one night or whatever. I just—this is just casual, right?”

You all but bite your tongue to keep from lashing out, “What do you mean ‘casual’? You didn’t say anything about ‘casual’.”

“Oh, Y/N, c’mon. Did you really think we should date? Look at us, baby. We’re just not… each other’s types, you know?”

It’s about time you get up, shoving aside his warm blankets and grabbing your soiled uniform from the floor, “No, Jimin. I don’t know. I thought you were being genuine with me.”

“Hey, no, don’t leave,” he grabs your arm before you leave his bedroom, “Okay, there was some miscommunication. I’m not trying to be mean. Can I just… I don’t know, think about it? I’m just not used to this.”

Looking into his eyes for some sort of confirmation, your tensions subside. “I’m not a toy. If you don’t want to be with me, just say it.” The hurt he feels in your tone breaks his heart, for once. Would he really be willing to try something he knows won’t work?

For you, maybe.

“I do like you, Y/N. Just give me some time.” He pulls your arm once more, hoping you’ll stay. But you draw the line and pry his hand off politely.

“Of course I’ll give you time. I’ll see you later, okay?” He nods understandingly. He can’t feel butthurt when he’s the one putting you on ice, he knows that. So Jimin watches you leave in his shirt, mind clouded more so than when you arrived.

a/n: yay! you made it through the first part! if you liked it, feel free to let me know or ask any questions to the characters! xx, selene

#ficswithluv #btsguild #btssmutclub #bts #bangtan sonyeondan #bangtan smut #bts smut #jimin #park jimin #jimin smut #jimin imagines #kpop smut #kpop imagines #punk!jimin #jimin is pierced #jimin fic #bts fic #one shot #reader insert #jimin x reader

[insanityclause]

Sara Krulwich/The New York Times

A Director Making His Mark in More Ways Than One

LONDON — The director Jamie Lloyd was giving me a tour of his tattoos. Not the Pegasus on his chest or the skeleton astronaut floating on his back, though he gamely described those, but the onyx-inked adornments that cover his arms and hands, that wreathe his neck, that wrap around his shaved head.

When I asked about the dragon at his throat, he told me it had been “one of the ones that hurt the least,” then pointed to the flame-licked skulls on either side of his neck: his “covert way,” he said, of representing drama’s traditional emblems for comedy and tragedy.

“I thought maybe it’d be a little bit tacky to have theater masks on my neck,” he added, a laugh bubbling up, and it’s true: His dragon would have eaten them for lunch.

It was early December, and we were in a lounge beneath the Playhouse Theater, where Lloyd’s West End production of “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring James McAvoy in a skintight puffer jacket and his own regular-size nose, would soon open to packed houses and critical praise.

Running through Feb. 29, and arriving on cinema screens Feb. 20 in a National Theater Live broadcast, “Cyrano” — newly adapted by Martin Crimp, and positing its hero as a scrappy spoken-word wonder — capped a year that saw Lloyd celebrated on both sides of the Atlantic.

In London last summer, his outdoor hit “Evita” traded conventional glamour for sexy grit, while his radical reinterpretation of Harold Pinter’s “Betrayal,” starring Tom Hiddleston, was hailed first in the West End, then on Broadway. Ben Brantley, reviewing “Betrayal” in The New York Times, called it “one of those rare shows I seem destined to think about forever.”

When Time Out London ranked the best theater of 2019, it gave the top spot jointly to all three Lloyd productions, saying that he “has had a year that some of his peers might trade their entire careers for.”

Lloyd, who is 39, did not spring from the same mold as many of those peers. There was for him, he says, no youthful aha moment of watching Derek Jacobi onstage and divining that directing was his path. Epiphanies like that belonged to other kids, the ones who could afford the tickets.

If there is a standard background for a London theater director — and Lloyd would argue that certainly there used to be — that isn’t where he came from, growing up working class on the south coast of England, in Margaret Thatcher’s Britain.

The first time I laid eyes on him, chatting in the Playhouse lobby after a preview of “Cyrano,” he was the picture of working-class flair — the gold pirate hoops, the pink and black T-shirt, the belt cinching high-waisted pants.

He looks nothing like your typical West End director. Which of course is precisely the point.

What’s underneath

“It’s quite often said of him,” McAvoy observed by phone, once the reviews were in, “that he strips things away or he tries to take classical works and turn them on their head. I think he’s always just trying to tell the story in the clearest and most exhilarating way possible.”

The “X-Men” star, who put the number of times he’s worked with Lloyd in the past decade at a “gazillion,” calls theirs “probably one of the most defining relationships that I’ve had in my career.”

Yet Lloyd himself is on board with the notion that his assertively contemporary stagings pare back stifling layers of performance history to lay bare what’s underneath.

Like the tiger and dragons that he had emblazoned on his head just last May, though, the unembellished nature of his shows — as minimalist in their way as his tattoos are the opposite — is a relatively recent development.

Lloyd’s first “Cyrano de Bergerac,” starring Douglas Hodge in 2012, was also his Broadway debut. It was, he said, “absolutely the ‘Cyrano’ that you would expect,” with the fake nose, the hat, the plume, the sword-fighting.

There is, granted, sword-fighting in the new one — but the audience has to imagine the swords.

Lloyd’s productions, including a lauded revival of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine’s “Passion” in 2010, long marked him as a hot young director on the rise. But he sees in some of his previous work a noisy tendency toward idea overload.

The pivot point came in 2018, with a season that the Jamie Lloyd Company — which he formed seven years ago with the commercial producing powerhouse Ambassador Theater Group — devoted to the short works of Harold Pinter. The playwright’s distillation of language forced Lloyd to match it with his staging.

That immersion led to what the director Michael Grandage — one of Lloyd’s early champions, who tapped him at 27 to be his associate director at the Donmar Warehouse — called Lloyd’s “absolute masterpiece.”

“I had quite a lot of ambition to do a production of ‘Betrayal’ in my life,” Grandage said. “And then when I saw Jamie’s, I thought, ‘Right, that’s it. I don’t ever, ever want to direct this play.’ Because that’s, for me, the perfect production.”

Playing dress-up

Charm is a ready currency in the theater, but Lloyd’s is disarming; he seems simply to be being himself, without veneer. Like when I fact-checked something I’d read by asking whether he was a vegan.

“Lapsed vegan,” he confessed immediately, with a tinge of guilt about eating eggs again.

Pay no attention to any tough-guy vibe in photos of him; do not be alarmed by the sharp-toothed cat on the back of his head. In conversation, Lloyd comes across as thoughtful and unassuming, with an animated humor that makes him fun company. If he speaks at the speed of someone with no time to waste, he balances that with focused attentiveness.

His father, Ray, was a truck driver. His mother, Joy (whose name is tattooed on his right forearm, near the elbow), cleaned houses, took in ironing and ran a costume-rental shop, where young Jamie would sneak in to dress up as the children’s cartoon character Rainbow Brite.

“It’s very embarrassing,” he said, squelching a laugh.

Seeing professional theater wasn’t an option then for Lloyd, whose grown-up passion for expanding audience access — one of the things he has made himself known for in the West End — grew out of that exclusion. His company has set aside 15,000 free and 15,000 £15 tickets for its current, characteristically starry three-show season, which will also include Emilia Clarke in “The Seagull” and Jessica Chastain in “A Doll’s House.” At the 786-seat Playhouse, that adds up to just over 38 full houses.

Lloyd, who was studying acting at the Liverpool Institute for Performing Arts when he decided he wanted to direct, found his way to theater as a child by acting in school shows and local amateur productions. Twice he was cast as a monkey; in “The Wizard of Oz,” thrillingly, he got to fly.

The details of his early days have always been colorful — like having a clown as his first stepfather, who performed at children’s parties under the stage name Uncle Funny. But Lloyd is quick to acknowledge the darkness lurking there.

“It sounds a little bit like some dodgy film, because he was actually a really violent man,” he said. “And there were times where he was very physically abusive to my mum. There was a sort of atmosphere of violence in that house that was really uneasy. And yet masked with this literal makeup, but also this sense of trying to entertain people whilst enacting terrible brutality behind the scenes.”

This is where he locates his own connection to Pinter’s work.

“A lot of that is that the violence is beneath the surface,” he said. “And on the top there is this sort of, what I call a kind of topspin, a layer of cover-up.”

Long relationships

Lloyd was still at drama school when he staged a production of Lapine and William Finn’s “Falsettoland” that won a prize: assistant directing a show at the Bush Theater in London. Based on that, Trevor Nunn hired him, at 22, to be his assistant director on “Anything Goes” in the West End — a job he did so well that Grandage got word of it and hired him to assist on “Guys and Dolls.” While Lloyd was doing that, he also began directing in his own right.

The costume and set designer Soutra Gilmour, who has been a constant with Lloyd since he cold-called her for his first professional production, Pinter’s “The Caretaker,” said theirs is an easy relationship, with a “symbiotic transference of ideas.” Even their creative aesthetics have evolved in sync.

“We’ve actually never fallen out in 13 years,” she said over mint tea on a trip to New York last month, just before “Betrayal” closed. “Never! I don’t even know how we would fall out.”

Of course, the one time she tried to decline a Lloyd project five years ago, because its tech rehearsals coincided with the due date for her son’s birth, he told her there was no one else he wanted to work with. So she did the show, warning that at some point she would have to leave. Now, she says, he understands that she won’t sit through endless evening previews, because she needs to go home to her child.

Lloyd and his wife, the actress Suzie Toase (whose name is tattooed on one of his arms), home-school their own three boys (whose names are tattooed on the other). Their eldest, 13-year-old Lewin, is an actor who recently played one of the principal characters, the heroine’s irresistible best friend, on the HBO and BBC One series “His Dark Materials,” whose cast boasts McAvoy as well.

Enter the child

Lloyd’s interpretation of “Betrayal,” a 1978 play that recounts a seven-year affair, imbued it with a distinctly non-’70s awareness of the fragility of family — the notion that children are the bystanders harmed when a marriage is tossed away.

Its gasp-inducing moment came with the entrance of a character Pinter wrote to be mentioned but not seen: the small daughter of the couple whose relationship is imperiled. In putting her onstage, Lloyd didn’t touch the text; it was a simple, wordless role. With it, he altered the resonance of the play.

To me, it seemed logical that Lloyd’s production would have been informed by his experience as a husband and father — and maybe also as a child in a splintering family. How old had he been, anyway, when his parents split up?

“Five,” Lloyd said. “The same age as the character would be.” He paused. “Oh God, yeah, fascinating. I’d not thought about that. Exactly the same age.”

If that fact was of more than intellectual interest to him, he didn’t let on. He volunteered a memory, though — of being a little one “amongst these kind of big giants, and I guess what we can now see as the mess of their lives.”

Blazer-free

Doing “Betrayal” in New York, Lloyd was struck by how eager Americans were to chat about his tattoos. Still, he told me after I texted him a follow-up question about them, he hadn’t expected his appearance to be such a talking point in this story.

It’s not just idle curiosity. It’s about what the tattoos signify in a field where, in Britain as in the United States, the top directors tend to have grown up very comfortably. It’s about who is welcome in a particular space, and who gets to be themselves there.

For a long time after Lloyd started working in the theater, he wore a blazer every day: a conscious attempt to conform in an industry where he felt a nagging sense of difference.

“Every other director at the time was from an Oxbridge background,” he said, “and looked and sounded a particular way. I spent a long time pretending to be like them.”

It was a performance of sorts, with a costume he donned for the role.

It was only about seven or eight years ago — around the time he left the Donmar and started putting together his own company — that he stopped worrying about what people might think if he looked the way he wanted.

“My dad had tattoos” was the first thing he said when I asked him about his own.

“I guess it’s partly getting older,” he mused, “but it’s just sort of going, ‘You can’t pretend to be someone. You’ve got to be who you really are, in every way.’”

The tattoos that have gradually transformed him are from a different aesthetic universe than his recent work onstage. Yet the impulse, somehow, is the same.

In shedding the blazer, in inking his skin, Lloyd has peeled back layers of imposed convention to show who’s underneath.

And should you spot him at the theater, where he is hard to miss, you’ll notice that he looks just like himself.

[panelshowsource]

a note about women’s month 💘

thank you to everyone who voted in the fave female panelists poll this year! last year was a blast and this year was even better! we’ve seen more woman on tv this year — and some improved, though grossly insufficient, diversity within that — and i love celebrating that with you everyday!

last year, i wrote this:

the lack of diversity in british comedy is an alarming issue that has only recently become headline news. statistics presented by this study, based on 50 years of panel shows and over 4,700 individual episodes, are beyond disappointing for women (here is an easy-to-read graph by series & by year); similar disappointment stems from the lineups at popular comedy festivals, like edinburgh. in 2014, the head of tv at the bbc promised to end all-male comedy shows, a “step in the right direction” that hasn’t been without fear of tokenism, fair criticism as well as some naysayers. women, people of colour, lgbt peoples, those differently-abled and those all of the above and in between are just as funny as cis-identifying white men and deserve a place on our screens. watch their standup, buy their books, stream their videos, listen to their podcasts, comment on and like their content, follow their social media. this support can directly help women become more visible in british comedy.

in the last year, have you been actively conscious of supporting women in comedy? i’d like to take a moment to talk about some ways you can do that :)

➡ from feminist discourse to tales of humans & their dogs to ghost stories, these women are providing some of the most touching, stimulating, and funny reading coming out of comedy:

How to be Champion: My Autobiography by Sarah Millican

Animal: The Autobiography of a Female Body by Sara Pascoe

The Guilty Feminist: From our noble goals to our worst hypocrisies by Deborah Frances-White

The Actual One: How I Tried, and Failed, to Avoid Adulthood Forever by Isy Suttie

Cheer Up Love: Adventures in Depression with the Crab of Hate by Susan Calman

The More You Ignore Me by Jo Brand

Can't Stand Up for Sitting Down: A Memoir by Jo Brand

Look Back in Hunger: The Autobiography by Jo Brand

Born Lippy: How to Do Female by Jo Brand

Is It Just Me? by Miranda Hart

Peggy & Me by Miranda Hart

Nina Is Not OK by Shappi Khorsandi

A Beginner's Guide to Acting English: A Memoir by Shappi Khorsandi

Spectacles: A Memoir by Sue Perkins

East of Croydon: Blunderings through India and South East Asia by Sue Perkins

Once More, with Feeling: How We Tried to Make the Greatest Porn Film Ever by Victoria Coren Mitchell and Charlie Skelton

For Richer, For Poorer: A Love Affair with Poker by Victoria Coren Mitchell

Dead Funny: Horror Stories by Comedians featuring Sara Pascoe, Katy Brand, and Danielle Ward

...and that’s just to name a handful! my fingers would need a 5 min power nap if i tried typing out all of susie dent’s books 💪

➡ this is a list of a lot relevant active podcasts coming out of britain right now (though it is missing, most notably, off menu). for example, if you liked alice levine on taskmaster, why not listen to her podcast? or watch/listen her on rhlstp? this is such a fun way to get more deeply involved in the comedy of some of your favourite ladies! might i recommend isy suttie’s the things we do for love, anneka harry’s brown bread, or box set go! with nicola stephenson (the newest ep features rebecca front!)? most of these are free, or they can be found/requested at /r/notapanelshow p.s. suzi ruffell, rosie jones, tiff stevenson and more are scheduled to appear on rhlstp this season 😍

➡ here is a list of some radio programmes currently on the air. while it does look stacked with men (because it is), women do feature on so many of these series and absolutely smash it! did you know sandi toksvig hosted the news quiz for almost ten years, and its regular panelists include susan calman, rebecca front, zoe lyons, and more? or that victoria coren mitchell has hosted heresy since 2006 (because there’s nothing she can’t do)? or that sarah millican, jo brand, and sally phillips have each hosted series of the museum of curiosity? these are all on the masterpost! 👏 p.s. you can always search for and/or request more radio shows at /r/panelshow or, if they’re not panel radio shows, /r/notapanelshow :)

➡ social 👏 media 👏 determines 👏 relevancy 👏 do i agree with this system? no. is this the system entertainers are currently slaves to? yes. do you follow your favourite women on twitter, instagram, youtube, etc? one click. one like. one retweet. one reblog. here is a list of some of the comedians i follow on twitter to get you started — all of your faves are on there! when you like something they are on, tweet about it! tag them, the network, the channel, use the hashtags, post pictures! tell channels like dave or people like richard osman who your faves are, who deserves more exposure, who you want to see in the future! we’re already obsessing over how much we like these ladies anyways, so why not make that obsession even more visibile?

➡ we have a really sweet, modest community here of at least 10,000 people. this is not something i’ve ever talked about because i don’t want what i’m going to say to be misconstrued as begging for notes — that is not my concern. but you may have heard people on this site talk about something called the like/reblog ratio. a lot of creators are concerned that, apart from tumblr’s ever-evolving ludicrous algorithms murdering their visibility, people are so obsessed with their blog aesthetics that they’re not actually reblogging everything they like. here’s a couple of my gifset details, one from a nicher post and one from a more popular post:

while i appreciate any notes, numbers likes these aren’t always encouraging. i’m not here to tell you how to enjoy your spare time and interests, or to criticise people who enjoy aesthetic. i just want to point out that if you want someone to be successful, you play a direct part in promoting them and spreading their art. as the years pass, this becomes more and more true. i know how much you all love these ladies — i get messages about them every single day — but it’s a simple fact that a gifset of james acaster or noel fielding or richard ayoade or david mitchell is going to get more notes than a post about any of the women who placed in the top 5 of this poll. i am not bringing this up to this make anyone feel guilty about what they enjoy; i only hope my mentioning this encourages you to be conscientious when participating on social media, especially when your interest lies in the products of a grossly unjust industry that is taking a lot fucking time to get itself on the right track. more followers on a comedian’s twitter = more work for that comedian, because that’s simply the direction the film & tv industry is going. if your follow yields that much power, why not use it for good?

please support women. if you buy one of their books, please message me and tell me which one! if you think one of them is shining on a radio programme and we’re sleeping on her, please let me know (timestamps appreciated!)! if one starts a gofundme or patreon to start a podcast or a tour, please donate 50p and then send me the link! there is always more we can be doing and we are always underestimating what even smallest amount of support means for their bigger picture. i don’t have all the answers, but i love the feeling i get when i believe society is evolving in the right direction. rose matafeo won the edinburgh comedy award in 2018, and sarah keyworth and kiri pritchard-mclean took the top awards at the 2019 chortle awards. women are here to stay and they’re fucking killing it. because duh ❣️

if you took the time to read this, i appreciate you x

#female top 5 #p #p.s. will post the top 5 results tomorrow and then it's back to our regularly scheduled programming...!

[crying-over-spilled-feels]

Ships I Will Write Requests for as of January 17th, 2022

Ships Listed Are in No Particular Order

1.    Robin x Regina (Once Upon a Time)

2.    Happy x Toby “Quintis” (Scorpion)

3.    Megan x Sylvester (Scorpion)

4.    Paige x Walter (Scorpion)

5.    Cabe x Allie (Scorpion)

6.    Daphne x Simon (Bridgerton)

7.    Anthony x Kate (Bridgerton)

8.    Benedict x Sophie (Bridgerton)

9.    Colin x Penelope (Bridgerton)

10.  Violet x Edmund (Bridgerton)

11.  Flynn x Eve (Librarians)

12.  Jake x Mabel (Librarians)

13.  Judson x Charlene (Librarians)

14.  Diana x Steve (Wonder Woman)

15.  Chloe x Jackson (Zoo)

16.  Kaliis x Aurora (Aurora Rising book series)

17.  Finian x Scarlett (Aurora Rising book series)

18.  Cat x Tyler (Aurora Rising book series)

19.  Saedii x Tyler (Aurora Rising book series)

20.  Elizabeth x Will (Pirates of the Caribbean)

21.  Jack x Angelic (Pirates of the Caribbean)

22.  Thor x Jane (Thor)

23.  Tony Stark x Pepper Potts (Avengers and Iron Man)

24.  Loki x Sif (Thor)

25.  Loki x Nebula (Thor and Guardians of the Galaxy crossover)

26.  Ryder x Grace (The Grace Year novel)

27.  Fletcher x Sylva (Summoner book series)

28.  Clint Barton x Laura Barton (Avengers)

29.  Wanda x Vision (Avengers and WandaVision)

30.  Bruce x Natasha (Avengers)

31.  Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter (Captain America)

32.  Peter Quill x Gamora (Guardians of the Galaxy)

33.  Scott x Hope (Ant-Man)

34.  Fitz X Simmons (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)  

35.  Coulson X May (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

36.  Trip X Skye (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

37.  Bobbi Morse X Lance Hunter (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.)

38.  Killian Jones x Female OC (Once Upon a Time)

39.  Will Scarlett x Anastasia (Once Upon a Time in Wonderland)

40.  Gendry x Arya (Game of Thrones)

41.  Tyrion x Shae (Game of Thrones)

42.  Sanji x Nami (One Piece)

43.  Zoro x Robin (One Piece)

44. Luffy x Vivi (One Piece)

45.  Jonathan Joestar x Erina (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

46.  Joseph Joestar x Suzi Q. (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

47.  Mista x Female OC (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventures)

48.  Kit x Ella (Cinderella 2015 version)

49.  Joshua Faraday x Emma Cullen (Magnificent Seven 2016 version)

50.  Vasquez x Female OC (Magnificent Seven 2016 version)

51.  Gilbert x Anne (Anne with an E)

52.  Diana x Jerry (Anne with an E)

53.  Mary x Bash (Reign)

54.  Leif x Claude (Reign)

55.  Kili x Tauriel (Hobbit)

56.  Claire x Owen (Jurassic World)

57.  Mia x Nicholas (Princess Diaries)

58.  Joe x Clarisse (Princess Diaries)

59.  Maria x Georg (Sound of Music)

60.  Lara Croft x Lu Ren (Tomb Raider 2018 movie version)

61.  Maleficent X Diaval (Maleficent)

62.  Kate X Daniel Forsythe (The Spirit of Christmas)

63.  Tiger Lily X James Hook (Pan)

64.  Westley X Buttercup (Princess Bride)

65.  Chato X Grace (Suicide Squad)

66.  Logan/Wolverine X Mariko (Wolverine)

67.  Vlad X Mirena (Dracula Untold)

68.  Will X Elizabeth (Pirates of the Caribbean)

69.  Jack X Angelica (Pirates of the Caribbean)

70.  Galavant X Isabella (Galavant)

71.  Richard X Roberta (Galavant)

72.  Gwen X Arthur (Merlin)

73.  Gwen X Lancelot (Merlin)

74.  Gwen X Merlin (Merlin)

75.  Merlin X Morgana (Merlin)

76.  Morgana X Male OC/Reader (Merlin)

77.  Lancelot X Female OC/Reader (Merlin)

78.  Marian X Robin Hood (Robin Hood BBC)

79.  Will X Djaq (Robin Hood BBC)

80.  Marian X Allan (Robin Hood BBC)

81.  Allan X Djaq (Robin Hood BBC)

82.  Ban X Elaine (Seven Deadly Sins)

83.  Margaret X Gilthunder (Seven Deadly Sins)

84.  Meliodas X Elizabeth (Seven Deadly Sins)

85.  King X Diane (Seven Deadly Sins)

86.  Arthur X Merlin (Seven Deadly Sins)

87.  Ana X Alberto (Velvet)

88.  Claire X Matt (Daredevil)

89.  Lilette X Robbie (Rise)

90.  Hardison X Parker (Leverage)

91.  Nate X Sophie (Leverage)

92.  John X Sara (Alienist)

93.  Mary X Laszlo (Alienist)

94.  Farkas X Female Dragonborn (Skyrim)

95.  Vilkas X Lydia (Skyrim)

96.  E’lara X Caddoc (Hunted: The Demon’s Forge)

97.  Rime x Ember (Degrees of Separation)

98.  Cody x May (It Takes Two)

99.  Frank x Karen (Punisher)

100. Makoto x Abigail (Great Pretender)

101. Robb x Talisa (Game of Thrones)

102. Tadashi x MK (Big Hero 6 and Epic Crossover)

103. Eloise x Sir Phillip (Bridgerton)

104. Francesca x Michael (Bridgerton)

105. Hyacinth x Gareth (Bridgerton)

106. Gregory x Lucy (Bridgerton)

107. Okabe x Mayuri (Steins;gate)

108. Okabe x Kurisu (Steins;gate)

109. Edward x Elizabeth (White Queen)

110. Liam Jones x Elsa (Once Upon a Time fan pairing)

#fanfiction #myotps #pickanyotp #that's not even all of my otps #I have an OTP fleet #scratch that #I have an OTP navy

[ritamoloko]

sara x suzy (suspiria; modern au)

#instaetic #suspiria #sara simms #suzy bannion

[olivia-calidamn]

🎵 Olivia x Jacquelyn

okay i can’t pick just one song so 

Got A Hold On Me by Christine McVie (from Fleetwood Mac)

Hold Me by Fleetwood Mac

Welcome To The Room… Sara by Fleetwood Mac (:P)

She’s In Love With You by Suzi Quatro

You And Me by Alice Cooper

Deeper Than The Night by Olivia Newton-John

all of these are in my playlist for my fic We’ll Get There apart from Deeper Than The Night since Spotify has 2% of ONJ’s discography

#answers #thank you!!!! #olivia x jacquelyn #we'll get there: songs

[porcelain-rob0t]

a song i made using samples of Suzy and Sara talking bc suspiria is my comfort movie

#suspira #suspiria 1977 #suzy x sara #suzy bannion #sara simms #dario argento #giallo #lofi #lofi mix #chill music #ambient music #SoundCloud