masc lesbians are hot btw. so are butch lesbians. so are studs. so are gnc lesbians. so are lesbians who use pronouns other than she/her. so are lesbians with non-feminine body types. so are fat lesbians. so are trans lesbians. you’re all hot and if you looked at me I would be blushing and hiding my face in my hands like a goober. if anyone makes you feel invalid I will bite off their fingers 🩷

Chemistry Part 3

FlirtyFuckboy!Gojo x VirginLabPartner!Reader x Badboy!Geto

A/N: I'm having way too much fun with this..

TW/CW: sexual scenarios & strong language, alcohol intoxication, suggestive material

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Kiss me more - doja cat + sza)

“Gojo please, I'm gonna be late for History!” you try to scold him through a giggle. It's the third time this week that he's grabbed you after class and pulled you back into the chem lab by your waistband. He tugs at your skirt and gropes your tits, growling into your neck, making you squeal.

He's such a horny bastard for you.

“It's your fault for teasing me with this sexy little outfit.” he lifts you onto the nearest lab bench, “you get what you deserve..” his hands slide up your thighs and under your skirt and he thumbs your clit, still living to pull these sweet sounds you make for him. A little moan slips through your grin and you run your fingers up the back of his neck, pulling him in to kiss you.

How can you resist?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were both surprised by your passing grade on the midterm lab since all of your study sessions have ended in hickeys down your neck and scratch marks up his back.

You two had been fucking on an almost daily basis for weeks now, driving each other completely crazy.

Both of you decided to keep this fling from the public, knowing that a serious relationship was totally out of the question. He has strict commitment issues and you have a reputation to uphold.

However, you’re starting to notice some suspiciously jealous looks thrown at you by girls that you'd seen Gojo hang around with in the past. He mustn't be paying them as much attention these days.

Maybe your late-night meetings around campus haven’t been as private as you had thought.

Maybe the flirty passing glances in the halls are a little too obvious.

Maybe it's the way he shamelessly undresses you with his eyes the moment you pass through the door of the classroom, watching you like a hawk all the way to your seat.

Or perhaps, it's the lollipops you've started rolling around in your mouth in chem lab, just to tease him.

Whatever the reason for their suspicions, neither of you has any plans to end the fun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Have you ever been to a party?” he asks in the middle of your makeout sesh. Not unusual for Gojo to interrupt the moment with some random thought. You raise an eyebrow.

“I don't do parties.” you quickly dive back into his mouth to try and shut him up. He breaks away and grips your hips, furrowing his brows at you.

“Come on bunny.” he pulls out the pet name. You giggle and shake your head at his pathetic pouty lips.

“Parties are nothing but trouble.”

“Exactly.” the dirty little smirk pecks you on the cheek. Your eyes firmly tell him no, but he persists.

“Well, you don't have a choice, this one is different.”

“How's that?” Your eyebrow arches again. He shifts his shades down his nose, flashing you those million-dollar baby blues.

“Because I'm gonna be there." you roll your eyes as the clown winks at you.

"Bunny pleeeease!!" he throws his head back and whines. You push him back and hop down off the counter, straightening your skirt.

"Toru, I just don't think it's a good idea. Everyone will know something is up." You swing your bag back over your shoulder and make for the exit but he beats you to it and leans in the doorway.

"Other than my dick for you?" he licks his lips and bites his smirk, "I promise I'll keep it in my pants.." you fail to hide the smile that cracks into the corner of your mouth. You're one thousand percent sure you would find his fingers crossed behind his back if you checked right now. You let out a heavy sigh and squint at him.

"When?" His eyes light up. He's got you now.

"Tonight. 10. My place." You push past him and saunter down the hall to your next class.

God, he loves to watch you walk away.

"Wear something hot!" He calls after you, eyes glued to your ass. You spin around and bite your smile at him.

Yeah, he got you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(never be like you - flume)

You make it through the door right as the bell rings and rush to find an empty seat in the back.

Damn it...what am I gonna wear?!

You mentally flip through all the clothes in your closet, munching on the end of your pen. You pull your notebook from your bag and the pen falls from your lips, tapping to the floor. A foreign hand picks it up before you can reach.

Suguru Getou sits down beside you. You watch him twirl your pen through his fingers.

You've never formally met Getou. You forgot you both take History 310. All you know he's friends with Gojo. Other than that, he's a bit of a mysterious character in your book. Sure, he pals around with the rowdy boys in your year, but his aura isn't nearly as chaotic as theirs. You have always had a hard time getting a read on him. To be honest, you don't quite understand how he and Gojo get along so well. He seems like a completely different breed.

You're caught off guard when his mouth pulls into a subtle smirk, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. An unexpected blush smacks your cheeks and you shift in your seat. You've been looking at him too long. You quickly clear your throat.

"That's my pen.." the statement comes out like a question.

He leans forward over his elbows on the table and taps the pen on your notebook, then lays it down. You could swear you just saw his eyes flick down at your lips, and your breath catches in your throat.

"Thank you." You turn away quickly and huff out your breath, situating yourself to focus on the lecture. But you feel his gaze lingering on you, buzzing your nerves. You glance sideways and connect with his eyes. Your stomach flinches.

You dive into your notebook to busy yourself and try to shake this feeling. He leans back in his seat, turning his attention to the lecture, leaving you alone for the rest of class. His smirk doesn’t fade as quickly as you feel it should.

The bell rings and everyone starts rustling to pack up. You turn to put your notebook away, and Getou is already leaning down next to you to do the same. You hold your breath. His face is right beside yours.

“I like your perfume..” your pulse spikes.

He zips his bag and pushes back his chair, leaving you frozen, staring up at him like a deer in the headlights. Your mind fumbles for a response but he’s already walking toward the door. Heat prickles your cheeks again and you exhale heavily. He glances back at you just before he disappears through the doorway.

What the fuck was that?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(mother's daughter - wuki remix)

“She’s here..”

Getou nudges Gojo and nods toward the door. Gojo glances over his shoulder and double-takes, almost spilling the shot he's pouring.

“Oh fuck...” Gojo's glasses slide down his nose.

You look good, too good.

The outfit you chose hugs you tight in all the right places. Both men watch you sidle in and plant yourself against the nearest wall, like the flower that you are. You clutch the strap of your purse and the bottle you brought along with you.

You scan the darkened smokey room, making eye contact with lots of somewhat familiar faces, but none that you are well enough acquainted with to greet. Your stomach turns.

Shit, you should have dragged a friend along with you. You immediately start to regret coming to this.

"Hey little bunny..come here often?" Gojo appears next to you, leaning on the wall, beaming down at you with his hands full of shots. You let out a little sigh of relief and nervously shove the bottle toward him.

"Here, I brought you this." he chuckles at your stiffness.

"Thanks, right back at you." he shrugs and lifts up the alcohol he's already holding. He sees your eyes widen and laughs again.

"Come on, let's put that down for later." He turns and swoops an arm around you, leading you to the kitchen.

You relax a little more in the shelter of the kitchen, away from so many staring eyes. Gojo sets down the shots, placing one in front of you, and takes the bottle from your hands.

"Oooh, good choice babe, I love this stuff." He examines the handle, then shoots you a mischievous glare, "Are you tryna to get me drunk?" You smile back and lean your hip on the counter, crossing your arms.

“Maybe a little..” he loves this naughty look your giving him.

“I’m game, but you need to catch up,” he slides the shot closer, “bottoms up.” He lifts his own and waits for you.

Here goes nothing

You knock it back and it goes down with much less of a fight than you expected. You set the empty glass down and there’s another shot waiting in its place.

“Good girl..” Gojo lifts the next shot, he eyes you like you’re made of candy, “this is gonna be fun..”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(killshot - megdelena bay)

Your face feels fuzzy. How many shots is that? Four..five? Who cares. This is fun. He looks hot with his shirt unbuttoned like that. Mmm kinda wanna kiss him..kinda wanna fuck him on the counter.

“You look really hot in this..” he hooks his finger into your neckline and pulls you to him, hand catching the curve of your waist. You purr and bite your lip.

"Just doing as I was told.."

You feel warm and loose and the bass from the speakers in the other room is humming through your chest. You’ve been drunk a couple of times before at sleepovers with your girlfriends, but this is so much more exciting.

“Ooh, I wanna try this..” you reach for the unopened bottle you brought. He hums in your ear.

“Easy tiger, we want you wobbly, not stumbling..”

We?

He slides it further away and catches your face in his hand, turning you to kiss him. It quickly takes your mind off the bottle you wanted.

“Let’s go fuck..” he grits his teeth at your lusty words. The shots have made you horny and impatient. He chuckles and glances behind you.

“Maybe later, I wanna introduce you to someone..” he nods for you to turn around and holds you in place by your hips, resting his chin on your shoulder.

Your heart jumps and you feel the alcohol push deeper into your system. Suguru Getou is leaning in the doorway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(pretty little fears - 6lack + j. cole)

Wow

He’s all kinds of sexy. You’ve never really noticed it before. 100% tall dark and handsome, lazy smile on his lips, lollipop stick tucked into the corner. He tilts his head and appraises your body with slow eyes. If it weren’t for the shots, you know you’d be a nervous mess under his gaze right now. The alcohol props up your confidence and seeps through your bloodstream.

“Hi handsome..” the bold greeting hops off your tongue before you can stop it. Not that you're sorry you said it. You hear Gojo huff a surprised laugh by your ear. Getou’s grin widens and he strides in from the doorway.

“Is this guy bothering you, miss?” Getou’s low voice teases as he glances at Gojo on your shoulder.

“Terribly..” you jest back cooly.

“Oh! I see how it is..” Gojo hums against your neck and squeezes your hips.

“Suguru Getou...History 301, right?” he extends his large hand and you take it.

“And chem lab..Y/N L/N..nice to finally meet you...” his thumb strokes across your knuckles. He’s got a dark quiet confidence about him, you’re so into it. A thick tension hangs between you. His fault for starting it in History today.

“My pleasure...can I get you a drink?” His eyes don’t leave yours as he pulls the bottle back over and unscrews the top in one smooth motion.

“She’s had quite a few already, might wanna slow down..” Gojo shifts behind you. The two men exchange a quick glance. You shoo him off your shoulder, still staring at Getou.

“One more won’t hurt..” you watch his eyes narrow and flick down to your lips, just like they did in class. His attention is rubbing you just the right way. Getou looks back at Gojo and nods to you, cocking an eyebrow.

"I like her.." Getou's words pour more excitement into your gut that quickly mixes with the alcohol that's already there. He then pours three shots and deals them out.

"Told you she's feisty.." Gojo brushes your hair behind your ear. Standing so close between their tall solid bodies is making you hot.

"He's told me a lot about you, bunny.." Your breath catches and the shot pauses against your lips. The way your pet name just rolled off his tongue was ridiculously sexy.

He's pleased with the blush that rushed your cheeks. Gojo's finger tips the shot up, spilling the liquid into your open mouth, scorching your tongue.

"Cheers.." he and Getou tap glasses and exchange a knowing glance over your head before downing their shots. You cough a little at the burn of the alcohol. This stuff is way stronger than what Gojo gave you before. It makes your eyes water. The boys chuckle and Gojo rubs your back.

"Well done, babe." he turns your chin and gives you an encouraging peck. He looks over at Getou.

"Here, he said you like these.." You turn and he pops his sucker into your mouth. Cherry flavored.

Your mind flashes back to the library and you're suddenly aware of how wet your panties are. Chills wash down your body when Getou's hand skims across your lower back under Gojo's. You're too tipsy to be nervous about the contact.

"You should see what else she can do with that mouth.." Gojo takes your empty glass. Getou hums.

"Maybe we should work on this bottle upstairs.." Getou looks down at you, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. A surge of adrenaline floods through you when his proposition registers.

"What d'you say, bunny?" Gojo grabs at your ass. Getou runs his hand under your hair across the back of your neck. They watch you pull in a deep breath and close your eyes.

Fuck fuck fuck

Alarm bells are blaring in your head, but the 90 proof that just hit your veins is turning down the volume. The way their big strong hands feel touching on your body is quickly teasing out the bad girl in you. All this attention stroking your ego, pushing heat down into your core.

The poor sweet angel on your shoulder is trying to warn you that the thrill you're feeling isn't safe, but the devil on the other already knows you're gonna go with it.

You grab the bottle and back away from them towards the door. The look on your face has both their cocks throbbing. You tilt your head and smirk, leaning against the doorframe.

"Which way, boys?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To be continued..

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always you | wen junhui

ミ★ synopsis: there’s one rule when it comes to friends with benefits, don’t catch feelings. however, you and your best friend jun were never that good at listening, now were you?

ミ★ genre: light angst, some humor, some fluff

ミ★ warnings: none!

ミ★ word count: 1,829

ミ★ pairings: jun x female reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys! i wasn’t planning on adding any angst but it somehow... ended up happening... so I... am so sorry....

You and Jun knew that the concept of “friends with benefits” was horrible. You both had a consensus that it never works, and someone always ends up developing feelings through it. However, even after all those times you both clowned the act, you still ended up in each other’s arms. Which is currently right now.

You’re laying in Jun’s bed, his arms wrapped around your bare torso as he sleeps. This is the nth time you and Jun have had sex in a span of two months. You don’t know how this began, well you do but that doesn’t matter. One second you’re both making fun of how they all say “no feelings allowed,” the next second Jun is kissing down your body and you can’t help but want more.

Jun and you have been best friends for as long as you could remember. Your moms have been best friends since they were kids, and as soon as your mom was pregnant with you, his mom was ecstatic about her son on the way having a friend the same age. When they found out that you were gonna be a girl, it slowly went from having our kids be bffies, to having our kids marry each other when they’re old enough.

As you and Jun grew up, you always got disgusted at the idea of marrying each other. Jun using the excuse of you having cooties from the tender age of 5, all the way until he was 16. While you, you said he was a burnt piece of broccoli.

“Y/n, honey, doesn’t junnie look handsome? He even got your favorite flower for your corsage!” Your mom exclaims, making Jun smile widely at her as she gives him a kiss on the cheek. He’s wearing an emerald green dress shirt with tight fitting black slacks. He has a black tie with small polka dots on it, and in his hand is the clear container that’s holding your corsage.

Jun gives you a wink and you fake gag into your hand immediately, making him roll his eyes and your mom hit your shoulder with a giggle. “I suppose… he looks decent…” You mutter, giving him a shit-eating grin and he glares at you.

“Alright, alright you two. Just go and get your corsage from him, then pin the boutonniere on him for me please. You know that auntie will want a good photo of you guys.” Your mom tells you both, making sure to mention Jun’s mom. You walk up to Jun as he takes out the corsage from the container, it’s a white daisy with a few gems surrounding it. You glance up at him through your falsies and you notice that he’s looking at everything but you.

“You know that you have to put the corsage on my wrist, right?”

“YoU KnOW thAt YoU hAVe TO pUt ThE coRsAGe oN MY wRIsT, rIgHT?”

“Motherfucker did you just mock me?” You ask him and he finally looks into your eyes, and you take notice of the blush on his cheeks, but your attention soon goes elsewhere once you notice the challenge in his eye.

“Why yes I did, you cooties having woman.” He answers, putting the corsage on your wrist, to which you both pause your mini feud to smile at the camera.

“What are you, nine? We’re sixteen Junnie please.” You tell him, making sure to prick his chest with the boutonniere and he flinches a bit. You both turn once again to smile at the camera.

“You guys argue like a married couple. It was cute at first, but after having to deal with it for the past three years…” Your mom mentions, causing you and Jun turn away from each other to make vomit noises. She rolls her eyes at the both of you.

“Me? Married to the CEO of cooties? Hell no auntie!” Jun exclaims and you raise your hand up to slap him, making him flinch away from you.

“Oh yeah? At least I’m not a burnt piece of BROCCOLI!” You shout and he gapes at you.

“What did you just call me?” Jun asks, taking a few steps forward until there’s only a couple inches between you both.

“You heard me. Burnt piece of broccoli havin-”

“Okay thanks for the pictures! Have fun! Be home by 11!” Your mom says, shoving you both out the door to avoid a brawl breaking out in her doorway.

Someway, somehow, you and Jun moved past that stage of being fake disgusted with each other and ended up becoming friends with benefits. The one thing you both made fun of the most, especially after all those nights of staying up reading Wattpad stories about the friends with benefits concept and laughing. Now you are both, indeed, booboo the fool.

The first morning after it happened, you guys telepathically agreed to act like it quite literally did not happen. However, that was hard. Considering the fact that Jun seemingly started checking you out more often than not, and him noticing your lingering touches, it ended up happening again. The second time it happened, you both talked it out.

The one and only rule you both agreed on was: “Don’t catch feelings, and don’t let this ruin our friendship.”

As you lay here, feeling Jun’s soft breaths on the back of your neck as he sleeps, you know you’ve broken the rule. You know that it’s been broken for awhile, and you don’t want to tell him. You can’t tell him.

However, what you don’t know is that Jun also broke the one and only rule you both have set. It was broken from the moment you both created that rule, considering the fact that he’s been in love with you since you guys were eighteen. He knew it when you both danced together under the stars at your annual “camping in the backyard” summer activity. He knew it when you’d stand up slightly on your tiptoes to squish his face whenever he made a sarcastic comment. He knew it when he would turn to you and see the whole galaxy in your eyes. He knew it from the moment he first leaned in to kiss you on the drunken night, and when he saw you against the white sheets. He’s known, but he doesn’t have any plans on telling you.

                 °。°。°。°。°。°。°。゜。°。°。°

In the process of denying your feelings for Jun, you met someone from your lecture. He’s nice enough, and he’s rather attractive, but your heart is in the wrong place. Deep down you know it, but you being dumb, you ignore it.

As Jun gets up to go to the restroom during your move night, you check your phone. You notice that the guy from lecture texted you a few minutes ago asking if you wanted to go and grab some dinner. “Oh shit.” You mutter, thinking about what to say. “Should I go?” You whisper to yourself.

“Go where?” Jun asks as he sits back down beside you on the couch, and you quickly turn off your phone, somehow afraid to get caught. This makes you almost slap yourself in the face, because why should you be afraid?

We’re not dating anyways.

“Oh, this guy from my class asked me to go get dinner.” You say as nonchalantly as possible, and you feel Jun tense up beside you.

Because what the fuck, no.

“O-oh.” Jun says quietly, and he internally curses himself because that’s not at all what he wanted to say. You somehow feel disappointed by his lack of response, causing you to also internally curse yourself because you should be happy about it. Him not caring is a step closer to you getting over him, you think to yourself.

“I think I’ll go and get dinner with him. The movie is over anyways.” You say quickly, getting up off the couch and walking over to the dinner table to grab your bag.

“R-really? You don’t wanna make pizza with me?” Jun asks, standing up and following you, trying desperately to make you stay without making it obvious that he doesn’t want you to go. You let out a forced giggle, shaking your head no softly.

“We can do that next time Junnie, I’ll text you later?” You say and Jun bites his lip. You cock your head to the side as he reaches out and grasps your wrist softly.

“What?”

“I don’t want you to go y/n.” Jun murmurs, causing your heart to beat hard against your chest. He looks into your eyes and you feel your knees weaken, along with your resolve. “Why?” You ask quietly.

“I..” You look at him expectantly.

“I broke the rules..” He whispers and you feel your heart drop into your ass.

“You.. you what?”

“Y/n, I don’t want you to see anyone else. I don’t want you to go out and eat with any other guy. I don’t want you to date anyone else,” Jun feels his heartbeat in his ears as he takes a deep breath to prepare himself for what he’s about to say next.

“Y/n, I love you. I’ve been in love with you since we were eighteen. When we first started this and had that agreement, I broke the rule from the start.” He whispers and you stare at him, gaping.

Because holy shit it’s not one sided.

You feel tears flood your eyes and Jun’s eyes widen at the sight of a teardrop fall. You look down, covering your face with your hair as Jun starts asking what’s wrong and why you’re crying. You take a step forward, wrapping your arms around his torso. Jun freezes, before melting and holding you in his arms, rubbing your back the way he knows you like it.

“I broke the rules too, I love you Junnie. I love you so much.” You say, and Jun pulls back so he can get a good look at your face. Your eyes are puffy, and your nose is a bit stuffy, but he knows he’ll never forget this sight.

“You do?” He asks and you nod your head, letting out a smile once he smiles widely at you.

“Perfect.” He whispers before grasping your face with both hands, leaning in to finally kiss you. It’s nothing new, this whole kissing thing, but it’s different this time around. You both know it, and you both can feel it. You start to smile, causing him to smile and teeth to clash together, so he pulls back. You smile widely at him and he giggles at you.

“Just to clarify though,” Jun says, regaining his composure. You raise an eyebrow and he gives you that teasing grin you love so much, “this means you’re not gonna go meet that guy for dinner… right?” You burst out laughing and Jun chuckles too.

“Yes Jun, that’s exactly what that means.”

Eddie Kaspbrak deserved better.

Let me start with this. IT, written by Stephen King, made into a movie in 2017 and then another in 2019, about a clown with a big forehead, who likes dining on children, and gets his ass kicked by a group of teenage misfits (and then again when said misfits are just about past their midlife crisis). It's a horror, it's creepy and it's gross, now you see, I don't do horrors. I'm an absolute wuss. I can't even walk into a creepy abandoned building without a plank of wood in my hand for protection, and at least two people on either side of me who would obviously be kidnapped first (and that gives me enough time to scream and run away). Anyway, I don't like horrors. So you can probably guess that there was no way in hell, or earth, that I would be watching something that involved a terrifying monster who drools as much as a bulldog (he should seriously get that checked). No way I was going to read the book, as much as I love reading, and wouldn't even consider the original from the 90s although the 90s rules the movie scene (don't argue, we all know Jurassic Park is the best movie of all time). But the thing was, I have a friend, and he can be very persuading (in the form of pizza and snacks) and also, I'm a huge McAvoy fan, and James Ransone, I've never seen that guy before but well, when I saw him in the trailer, hello handsome. And don't get me started on Bill Hader, man do I fancy that bloke... Anyway I'm going off topic. So blah blah, we end up sitting down one night, with our buffet and many cups of tea, and weirdly, we start watching IT Chapter 2 first, because he wanted to see it since it was new. I go into it with no bloody clue what was going on, who was who, why parents would let their kid out in the rain by themselves, or how nobody noticed a load of bodies leaking out of the sewer. I was asking alot of questions. But, here's the thing. Onto the whole point of this rant. Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie Spaghetti. Eds. The cute, little, angry man who instantly caught my attention (not just by the fact that Mr Ransone is a handsome S.O.B). From the moment he sped down the road in his posh jeep, yelling at other drivers (I feel your pain Eds) to crashing said posh jeep because he was distracted by a phone call (bad Eddie!) He instantly stole my 28 year old, attracted to dark and handsome older men, heart. Of course, I had no clue about these characters, all I saw was cute, angry man, funny dork with glasses, red headed lady, that guy from New Zealand, man who lasted five seconds, handsome librarian, and Professor X, and of course that clown that lives in the drain. So, as the movie went on, Eddie became my number one (Richie following behind in second). I learnt all about him from my friend, and more about him during the film, and couldn't help but feel sorry for the little bastard. He had a wife that I could tell he didn't love who treated him like doodoo, as a kid his dearest mom was overprotective, controlling and gave him freaking placebos to make him think he was ill (the fuck Mrs K?), that made him so nervous about getting sick and paranoid beyond belief, and I mean, his job wasn't the most exciting. Not to mention he has anxiety worse than a nun in a whore house, and was obviously afraid the most out of the group. And then, AND THEN, the film decides to drop some hints about Richie. Ah, dearest Richie, who has perfect taste in men. He's in love with Eddie. In. Freaking. Love with him. You could tell by the way he was so protective of him, constantly made fun of him (we all know that's how dudes get their crushes attention) and of course, R + E. So, of course, nearing the end of the movie, there's me grinning like an idiot, having the thought of Eddie and Richie getting out of the final fight untouched, Richie declaring his undying love for his Eddie Spaghetti, Eddie admitting his feelings for his Trashmouth, getting a kiss in there, Eds declaring he was divorcing him moth- sorry, wife, and the two walking into the sunset to start a new life together, in a nice cottage in the hills, getting married, having three kids, five dogs, ten cats, and living happily ever after. But then, my hopes and dreams were shattered. Stephen, I'm looking at you. They killed Eddie. THEY KILLED EDDIE! EDDIE! Out of all the FREAKING characters they could have booted off, they chose Eddie the rage monster, the little man with a big personality, the least deserving to freaking die in my opinion. Stephen, how could you? How could you?! Why did he have to die? Why did they have to end his life that way? Why couldn't he have a happy ending like the rest of the Losers? Not including Richie of course. Oh no, they didn't just fuck Eddie over, they also fucked over Richie. Killing the love of his life, right after he saves him, bleeding all over his big ass glasses, calling his name softly, looking at him with his big, brown eyes. Yep, Richie probably went home after the Kissing Bridge and thought about Eddie every damn day of his life. But no, they didn't just kill Eddie, oh no no, they went a step further. They left his body to rot in the sewers. Yes Andy, I'm glaring at you, you evil, evil man. They didn't take the route that Mr King took in his book, or from the original IT movie (yes I watched that later on too) no, Mr A decided to have Eddie die all alone whilst the Losers finished off Pennywise, then have Richie go back and see his dead body, freak out and have hope that they can save him, hug him tight, and not let him go. And then, oh boy, and then, they have Mike and Ben literally FORCE Richie off of Eddie, and DRAG him out of the sewers. WITHOUT EDDIE. I'm sorry Mr Andy, but tell me, how could they, Eddie's best friends, the ones who were always there for him, who they loved and adored, leave Eddie there in the sewers, all alone, in the dark, dirty, graveyard that would have had Eddie crying at the thought? It didn't make ANY sense to me. If Ben and Mike had the strength to drag a struggling, six foot something Richie away from Eddie, then surely they could have picked Eddie up between them, and got him out of there. If I was Richie, I would have decked the lot of them, Losers or not. And that's where I got pretty darn mad. Eddie didn't deserve that shit. For one, he didn't deserve to die. And two, he didn't deserve to be left down there, to slowly decay. He should have been pulled out by his friends, Richie could have had a moment with him, Eddie could have been given a funeral where his friends, and especially Richie could have said goodbye. Then, they'd have had somewere where they could memorialise him, go back and place flowers and silly things like inhalers and red shorts on his headstone, have a get together and remember him and talk to him, somewhere where Richie could always go to, knowing that Eddie was put to rest properly, and somewhere were he could sit and cry to himself, remembering all the fucking good times they had as kids and how god damn hard he fell for the crazy little shit. But, nah, we'll just leave him in the sewers, under a collapsed house, somewhere the Losers wouldn't want to visit again, somewhere they can't have a funeral, can't put Eddie to rest, somewhere that has too many bad memories and would remind everyone of how exactly Eddie lost his life. So yeah, you can say I'm pretty mad about all of that. I know he's a fictional character, but damn, he didn't deserve that shit. Neither did Richie. And to make it worse, when I watched the first movie afterwards, Eddie was just as freaking hilarious, and ridiculous as his older self. Little Eddie was a force to be reckoned with, he was definitely still my favourite even as a kid. The dude who played him, huge kudos to him. How could you not like tiny Eddie? It also showed me a lot more about how Eddie grew up, by that I mean how his mother really did treat him, and boy did I hate the fact that he died even more! So yeah, I may have gone off on one a tad... I couldn't help myself, Eddie Kaspbrak has now got a big place in the fictional character side of my heart. Just goes to show just how much actors can make an impact on people's lives, and how real they make them seem! So, I've said my part, and it's pretty obvious what I think about the ending to Mr Spaghetti's story. Encase you didn't get how I feel about it, it sucked. Eddie Kaspbrak should have lived. Should have had a second chance, especially with Richie! Not all movies follow the ending of books, so why did this one have to? Why did Ben and Redhead get to have a happily ever after and Richie and Eddie didn't? Why didn't they at least make his death meaningful and give him the send off he deserved? In other words, Eddie deserved better. That should be the motto of the movie. That's me signing off, I'm going to go be mad somewhere else, because I'll never get over this movie. I'm a huge fan now, but man, the ending was as bad as Bill's endings. Oh and uh, fuck you Pennywise. Oh, also, if anyone's going to Wales Comic con this Saturday (you should, because James Ransone will be there, I know right, what are the chances?) come say hi. I'll be dressed in a yellow raincoat and green wellies, holding a red balloon... Don't ask why, I just like the colours. See you later, Losers.

Omg nat hello welcome back!! Since requests are open, could I get some "first dance at their wedding" sweetness with my boi mista? I just feel like that cheesy boi would cry during it and ahhh thank you Nat! *u*

1.7k words! Reader wears a dress, and is referred to as “the bride”! 

Although Mista had done his best, he hadn't ended up being that involved with the wedding planning. Little things kept reminding him of the number four; the number of guests sat a table for the wedding meal, the multiple of flowers in bouquets, the amount of bridesmaids, the conglomeration of how people were to sit to watch the ceremony - in the end, he'd bowed out gracefully, bashful smile on his face.

"Aww, babe," he says, "I'm just gonna worry about everythin' if we both keep doin' this! On our actual weddin' day, I don't think I'll notice anythin' but how beautiful you are . . . so I'm gonna leave it to you, okay?"

It had been okay. As much as you love Mista for all of his idiosyncracies, some of his worries were beginning to rub off on you, and you were grateful that when he stepped back, you'd be able to stop seeing the number four wherever you looked.

So you organised - with help from other members of Passione, who wanted you and Mista to have the wedding both of you had always dreamed of - everything yourself. The cake, the photographer, the venue and the dress - when you'd forget something, Giorno would quietly murmur about it, and if you weren't sure, it would get done anyway.

"Guido has always been a romantic," Giorno says at one of the wedding planning dinners he'd hosted for you and all of the other people who'd endeavoured to help. "He deserves to have his wedding be exactly how he'd want it."

Everyone, it seems, has a soft spot for Guido Mista - and with his ebullient nature and his smile and his warm way of talking, his friendly demeanour . . . how could they not? Sometimes, you'd come home and climb into bed and Mista would groan, turning towards you and clutching blindly at the sheets until you settled in his arms.

"Missed you, amore," he'd murmur, his voice low and sleep-soaked, and he'd smile against your cheek. "Glad you're home."

That's without taking into account the other things about him you adore; the messy dark hair falling over his forehead, the big liquid eyes, the way his lips break into a smile, the way his pants curve at the back when he bends over--

Okay, time to stop your brain there. The point is that you wanted Mista to have the wedding he wanted, and you wanted to have the wedding of your dreams too. Thankfully, your positions in Passione afford a generous salary - and the affection of Don Giovanna doesn't hurt, either.

The one thing that Mista had said he wanted to be in charge of was the wedding song.

"What are you going to pick?" You asked him, curiously, and Mista's ruddy face flushed as he looked bashfully away, one hand reaching up behind his head to tug his hat down a little further.

"Aww, amore," he said, "Don't you want it to be a surprise?"

"You're not going to pull a Narancia on me and have us have our first dance to Snoop Dogg or something, are you?" You'd teased him, and Mista had pulled a face at you that was all faux shock.

"My secrets!" He'd said, clutching a hand to his chest as if wounded. "Snoop can be romantic too, y'know! Narancia's played me some of his most passionate tunes! And I really feel like that song about the . . . about the undies is gonna set the mood!"

"Mista!" You say, playfully pushing you, and he lets out a laugh that makes a smile rise to your face unbidden. Mista is always so sweet. Despite what he does for a living, despite the fact you know there's blood on his hands, sometimes he's just your perfect goofy boyfriend who - soon - is going to be your husband.

"Nah," he says, "I like . . . y'know. Traditional shit. I'm not gonna make a joke outta the day that we're gonna remember for the rest of our lives."

Emotion wells up in your chest, that you do your best to push down. Mista's fingers twist in his sweater, and you see that he's blushing and avoiding your gaze, as if he's afraid that the confession he just made is going to prove to be too much for you and you're going to break up with him for being the sweetest boyfriend in the world.

You lean forward and press a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"Well then," you say, all of the worry about the first dance song immediately ceasing. "I'll trust you. I'll know it will be perfect."

And your wedding goes off exactly that way.

When you float down the aisle on Giorno's arm, white fabric trailing behind you, bouquet of red roses (grown by Giorno for the occasion) beribboned in white and gold in your hands, you see Guido swallow, a bob of this throat over his expensive suit.

When you reach the front of the intimate little church and stand across from him, you realise there are tears in his eyes as he summons a smile for you - and though you know that there's important text being read by the officiant, you can't look at anything but Mista's face, glowing in a way you've never seen before.

You notice when he takes the ring to slide it onto your finger that his hands are shaking, and when he speaks to say;

"I do." His voice is dry, his throat cracking.

Panic rises in your own thoughts that perhaps Mista is realising that he's made a terrible mistake and perhaps he never wanted to marry you after all, maybe he's realising how trapped he is and he's about to call things off - and then, the officiant decrees that he can kiss you, and eagerly he does a little shuffle forward to cup your face in his tender embrace.

His palms are wet, as if he's been nervous, but that does not ruin the fact that the way he holds you is like someone holding something very precious to them. You press your cheek against his thumb as he rubs a loving circle into your skin.

"You look beautiful," he says, and he kisses you--

And then there's the rush of cheering, the click of camera shutters. There's too much else to be doing to worry about being simply him and you, the newlywed couple - so you leave the church and you throw the bouquet and you're bundled away in a carriage, confetti being thrown at you, to get to the fancy villa in which Giorno is throwing the reception party.

You even have time to change out of the wedding gown into something a little more appropriate for dancing, though you leave the crown of white rosebuds in your hair. You feel like you barely have time to speak to your new groom, there's so much else to be done - the cake stands proud in the air, the echoes of celebration in the breeze, as you stand by a doorway and simply observe for a moment.

It seems like you've been planning this event for years, though in truth it's only been a few months. The culmination of all of your hard work - and as you look at the people you love most in the world enjoying themselves and celebrating yours and Mista's union, you can't help but feel that the luck has paid off.

Narancia makes his way across where the makeshift dancefloor is, and you tense. You know Narancia won't ruin this for you - you'd trusted him with the music, and although the man can still be a little more prone to play the clown, when he is entrusted with responsibility he takes pride in ensuring things are done perfectly - but there's still that brief fear as he grabs a microphone and announces the bride and groom's first dance.

The first few chords ring out, and you're looking around for Mista, when you feel a hand outstretch and take yours - and there's your groom, handsome as ever, gently tugging you onto the dancefloor.

You look up at him. Some of the wedding stresses have gotten to him too; his hair is a tousled mess (though at least he's not wearing his hat). The tiger print bow tie that nobody had been able to talk him out of is askew, his matching pocket square nowhere to be seen. One of his cuffs is unbuttoned.

But he's smiling at you, and that's all that matters. He's smiling at you like you're the only person in the universe, and as he pulls you against him and your eyes flutter closed to listen to the sound of his heartbeat as he gently rocks you in his arms - and that's all you can ask for.

You have spent enough nights listening to the Carpenters and watching cheesy romantic movies, eating pints of ice cream (even before you were dating, actually), that "Touch Me When We're Dancing" is intimately familiar to you. Of course it would be this, you think, as one of Mista's hands gently rest on your waist, and you tip your head up so that you can look at your husband.

There's a hush over the dancefloor as people watch you both, but it doesn't feel like you two are the centre of attention. The music wraps around both of you like a protective cocoon, as if it saying: this moment is for you both, and only yours.

"I love you," you say, your voice a breathy sigh on the wind.

Mista sniffles, and you realise that he's crying - again.

"I love you more," he says, throat scratching. "Fuck. I don't mean to cry--"

"Did you mean to say fuck at our wedding?"

He cracks a smile, but his eyes are still brimming with tears.

"You're just so perfect. . ." He whispers, voice cracking. "I'm just . . . I'm just such a lucky guy!"

Other couples have dragged their partners onto the dancefloor now, and you can see them from the corner of your eye - but it doesn't matter. The spell isn't broken.

"Not half as lucky as I am," you whisper, and your eyes flutter closed again, as you take a moment out of the hectic day to enjoy your husband's closeness and warmth and the promise of a future with him.

Infrarealism Manifesto

Manifesto of Infrarealism

——-

GIVE IT ALL UP AGAIN

first infrarealist manifesto

“It’s four light hours to the confines of the solar system; to the closest star, four light years. A disproportionate ocean of emptiness. But are we really sure there is only a void? We only know that there are no stars shining in that space. If they existed, would they be visible? And if there existed bodies that are neither luminous nor dark? Could it not be that on the celestial maps, the same as on those of Earth, the star-cities are indicated and the star-villages are omitted?”

— Soviet science fiction writers scratching their faces at midnight.

— The infrasuns (Drummond would say the happy proletarian fellows).

— Peguero and Boris alone in a lumpen room having premonitions of the wonder behind the door.

— Free money.

*

Who has crossed the city and had, as the only music, the whistles of his fellow man, his own words of wonder and rage?

The handsome guy who didn’t know

that chicks’ orgasms are clitoral

(Look around, shit isn’t just in museums.) (A process of individual museumification.) (Certainty that everything is named, revealed.) (Fear of discovering.) (Fear of unforeseen imbalances.)

*

Our closest relatives:

snipers, country boys who smash up cheap cafés in Latin America, people who fall apart in supermarkets in their tremendous individuo-collective dilemmas; the impotence of action and the search (on individual levels or good and muddy with aesthetic contradictions) for poetic action.

*

Little bright stars eternally winking an eye at us from a place in the universe called Labyrinths.

— Nightclub of misery.

— Pepito Tequila sobbing his love for Lisa Underground.

— I suck it, you suck it, we suck it.

— And the Horror.

*

Curtains of water, cement or tin separate a cultural machinery that serves as the conscience or the ass of the dominant class from a living, annoying cultural happening, in constant death and birth, ignorant of the greater part of history and the fine arts (everyday creator of its insane history and its hallucinatory fine artz), body that suddenly feels new sensations in itself, product of an epoch in which we approach the shithouse or the revolution at 200 kph.

“New forms, strange forms,” as old Bertolt said, half curious, half cheerful.

*

Sensations don’t arise from nothingness (the obvious of obviousnesses) but from conditioned reality, in a thousand ways, as a constant flow.

— Multiple reality, you make us sick!

So it is possible that on the one hand one is born and on the other hand we’re in the front row for the death throes. Forms of life and forms of death pass daily through the retina. The constant crash gives life to infrarealist forms: THE EYE OF TRANSITION

*

They put the whole city in the nuthouse. Sweet sister, tank howls, hermaphrodite songs, diamond deserts, we’ll live only once and the visions, more complicated and slippery every day. Sweet sister, hitchhiking to Monte Albán[i]. Unbuckling their belts to water the corpses. It’s something at least.

*

And the good bourgeois culture? And academia and the arsonists? And the vanguard and its rearguard? And certain conceptions of love, nice scenery, the precise multinational Colt sidearm?

Like Saint-Just[ii] said to me in a dream I had a while ago: Even the heads of aristocrats can be our weapons.

*

— A good part of the world is being born and the other part is dying and we all know that we all have to live and we all die: in this there is no middle road.

Chirico[iii] says: thought needs to move away from everything called logic and common sense, to move away from all human obstacles in such a way that things take on a new look, as though illuminated by a constellation appearing for the first time. The infrarealists say: We’re going to stick our noses into all human obstacles, in such a way that things begin to move inside of us, a hallucinatory vision of mankind.

— The Constellation of the Beautiful Bird.

— The infrarealists propose Indianism to the world: a crazy, timid Indian.

— A new lyricism that’s beginning to grow in Latin America sustains itself in ways that never cease to amaze us. The entrance to the work is the entrance to adventure: the poem as a journey and the poet as a hero who reveals heroes. Tenderness as an exercise in speed. Respiration and heat. Experience shot, structures that devour themselves, insane contradictions.

The poet is interfering, the reader will have to interfere for himself.

“erotic books full of misspellings”

*

The THOUSAND DRAWN-AND-QUARTERED VANGUARDS OF THE SEVENTIES are our ancestors

99 flowers open like an open head

Slaughters, new concentration camps

White subterranean rivers, violet winds

These are hard times for poetry, some say, sipping tea, listening to music in their apartments, talking (listening) to the old masters. These are hard times for mankind, we say, coming back to the barricades after a workday full of shit and tear gas, discovering/creating music even in apartments, spending all day watching the cemeteries-that-expand, where they hopelessly drink a cup of tea or get drunk on pure rage or the inertia of the old masters.

HORA ZERO[iv] are our ancestors

((Raise arsonist kids, get burned))

We’re still in the Quaternary Period. We’re still in the Quaternary Period?

Pepito Tequila kisses the phosphorescent nipples of Lisa Underground and heads off for a beach where black pyramids sprout up.

*

I repeat:

The poet as a hero who reveals heroes, like the fallen red tree that announces the start of a forest.

— Attempts at an ethic-aesthetic are paved with betrayals or pathetic survivals.

— And it is the individual who could walk a thousand kilometers but inevitably the road will eat him.

— Our ethic is the Revolution, our aesthetic is Life: one-and-the-same.

*

For the bourgeoisie and the petite-bourgeoisie, life is a party. They have one every weekend. The proletariat doesn’t have parties. Just funerals with rhythm. That’s going to change. The exploited are going to throw a big party. Memory and guillotines. Sensing it, acting it out on certain nights, inventing edges and humid corners for it, like caressing the acid eyes of the new spirit.

*

Movement of the poem through the seasons of rebellion: poetry producing poets producing poems producing poetry. No electric alley/the poet with his arms separated from his body/the poem moving slowly from his Vision to his Revolution. The alley is a complex point. “We’re going to invent it so as to discover its contradiction, its invisible forms of negation, even to clarify it.” A journey of the act of writing through zones not at all favorable to the act of writing.

Rimbaud, come home!

Subvert the everyday reality of modern poetry. The chains that lead to the poem’s circular reality. A good reference: Kurt Schwitters. Lanke trr gll, or, upa kupa arggg, happens in the official line, phonetic investigators encoding the howl. The bridges of Nova Express are anti-codifying: let him scream, let him scream (please don’t go pulling out pencils or little notebooks, don’t record it, if you want to participate scream along), so let him scream, to see the look on his face when it’s over, what incredible thing happen to us.

Our bridges to unknown seasons. The poem interrelating reality and unreality.

*

Convulsively.

*

What can I ask of present-day Latin American painting? What can I ask of the theater?

It is more revealing and more evocative to stand in a park devastated by smog and watch people cross the avenues in groups (that contract and expand), the avenues, where drivers as much as pedestrians feel the urge to return to their hovels, when the murderers come out and the victims stalk them.

What stories are painters really telling me?

The interesting void, fixed form and color, at best a parody of movement. Canvases that will serve only as bright advertisements in the rooms of engineers and doctors who collect them.

The painter adapts to a society that is every day more of a “painter” than he is, and there he finds himself disarmed and registers as clown.

If painting X is found in some street by Mara, that painting acquires the status of an amusing, communicative thing; in a salon it’s as decorative as bourgeois wrought iron garden chairs/a question of the retina?/yes and no/but it’d be better to find (and systematize according to chance for awhile) the unleashing factor, class-conscious, a one hundred percent deliberate deed, in juxtaposition to the values of “work” which both precede and condition it.

The painter gives up his studio and ANY status quo and fills his head with wonder/or takes up chess like Duchamp/a self-taught painting/And a painting of poverty, free or rather cheap, unfinished, collaborative, of questioning participation, physically extended and spiritually unlimited.

The best Latin American painting is that which is still being made at unconscious levels, the game, the party, the experiment that gives us a real vision of what we are and opens us to what we can be; the best Latin American painting is what we paint in the greens, reds, and blues on our faces, to recognize ourselves in the incessant creation of the group.

*

Try daily to leave everything behind.

May architects give up the building of inward-looking scenes and open their hands (or make fists, depending on the place) toward that outer space. A wall and a roof acquire utility not when they’re used just for sleeping or avoiding rain, but rather when they establish, for example, from the everyday act of dreaming, conscious bridges between man and his creations or the momentary impossibility of these.

In architecture and sculpture the infrarealists start from two points: the barricade and the bed.

*

The true imagination is that which destroys, elucidates, injects emerald microbes into other imaginations. In poetry and in whatever else, the entrance into the work has to already be the way into adventure. Create the tools for everyday subversion. The human being’s subjective seasons, with their gigantic, beautiful, obscene trees like experimental laboratories. Watch, glimpse parallel and heart-rending situations as a giant scratch on your chest, on your face. Endless analogy of gestures. There are so many that when new ones appear we don’t even notice, even though we’re making/watching them in front of a mirror. Stormy nights. Perception opens by means of an ethic-aesthetic carried to the limit.

*

— Galaxies of love are appearing in the palms of our hands.

— Poets, let down your hair (if you have any)

— Burn your nonsense and start loving until you come up with priceless poems

— We don’t want kinetic paintings but enormous kinetic sunsets

— Horses running 500 kilometers an hour

— Squirrels of fire hopping through trees of fire

— A bet to see who blinks first, between the nerve and the sleeping pill.

*

Risk is always somewhere else. The true poet is the one who’s always letting go of himself. Never too much time in the same place, like guerrillas, like UFOs, like the white eyes of prisoners serving life sentences.

*

Fusion and explosion from two shores: creation like a decisive and open graffiti by a crazy kid.

Not at all mechanical. Scales of amazement. Somebody, maybe Bosch, smashes the aquarium of love. Free money. Sweet sister. Visions frivolous like corpses. Little boys jerking off from kisses until December.

*

At two in the morning, after having been at Mara’s house, we (Mario Santiago and some of us) heard laughter coming from the penthouse of a 9 story building. They didn’t stop, they kept laughing and laughing while below we slept propped up in various phone booths. There came a moment when only Mario was still paying attention to the laughter (the penthouse is a gay bar or something and Darío Galicia had told us that it’s always watched by the cops). We made phone calls but our coins turned into water. The laughter continued. After we left that neighborhood Mario told me that actually no one had been laughing, that it was recorded laughter, and up there in that penthouse, some stragglers or maybe a single homosexual had silently listened to that record and made us listen to it.

— The death of the swan, the swan song, the last song of the black swan, IS NOT in the Bolshoi but in the intolerable pain and beauty of the streets.

— A rainbow that starts in a grindhouse theater and ends in a factory on strike.

— May amnesia never kiss us on the mouth. May it never kiss us.

— We dreamed of utopia and woke up screaming.

— A poor lonely cowboy that comes back home, what a wonder.

*

Make new sensations appear—Subvert daily life.

O.K.

GIVE IT ALL UP AGAIN

HIT THE ROAD

—Roberto Bolaño, Mexico, 1976

(translation by Tim Pilcher – [email protected])

REPUTATION LYRIC INSPIRED TOUR OUTFITS AND POSTERS PART 1

A lot of these posters are pictured in either giant bubble letters, rep font or in calligraphy. Can’t do any of these? Download the rep font or font you wish to use, type up what you want in a big enough font size, print, cut, and trace, or glue them down up to you! Of course, write these however you wish!

Hello all! Thanks for waiting so patiently for this list! Because of how long it is and how very excited you all have been waiting for this we have decided to post it into 2 parts to keep the excitement going. Part 2 will be coming in just a few short days and will be linked here, maybe even sooner than you think! Please enjoy all the ideas we listed below so far, send us others you may have and want to share with the swiftie world. We apologize if the formatting on this looks bad on mobile, we are trying to actively make it easily accessible and readable across all platforms!

And lastly, enjoy and tag us in these recreations! We want to see them! We want to help them get seen by Taylor!

Find the Reputation Part 2 list here.

Find the 1989 idea list here and here.

Find the Red idea list here.

Find more costume and poster ideas and tips here.

lovelovelove,

 - Reputation Costumes.

…READY FOR IT?:

1. “Knew he was a killer” – you and a friend or significant other dress up as a killer and their victim (not to scary or realistic though! Just have fun with it)

2. “Left haunted” – could make a fun sign saying “Taylor left me haunted” or something silly with the word haunted! Could even use Haunted (Speak Now) lyrics!

3. “But if he’s a ghost, then I can be a phantom” – Few ideas:

         → Two people could dress up as ghosts. 

         → Could also dress up as Danny Phantom because of the wordplay, or even the Phantom of the Opera if you wanted to be clever.  

         → Could also dress up as ghost hunters/ghost busters.

4. “Holdin’ him for ransom” – dress as bank robbers! Could even copy the outfits from the vault scene in LWYMMD.

5. “I keep him forever, like a vendetta-ta” – Poster that replaces him for Taylor, so it says I keep Taylor forever, like a vendetta-ta.

6. “Island breeze and lights down low” – maybe dress tropical—think family vacation ha. 

         → Could even improvise a poster that instead of saying island it could say (city name) breeze and stadium lights down low. Ex: “Boston breeze and stadium lights down low” (yes, I know its FOXBORO, but we all know Taylor just calls it Boston lol).

7. “In the middle of the night” – Dress as if you’re the night sky, glow in the dark ceiling stars or tape on a black/navy blue outfit with glitter. A matching poster in the shape of a star or a moon would be the perfect pairing.

8. “Are you ready for it?” – Poster with these lyrics on it. Remember posters can be as simple or as creative as you’d like. If you have a large enough group, you could make giant cutouts and hold two letters or so each.

9. “Stealing hearts and running off..” – A poster in the shape of a heart (not anatomical) with the lyrics on it.

10. “He can be my jailer” – Cop and Robber costume, could do the orange jumpsuit from the LWYMMD video and copy the “guards” around the birdcages outfits.

11. “Burton to this Taylor” – dress as Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor

12. “Let the games begin” – Multiple options for this one.

          →   Could dress as a referee/sport player/some sort of sport reference

          →   Have a game board attached to your outfit, make your own Taylor inspired game, maybe by gluing homemade items over a monopoly and have little trivia questions about her.

          →   Game board inspired poster—an Uno card but with these lyrics rather than traditional uno face.

13. Recreate one of the outfits from the music video

END GAME:

1. “I wanna be your endgame” – Poster designed as your favorite/or classic “end game” credit logo.

2. “I wanna be your first string” – Sometimes related to sports or your favorite ship from a TV show/Film/Book so do what you may with this.

3. “I wanna be your A-Team” – Could dress up as the A Team. Poster with friends that spell out A-Team.

4.  “Big Reputation” – Poster with these lyrics or wear the End Game merch sold on Taylor’s site. Can’t afford it? Make your own with stencils and fabric paint!

5.  “I bury hatchets, but I keep maps of where I put ‘em” – Make/buy a shirt with a map on it—think buried treasure map with x’s to mark where stuff is hidden!

6. “Your body is gold” – Gold morph suit, gold body paint, gold glitter, gold anything! Dawn yourself in all gold for this look.

7.  “So here’s the truth from my red lips” – Make an outfit with red lips open with a speech bubble above it and have end game lyrics in each one! Or make a poster with the same idea.

8.  Recreate one of the many music video outfits!

I DID SOMETHING BAD:

1. “I play ‘em like a violin” – Make a poster cut out into the same of a violin and wear music notes.

2. ‘Now all he thinks about is me” – Poster saying “Now all I think about is Taylor”

3. “I can feel the flames on my skin” – Body paint flames in your arms/legs or wear flame pattern shirt.

4. “Crimson red paint on my lips” – Could be similar to the one above from End Game with red lips all over your outfit or a poster.

5. “If a man talk shit, then I owe him nothing” – Great lyric for a poster! Don’t want to put the swear on the poster? Get creative and maybe use the emoji covering its mouth or symbols!

6.  “I never trust a playboy, but they love me” – Going with a guy friend? Could have him dress like Hugh Hefner but of course remember the necessary clothing needed to get into a venue if you do this! Could also dress as a bunny (playboy related or just average you decide)

7. “So I fly ‘em all around the world” – Going to multiple shows? Make a poster of a globe with airplanes landing on each tour stop you’re going to!

8. “They’re burning all the witches even if you aren’t one” – Dress as a witch, could be inspired from the Salem witch trials, could be a cartoon-y Halloween one, or one from your favorite show or movie that involves witches!

9. “Pitchforks and proof, their receipts and reasons” – Poster in the shape of a pitchfork or one that looks like a store receipt or screenshotted iMessage but using Taylor lyrics as the messages or purchases!

10. “Light me up” – Most shows apparently will not allow lights but doesn’t mean you can’t light up with glow sticks, glow in the dark body paint/outfits or glitter!

11. “Most fun I ever had” – Poster saying “Taylor Concerts are the most fun I ever had!”

DON’T BLAME ME:

1. “Don’t blame me, love made me crazy” – Poster that says, “Don’t blame me, Taylor made me crazy.”

2. “Darkest little paradise” – Black lace vibe from this lyric, especially picturing those pumps that have fur on the front near the toes. Could also make a sign that’s a midnight black sky with glow in the dark stars writing out the lyric.

3. “They say, ‘She’s gone too far this time’” – Poster with this lyric and a map tracking all your shows if you’re going to multiple. Could have all the miles listed under each show!

4. “Halo, hiding my obsession” – Angel outfit? Make the halo out of glow sticks so it shines after the lights go down. Poster that says hiding my obsession, maybe make it look like a TSL post.

5. “I once was poison ivy, but now I’m your daisy” – Few ideas for this:

           →   An outfit that starts as poison ivy on the bottom but slowly progress to daisies. Could have buds of daisies starting at the bottom with the ivy and start to have them bloom as it increases until it’s just all daisies.

          →   Poster that spells out poison ivy in plastic (or real or drawn completely up to you) poison ivy.

          →   Poster that spells out Daisy with Daisies from a craft store!

          →   Daisy Buchanan from Gatsby.

          →   Poison Ivy comic.

6. “Fall from grace” – Michael and Lucifer, so aka could go as a fallen angel or the devil. If you watch Supernatural then you can pull from that for inspiration!

7. Taylor related this song to church, love and drug use because those 3 are powerful enough to change a person. Dressing up as if you’re in a choir could fit this song! Even something church related, however trying to remain neutral with that can be difficult.

8. Some people get a Fifty Shades of Grey vibe from this song, do what you may with that.

DELICATE:

1. Poster spelling out delicate with an assortment of colorful fake flowers.

2. “You can make me a drink” – Poster cut out in the shape of a wine glass with the lyrics being written in a bold, thick font and place to look as if from far away its wine drawn in the glass.

3. “Dive bar on the East Side, where you at?” – “Taylor Swift concert in (your state), where you at?” sign. Could also make this look like an iMessage chat.

4. Fringe outfit similar to the video.

5. Dive bar outfit.

6. “Dark jeans and your Nikes” – Could easily where this exact outfit paired with a Taylor shirt if you aren’t into dressing up for shows!

7. “Never seen that color blue” – Poster with sketched blue eyes and these lyrics underneath it. Could also wear an entire blue outfit.

8. “Is it chill that you’re in my head?” – poster ideas:

          →  Is it chill that Taylor’s in my head?

          →  Is it chill that you’re in my head, Taylor?

9. “Handsome, you’re a mansion with a view.” - Dress up with a costume similar in the idea of the a skyscraper costume but as a fancy house!

10. “Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs” - Poster with an echoing effect (think Microsoft early 2000s word art) on the lyrics. Could even place the lyrics on top of one another to look like it’s building a staircase. 

LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO:

1. “I don’t like your little games” – See similar ideas for game inspired outfits above, OR

          →  Make an outfit featuring miniature games attached to you, like Tamagotchi’s or make your own mini monopoly/life/etc. boards and glue them onto your outfit or poster. Possibly break the little boards in half and have broken pieces to represent not liking them.

2. “Of the fool” – Could dress up as a fool/clown. Silly, whimsical costume.

3. “Said the gun was mine” – Could do a poster of a smoking gun with the lyrics looking like they came out of the gun/the toy guns where flags pop out.

4. “Rose up from the dead” – Zombie! Tombstone poster!

5. “I’ve got a list of names and yours is in red, underlined” – List of names—Taylor related, maybe her cats or not—but have them all crossed out besides for Taylors at the bottom.

6. “I check it once, then I check it twice” – Some say this reminds them of Santa so by all means feel free to dress up Christmas-y.

7. “Look what you made me do” – Use the lyric video to create cool posters.

8. “I don’t like your kingdom keys” – few ideas:

        → Outfit with keys drawn on, make them look vintage and old, wear crowns with this look! Could also have keys dangling off the ends of the outfit.

       →  Giant gold key posters, make them look novelty like the ones cities give to honor people.

9. Drama and Karma matching glitter posters.

10. Snake skin, snake rings, snake anything!

11. Choose one of the many outfits Taylor is seen wearing throughout the LWYMMD video, we’ll hopefully have some great, cheap knockoffs for these soon!

12. Dress up as “old Taylor” so this basically opens up endless possibilities from each era, check out our 1989 and Red costume lists for more ideas! Hopefully we can work on Speak Now, Fearless and Debut inspired lists soon too!

13. Merch! Merch! Merch! She has tons of Look merch on her site, wear that if you want to be casual.

14. Similar Blind for Love sweater is available on eBay! The similar patches are also sold at craft stores or online (eBay).

15. Use the patches sold through Taylor Swift’s store to make you’re own one of a kind outfit--whether it be a denim jacket, dress, you name it! You can even design you’re own patches using crafts.

16. “The old Taylor can’t come to the phone right now” - Poster using a picture of the “old Taylor” and a poster in the shape of a phone! Could incorporate the Our Song video, WANEGBT video, or the Look video when she’s on a phone.

SO IT GOES…

1.  “See you in the dark” – Poster where the word Dark is written in glow in the dark paint/marker to show up after the lights go down!

2. “All eyes on you” – Outfit with googly eyes glued all over it. Or create a poster with the same idea and the lyrics changed to “All eyes on Taylor”

        →  Add “my magician” if you wish to the end of the poster lyric or combine the googly eyes theme with a magician costume.

3. “My magician” –  Multiple options:

       → Dress up in a magician’s costume, this can be traditional, or you can be as creative as you want with it.

       →  Poster cut out to look like you’re holding a fan of cards (think trick magician’s deck) with any lyrics from the song written on it.

       →  Could dress up as a magician’s assistant.

       →  Dress up as a rabbit/bunny (stereotypically used in acts)

       →  Poster in the shape of a bunny peeking out of a magician’s hat, or just the ears sticking out of the hat, with so it goes lyrics on it.

       →  Poster of a crystal ball with “all eyes on you, my magician” written in it.

4. “You make everyone disappear” – “Taylor makes everyone disappear” written on a poster. Possibly write it in glow in the dark ink so it only shows when the lights are down and not before!

5. “Cut me into pieces” – Puzzle piece posters! You and a group of friends can each hold a piece that fits into the other and each can have one word of a line from any reputation song or simply use the “cut me into pieces”

6. “Gold cage, hostage to my feelings” – 2 options:

       →  Make a cut out poster in the shape of a cage, individual cut out in between each bar so it’s open, do two sides like this and attach strings to wear the sign so it looks like the cage is around you. Could even wear this with the orange jumpsuit outfit from the Look video!

      →  Poster in the shape of a gold bird cage with “hostage to my feelings” written inside of it.

7. “All our pieces fall right into place” – Poster with confetti, puzzle pieces, hearts either drawn on or glued. Either place or draw the pieces to spell out the lyrics as they fall down to a pile at the bottom of the poster paper or just have the pieces you decide to use “raining” down halfway through the poster and have the lyrics on the bottom half.

8. “So it goes…” Poster with these lyrics.

9. “Met you in a bar” – 2 options:

          →  Poster drawn and cut out like a whiskey bottle with these lyrics, Taylor and reputation written on the label.

          →  Using half of a poster board, draw what looks like a bar top (typically mahogany) with bottles either laying or standing across it and a few shot glasses, each bottle could be named after a song on the album!

10. “All eyes on us/All eyes on you/All eyes on me” -  Staring eye emoji drawn on a poster with a thought bubble above it with one of these 3 lyrics in the bubble.

11. “I make all your grey days clear” –

          →  One person dresses up as a cloudy/rainy day so all grey clothes and have reflective blue tape cut into rain drops and white reflective tape to represent clouds (typically clouds are grey/black when it’s raining but those two colors won’t be reflective, could use glow in the dark paint/tape as well). Could also wear a cloud poster with raindrops hanging from it on string around them or hold as a regular poster with these lyrics in the cloud.

          →  Second person dresses up as sunny day, in preferably light blue to represent a clear sky, yellow reflective tape cut out as suns on the outfit—could even have some breaking through clouds using white reflective tape. Person could also wear a sun poster around them like suggested above for the grey day look.

12.  “Wear you like a necklace” – Think flavor flav! Make a giant fake watch (or not a watch and just a necklace) out of string and cardboard. Have the reputation album cover or cd artwork be hanging from it/as the face of the watch.

13.  “Dressed in black now” – Wear all black! Draw attention to yourself with some glow in the dark paint or stickers, glow sticks and glitter.

14. “Scratches down your back” – Might not be appropriate with what its referencing for younger crowds and you may get looks from parents but create a shirt with bloody scratches down the backside and let the front side have “so it goes…” written on it.

15.  “You did a number on me” – Few options:

           →  Poster cut out into a 13/22/1989 with the lyric written throughout the 13/22/1989.

            →  Poster with an array of numbers related to Taylor filling it (13, 22, 1989, 10(Grammys), etc.). Write the lyrics in rep font first and draw the numbers around it, filling the background. Write in glow in the dark paint/tape, glue flowers over the lyrics, whatever you desire! Can even just use the word rep instead of doing the lyrics.

           →  Idea above for the poster could also work on a shirt.

           →  Poster with the number of shows you’re attending.

16.  “Who’s counting?” – See the ideas for the lyric above, they work well with this one as well.

couch || Bruce Wayne

Warning(s); cursing.

Note; a sequel of 'even Joker says so'

;;

"Come on, Batsy! Just enjoy the show!" Joker cackled, both of his hands were on his hips as he watched the fireworks exploded in an unused building, away from the main part of the town where nobody ever laid their feet on unless for testing things.

Mostly things that could explode or harm other people.

Joker, of course, insisted that he wanted to do it at the crowded part of the town so he could see the civilians screaming in terror, thinking that he was trying to kill them all with the Batman. But after a few punches to his face, he gave up and obliged Batman's wishes, though, on their way, Joker couldn't stop whining and begging for him to change his mind.

The answer obviously a stern NO from the bigger man. As if Batman going to let him destroy the town he loved the most.

They had been meeting each other for two nights, since the big fight with his wife. Batman was desperate, Batman was never desperate, there was no way he would tell his children. Especially the girls.

Oh, heck no.

Those three would make him sit on the couch like he was a bad little kid for hours, listening to their rant and scolding for hurting their mother figure, telling him he should never treat a woman who always put up with his bullshit for years like that.

It wasn't wrong, he admitted that. Thing was, his wife already made him sleep on the couch one day since their fight. When he came back home from his patrol that night, he found a pillow on the couch in their sitting room.

Curious, he decided to ask his wife as soon as he finished cleaning himself up. That was when he noticed his pillow was gone.

"(Y/n)?"

His wife only replied with an irritated grunt thus gave him the conclusion that she was still pissed. It usually takes her days to finally forgive him.

Heaving a sigh, he approached their bed, "where's my pillow?"

"On the couch." Her voice was groggy, she didn't even bother to turn around to meet his tired gaze.

"Why?"

"You're sleeping on the couch, Mr. Wayne," ouch, talk about holding a grudge, "I'm making you regret marrying me."

"You're being immature." The dark haired man stated bluntly, he was also tired so he wasn't really aware he had said those words until his wife turned her head around to glare at him. Her eyes were bloodshot red, tears streak on her cheek.

"Fuck you. Out."

He didn't move.

"Out. I say," she demanded as she started to sat up, "I don't care how handsome you are, I don't wanna see your face for now."

Bruce could smell a faint alcohol scent from her, that explained why she was being more emotional than usual. She probably drank and cried herself to sleep. If he didn't feel guilty then, he sure as hell does now, he did feel bad after he let the word 'regret' slip out of his mouth.

"Alright." He caves in, standing up before walking towards their door.

He heard faint shuffling from the bed but he didn't turn to check, as he about to step out of the room he felt something warm and soft bumped into his back. He looked over his shoulder to find the gorgeous woman he loves holding a thick blanket.

"Here, even though I'm mad I don't want you to get sick." She mumbled, shoving the blanket further towards him as he turned around, taking it from her arms.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, Bruce." Was the words she said before closing the door, he could remember the faintest smile on her lips.

Bruce inwardly sighed, he totally deserved that. Sleeping on the couch. It wouldn't be so bad if those childish boys of his didn't laugh at him because of it, then again, he should've woke up earlier or maybe don't sleep at all.

Jason was the one who started the fire.

Duh.

Obviously.

"Ha, Batman's sleeping on the couch because his wife is mad." Jason snickered, a cup of black coffee in his hand as he passed the couch Bruce was sleeping on. Jason went off to look for the other boys who came not too long after.

Dick let out a full-blown laugh, he went as far as falling onto the floor as he laughed wholeheartedly. "How was it feels like? Getting kicked out?" He wheezed. "What did you do anyway? Using cheesy pick-up lines to get her forgive you?"

"Dick," Bruce warned, only to make his oldest son laugh more.

Damian held a satisfied smirk on his usual blank face, his arms crossed over his chest amusedly. "You deserved it, father." He obviously trying to bit back a laugh, failing after a few seconds.

Tim was leaning his arms over the backrest of the couch, looking down at his adopted father as he let out the most shorter laugh of them all. "You need to stop it guys, I can see the smoke fuming above his head."

Bruce was a little pissed but he deserved it really.

Another loud bang brought him back to reality, along with Joker's crazy cackle. He inwardly groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose over his cowl.

"How is this supposed to help?" He asked in his gruff voice, already exasperated at this point.

"I don't know," Joker replied, his eyes were still staring at the burning building before him. His thin figure was illuminated by the light from the fire, it kind of reminds him when he let a beaten up Jason to die because of his injuries and the explosion of his bomb. The thought makes him grin.

Bruce stayed silent, letting the green haired clown have his moments. After this, he would totally dump his ass back into the Asylum.

Joker turned around a bored look on his face. "That was pretty boring." He grunted, "anyways, what did you expect, Batsy? Do you really think I have a beautiful and peaceful love life? Nooo! Do you even realize that I'm actually an abusive bastard? Ha! Stupid bat, just ask Harley!" The sicko was visibly proud of his words.

There was no way he would admit that he was desperate to his longtime enemy. He took a few steps closer towards Joker, "I know. I'm just playing along so I can get you back into the Asylum."

Joker gasped in mock hurt, "you bastard---ack!"

Bruce interrupted him by landing a punch to his face, partly for being an abusive little shit and partly for wasting his time, he saw the clown cradled his cheek that would surely bruise in the morning.

Before the fight could go any further, he sent Joker unconscious with another hit to his head. He slung the clown's limp body over his shoulder, bringing him to where he belonged.

"Where have you been?" His wife's sleepy voice ringed in his earpiece as he closed the metal door to Joker's cell. "I couldn't track you a few minutes ago."

"I had to play along with Joker's game," he answered, making his way out of the said place. A sick moaning could be heard from each door he passed, sometimes it was crying and sometimes it was silent.

Bruce heard his wife let out a relieved breath from the other side of the line, she must have been waiting for him to come home or maybe Alfred told her that he couldn't be tracked, either way, it brought a little smile to his face. Glad that no one was around to see his soft side.

"I'll be back soon after making a few stops, go to sleep, beloved."

"Okay, careful."

After about an hour being out, he finally got back home. Out of his outfit and ready to go to bed---in this case, couch. Before he does, he went up to his shared room. The door faintly creaked as he opened it enough for him to sneak inside.

There she was, sleeping peacefully, hugging a pillow to replace his absent figure. He placed a bouquet of her favorite kinds of flowers on the nightstand along with an apology written on a piece of paper. He wasn't really good with apologizing, he often left a note and a little something instead of saying it, but he sure would apologize to her in the morning.

"Jerk." She muttered.

Bruce froze, he turned his head over slowly. She was still sleeping. He knelt down by the bed, this way he was able to see her sleeping face properly. There was a frown on her face.

"Must be dreaming about me." He breathed out a chuckle at his own joke, he leaned over, placing a kiss on her forehead making a smile replacing her earlier frown. "I'm glad I can call you my wife."

Standing back up, he brought the blanket that had been crumpled under her legs up over her body before making his way out of their bedroom so he could sleep on the couch.

"Goodnight." He then closed the door behind him.

Mentally preparing himself just in case his boys decided to make fun of him again.

The Joker x Reader - 10 Things The Joker Randomly Does That Kind of Prove He Cares

1.   J is in a good mood more often. It strangely happened after he met you: the first year he had two good days the whole year, the second year he had four and this year is about to have the sixth day and the year is not even over yet! A new record.

The King of Gotham calls you Insanity when he’s in a good mood; that’s the signal you can ask for pretty much whatever you want and he won’t say no.

“Hey Insanity,” J greets when you open your eyes in the morning.

You gasp. OMG, he’s gonna be in a good mood today, such a rare occurrence!

“Hi handsome,” you kiss him super-fast and don’t waste a single moment so you start your tirade:

“Can we spend the day at the beach?”

“Yeah.”

Jackpot!

“Can we make love instead of having sex?”

“Yeah.”

Jackpot!

“Can we hold hands more than 20 seconds?”

“Yeah.”

Jackpot!

“Can we say lovey-dovey things to each other?” “Don’t push it, Insanity.”

Crap.

But you remember your secret weapon and sweetly smile. J squirms, uncomfortable. “Ummm…maybe…no guarantees.”

Jackpot!

“Can we make out for more than 10 minutes before you undress me?”

“Yeah.”

Jackpot!

“Can I call you “my sexy Metal Mouth” after you undress me?”

“Don’t push it, Insanity!”

Crap.

Oh no, here’s the sweet smile again and your boyfriend fusses under the covers, uneasy.

“Ummm…maybe…just once…no guarantees…”

Jackpot!

2.   The Joker never buys you flowers but he makes sure fresh ones are delivered for each room at the penthouse every three days. He likes to break a random one from the bouquets and places it behind your ear.

You’re usually reading a book but stop when he does that.

“Thank you baby,” and you smile in such a sweet way it catches him off guard. You go back to your reading and he sits there, staring and mumbling words. “Want me to get you anything?” you offer, turning the page; can’t really tell what he said.

“No, I have stuff to do!” he sulks, slowly walking away. What J actually said was that you look very cute with that flower but got pissed at himself since you almost heard him. A very unique way to give his girl flowers but it counts; gets a solid E for Effort.

3.   He is reeeaaally straining to do something nice for you once a month.

It’s July, 95 degrees out there; scorching hot and The Joker places his jacket around your shoulders. He saw that in a movie once and figured chicks dig it.

“I’m so hot already,” you try to give it back and see he’s getting angry and then it hits: must be that one nice thing he does monthly. “On the other hand, the air conditioning in the car is going to be full blast and you know I get cold easily.” You keep his jacket and J keeps his cool.

For August he plans to outrun every single nice thing he ever did for you: since you can’t swim he’s going to push you in the river, leave you in there for a bit and save you before you drawn. My God, you will love that for sure!

4.   He takes you to casinos because you like to gamble.

His business partners own your favorite so they close out and seal a whole room just for you two to play the slots machines.

“Baby, I’m not winning!” you stump your foot, pouting.

J loses his shit.

“Why is my girl not winning, hm?” he yells at the guys.

“Well, sir, it’s just luck,” one comments and The Clown Prince of Crime is not happy with the answer.

“My woman needs no luck, SHE HAS ME ! If she doesn’t win in the next 15 minutes, you’ll see what happens !!!!” and J hands you over another stack of 100 dollars bills because you like to play maximum bet and you run out of money pretty fast.

Fortunately, you win $100,000 and it makes you so excited you jump up and down, clapping and laughing. The Joker is excited too for a different reason: he keeps on glaring at your cleavage and your boobs almost bursting out of the tight fabric.

You don’t collect the money because you don’t need it: you just like to win. The blue eyed devil just KNOWS you will be this enthusiastic next month also when he will toss you in the river to let you drawn. You will certainly jump up and down after he saves you.

Probably J’s gonna have a huge surprise regarding his plan, but for now we’ll let him believe in his dream; gets a solid D for Delusional.

5.   The Joker goes insane if he only gets a hint somebody is disrespecting his Queen.

Once he shot somebody because the man said “hello” to you and J didn’t like the tone of his voice. Actually, the dude had a cold; that’s why he sounded weird. Oops!

Another time J thought a guy was giving you the evil eye and stabbed him on the spot.Actually, the dude just had corrective eye surgery and was blinking faster than normal. Oops!

Today is legit though. Both walked in at the meeting right when two smugglers were talking garbage about his Princess. They were saying you look average, not that attractive and The Joker could do better.

He absolutely lost his marbles ! Beat them to a pulp while screaming:

“My woman is not that attractive?! By whose standards you pieces of shit ?! Every time I look at her, my pants are getting tighter !! Do you understand what I’m saying?! I like her and that’s the only standard there is!” and he keeps on kicking them and punching them, completely out of control.

After he’s done and your henchmen take bodies away, you have to ice his bruised up hands; the skin is scraped too.

“Thank you,” you kiss his knuckles and emerge them back in the iced water, smitten by his actions. “Nobody did this for me before, you’re my hero,” you point out, drunk on euphoria.

“This town already has a hero; goddamned Batsy takes all the glory! The bastard is selfish, hates to share the spotlight!” J rolls his eyes.

“Who cares about him?! You’re my hero,” you kiss him and have to say: “I think your pants are getting tighter,” and he growls:

“Either I need new pants or I need to get laid.”

“We’ll go with the second option, OK?” you sweetly smile again and he’s feeling warmer even with his hands in ice.

“If you insist,” he sighs, hating the fact that he did two nice things for you this month instead of just one.

6.   The Joker can’t cook but once a week he makes breakfast in bed.  

Takes him an hour and a half to finish and you are famished. Finally shows up with toast, a boiled egg and salt.

“What took you so long? I’m starving!” you whine, seeing there is almost nothing on your plate…again.

“You can’t rush these things, Kitten ! It has to be perfect, OK?” he raises his voice and you realize you talked too much.

“It is very good,” you take a bite of your toast. “You are getting better and better at this!” you praise his aptitudes and strike his ego.

“I am basically a chef,” J concludes and you peck his cheek, mesmerized by how he has such an outstanding opinion about himself.

“And my hero,” you add and he takes a deep breath, pride making his chest go up and down faster. “Batsy can’t even compare to you.”

“Precisely, Pumpkin. He’s just a psycho out of control.”

“Indeed,” you agree, wanting to emphasize that nobody is sexier than your sexy Metal Mouth but you already used the opportunity when he was in a good mood the other day so you shut up.

7.    J is aware you love his purple coat so he custom ordered an outfit for you made of the same crock material, this way you match.

It’s a two piece ensemble: a very skimpy little bra and an equally flimsy thong, only for him to see. You were thinking you’re getting a halter top and a skirt or something? Ha! Forget about it!

8.   The Joker comforts you when you cry.

“Seriously, Kitten, you’re not ugly,” he caresses your hair while holding you in his arms.

“I am ugly!!” you continue to bawl, making a mess of his favorite silver shirt.

“Hey, look at me,” J lifts your chin up, forcing your eyes to meet, this way maybe he can save whatever is left of his shirt also. “When I wake up in the morning and I see you, I don’t get scared. If you were ugly, I would freak out. But I don’t, which means you look fine.”

“You mean it?” you sniffle, squeezing him harder.

“Absolutely. It could be much worse.”

“So now I look bad and I could look worse in the future?!” whaling restarts.

He walked right into this one unprepared.

“Nahhhh, it can’t get worse than this,” he kisses you and then adds since you cry your eyes out. “ What the hell, I’m teasing; calm down woman! Crying makes you very ugly!”

You stop instantly.

I guess he was prepared after all.

9.    He gives you massages even if you don’t ask for them.

For some reason, his hands always slip in your undies.

“That’s not my back,” you utter and J is quick to respond:

“My bad, Pumpkin.”

For some reason, his hands always get to your boobs afterwards.

“That’s not my back.”

“My bad, Princess.”

“Did you just say my Bat?” you tease and your butt gets pinched.

“Hilarious! Want him to come and give you a massage too?!”

“I wouldn’t mind,” the reply makes The Joker turn you around and you get pinned under his body.

“Watch it, you bad girl!” he snarls, smelling your freshly washed hair.

“Did you just say Bat girl?” you giggle and he grinds his teeth:

“Are you starting to get a kink for Batsy?”

“Me?! No way! I like my hero,” you stretch your neck to kiss him and he purrs, wanting to get the most out of it.

“I am your hero; remember that next month in August,OK?”

He is surely referring to that nice thing he’ll do for you when you’ll be pushed in the river to drawn and he’ll save you in the last moment. Oh, yeah, you’ll enjoy it tremendously!

10.   J learns French just for you.

Spent the whole day fussing around with the dictionary, three laptops and five books until he realized he got what he wanted out of it.

“Princess, I’m done,” your boyfriend announces, victorious.

You can’t wait to hear everything, you’re gonna lose your mind. The Joker takes a deep breath and pronounces with perfect accent:

“Voulez vous coucher avec moi ce soir?” (Do you want to sleep with me tonight?)

That’s all he knows.

Holy Commissar Gordon! That’s sooo hot because it’s the only French you know too. Plus the answer:

“Oui, (yes)" you wink at him and he is totally turned on.

“Oh my God, Y/N, you didn’t tell me you speak French fluently!”

“Surprise,” you grin, signaling him to come closer. “We gotta compare notes, don’t you think?”

“Definitely,” J licks his lips, ready to comply since his pants are getting tighter.

Hmmm…either he needs new pants or he needs to get laid. I suppose you’ll go with the second option one more time.

 Also read: MASTERLIST

http://diyunho(dot)tumblr(dot)com/post/153664676321/joker-x-reader-masterlist

for the prompt: jikook basking in holding hands and doing lovey dovey shit in public bc no one will recognize them in their halloween costume!

█ mask on█ wordcount: 1221w█ pairing: jeon jungkook/park jimin█ boyfriends jungkook and jimin went to a halloween parade in tokyo.first of all, thank you for sending me something to write! idk how halloween works but here goes nothing ♡

“You lookhandsome,” Jimin gushed, eyeing him from head to toe.

Underneathhis mask, Jungkook rolled his eyes and huffed in annoyance. “Hyung, I’m wearinga goddamn mask, how can I lookhandsome?”

Jimingiggled as a reply, unbothered by the dirty look Jungkook was throwing at him(mainly because he could not really see it with the mask on his boyfriend’sface), and moved to the bathroom to put on his mask. Jungkook was not really abig fan of parade, he never really enjoyed going out and surrounding himselfwith a lot of people because people sweat and there was always some pungentsmell everywhere.

He plannedto stay at the hotel, order room service or maybe they could just go to thechicken place a few blocks away and marathon the Death Note movies but ParkJimin just had to go on his phone to check the events that was going on duringthis time of the year.

BeforeJungkook could have refused, Jimin had already put his puppy eyes on, lips allpouty and looking all adorable as if he had never sinned before in his all lifeand the next thing he knew, Jungkook was putting on a black robe and had astupid mask on his face.

When theywent down to the lobby to – as Jimin said it with air quotes – “experienceHalloween in Tokyo”, Jungkook was considering faking stomach-ache but Jiminliterally skipped (not walked, but skipped) happily, flowers growing on everystep he took and Jungkook did not have the heart to lie. Sighing, he glanced atTakeda, the receptionist, who only grinned and nodded as a greeting. Jungkooksmiled back before waving a hand, only to realise he still had his dumb mask on.

Jungkookwas not wrong when he predicted it would be crowded. They arrived at the paradetwenty minutes later with Jimin leading and Jungkook sulking from behind.Everyone had their costumes on, and Jungkook’s favourite had to be the woman whoonly used make up to produce the clown from IT look. He was staring at her solong that she turned to him and called him out.

“Eh?” heasked, bewildered. For a moment there, he felt glad that he was wearing a mask –he probably looked flustered right now. “Um… Uh…” His brain chose to burn allthe Japanese phrases he had spent learning on the airplane, leaving him withincoherent words.

“She askedif you want to take a picture,” Jimin whispered, there was a hint of amusementin his tone.

Jungkook blushed,once again thanking the mask for covering his face. “Yes,” he answered inJapanese. “Yes, yes,” he repeated, fumbling on the pocket of the black robe forhis phone. “Picture, picture…” he murmured.

The womanasked a question again, and Jungkook was only able to catch the word ‘costume’.Jimin answered, although he had troubles with the pronunciation, and Jungkookwondered if this was how proud mothers felt watching their children. They tookpictures together, conversed a little more before moving on to check out others’costumes.

Jungkook’sheart almost leaped out of his chest when he spotted a guy wearing the sameoutfit he did for their Fire performance, with the same hairstyle and possiblythe same makeup. Instead of going towards him for a sign and autograph, the guyonly walked passed by him, making him confused a little bit.

“Hyung,that was totally me, right? He was dressed as me, right?”

“Now thatyou mention it, he did actually. That’s amazing. We should take a picture withhim!”

“Hyung,no! What if—”

But hisprotest was ignored by Jimin, who already ran to Jungkook 2.0 and tapped theguy on the shoulder and asked the girl beside him if she could take the picturefor them.

The guywas shorter than Jungkook, but he had to give one for this guy for his efforts.

“Do youlike BTS?” Jimin asked.

“I listento them, it’s my girlfriend who loves them,” he grinned, pulling his girlfriendcloser to him. Jungkook could not exactly tell what his girlfriend was dressedas, probably as a porcelain doll or Annabelle but Jungkook really did not wantto stare at her any longer.

“Ah, isthat so? I love BTS too. I’m a big fan of Jungkook.”

Jungkook turnedred; it was already hot and Jimin just had to go and say annoying stuff thatmade his heart flutter.

They met afew more people, took a lot of pictures and when their legs started to ache,both of them slowed down and walked side by side. Jungkook exhaled loudlythrough his nose, tempted to take off the mask because he was sweating but heremembered that he had to keep it on. There were actually more people whodressed as them, some even dressed as Yoongi’s dog and he did not want to riskgetting caught.

Jungkookstartled at the sudden hand that held his, and he turned to see it was Jimin’s.Jimin looked up to him when he felt Jungkook was staring, and despite not beingable to see Jimin’s face, he knew Jimin was smiling as his grip on his handtightened.

“Tired?”

“Very,”Jungkook murmured.

Jimin letout a breathless laugh, bumping Jungkook lightly and playfully with his arm. “Itwas a good experience, right? When else can we do this? Probably never.”

“We couldgo next year with the others,” Jungkook suggested with a shrug.

“Therewere people dressed as us, Jungkook,” Jimin giggled. “I won though, I’ve seenat least a dozen who dressed as me.”

Jungkookswung their hands together and hummed. “All of them were really good looking too… Especially the guy who dressed as SpringDay Jimin.”

“What?”

“Myfavourite would probably that Spring Day Jimin.”

“Oi!”

Jungkooklaughed, heart full and warm. He loved riling Jimin up and his reactions.

He heardJimin huffing before resting his head against Jungkook’s shoulder. “Did youhave fun?” Jimin asked, voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“I did.”

Jungkooklet go of his hand to wrap his arm around Jimin’s shoulder, bringing himcloser.

“I wannakiss you right now.”

“Yeah?”Jungkook giggled.

“Yeah.”

“What for?”

“Can’t Ijust kiss my boyfriend? Do I need a reason?” Jimin implored.

“Finethen. Give me a reason. Just one.”

“For lovingme unconditionally. For giving me a reason to wake up to. For loving me when Idon’t even love myself. For bringing me here and witness all of these.”

“Hyung, Isaid one – and stop being sappy, it’s disgusting!”

Of course,Jimin chose to ignore it and only continued seriously. “For taking care of me.For making me happy.”

“Stop it!”He was getting more and more flustered now, the tips of his ears were burningand Jimin continued.

“For beingthe best boyfriend ever,” Jimin finally ended.

“Bestboyfriend ever?”

“Uhuh.”

Jungkookcleared his throat, lips stretching into a wide grin and god damn it, he couldnot stop grinning.

“I loveyou, hyung.”

“Who’s thesappy one here, huh?” Jimin teased.

“Just sayit back,” Jungkook snapped in embarrassment, looking away when Jimin turned tolook at him.

Jimingiggled, warming his heart for the umpteenth time.

“I loveyou too.”

Pity

Chapter 5

᎒pairing: seongwu x reader ᎒

᎒genre: romance, high school!AU ᎒

᎒ ☻A ♡F ᎒ ☆ ☓ - mini series ᎒

᎒Summary: Soomin is just another top student in Seoul, South Korea basing her life on studying and being quiet. While on the other hand Seongwu is the loud popular kid who doesn’t do his work and is the class clown but not when it comes to Chungha or others call her Noona<3. This story focuses on the relationship that blooms out of pity. Will they fall in love or will they end up broken hearted and humiliated?᎒

¡WARNING!

↷ Pity Masterlist ⋯ ♡ᵎ

↷ Main Masterlist ⋯ ♡ᵎ——————————————————————————————

Chapter 5

OSW FOCUS

Right before he was going to step in, he hears another girl approaching and goes back to his hiding spot and sees Somi walk up. The girls greet each other and start gossiping again. “ I still can't believe someone that handsome goes out with that piece of garbage,” said girl 1.

“ I know right she’s so ugly and he’s so handsome, ugh I wish I did more to her, for she can regret destroying my dreams,” said Somi.  Seongwu heard everything and decided to do something about it.

“ hi guys!” Seongwu says approaching them.

“ hi!” “ hi Seongwu!” said the other girls

“ hi!’ said Somi twirling her hair.

“ I was actually wondering, how did you guys find out about me dating Soomin?” he asked curiously.

“ well we saw you guys talk to each other more often, as well as you would wait for her at the front of the school, so that clearly gave it away,” said one of the girls.

“ oh okay, um well I just wanted to let you guys know that we are still dating and if I ever hear any of you guys saying shit about her, you’ll regret it, but hey this is just a warning!” said Seongwu as calmly as possible.

“ and what if I don’t,  she doesn't deserve you, I do, I’m way more prettier than her as well as I can give you all the attention you need,” said Somi.

“ you see, I don’t need a desperate girl like you that isnneedy and childish so no thank you,” said Seongwo,” plus Soomin is better looking than you by the way.” Seongwu walked away before she could say anything.

KSM FOCUS

Soomin eyes start to open and her family notices. “ Soomin?” her mom asks. Soomin slowly opens her eyes and sees her family around her. 

“ why am I here?” Soomin asked. 

“ your here because bad people did things to you and you weren’t able to move but now you are all better,” said Soomin mom.

 Soomin quickly noticed the bandages around her arms but didn’t want to move incase it would hurt. She wanted to cry but didn’t, she knew her parents would worry more so she didn’t. She saw the flowers on the table and asked her cousin to smell them, while smelling them she saw a note and hid it. The nurses come in to change the bandages and her parents go and get coffee. She looks at the note and starts to tear up. The nurse looks at the note then at Soomin.

“ he came in running, out of breath and sweaty,” said the nurse

“ you saw him?” Soomin asked wiping a tear off her face.

“ yes, I saw the whole thing go down,” she said as she continued wrapping her hands.

“ he walked up and said hello im looking for Park Soomins room, do know what number it is? He looked like a lost little kid,” she said putting materials away.

Soomin was paying vivid attention to the nurse.

“ while the nurse told him that it was only visitation for family, he looked guilty of something, I couldn't put two and two together so I couldn’t figure it out. When he was writing the note I did notice.....” said the nurse while Soomin looked down at the note which she was holding with both hands.

* end of chapter 5*

a/n: Ksm and osw mean Kim SooMin focus and One Seongwu focus :) hope you guys enjoy this chapter!

Forest of Despair Prologue

I forced my feet to run towards the school as fast as they would let me. Of course, that was not that fast, but what could I do? I was not the Ultimate Runner or anything close to that. If I was, I would actually be on time for school. How interesting it would be to see that alternate universe. Anyways, instead of anything interesting, I was the Ultimate Mediator, Akita Yamazaki.

Ultimate Mediator: Akita Yamazaki

My younger sister had caused me to be late for school again. Like always. I had to make sure she did not do anything stupid. She was only eleven, so she had a talent of doing every idiotic thing you could ever think of. Most of those including lots and lots of unneeded crying. The Ultimate Crybaby if I ever meet one. My father was like, You're the Ultimate Peace Keeper (no, dad, it was Ultimate Mediator, thank you very much), you should be able to handle a child. A child was harder to handle than any war. That was the only thing in life I knew for certain. For all I know, all the children in the world are actually one of the four horsemen, war. Then handling them is literally a war!

Although I was a mediator, actual war and the war caused by unruly children are two different beasts. War is Hell, no matter which one you examine. Only a fucking idiot would deny that. My years of experience show that the former is a lot less emotionally traumatizing.

Other from that little distraction, it was a fairly nice day. The sky was blue, the clouds white and the grass green. It is one of those cliche days you'll see in overly sappy TV shows. Then, when my feet finally stopped, and my heavy breathing began, I noticed I was in front of a large gate. Really should be paying more attention to my surrounding that doesn't look like they were stripped out of olden time Hollywood. Now it is stripped from the Japan of years past. Inside the gate was the biggest, most perfect building I had ever seen. The building of Hope's Peak Academy. It was the second one in Japan ever. The first one has been torn down years ago during the Tragedy, and this one was built in the same exact place, only now surrounded by a bunch of annoying white flowers. Of course, Hope's Peak had always been in Japan. Just like the old times, it stood tall, watching over the entire world. There had been a time where they wanted to expand, but that was before the Tragedy screwed over the world.

The Tragedy was an event that everybody knows about. Even if people were frozen in chambers or sleeping underneath rocks, they would have known the Tragedy. It caused the greatest loss of life the world has ever known, tallying in the billions, and even changed how the actual science of the world works.

Ever since they sent me a letter saying they had accepted me, I did my research about this new Hope's Peak Academy. Going somewhere without knowing anything is just going to bite you in the ass. There were various blogs about everything you could think of, ranging from the next Ultimates to why the school should be torn down. I actually saw my own name there a few times. My work as a mediator gains me praise from both sides because I keep them from killing each other. Just seeing that made me full of pride. My work being acknowledged! I was the one girl who had impressed the Academy just by one simple action. Okay, there were probably a lot of other kids who have done that, but let me have my moment of fame here. At least I was not something as boring as a lucky student.

Thinking about the Ultimate talents, I had so many more interesting ideas than Hope's Peak itself has. Last year somebody was the Ultimate Experiment Subject. What that means, I did not know. Why would a person like that be part of the school? I had no idea. Other than being a runner, I would have a talent related to the circus! Most people hate circuses, but I was not one of those people. The only thing I did not like about circuses is clowns. Screw clowns. Anyway, I had always wanted to be the ringleader of the circus, the one who controls them all! The Ultimate Ringleader!

...That sounds like I was a criminal in charge of a drug ring instead of a circus. Having that name for a talent was a fucking stupid idea...Oh dear, back on topic!

I never tried to get into Hope's Peak, for they wanted me more than I did them. My feelings towards the school were neutral. There were people who despised it, saying that it caused the Tragedy and others that celebrated it as the savior of the world. Without Hope's Peak, there would've been no Ultimate Hope, but Ultimate Despair would've never existed either. This new school was created by the Ultimate Hope himself, Matoko Naegi. The only person who could successfully ward off the Ultimate Despair, Junko Enoshima. Their story had been told to me over and over again in history classes. The story about how "Hope" was good and "Despair" was bad. Personally, I think both of them are overrated. I must rather walk the road of neutrality, not taking a side.

I started to walk towards the building when I suddenly filled with an awful dread. Something did not feel right. I ignored the feeling though, but now I regret I ever made that decision. It was stupider than anything my sister could have done. With my first step inside the building, my feet started to shake. My own stubbornness forced me to take yet another step. It was probably because of how much I ran, I told myself. I clenched my fists and continued walking forward.

The interior was fancy but nothing special. Just standard rich people shit. The walls were brown with posters all over them. Most of them were for clubs, yet I noticed one was a dance only open for people graduating. I guessed that was something to look forward to. Dances were okay as long as they had good music. If they did not, then I literally could not care less. Even if they gave me free food. I continued looking at the walls, mostly out of boredom, until I noticed two large doors. You know, something that actually is interesting. Inside was the room before the gym. A room painted with gold and awards from the classes before. From classes before, I mean before the Tragedy. Don't really have any awards now, and there has to be something to fill up all of this empty space. Might as well brag about your history. The biggest one was for the aforementioned Matoko Naegi. Okay, his name was now Matoko Kirigiri, but history class had brainwashed me into the Naegi surname. Damn you, history class! The trophy itself only stands out due to size, for it is literally just a golden cup with a name in the front.

Gold had become very rare due to the events of the Tragedy, like a lot of other precious materials. Having something made out of gold is just begging for the nearby gangs to loot your ass, or at least really, really want to. Maybe I should tell Mitsu-cho about this, she would be interested. Anything for my beloved.

Then I reached to the gym, where my email said we should meet. I opened the other pair of doors to see that nineteen other students were around me, all sleeping. Or dead. What really is the difference? It is kinda weird that this is how my day starts, but I make a living out of going to places that go to shit. This is what I call a normal Monday. There were supposed to be twenty-one of us, so I told myself that somebody must have been even later than me. In the middle of the room, on the podium, there was a small stuffed bear. It was black on one side, white on another. The thing that truly disturbed me the most about it was the red, lighting bolt-like eye on the black side of its face. Underneath it, there was a cruel smile that clashed with everything I stood for. Something that tries to force me to take a side in a conflict to come. The bear reminded me of a twisted Yin-Yang symbol.

"Welcome to the Killing Game, Akita Yamazaki," the bear announced. Its fluffy, little arms crossed.

"What? Did mom accidentally put something in my pancakes again?"

"You heard me right, Killing Game! A game of despair and hope!"

"..." When I first heard that, I thought it was only a cruel, sick joke. There was possibly an Ultimate Puppeteer or Trickster just setting up a punchline. I just happened to be the center of the joke. All my classmates were here before me, except one so it could have been punishment for being late.

"I know I am one handsome bear. Even I, with the greatest looks of all the bear kingdom, get embarrassed, you know? So say something! Confess your love to me!" The bear...toy...thing tried to hide his plush body with his tiny arms. Bear kingdom...I wondered where I heard that before.

"..."

"Kid, have you gone mute or something? Earth to Yamazaki!" Then, all at once, everything clicked. All the history stored in the secret parts of my brain forced itself onto me. My eyes dilated as I tried to step away. I did not know what to do, only to get away from there as fast as possible. I did not care how much my feet hurt or anything else inside me.

"Who...who are you?" I asked. My voice was clearly trying to stay unshaken. And that clearly did not work. Monokuma's demented facial expression told me that for certain.

"You should know my name very well, my sweet student. I am Monokuma! My talent is being the Ultimate School Headmaster!"

Ultimate School Headmaster: Monokuma

When Monokuma finished his introduction, I felt myself knock into someone. Probably because I was backing away from the living embodiment of all of my worse nightmares. I wondered if they were the other student, but the door clearly had not open again behind me. Their shadow was the only thing I could see. It was smaller than me. Something crashed into my head before I could realize more, and the next thing I knew was darkness.

Puhuhuhu.

Sometime later, I came to. The first thing I noticed was how differently the floor felt. It was sharp and uneven, the exact opposite of the wooden floor. I looked down to see I was laying on the grass, along with the classmates around me. We all seemed to be adjusting to the new setting.

There were trees all around me. I could swear I heard somebody sneeze. Then I turned back to see a large building behind us. It looked a lot like Hope's Peak Academy, but it was run down and old. Way older than anybody with me was. Pretty sure nobody here is over forty...hopefully.

"Welcome, kiddos, to your new school setting! The Suicide Forest!" Monokuma's red eye flashed.

'Bachelorette' Episode 2 recap: DeMario is caught lying, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar stops by, AND SO MANY GOOD DOGS

Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis also make an appearance on the best episode of this show we’ve had in years.

It’s Bachelorette time. If you missed it, here’s last week’s recap of episode 1.

Welcome back, Sports Bachelor Nation. It’s Monday night of Memorial Day, so if you’re sitting on your couch sunburned and very full, please know you’re not alone. Luckily, we’ve got Rachel Lindsay’s search for happily ever after to distract us from the fact that we ate our weight in grilled meats (or vegetables, if you’re into that sort of thing) and drank a few too many beers over the past few days.

Speaking of beers, let’s watch some dudes get drunk and embarrass themselves on television as they try to make Rachel fall head over heels in love with them.

RACHEL’S DOG IS BACK!

We’re at Rachel’s temporary Bachelorette pad, where she’s talking about Her Journey so far. As she says that she’s getting good at being vulnerable, we zoom in on a shot of her dog with a cast on its leg. This seems like a metaphor, but I can’t be sure.

I have a message to the producers:

HELLO PRODUCERS PLEASE TELL US MORE ABOUT RACHEL’S DOG AND EXPLAIN WHY ITS LEG IS IN A CAST THANK YOU.

GROUP DATE ANNOUNCEMENT

In the mansion, the men are wearing henleys — official shirt of the Bachelor franchise. These men all look like the guy on the front of pack of Hanes shirts that you can buy in bulk at Walmart. I can only imagine that house smells like the men’s locker room before a middle school dance, and I sincerely hope Rachel isn’t asthmatic.

Chris “My Personal Trainer Says I’m Very Strong for a Man My Age” Harrison tells the men that A) there will be two group dates and one one-on-one this week and B) that he hopes the men are present for The Right Reasons.

HUSBAND HUNTING

The group date begins and we’re in a field. Rachel is grilling some burgers and shrimp. She throws a football because The Bachelorette is sports, and her spiral is better than many of the dudes’.

The arm of an angel! #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/KhCJWCrLUD

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) May 30, 2017

In an aside to the camera, Blake — the aspiring drummer with a mushroom cut from my fourth grade class in the 90s — says that Lucas (Whaaabooooom Guy) is a garbage person who is NOT there for The Right Reasons. I can already tell that Blake’s made himself the Guy Who Hates Whaaabooooom Guy. Blake will undoubtedly spend most of his one-on-one time with Rachel trashing Lucas and then both Blake and Lucas will go home fairly soon after.

Rachel says that her friends are coming over. Her friends turn out to be Ashton Kutcher and Mila Kunis. It turns out that Ashton and Mila are huge Bachelor fans and called the producers to let them be on the show. I’m not sure if this is true, or if one of them has a contract with ABC and had to appear on this as part of a deal.

Ashton and Mila are funny. Mila is like, “Who here has health insurance?” Health insurance and kind eyes are really all I’m looking for in a man, so I appreciate this.

THE ULTIMATE HUSBAND OBSTACLE COURSE FOR VERY STRONG BOYS

Everyone knows the first thing a man must do when he’s trying to woo a woman is run an obstacle course that includes changing the diaper on a fake baby, running around with a vacuum, unclogging a drain that’s inexplicably clogged in the middle of a field, and buying her flowers.

The men do this. Kenny says he has an advantage because he’s super dad to his ten-year-old daughter, but Whaaabooom Guy wins thanks to what I think was an illegal stiff-arm. Mila calls him “Wazoozoo Guy.”

“I don’t think Rachel’s guy is in this group,” Ashton says, and I agree.

NIGHT DATE AT WHAT LOOKS LIKE A USED FURNITURE STORE

Rachel and her big strong boys go to an arcade bar or a used furniture warehouse (I can’t tell, which doesn’t bode well for the future of the establishment) for the evening portion of their date. Blake is on a tear, because it turns out he knows Lucas (Wazoozoo Guy) from before the show, because Lucas used to date Blake’s roommate. Lucas reads Rachel a poem and Rachel is kind, so she smiles, but the poem is terrible.

Blake is in full-on self destruction mode. He does indeed spend his one-on-one time trashing Lucas to Rachel, but it turns out there’s some back story here: Blake says he lives with Lucas’ ex-girlfriend, that Lucas is a “clown for TV exposure,” and that Lucas wears makeup so he’ll look good on TV.

(PLOT TWIST: The Hollywood Reporter did some digging and found that the two were on a previous reality show together.)

Blake leaves his time with Rachel having only spoken about Lucas. Lucas and Blake then trade dumb insults for a while until Lucas, who is slurring his speech because he’s so drunk, says Blake “is dismissed.” The producers zoom in on a creepy clown face, which feels like another metaphor.

DEAN’S SURPRISING COME-FROM-BEHIND

Dean shocks the world by making Rachel laugh a lot and stirring up what seem like romantic feelings. Rachel tells Dean she truly did like it when he said, “I’m ready to go black and I’m not going back,” but that she wanted to say it first, and he stole her line. Dean, who is 25 and slightly awkward, looks extremely relieved. His hand is on her leg.

Kenny and Rachel have a nice moment where Kenny tells her about his daughter. Kenny is earnest, sweet, and kind. I think I love Kenny.

Rachel gives Dean — whose name might as well be Blake, he totally looks like a Blake — the First Impression rose and he then makes out with her. Looks like a decent kiss. Better than Bryan’s from last episode at least. Rachel seems pleased.

QUICK ASIDE ABOUT LEE

We cut to Lee, the singer-songwriter du jour, for a moment during the group date. He’s at the mansion, talking shit about the other dudes, and you can tell the producers are setting him up to be The Real Villain (Lucas is The Clown-y Villain). These wily puppeteers producers are brilliant.

PETER’S MAGICAL DOG DATE FROM HEAVEN

Peter gets the one-on-one date. This isn’t shocking, because Rachel seemed so drawn to him last episode. He’s very handsome and knows how to drive, which is always a plus in a partner. He proves he can drive by driving Rachel in a Tesla to a private plane. Tesla must’ve paid out the ass for sponsorship this season because they’ve featured very prominently so far.

On the tarmac, Rachel throws a serious curveball when she says that this date will actually be a two-on-one, because her injured best friend is coming along. I’m like, man, is this going to be another famous person, like Kawhi Leaonard?

AND THEN IT’S HER DOG!!! It’s Rachel’s adorable, hurt, beautiful dog Cooper. The producers must’ve heard me (and the rest of America) as we clamored for more information about this adorable pooch, because here he is.

I am tearing up.

THERE ARE SOOOO MANY GOOD DOGS ON THIS DATE OH MY GOD

Rachel, Peter and Cooper get on a private plane and fly to a dog party at a dog hotel.

This date isn’t fair to the other contestants, because who wouldn’t immediately fall in love with a handsome man who took them to a dog hotel? We still don’t know how Cooper was injured, but we do know that Peter would move to Dallas for Rachel, and that the sparks, they are a flyin’. Peter dances with Cooper in a sea of other humans who are also dancing with their dogs.

Both Peter and Rachel have personalities, which is something new and different for this show. My key takeaway so far is that we all need dogs, and then we need handsome men, and then we need those man to bring all of us to dog parties at dog hotels.

TOOTH DATE

Rachel and Peter go on a delightful evening date where they talk about their matching tooth gaps (never thought I’d find a conversation on dentistry so fascinating, but here we are). Copper gets his own seat.

And then something wonderful happens: Both Rachel and Peter talk about how they went to see therapists after their last relationships fell apart. As an anxious person who believes strongly in therapy, I am highly, highly, highly in favor of getting rid of the stigma that goes along with taking care of mental health issues. Talking about it openly on national television is important, unexpected, and I’m here for it.

Appropriate fireworks for a smitten kitten! #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/eNRSt1PcIK

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) May 30, 2017

Rachel is the best lead in this history of reality TV. Peter is the clear front-runner right now.

BASKETBALL DATE

Rachel and another group of merry men go to play basketball at a school gym. I can’t help but feel like maybe ABC is playing into how many sportswriters watch this show, because there are so many sports this season. There are also good dogs, which are definitely sports.

And then Kareem Abdul-Jabbar shows up to coach basketball.

This is very much sports, too, but it’s also somewhat surprising, because Kareem wrote a nuanced and spot-on op-ed in February about how The Bachelor and Bachelorette have had an abysmal amount of diversity and a serious lack of any real conversation:

“The real crime is the lack of intellectual and appearance diversity, which leaves the contestants as interchangeable as the Mr. Potato Head parts. The lack of racial diversity has already been commented on. If you’re black on The Bachelor or The Bachelorette, you’re usually kept around as a courtesy for a few weeks before being ejected. Those outside the ideal body fat percentage index need not apply. With all eyes firmly fixed on firm buttocks, the criteria for finding love becomes how high a quarter will bounce off rock-hard abs. Will we ever witness a conversation that isn’t so bland and vacuous that words seem to evaporate as soon as they are spoken?”

Maybe ABC listened? At any rate, the network has finally (however horribly and belatedly) made a black woman the Bachelorette. Perhaps Kareem decided he’d give the show a shot at redeeming itself and have some fun with Rachel in the meantime.

"I found it very interesting that he dunked on me today." - Rachel to Kareem. @TheRachLindsay @kaj33 #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/5RqqgSSg1p

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) May 30, 2017

Kareem will not give these guys a chance to redeem themselves at basketball, though, because they don’t deserve one. Lee is terrible. Kareem laughs a lot. Like, at Lee. Not with him. I love this.

EVERYTHING IS FINE

Everything is going great — the guys play a basketball game in front of a packed crowd, which includes the human version of one of those blow-up guys in front of car dealerships:

Rachel and DeMario (who by now has compared himself to Michael Jordan, Tom Brady, LeBron James and Kobe Bryant) have been seriously vibing on this date, and it’s looking like she’s going to give him the Immunity Rose, a.k.a. The Bachelorette’s version of an Epi Pen.

AND THEN NOTHING IS FINE

Uh oh. This woman named Lexi shows up and claims that DeMario is her boyfriend (actually she says, “Karma’s a bitch, isn’t it DeMario?”).

Lexi says she saw DeMario on After the Final Rose at the end of Nick’s season, when DeMario was one of the guys who showed up to meet Rachel before her season started. DeMario pretends not to know Lexi at first, which is a mistake, because Lexi has text messages between the two of them in which DeMario says, “goodnight, babe.”

Nominate this for Act Break of the Year #TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/7xHtRTNo1V

— Mark (@tole_cover) May 30, 2017

Lexi says the texts prove DeMario never ended their relationship before he went on the show, but DeMario says he ended it in person, so there wouldn’t be any texts. Rachel gives DeMario a chance to explain what happened, but he kind of fumbles through it, saying that Lexi is nuts. Lexi swears on her father’s grave and on her two kittens that DeMario is lying. She also calls him a piece of trash. DeMario is like, “I don’t have keys to your apartment!” And then he’s like “Oh, those keys. Yeah, I mailed them back.”

Both of these people are... maybe not the best.

Rachel lays down the law: “I don’t want to be played, I don’t want to be made a joke of, so I’m really going to need you to get the f[bleep] out. I don’t like being f[bleeping] embarrassed.”

"I’m really going to need you to get the f*@% out!” -Rachel#TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/dbXKvlfbQa

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) May 30, 2017

She sends DeMario home. Lexi also leaves.

RACHEL LAYS DOWN THE LAW SOME MORE

Rachel goes into the locker room and she’s like DON’T FUCK WITH ME, YOU ASSHOLES.

And by that I mean she graciously and kindly says:

“I pride myself in being real. If any of you have a girlfriend, please just tell me now, because it makes me sick that I sent people home. So with that being said, I’ll see you tonight.”

The guys are like WHAAAAAAT and pretend they can’t believe anyone would ever cheat or do anything bad. One guy, maybe Lee (or another Blake, or another Dean, I don’t know, there are too many) says, “That’s insane to me, how can you be so duplicitous?”

And I’m like, oh yeah, because I’m sure all of you are a bunch of goddamn saints.

NIGHT DATE AFTER THE DEMARIO DISASTER

Rachel tells the camera that “DeMario is a dirty, dirty dog” and that it’s making her “question the other men’s real intentions. I need to look past charm and see them for who they are and recognize their true character.”

"I need to look past the charm and see them for who they are and recognize their true character." -Rachel#TheBachelorette http://pic.twitter.com/F5tVAYpfut

— The Bachelorette (@BacheloretteABC) May 30, 2017

That seems maybe not possible after two weeks of knowing someone, but if anyone can do it, I believe it’s Rachel Lindsay.

The other guys, meanwhile, are still milking the DeMario thing for all its worth. They’re all like I WOULD NEVER HURT YOU OR ANY WOMAN LIKE THAT!

Right. And my uncle’s the Easter Bunny.

Josiah swoops in and acts all protective, which could seem bad, but seems maybe good? I don’t even know anymore. But he’s wearing a great outfit, he’s quite attractive, and he’s very smooth, so I am somewhat taken with him. Rachel seems to be, too, because she gives him the Immunity Rose.

A FEW RANDOM THOUGHTS

Diggy wears Von Miller glasses. I like Diggy, I think.

We have a Diggy and an Iggy, which is confusing.

Alex sings to Rachel in Russian.

Rachel tells Eric that quality time and physical touch are the things that make her feel loved. I love how sex positive she is. Go Rachel. All women should have good sex.

We haven’t seen enough of Anthony!!!!! I want more of Anthony!!

Kisses on live mics are disgusting.

We’re only two episodes in and this entire episode is better than Nick’s whole dumb season.

DEMARIO COMES BACK?!

So Bryan, the one who kissed Rachel first, is a chiropractor. He sets up a massage table at the cocktail party and gives her a massage. Bryan creeps me out, but massages are good, and Rachel seems into him.

Rachel and Iggy are playing a thumb war (sexy!) when DeMario comes back to try to explain himself. The security guy goes to get Chris Harrison, who is probably asleep at his house in L.A.

But Chris eventually shows up, and he’s like... okay, DeMario, I’ll tell Rachel you’re here, but it’s up to her if she wants to talk to you. Chris is doing more this season than he did for all of the past three combined.

Rachel is curious. She goes to talk to DeMario.

Meanwhile, the dudes are like “Wait, is that Chris? He’s not supposed to be here!” And then they realize DeMario is back, and they charge out like an angry mob to go get rid of him.

AND THEN THE EPISODE JUST ENDS

This is the best season of this show I’ve ever seen, and Episode 2 was the best episode. We had drama up the wazoo, promising suitors, and Rachel, who’s smart, funny, and sincere in a not-corny way that makes you actually believe such things as The Right Reasons (or something close to them) exist. I hope she gets her own talk show after this so we can keep watching her conduct the people around her like a symphony. Actually, no, I hope she does whatever the hell she wants to do with the love of her life.

I hated this show after Nick, but now I can’t wait for next week. HOWEVER: if the producers keep doing this stupid cliff-hanger shit, I will call Cooper The Adorable Injured Dog and demand he pull rank to make them stop.