#I probably should have thrown in some short stuff but these are the 3 I regularly reread | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mashiraostail · 9 months ago

Note

Found you through your BG3 stuff and it’s so good I’m foaming at the mouth

Could I request soft dom Karlach with a fem reader, maybe with a bit of praise thrown in if that’s alright?

Thank you I owe u my life

omg ask and u shall receive and it wont be self serving to me at all even a little!

I love Karlach and I love women this was sooo epic

NSFW under the cut :3

"Oh stop it-" Karlach is cringing as Shadowheart quite literally wrings blood from her hair, "you'll make me sick!'

"I can hardly help it, I'm always in the splash zone when I go into a fight with you." Shadowheart doesn't look happy about the situation either, but what must be done must be done.

"You certainly wouldn't hear me complaining, though I do like a more...direct method of delivery." Astarion some how came out the other side fairly clean.

"Oh come on, enough with the blood and guts stuff." Karlach groans, "so gross."

"What, are you trying to save your appetite?" Shadowheart laughs and flicks her hair over her shoulder, sending a small splatter of blood onto Astarion's arm. The two of them made a terribly snarky, gossipy duo. Karlach was just glad they had made friends.

"So what if I am?" Karlach crosses her arms, "I've already been denied ten years why should I be any longer? Especially at the expense of your grimy hair."

Astarion laughs at that, "no, you're right. All the power to you my friend." He looks around a moment, "say where is your favorite midnight snack?"

Karlach whirls around too, "oh shit, have we lost her?"

"She is a slippery one." Shadowheart nods.

"Kalrach would know." Astarion agrees. Karlach guffaws, shoves him. There were plenty of good things about getting her tune up, the kissing, the sex, the cuddling, and the knocking the wind out of Astarion every time he said something gross, odd, or rude.

"Cut it out." She tries to wipe the warmth off her face, being on fire was hot enough, why be embarrassed too.

"Hey! You left without me?!" You're appearing over a small hill, a new, heavy looking bag on your shoulder, "did I take that long?"

"We thought you ran away." Astarion shakes his head, "you took forever."

"Gale asked me to pick up some things." You hike the bag up your shoulder, "camp isn't far though, I guess we picked a good spot with this little market so close and all. What'd you all get into?" You stop once you've joined the group, "oh Shadowheart you smell awful-"

"Imps. Imps and goblins." Shadowheart mutters, "it's always imps and goblins."

"Together?"

"No."

"Sorry I missed it then." You laugh a little. Karlach takes the bag off your shoulder. "Oh you've probably been fighting all afternoon I can-"

"Don't worry about it, make up for leaving you behind. I always carry the stuff."

"I told you to go on without me, I guess I didn't think you actually would though." You laugh a bit.

"Well in your absence Karlach has told us all about how, when she does get you to herself you always-"

"Stop!" She shoves Astarion hard enough to make him stumble, "oh I should light you up." Shadowheart is just snickering to herself.

"I didn't-" She addresses your horrified look, "I didn't tell them anything I swear." She holds her hands up, "and even if I had, which I didn't! It's nothing to be embarrassed about, you're killer in bed. Probably just make them jealous, that's why I don't say anything."

You will the color out of your face at her comment and make the short walk back to camp with silly but comfortable conversation flowing between your little group. The sun's set in the sky by now so you're glad to be so close to camp, otherwise it may have been difficult to find your way back.

When you do make it back Gale looks excited to see you all, "did they have everything?"

"Uh...dunno, I'm just the mule." Karlach shrugs, and holds the bag out, "you'll wanna talk to the manager." She jabs a thumb to you, his gaze follows.

"They did I just- Karlach!" You brush the bag over the Gale and hold her wrist, "look! You're all cut up!"

"Oh am I?" She looks down at her arm, sure enough there were a myriad of claw marks on her forearm, "aw shit, look at that. Didn't even notice, little buggers. Enjoy your stuff Gale I've gotta patch up." You follow her away without finishing your afterthought for Gale.

"Halsin's left for the day, he said he had some friends in the area who may have information for us." You frown, "how's Shadowheart?"

"She needs to rest up before she can use anymore healing magic." Karlach shakes her head, "they're barely some scrapes, I'll be fine for now, I'll go clean up, then well...I dunno I'm yours."

"Let me help, it will be easier with two." You look hopefully up at her, "there's a river close by, we can clean you off and patch you up." She's grinning.

"Come on, you're not worried about a few little scrapes are you? Do you know who I am?" She looks delighted despite her words.

"I'm very familiar, that's why I want to help."

"You're worried? About little old me?" She's squeezing your shoulders as you walk together, "or do you just want to play nurse?"

"Maybe both." You glance up at her, she's practically buzzing.

"Don't tease me." She warns, "you'll ruin my night."

Of course you'd never do a thing like that. Though cleaning her up does take precedent, despite her groaning and whining.

"We need to make sure it's clean, then we can wrap it up." You hand her a shirt to tear up into some makeshift bandages. She uses her free hand and her teeth to do so, she certainly notices you shift and avert your gaze.

"What are you all shy about?" She laughs at the color on your face.

"You know." You tut and frown at her, though it's not very believable.

"What? Is it me?" She watches you use one piece of the shirt to wipe the blood, "Am I making you act all shy?"

"You're always so mean to me-"

"Its me isn't it? You like me, don't you?"

"Oh stop." You press a damp hand to you cheek, trying to cool off.

"What? Tell me all about it! Do you fantasize about me? Have dreams about me?" She's leaning towards you, her voice teasing. You use another piece of cloth the wipe her arm off with some water.

You scoff and look away from her, it just makes her laugh.

"Your silence speaks volumes! Tell me!"

"No!" You use three strips of thicker fabric to wrap her arm up, "I won't!"

"So you don't deny it!" She catches you by your waist, "tell me, or you are not getting a single thing from me tonight-"

"You're evil! You should know how it feels to be denied! Have a heart!"

"Oh I've got one, wanna see?" She's laughing, nosing at your jaw, of course you tilt your head for her, you could never deny her, despite yourself. "Come on, just give me a little taste."

"I don't have anything to tell you!" The crimson engulfing your face said otherwise.

"Uh-huh." Karlach wraps her arms around your back, "can I have a kiss?"

You indulge her without saying anything else about the subject, she seems contended with it for now. You have a feeling you aren't quite out of the woods though.

"You look so pretty when you're embarrassed." She holds you by your chin, "I can't help myself." Her hands are tugging at your shirt, you help her slide it off. She takes in the sight of you with as much enthusiasm as always you can practically hear her brain knocking around in her skull, every thud screaming with excitement, 'TITS!!!!'

"I'm so fucking lucky-" She's giddy with it, kissing down your neck and shoulders, probably planning her attack on your chest. "You're such a sweet thing, gods, I don't know how I have it in me to behave all day knowing this is the sight hiding under all that armor you wear."

You gladly clamber into her lap, she's ducking down into your chest, her hands exploring the newly exposed flesh unabashedly. "You're really very pretty, you know?" She says it into your sternum, you're trying desperately to undress her, eventually she takes pity on you and helps it along. When she stands to shake the last of her clothes off all you can do is drop to your knees, she laughs.

"Well I wasn't gonna boss you around or anything." She's grinning at you and gods you love her, it's all you can think about, you're kissing at her stomach rubbing your face into her warm skin, she just laughs some more.

"Aw look't you, so sweet. What is it? You wanna take care of me?" You make a choked off noise at that, nodding and pulling her closer, it's a frantic nod though, rushed and almost desperate.

"Alright, alright, don't start crying now." She pulls you away to look at you for a moment, "you aren't off the hook, but I'll take a detour." She slings a leg over your shoulder and her hand tangled in your hair on impulse and you close your eyes, if only to hide how far back your eyes roll into your skull. Occasionally you feel her nails scrape the nape of your neck. You were pressing your lips to her, running long strokes over her with your tongue and thumbing at the the wetness whenever you needed to catch your breath. Karlach hadn't taken her eyes off you, she was practically singing you praises and it made your stomach knot up desperately.

She uses her grip on your hair to guide you along but she doesn't need to do much, you already know what to do. She pays extra care to pull all your hair off your face to get the best look at you she can.

"Gods, look't you, pretty girl, just like that, 's perfect." Even her moans are perfect, it's obscene. If anyone asked you she should be locked up, wearing a big flashing warning sign. All you can do is moan, hold onto her thighs, beg to be impossibly closer.

"What're you moaning at?" She's grinning devilishly, "you just like the sound of my voice don't you?"

"Yes, yes I do-" The way she tugs on your hair pulls a perfectly lovely moan out of you, and it makes her laugh in a warm, fond sort of way that makes you want to lay down and spread your legs open for her.

"Alright then, lucky for you I love talking to pretty girls." By the grace of some god you find it in you to play a bit coy with her.

"You think I'm pretty?" You're looking up at her with perfect blown out pupils, and swollen red lips wearing her cum like lipgloss, matter of fact it's spread out pretty evenly over your cheeks and chin too.

"Oh fuck-" She drops her head against the tree she's been leaning on, "I'll blow my fucking lid, cut that out. You wouldn't be able to survive the things you're making me want to do to you."

"I'd try, for you." If she had something to say to that you don't let her get it out. You realized your mouth had been too far away for far too long. You missed the feeling of her tugging at your hair, pushing and pulling you to her own accord.

"Oh gods- dammnit-" She's bucking her hips into your face, her hold on your head especially tight, she groans, it's from her chest, low and thankful. You feel her stutter with the orgasm rolling over her and she pushes you away. Her chest heaving.

"You're a dream, you know?" She's pulling you to your feet, she laughs when she has to steady you a bit, then she kisses you. "Taking such good care of me all night. Looking so pretty while you do."

You feel her hands on between your shoulder blades, she's kissing down your jaw and neck, you're putty in her hands, waiting to be put where she wanted you.

"Come on," She's picking you up, wrapping your legs around her middle, "tell me, before I could touch you like this, and you had to take care of yourself. Tell me what you thought of. I'll tell you mine."

"It's so embarrassing-" You honest to god whine at her, if she were a stronger woman she'd be able to suppress the shudder it sent up her spine.

"Tell me, I'll give you whatever you want, all night if you do."

"It was just you-" You groan as she sets you down on your back and crawls on top of you, "your voice, I could hear it in my head so clearly." She's grinning from ear to ear, impish and coy.

"What was I saying? Was I bossing you around?" She laughed a little because gods you were an idiot, all she had to do was lay you down and you were spreading your legs for her.

"Sometimes-" Your chest was stuttering.

"Oh?" She pushes the syllable through pursed, curious lips, "what about the other times?"

"You're moaning," you're bucking your hips, searching for pay off, something anything the heat was unbearable. "Saying I'm good, calling me pretty-" You couldn't help the hand you brought down to rub over yourself, it was just something else for Karlach to look at.

"You like when I call you pretty?" She's attacking your chest with kisses that leave a burning trail in their wake, "you touch yourself and imagine me watching, calling you pretty?" She laughs that laugh again, the one that makes you wanna lay face down for her. "Maybe you're just as far gone as I am."

"I definitely am." You're practically begging her to touch, after 10 years of holding back she finds it almost impossible to deny you.

"Wanna see if it's as good as when you dreamed about it?" She's pulling you up, turning you over, you go because you're so stupid for her when you get like this, she could walk you off a cliff if she wanted.

" Are you gonna make yourself cum for me?"

This was overwhelming, you felt drunk, your emotions were running so high, you were so horny you could sob, "I'd do whatever you want-" She was kissing at the backs of your thighs, you could feel her breath on your desperate fingers.

"Oh, careful pretty girl you're giving me too much power." She's laughing, her voice was low against your skin and it made you shudder. "I might not be so nice next time."

"No, no, you can do whatever you want to me Karlach- fuck-" You gasp, feeling her thumb brush against you.

"Whatever I want?" You can hear the grin in her voice, impishly charming.

"Yeah, anything-"

"I could tie you up?" She nipped at your skin and that paired with the thought of it alone could get you to cum, "yes please-" Your eyes were glossed over, you were pushing your hips back into her, begging for a firmer touch.

"Oh gods, you've gotten yourself into trouble now. And here I thought you were a nice girl." One of her hands pulls your upper thigh, right were it meets your ass, to get a better look at you.

"You know," Her other hand joins, taking the other thigh, you can feel her nails pressing your skin, "really I can't think of anything else to say but pretty. You are so pretty for me. I can't blame myself for thinking you were a good girl, how could anyone so pretty be bad?"

All you can do is moan, practically cry at it.

"You know it's everything too, not just this." Her thumb brushes you again and you actually think you feel your soul leave your body. "The noises you make, and that pretty red blush you get every time you look up at me. Like I'm deflowering you every time I touch you. Ravishing you, scandalizing you."

"Karlach, please-" She hadn't asked you to beg, that was all on your own accord.

She makes a pouting noise, faux sympathy, "alright, I'll give in. Tell me where you want me, pretty girl. I can't say no to face like your's."

You don't know where to start, you want it all honestly. Lucky for you she's started, replacing your hand with her own then slipping her fingers into you. You were melting into the ground below letting out a desperate warbling moan mixed with a handful of profanities.

"Good or bad-" She cautions and you shake your head, the momentary loss of friction makes your eyes water desperately.

"Good! Good, Karlach, please, fuck-"

You were whining and moaning into your arm, which had been previously holding your chest off the ground. Your eyebrows turn up at it, "oh fuck-"

You were acutely aware of how well she knew your body at this point. Every stroke into you had you moaning, rumbling from your chest, the momentum she'd picked up carrying with a bounce in your cries.

For a split second she was gone, stopping to wrap her arm around your front, as quickly as the touch was gone it was back. Then her free hand was in your hair dragging you up to press your back against her chest and fuck it hurt a little but in a way that made your spine tingle and ripped the most beautiful fucking moan Karlach had ever heard out of you.

"Oh sweetheart-" She moans it into your neck, "you'll kill me at this rate." Her arm wraps around your middle and you grip her forearm with your hand, the other coming around your back to hold onto her there.

She picked back up to pace quickly with you against her chest, bounding forward with unrelenting force that hit you so hard she could hear it in your voice.

"That's it, you pretty thing, just like that, huh? That's perfect." She's cooing into the crook of your neck, "good, good job."

"Fuck-" Your nails dig into her arm, "fuck me, Karlach-"

"The mouth on you lovely girl," She groans into your neck, pulling you into a sloppy but stupidly hot kiss.

"When it was me, waiting to finally touch you, this is what I thought about." You can feel her breath behind your ear when she speaks, "all the different ways I could completely undo you, how good you'd be for me while I did, how you would beg for me to do it. I'd never make you worry about anything, no." She tsks, "I thought about how much fun it would be, taking care of you. I got off thinking about your pretty, empty head, getting railed by me. How'd I do?"

"I'm gonna cum-" You somehow manage to choke it out, "'m gonna- fuck!" Your eyebrows knit together and of course she grins.

"Go 'head, I wanna see it." She was kissing your shoulders a hand coming down to thumb at your clit, you keen loud and still bouncing, "wanna hear it-" She murmured into your skin, "I definitely wanna feel it too."

"Oh fuck-" You gasp, your eyes roll back from the shock of it. Thank god she can't see your face because you must have been drooling. The jerking tenseness of your hips and the way you called out her name like she was an angel would drive her insane for months to come all she can do is sink her teeth into your shoulder.

If it wasn't for her arm around you you'd have slumped to the ground.

"That good?" She laughs and you nod.

"Come on, let's clean you up." She lays you down and takes the extra pieces of cloth you had on hand to wipe you clean, "are you alright?" You only nod again and she chuckles,

"and she was too stunned to speak. Another knock out performance by Karlach."

That gets a snort out of you and you shove her arm, "come off it, K."

"Uh oh, someone sounds tired." Her hand rubs your stomach, you're purring like a cat.

"No I'm not." You drag your hand down her stomach, obviously downwards and she laughs.

"Easy there solider, I think the others are expecting to do a least a little adventuring tomorrow. You look ready to pass out anyway." She gathers your clothes up, then you where you'd crumpled into the floor.

"Come on solider." She hoists you over her shoulder, "let's go to bed, I'll get you all tucked in nice and warm in my tent."

"Yeah, okay....good idea K." You were content to dangle over her shoulder, "K, I love you."

"OH I know you do, pretty." She pats your backside, "but I love you more."

You gasp as she drops you onto her bedroll, "no way!"

"Yes way." She's kissing and nuzzling your neck while you laugh, "admit it before I have to ravish you right here in this tent to prove it!"

For as delightful as your touch was your laugh was just as intoxicating, you nodded desperately trying to squirm away from the ticklish kisses and bites.

"Lay down." Karlach pulls away, smiling, "I don't think there's anyone on the planet who's ever loved anyone as much as I love you." She thumbs at your bottom lip, "and I don't think there's anyone in the world half as a pretty as you are. Sleep tight knowing that." You preen at her words as she settles down into bed with you.

"Let's go to sleep, we haven't go much nighttime left, no thanks to you."

#karlach x reader #karlach x tav #bauldrs gate 3 #karlach #bg3 #karlach bg3

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railingsofsorrow · 7 months ago

Text

Epilogue

[peter parker x reader]

summary: harry finds your behaviour slightly suspicious & there's an evening spent between friends.

pairing: p.parker x f!reader; slightly harry osborn x f!reader; mj x felicia hardy.

w.c: 3.3K

warnings/content: jealousy; injuries (mentioned); protective harry osborn; language; migraines (mentioned); clumsy but committed peter parker (yes, he learnt from his mistakes. finally); discussion about the multiverse theory; angst but there's more fluff this time sadly; minor character's death (mentioned).

A/N: this fic has come to an end :( it was fun writing this. my first experience in writing a short spiderman fic, it was so hard to come up with a good ending and it probably still not perfect but I feel like it's a good enough one. I hope you like it too and that you'll come back to read more of my spiderman stuff, cause there will definitely be more! good reading, people <3

navi

masterpost

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[1] [1.2] [2] [3] [4]

“So they're just gone?”

You turn your neck to glare at your friend. Ever since you mentioned your migraines to him one day and he saw one of your episodes once or twice — a little bit more than that — he hasn't stopped bugging you about it. He wanted you to go to the doctors to get checked out. Until, well. Until the migraines miraculously vanished. Your head never bothered you anymore and you're even sleeping better, given the lack of dark circles around your eyes.

Harry wasn’t having it.

First and foremost, he did not believe continuous migraines were cured just like that. Overnight. Because how come he saw you incapable of watching a lecture one day and you're perfectly fine on the other?

Either you are popping some pills or someone magically healed you.

He didn't like any of the options.

He was still worried, okay? Harry cares. He may not be loud with it, but it's you, so he cares. And he cares a lot. You should know better than to just outright lie to him.

“Yes. Why does it matter? I'm fine, shouldn't you be happy I'm no longer whining on your shoulder?”

“You're not taking drugs, are you?”

A surprised laugh echoed around the room and he almost felt his body melt at the sight of your curled up frame from how much you were laughing.

“It amazes me,” you said between chuckles. “that you'd think I'd pull that off.” Not without him knowing, at least. You and Harry are side by side for almost the entire day.

“I don't doubt you.”

“You're losing faith in me.”

“I never had it.” He huffs out a laugh when you throw a pillow at his face, hitting him right on his nose. He fell on his bed with a groan, you moved his homework out of the way before he could mess it up by laying on top of it.

“Just... tell me if it gets to that point again, okay?

You look at him, contemplating something that he can't figure out. With the way you avoid his eyes as you answer, he knows you decided to say something else instead of that first thought. “I will. But it won't.” He found the conviction in your voice strange. You can't know if it will ever get that bad again. Just as the migraines miraculously left, they might come back.

He didn’t question it further.

You went back to your homework, sharing some insights on his as he does with yours. It didn’t last long until your phone started blaring beneath the pillow you're perched on, the sound being slightly muffled by the fabric.

You feel Harry's teasing before he can sputter out a sentence.

“Shut up.” You hissed, picking up the call without looking at the caller ID.

“One Direction. Really?”

“Hello.” You pointedly turn away from his smirky face. You have to take the phone away from your ear due to some loud police sirens that come from the line.

“Hi, hello!” The distinctive voice of Peter Parker replies. Yelling. That was the only way you would be able to hear him anyway. “There's been a thing and I— Shit!”

You concluded the phone is thrown away because his voice suddenly sounds very far.

You offered Harry a lousy excuse to step out into the hallway, frowning at the other voices and the police sirens you could hear.

“Peter, you—”

“I'm back!” Again, you take the phone away from your ear with a sigh. “Sorry, I was— I was busy.” You gathered that fact by the way he sounded breathless.

“Are you running?”

“No!” The noise proceeded to quieten down and you raise an eyebrow at his blatant lie. “Sorry, was I loud? Feels like I was being loud. Sorry.” A door is closing and he's groaning at the end of the line. Instead of finding it funny, you start to get worried, picturing a dislocated shoulder or maybe a deep gash on his arm like last time.

You and Peter made an agreement. When you agreed to be friends again — part of that starting over bullshit that was your idea — you and him worked on filling each other out on both of your lives. Just catching up as good friends do. Less than a month later you were patching up his wounds as if you never had stopped doing that in the first place. Sometimes, you'd even think you were back where you started as if it was all back to the start of your story in Queens. Midtown. Making plans with Ned and Peter for the weekends. Sitting with MJ at lunch as much as she claimed she hated company. . .

There was a pull at your chest every time you remembered it wasn't like this. You weren't back at that time. You couldn't go back. You only had the now and it had to be enough. It was enough.

“Peter, are you hurt?” But you still felt the same agony whenever the idea of Peter being hurt came across your mind. An unsettling fear settling up in your core.

“No.” he shuffled around, clearing his throat. His voice was back for you to hear it clearly. “I'm fine. Just a bank robbery downtown and I—” he paused to let out a heavy sigh. “I'm sorry I'm late, I'll be there in a second, okay?”

You blink, confused. “What? Late for what, Peter?”

“Hanging out?” He said followed by a tinge of uncertainty. “Uh, you said that after class—”

Your brows shot up in recognition. “Oh! Yeah, that's—” Then you checked the time on your phone. You were supposed to meet after class to hang out around 5 p.m. It was still 3 in the afternoon. “Peter,” you held in a chuckle. “That's like, two hours away. You're not late.”

There's silence on his end and you start laughing.

“Oh,” he mumbled, letting out a breath of relief. “That's— That's good. I was thinking that I was like really really late and—”

“You're good, webs.” You softly reassured him. Peter has been working really hard to make sure he doesn't mess up with you again. That included arriving early at places. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah, I just got here.”

“Mhm. And you're not hurt at all?”

“Just a few scratches,” Peter answered with hesitancy. You smiled triumphantly. Not because you're happy he's hurt but because you knew you were right. “I'm fine, alright? You don't have to come.”

“Okay.” You said, stepping back into your dorm room, catching Harry eying your frame from your bed curiously. “No broken limbs though, right?”

Peter's scoff put a smile on your lips. “Have some faith in me. I can handle a robbery.”

The joke Spiderman can handle a robbery but Peter Parker is still clumsy almost slips out but, thankfully, you remember you're not alone.

“Sure. I'll see you later.”

“Hey,” he called your name before you could hang up so you waited for him to speak. “Do you— are you going— how are you— I mean...”

“Peter, breathe.”

You didn’t notice Harry's eye-roll, too busy cracking up at Peter's stuttering mess.

“Okay. Alright. Are you going by yourself? Cause I can pick you up and we can go, you know, so you don't have to go alone?” He clarified, a strain in his voice as if he's been choking up to say that.

“Oh. Harry and I are going to head out together, actually. He's here.”

You patiently waited for his response. “Of course. Yeah. Okay. I'll see you later then. You and— and Harry. And everyone else.”

“Yeah.” You sat down on the bed, biting the inside of your cheek. A weird feeling of guilt in in your chest. “See you later, then. Bye.”

You don't know why you feel guilty about turning him down. All of you would meet in the same place anyway so it's not like you weren't gonna see him, right? It's just a matter of logistics.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

You gave Harry a blank stare as you threw your phone to the side to go back to your assignment. One of his eyebrows arched up in defiance, he played your game of not looking away for a few minutes before you got sick of it.

“I wonder if the reason you're bothered by Peter is because you secretly have a crush on him.”

He looks away first and your lips spread into a satisfied smirk.

“Parker's not my type.” Harry uttered, leaning over your lap to mark a question that you had gotten wrong. His curls tickling your chin. “And this is wrong. It's not fifteen, it's fifty.” He decided to add for good measure, stepping out of your personal space. “I'm not bothered by him.”

You hummed quietly, erasing the previous calculation to redo the math.

“Who is your type anyway?” You asked, trying to cut through the tension. Every time you mention Peter, Harry's mood shifted. He got too quiet. He just didn’t like him for some reason you couldn't yet figure out. Peter and he haven't met before, that much you know. You claim you'll be out of this, because it's none of your business, some people just don't like each other, it happens. But you're curious and if the opportunity to find out the X of the equation comes, you won't run from it.

“You'll never know.” His mumble is so low that you wouldn't have heard it if you weren't sitting so close to each other. He steals the pen you were using, earning a frown from you. “I like this one better.”

“Buy one for you then,” you complained, not moving to get the pen back from him. You take the one he was using instead, eager to finish the assignment so you can have the rest of the afternoon free with your friends.

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[Pete]: (Picture attached)

[Pete]: Do you want this back?

When you opened the text message, your breath hitched. The image Peter had sent you showed the red scarf, the one you never let go of. You hadn't seen it in a while, ever since... Ever since you paid him a visit that night. The night you were set on burning the scarf along with that collection of pictures you found in your room.

You've been to Peter's place countless times after that, though. You wondered why he never mentioned anything.

[You]: Keep it.

You sighed, conflicted with that short answer. You weren't being rude, you didn't meant to be. But you didn't need the scarf anymore. Not when you have him back in your life. You realized the scarf represented everything the two of you lived and everything you didn't.

You didn't want it back. You weren't ready.

Not now, at least. You hoped he wouldn't be hurt by it.

[You]: Maybe one day you can give it back to me.

Satisfied with your reply, you slipped your phone into your pocket, standing up to help Harry carry five smoothies toward your table. Ned and MJ were on their way, as for Peter, you figured it was the same. His apartment wasn't that far from where you were.

“I know a loser when I see one.”

“Hello, MJ.” You greeted after taking the first sip of your smoothie. You offer her hers and she bumps your hip, sitting beside you in the booth as a greeting. “Where's Ned?” You asked, frowning now that you didn't see the boy arriving along with her. They were always together.

She shrugged, leaning back. “He said he would be ten minutes late. He was gonna get Peter so they could go to this store nearby his place before coming here.”

You didn't take long to acknowledge which store she was talking about. An eye roll later, you crack out a smile in amusement.

“The Star Wars one?”

She nodded and the three of you quickly entered a conversation about a movie that was airing on the local theatre. Ned and Peter arrived in the middle of your discussion, a few bags in their hands that earned your curiosity.

“Did you buy the whole store?” You joked, the edge of your lips curling up as Peter sat down in front of you, placing two little bags on the corner of his seat.

Peter raised an eyebrow at you, amusement all over his features. “Did I?”

“Looks like it.”

“Oh, this is—!” Ned exclaimed, taking a sip of his smoothie. Harry held back a laugh at the boy's blissed-out state. “You got it right.” He then pointed at Harry accusingly. “I love you.”

Harry shrugged, “I know.”

“The one time I got your order wrong—” MJ begins.

“You never get the right one.” Ned deadpanned, interrupting MJ's speech. The girl kicked his chin under the table and Ned proceeded to kick hers back. Just before the childish fight could escalate, you pull both of their ears and hear whining asking you to stop.

Peter and Harry were chucking and you have to backtrack because Harry wasn't glaring at Peter for the first time. Is this progress?

After a mindless walk to the nearest park, all of you silently decided to stick around for a while longer, basking in what was left of the sunset and the hues of orange, pink and blue that mixed together to form the purple sky of the evening.

You teased MJ at her inability to stop texting her girlfriend while in an evening among friends and she flipped you off immediately, blushing. She's been seeing Felicia Hardy for two months and from what you could see, it was becoming rather serious, even though MJ still cannot admit it. You know your best friend and her hidden smiles and secret joy because of a new person she's interested in.

“No, no, no. You don't get it. It's like different universes in one— Actually, no. Multiple universes that are currently happening right now. You could be you, but you're, I don't know, a villain in this other universe, while here, you're just Harry.”

Both of your and Peter's neck snapped as you turned towards the conversation between Harry and Ned.

Harry carried a crease between his brows, confusion twisting the corner of his lips.

“So I'm me... but different?”

Ned nodded vehemently. He'd always get excited whenever the topic of multiverse was brought up.

You, on the other hand, were tense and you did not have to look at Peter to know his reaction as well.

“I'm sure in every reality you're an entitled filthy rich bastard the same way. Don't worry.” MJ’s comment was enough you breathe again. Peter’s awkward laugh at your side.

Harry rolls his eyes, “and I'm sure you're sarcastic and bitchy about anything and anyone, Jones.”

You throw your head back to stare up at the sky.

“Children.” You mocked. Peter attempted to hide his laugh but he was not successful. You found it endearing how his cheeks slowly turned pink. It reminded you of when you were kids, he'd turn into a tomato every time he tried to hold in his laugh. “Behave.”

They initiated a bickering about she started it and he started it and Ned made a comment to side with Harry to add fire to the flames.

Sometimes you thought they could remember and then reality crashed down the moment for what it truly was. It could be good and bad at the same time. Bittersweet might be the right term to name the feeling. Of course you miss everything that was, but what currently is is also good, in a way. You have your people, despite the losses, you have him back and it's all that you could ask for.

“Peter.”

He gives you a sheepish smile, looking down at his shoes as he buried his hand in his jacket.

“Did you like it?”

You close the small box carefully. “How could I not? It's beautiful. I loved it.” You said, then punched his shoulder playfully. He pretends it hurts, but you know it doesn't. “Don't spend that much money on me, Parker.”

Peter shrugged, playing the nonchalant part. “I'll do what I want, actually.”

“You're such an annoying little shit, aren't you?”

He shrugged again, this time he's got a cocky grin and a little smug attitude you recognized from when he got an answer right and you got one wrong in an assignment. It's a glimpse of the carefree nature of Peter Parker. He's a little bit proud at times, but still clumsy around people, shy between strangers, and wears his heart on his sleeve for the people he truly cares about.

“You love it.”

“Help me,” you asked him when everyone stopped by the fountain on your way back to university. You had your back to him and he finally understood what he was supposed to do when he saw your fingers holding the two parts of the necklace behind your neck. He stepped forward, taking both parts from your hands and freezing once your fingers met. Your skin was cold. You shivered as he clasped the necklace, adjusting with a shaky sigh. His throat moved under his hard gulp. “Thank you.” You turned around with the little rose gold maple leaf pendant around your neck.

Peter blinked at you in a daze. The streetlight illuminated your figure as you moved your hair away from your shoulders so it wasn't curling around the necklace anymore.

You're beautiful. So beautiful.

As soon as he saw the maple leaf pendant, you came into his mind. It reminded him of the Fall, your favorite season, which, of course, led him to you. Funny that everything, somehow, lead him to you. He doesn't know what his life would be if it didn't. Nothing would make much sense, honestly. Peter didn't know how the other Peter Parkers handled losing you in their universe. It was such a difficult thought for him to even consider. His initial goal was to protect you and if that meant he had to let you go, then so be it. He would do it. Because you deserved a life without the mess that was his life. You deserved peace and happiness. But that plan backfired when he saw you crossing the street to reach a coffee shop. It was 8pm in the evening and he was on patrol. He had stopped two robberies an hour before so he was getting ready to go home and throw himself into bed, give a rest to his alter ego for the night. Until you showed up, crossing the street so distracted that a car almost hit you. Peter pulled you back in time, a hand on your shoulder to steady you from the scare of the car horn. You had been crying and at the moment Peter's only thought was to comfort you and figure out who had made you feel that way.

“Myself.” You laughed, tearfully. “Sorry. I wasn't paying attention.”

He convinced himself that from that point on he had to watch over you, to simply make sure you wouldn't cross the street without looking both ways again, or trip mad and get a severe head injury. He'd watch you from afar, it couldn't do any harm.

In reality, that was Peter's way of not letting you go and it had not been fair to either one of you. Especially you, who earned headaches and migraines and insomnia because of memories begging to come back, memories that shouldn't have been removed at all.

Peter disappointed you. He disappointed himself too — and probably Aunt May, who must be shaking her head in disapproval wherever she was watching over him from. He's slowly making peace with himself after everything. He's finally seen that having you close by was better than the heartache of letting you go and trying foolishly to move on. He didn't want to move on from you and if that was selfish. . . that was fine. Peter was never anything besides selfless his entire life. And if you wanted to be in his life, why couldn't he want to be in yours?

He would acknowledge the past and make the best out of the present. As for the future, well, he wasn't concerned, it would probably lead him to you. As always.

#peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fic #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #reader insert

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rintarousgirl · 1 year ago

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i wanna be yours -- 3. arabella

✦ - Y/N is a small business owner, offering her services not only as a designer but an at-home makeup artist and cosmetic producer as well. She's perfectly content with her small life when she's approached by the manager of the INARIZAKI band, asking for her to fill the position of backstage artist on short notice. Needing the money, and wanting the experience, Y/N agrees. Little does she know of the fatal attraction she will share with the band's lead, Suna Rintarou.

»»————-　★　————-««

Shopping had been surprisingly easy for you, and you'd managed to save some of Kita's money to buy some more makeup supplies that you may need. You were certainly going to need a surplus of it if you were going to do four guys makeup every day.

You had packed all the outfits you'd bought into a suitcase, giving yourself more to drag along behind you. Rubbing at your face, you stared at yourself in the mirror. You hadn't bothered much with your own appearance, but you were due to leave in an hour and you looked like a mess.

Sighing, you grabbed some concealer and lip-gloss and put it on, so you didn't look as exhausted as you felt. Your hair was thrown up to be out of your face, so you weren't constantly trying to brush it out of your face while applying. Your outfit was just as simple, a white tank-top and some black jeans. You didn't want to wear clothes you cared about as you knew makeup made a mess, and you'd probably be running around.

Pulling out your phone, you send a quick text to the groupchat.

Despite showing up a good hour and a half before the show started, you found yourself weaving through crowds of people, dragging your suitcase of clothes and bag of makeup behind you. You manage not to grab much attention thankfully, swiping the backstage card you'd been giving and checking in with two security guards by the dressing room.

It's large, is what you noticed first, and dimly lit. Though you have multiple mirrors that light up, so that should be enough. There are two costume racks for you to hang up the clothes you'd bought.

Placing your stuff down, you open the connecting door that led backstage. The stage was big, or at least, the biggest you've seen in person. You hadn't been to many concerts, but you remembered going to one with Bokuto a while back. It was in a small little space, not too overwhelming, but as you looked past the stage and into the crowd you felt that familiar rustling of fear grows in your gut.

You shouldn't be scared, you know that. You were doing what you did best, after all, you weren't even the one preforming. Your fear was stupid, but you couldn't help the worries that floated through your mind. What if your makeup gave one of them an allergic reaction? Or you didn't have the right foundation and concealer for their skintones? Or you made a big mistake somehow and there wasn't enough time to fix it?

Kita's appearance snapped your out of your worries, placing a warm hand on your shoulder. "Y/N," he greeted warmly, "I know you've just arrived but I'm gonna need you to start working immediately."

You nod, "Of course, send them my way," you giggle, trying to keep your own mood light. Kita smiles, before drifting off to yell a few orders at some crewmen. You shuffle your way back into the dressing room, propping the door open with a chair before beginning to set up your station. You pull out four chairs and set them up along the long desk with mirrors.

You organize your makeup, putting them into categories along with the brushes and blenders. You'd cleaned them all extensively, and even bought some new ones. Once you were satisfied with that, you began to hang up the clothing on racks.

Aran walked in first just as you started hanging up the clothes on the second rack, the Miya twins and Suna slinking in beside him.

"Ah," you hum with a small, stressed smile, "take a seat!"

They listen, and you can hear the social media audios playing on their phone. On tiktok and instagram and twitter. You wish you could talk to your friends like they could, but you didn't want to waste any time.

After all the clothes had been hung, you divided the group. You were going to have Suna and Aran do makeup first as the twins tried on outfits for you to decide. Atsumu seemed to be delighted that he'd get to do a little fashion show, which you agreed. You loved trying on new clothes yourself.

You start on Aran, seeing as you were able to be more comfortable with him. If you got relaxed on your first client, you should be good for the rest. You work swiftly and dedicatedly, only stopping to judge which outifts you liked.

You dab on concealer and swipe minimal amounts of blush onto his cheeks. You manage to brush on some mascara, though he isn't up to the idea of eyeliner. You put some chapstick on his lips, seeing as you'd bought a whole new pack just for tonight.

You pause, brushing his dreads out of his face as you brushed his eyebrows.

"Uh, Kita never said anything about doing your hair..."

Osamu, emerging from the attatched bathroom, waved a hand in dismissal. "We're guys, it doesn't matter." You huff, shaking your head with amusement. "How's this outfit?"

You look up, and a smile crawls across your face. He's wearing a simple white and black striped shirt, with some beige cargo pants. You'd dress it up with accessories, of course, but otherwise it's perfect.

"It's great," you say, "I'll get to your makeup after Suna."

It was great timing that Aran had finished just as Osamu found the perfect outfit, so you sent Aran in as Osamu sat down. You could hear Atsumu's complaints about "nothing looking good on him" from the bathroom, wincing a bit.

You shift over to Suna, who was already looking at you expectantly. You give him a small smile, and his lips twitch. "Can I have your wrist?" you ask, holding out your hand. Slowly, he offers it up, and you begin to swatch shades on his skin.

You go through about three, before settling on an ivory tone. You paint small triangles on his skin, on his main spots that would be hit by the stage lights. You blend them softly, fighting to ignore the way his soft breath hit your throat and how his eyes kept trying to meet yours.

He smelled of tea, you noticed. Hot tea and fresh cookies. It was kind of comforting, reminded you of a lazy summer afternoon in some weird way. You felt yourself relax more and more.

Atsumu and Aran came out at the same time, both having decided on an outfit. "I don't care if you don't like it, Y/N, I am so tired of changing," Atsumu complains. You look up, trying not to judge too harshly. He wore a dark grey jersey with the number 5 on it along with some ripped black jeans. It was fine, maybe a few necklaces would bring some shine to it. You nod your consent, and he sagged into his seat.

Aran on the other hand had some baggy black jeans as well, with some chains hanging from his belt loop. He had on a simple white t-shirt and a red flannel. You'd accept that too. You figured the theme they'd keep to was black, whites, and greys, so you got a lot of those along with some pops of color here and there.

Suna did allow you to do eyeliner, which you tried not to shake too much as you dragged the pencil on his waterline. You smudged it ever so slightly, giving him a natural smokey eye without any actual eyeshadow necessary. You dab on a bit of highlighter to his cheeks and nose.

When you dragged the chapstick across his lips, your heart skipped a beat. The way he stared at you felt completely unprofessional, even though he hadn't done anything but meet your eyes and stare at your lips. The stick caught on his lip, and due to your trembling, you had to occasionally swipe a finger across his lips to wipe off any globs of chapstick.

"Thanks," he rasped, when you gave him the go to find an outfit. You hummed shakily, before waving Osamu and Atsumu over. You figured you could do them both at the same time considering they'd use the same shades.

Suna came back around the same time you finished Osamu and Atsumu's makeup, dressed in a black t-shirt with some white thin floral designs with a white-long sleeve underneath. He wore some gray cargo pants to blend in the clashing white and black easier.

"Uhm," you stutter, checking the time. They had thirty minutes. You needed to accessorize then let them warm up quickly. "Stand in a line, please."

They listen, and babble as you go around. You give Atsumu a few layered necklaces to put on, and Osamu a black baseball cap. Aran already has the chains on his belt loops, so you deem him fine, thankful that he'd dressed himself up, even going as far to put beads in his hair.

Turning to Suna, you open up a package of rings you'd bought with him specifically in mind. His pretty hands, uncalloused where they plucked the strings of his rhythmic guitar or held onto the mic stand as he sang.

You individually put them on his fingers, not trusting him to decide where they'd look good. They were all silver, and relatively simple. You knew they'd drag a positive light to his fingers, just as the belt loops would drag attention by fans to Aran's hips and the baseball cap to Osamu's face and the necklaces to Atsumu's throat.

They were all features that you knew people would be attracted to, especially their online following. You'd seen how people reacted to twitter to pictures Akaashi and Kuroo posted. It was part of the reason Akaashi now had a private account, he got tired of dealing with all the people in his dms and replies.

You stand there awkwardly, trying not to cower with their eyes on you. You adjust a few things here and there and brush a bit of setting powder on their faces.

"Good luck guys!" you say, giving them one of your best smiles and a thumbs up. Aran gives you a little smirk, and the twins give you identical beams. Suna instead tilts his head, amusement clear on his face.

"Thanks Y/N," he whispers, his hand brushing your arm. His skin was cold on your feverish skin, and you feel your heart pound in your chest. They leave backstage, and you hear the feedback of the mic and the pounding of drums as they begin to rush through their warmup.

Kita meets you backstage, handing you a water bottle that you accept gratefully. You take small sips from it, the cool water feeling great on your tongue. "You might want to bring your supplies out here. During breaks you'd want to touch them up and you don't have much time to pause."

You nod, and head back to grab some setting powder, mascara, blush, and concealer. You place them on a small table beside the stairs leading backstage, next to a bunch of water bottles and small snacks. You steal a carrot off a veggie platter as you set up your supplies.

Soon enough, the band is walking off stage as the security guards begin to let people in. You notice the band's target audience seems to be teen girls and young adults. You hadn't heard their songs, but their audience was still ranging from young to people almost your mother's age. Biting down on your lip, you look back to the boys who look completely in their element.

Aran seemed very relaxed you noticed, an easy-going smile on his lips as he talks softly with Osamu. Pre-concert jitters didn't seem to get to him like they were to Atsumu, who was peering around the curtain anxiously. He twirled his sticks in his hands, clearly hoping to play soon.

Suna slides up next to you, stealing a brownie from the tray.

"Are you nervous?" he asked, with that sweet-smooth voice of his. His words were quiet, you noticed, even when he was talking casually. You didn't deem him the quiet type to be honest, but the more time you spent around him the more it made sense. Suna just wasn't the type of guy who yelled, he wasn't like Bokuto and Hinata.

You were very excited to hear him sing, to see how that raspy voice translated into a loud enough belt to overpower the other instruments and the crowd, microphone or not.

"A little," you admit, hugging your arms around yourself, "though it's kind of stupid. I'm not even the one preforming."

He shrugs, taking a bite of the brownie. "Kiy--our old makeup artist got the same way," he says, and you decide to ignore the pause in his voice, "she was always nervous that we didn't look our best, and that'd she'd done a bad job."

"Did I?" you ask softly, looking up at him. Even though the lights were off, his eyes shone like emeralds. You had done good to your standards, but you hadn't seen the old artist's work. Who knows what kind of miracles she was pulling off.

"No. You did good, Y/N, really good," he compliments, and you try not to blush as you bite down on your lip.

"Thank you," you say bashfully, bowing your head.

"Does it come natural to you? Putting on makeup, I mean."

You sigh. "I guess? It didn't at first, but after so many years I could probably do a natural look in my sleep."

"It looked natural," he said, meeting your eyes. He looks at you softly, and you feel your breath hitch in your throat. Suna's smiling, you notice. He's giving you a small genuine little smile. "I watched you. Didn't even look like you were struggling."

"Well, thank you, Suna. It means a lot," you giggle, struggling to hold eye-contact.

There's a moment where you're both silent, just staring at each other. His eyes drift from your eyes to your lips, then to your trembling hands. His own hands lift from his sides, as if he was about to touch you, before falling back down and shoving into his pockets. "You're welcome," he says slowly.

And then there's nothing else you can say to each other, because the curtains are closing and the band has to take their spots. As he stands in front of the microphone, guitar strap across his shoulders, he looks over to you.

Reasonably, he could've been looking at anybody behind you, but you still lift up your hands and give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He lets out a chuckle, though you can't hear it, and turns back to the curtains as they begin to open.

The crowd is borderline roaring, phones raised high and people shouting names.

You catch sight of Atsumu's wicked grin, before he begins a pounding drum solo to start off the first song.

Your heart catches in anticipation as you watch Suna strum his guitar slightly, and his mouth open as he begins to sing.

»»————-　★　————-««

<- previous | next -> | masterlist

fun facts! :

★ - when picturing how the band sounds it’s obviously inspired by arctic monkeys but also think like chase atlantic and maneskin.

★ - suna’s really trying to talk to y/n, but he isn’t the best conversationalist 😭

★ - osamu’s baseball cap is supposed to be like the one he has in the canon time skip

taglist:

@mannaornot / @gojoscumslut / @sunarots / @alienvarmint / @fleoresies / @tkooooop / @cheriesdear / @shotenvinsoot / @wolffmaiden / @riiceandsoup / @thebrownemo / @vivian-555 / @effmigentlywithachainsaw / @rukia-uchiha-98 / @weird0o0 / @seiamor / @rory-cakes / @blue-violin / @reveusecherie / @hellokittylover9 / @yourlocal-bunny / @keniza / @cerberuspuppy1

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spookymystery67 · 1 year ago

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I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

AN: And another chapter! Now bringing in some of the plot and game dialog from RE 3 remake. We'll get to 2 soon. I did not re-read this chapter so I hope it doesn't suck. Enjoy!

TW: Violence, murder, zombies, guns, ect. Typical Resident evil stuff. NO MINORS!

Chapter 3:

September 28, 1998-

All your attempts at leaving the city have not worked out so far. The evacuation helicopters always left or were too full for you to get on. You had actually made it to the edge of the city on foot on the 26th, but quickly turned around when you saw Umbrella men with guns blocking all exits.

You'd rather take your chances with the zombies at this point. You knew that as soon as you walked in sight of those men that you would be shot at. There was no way out.

So you made do with what you could. You found a shotgun and more ammo for both your guns discarded throughout the parts of the city you could access. You also had a gun holster now, which was helpful. Your guess is that they had come from the police and the military people attempting to subdue the outbreak.

Speaking of the police station, with nowhere else to go you figured you would test your luck there and see if Katherine and Ben were still alive. You weren't even sure if they were still here. Katherine's father would have been long gone and out of the city by now, and he surely would have taken his own daughter with him.

Ben, well, you weren't sure. Ben would probably still be in his cell, if you had to guess. Irons is an asshole. He wouldn't let him out. Even in an apocalypse.

You still had the flash drive tucked away in your front jean pocket. You wished you could shower and change your clothes, but you had already changed into your second outfit two days ago and have yet to come across a goddamn clothes store without a whole horde of zombies in it. You were not going to waste all your ammo for a new hoodie.

You looked at your surroundings as you crept out of a secluded alleyway, checking for zombies or any other mutated beings. Like those blind ones with no skin, sharp claws, and tongues that stretched further than tongues should be able to.

That was not a fun encounter. Just when you thought it couldn't get worse, those things had appeared to ruin your day. Your guess was that they mutated from the fires that seem to be everywhere in the city. Their skin had melted off, leaving a morbid appearance of muscles and bones. How they were held together, you weren't sure.

You did learn fairly quickly that they only respond to loud sounds. Seeing as they had no eyes, they fully relied on their hearing. So if you move slowly and quietly in their presence, you should hopefully be alright. Maybe. That's the theory at least.

Once you see the coast was clear, or as clear as it could be in a zombie infested city, you quickly begin to run out of the alley. You had the cover of night to help you a bit. When you checked your watch a few minutes ago it was 8:01pm.

The part of the city you were in wasn't as bad as other areas you had been in. That was changing quickly though. As more and more people started to turn and a fire had broken out in different buildings.

As you're running through the alley, a woman suddenly gets thrown out of the burning building to your left, landing right in front of you.

You let out a yelp of surprise. She gasped in pain, weakly crawling away from the door, debris crumbled and blocked whatever it was that was chasing her. She clearly wasn't infected. Just scared as hell.

"Holy shit! Are you alright?" You asked her as you carefully walked forward, holding out your hand to help her up.

She studied you for a moment, noticing your disheveled and blood stained appearance, along with the gun sticking out of your backpack and the one in your hip. You studied her. Her brunette hair was cut short and her light blue tank top and jeans did very little to protect her pale skin from the bitter chill in the air. She was clearly well toned and very pretty.

She eventually decided she could trust you, and took the hand you offered to her.

"No." She huffed, grasping her abdomen in pain. You huffed a laugh at her blunt answer.

"I wouldn't think so after that tumble you just took. Come on, things in this area are getting worse. We have to go. Do you need help walking?" You asked her.

"No, I got it. And what do you mean worse?" She asked you. You look at her like she's grown three heads. Which at this rate you worry you might actually see.

"What do you mean "what do I mean"? Where have you been for the last five days?" I asked as we walked through the alley.

"Lockdown." She muttered. As we walked through the alley to the exit, there were people running around in fright in front of us. Police sirens were still going off. They had been going off for days now.

"What's the fuck?" Jill muttered in confusion at all the chaos.

"Jill! Over here!" A man shouted from the alley's exit.

"Brad!" The woman at your side, Jill, sighed in relief.

"You okay?" He asked as we walked closer.

"What was that thing?" Jill questioned. You can assume she wasn't referring to zombies, probably something far worse. You stood at a distance and watched the interaction.

"Damned if I know." Brad shrugged. "But right now it's got a hard-on for the only two S.T.A.R.S left in town: you and me."

"Wait, you two are S.T.A.R.S?" You asked. This is perfect! Maybe they can help you get the information on Umbrella out.

"We were, until we were shut down." Jill said.

"By, Irons." You nodded, already knowing.

"How did you know?" Brad asked, suspicious. Jill stared at you more closely.

"You look familiar. Did you know a man named Ben Bertolucci?" She asked.

"Yeah, I worked with him. How did you know?"

"There was a photograph of you standing near him in the papers, you weren't mentioned though."

"Look, this is nice. But we have to move. I'm not sticking around. Just look around you. The longer we wait, the more screwed we are." Brad motioned to the chaos around you three.

"Yeah, it's been like this in spots all over the city. I guess it's just finally happening here." You tell them as you start to move.

You walked by a cop car that crashed into a coffee shop. The cinema in front of your path bursting into flames. Crashed cars and semi trucks blocked different paths, debris making them no longer usable. People were running and screaming for their lives, away from the chaos.

"How did this happen so fast?" Jill gasped.

"I dunno. But one fucked up thing always leads to another. It's like Arklay on steroids." Brad said.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later. The police have been stretched thin all over the city trying to bring back some form of control. This was the last area to fall apart."

Just as you said this, two rescue helicopters flew over us. Brad tried screaming for their attention, running after them. We followed. Running around the corner, we come across a tall makeshift fence attempting to block a horde of infected people. Jill gasped in disbelief.

"We've gotta be dreaming. How could this many people be infected?"

I nudge Jill, drawing her attention to the zombies beginning to climb and get past the weak fence blocking them from us.

"Brad! Here they come!" Jill shouted, the fence crumbled down and we looked for a safe way out.

"In here!" Brad gestured to the Jack Bar to the left of us.

Jill froze at the amount of zombies coming for you all. "There's so many…"

"Come on, Jill!" You grabbed her arm and dragged her into a run to the Jack Bar where Brad waited at the door.

Jill opened the door and you ran through. Brad threw a sign at the zombies, attempting to keep them away longer. It failed, and the zombies continued running in your direction. Brad and Jill ran through the door and attempted to shut it, but the zombies pushed against it, making them fight to get it shut. You join in attempting to shut the door.

"Door behind you, go!" Brad yelled. Jill ran to the back door and you took her place in helping to keep the door shut, being careful as to make sure your limbs aren't anywhere near the mouths snapping at the two of you.

The door on Brad's side gives out and he gets bit in the arm, dropping the knife he was using to defend himself. You continue to try and push all your weight on the door, desperate to get it shut.

"Brad!" Jill yelled when she saw Brad was bitten. She ran over, grabbed the knife on the floor, and stabbed the zombie biting Brad's arm in the head, causing it to fall back and allowing you to finally shut the door.

"On no." You said when you saw the bite on Brad's arm. That is not good. You, Jill, and Brad continue to fight to keep the door closed, the pressure of the zombies breaking the lock.

"Don't think about it. We're gonna make a run for it!" Jill told Brad.

"C'mon, Jill. We know how this ends." Brad said, grunting at the pain in his arms and from the effort of keeping the door shut.

"No. I don't." Jill said, stubbornly.

"Are we still a team?" He asked.

"Always."

"Then do me a favor, and don't fuck up like I did. Go!" He shoved her away from the door and gave you a nod to go. You nodded back and ran to pick Jill up off the ground.

Running to the door, you paused to wait for Jill, who had turned to give Brad one last glance, before she followed you out the back exit of the bar. You shut the door behind you both. Brad just gave up his life to save the two of you. Better not waste it.

"I'm sorry, Brad." Jill muttered as you both walked away from the door and out to the alley.

"I'm sorry about your friend, but we need to go." You told her, feeling sympathetic but knowing now wasn't the time to grieve. She nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, let's go." She paused when she saw the body of a police officer, gun clutched in his dead hand.

"Sorry." She whispered as she took the gun off of the body. The door behind you slammed open and you raised your handgun to aim at the zombie walking through. Jill beat you to killing it, managing to get it down with one shot.

"Damn, it always takes me three." You said.

"You've been doing this for five days?" She asked.

"There are other parts of the city that the outbreak spreaded through much faster. I had been trying to get out, but there were Umbrella soldiers standing on the outskirts, shooting anything in sight that was attempting to leave. Even the living."

"What's about the helicopters?"

You snorted. "I've had bad luck with those. Either always missing them or they're always full to the max."

You two ran along the sidewalk, coming to a stop when a big neon sign fell in front of you. It would have crushed you if you didn't stop. You two ducked under and continued to run.

A bus and debris blocked your entrance to the road, so you two took a hard left and got to the gated door of another alley, avoiding any zombies trying to take a bite out of you.

You shut the door behind you and continued moving. A bright light suddenly appeared over the two of you, briefly blinding you.

"You two! Get to the parking garage roof!" A voice from the helicopter above you both said.

"Parking garage. Got it." Jill said as the light went away.

"Sounds like a plan." You agreed.

You both walked through another door to a building, noticing an old man standing out in the open.

"Sir, are you alright?" Jill asked.

"Stay back! Don't come any closer!" The man exclaimed, backing away and walking towards a storage container.

"Hey, come on. There's a helicopter waiting to take you to safety." Jill tried, attempting to calm the man.

"What "safety"? I'm not going out there!" The man exclaimed, climbing into the container.

"The parking garage isn't far, we can take you." You said. The man didn't care.

"The only safe place is in here." The man said, shutting the door to the container in your faces.

"Sir, what's your name? I can't just leave you behind." Jill said.

"It's Dario Rosso. And yeah right. You just want to steal my safehouse. Get your own, missy."

"Missy?" Jill asked.

"Would you please calm down? She's a police officer. She's here to help." You said.

The man laughed harshly, "Oh yeah, cause they've been doing a real bang-up job. You wanna help? Go handcuff yourself to one of those freaks."

"Well fuck you too, old man." You muttered.

"Sir, this is your last chance. No one else is coming for you." Jill said. She really didn't want to leave him behind.

"I'm not going anywhere! I'd rather starve to death in here than be eaten by one of those undead monsters. Now leave me alone!" He yelled.

"Come on, we wasted enough time here." You said. Jill nodded in agreement, and you two continued heading to the parking garage roof.

You made it back outside and was startled by a dog barking aggressively on the other side of a fence. Jill pulled you in the opposite direction, leading you to the garage. You had to crawl beneath a partially collapsed fence that had a zombie on top of it trying to get through. As you crawled past that one, another jumped against the fence, making you and Jill scream in fright. The fence still held, so you both continued crawling at a faster pace.

You made it through and Jill helped pull you to a stand. "This way, let's go."

She led you through the parking garage entrance, a zombie in the entrance booth banging at the window in your presence. You ran past it and stopped in front of an elevator. Jill pressed the button to the elevator and waited for it to open. You both yelled in surprise when two zombies came running out of the elevator once the door opened. You quickly pulled out your gun and shot one, Jill taking care of the other. You pressed the elevator button once more and it slid open less. You shimmied through the gap and waited for Jill.

"Jill!" You yelled. She ran up and shimmed in after you. A zombie tried to get through the gap and Jill quickly kicked it away. You pressed the button and the elevator immediately closed.

"Come on." Jill gasped, urging the elevator to go faster. You both stood there, trying to catch your breath.

"So, nice weather we're having." You joked, trying to lighten the mood.

She huffed a weak laugh, "Kinda chilly, actually."

"Not a fan?"

"Not when I'm wearing a tank top." She gestured to her blue shirt.

"You want my hoodie? It only has about two and half days worth of blood and dirt stains on it."

She laughed. "I'm good. Thanks."

The elevator fully opened to the roof of the parking garage. As you both walked out, the helicopter flew above you and flashed its light on you both.

"Hey, down here!" Jill beckoned. The helicopter flew to a free spot on the roof and waited.

"Hey, get in!" The pilot yelled.

You and Jill quickly ran your way through the maze of cars towards the helicopter. You got about halfway there when the helicopter's tail was hit by something and control was lost. It spun in the air before crashing just a little away from the two of you. You and Jill are thrown back by the impact and into an orange car behind you.

You and Jill quickly stood up before Jill paused in fright. You looked at the direction she was looking at, a tall, strong and grotesque figure walking menacingly toward her.

"Huh, that's new." Your heart started beating faster in your chest.

"Get in the car." Jill told you, motioning to the orange car you were both thrown into. She tossed the dead body in the driver's seat out of the car with a muttered apology. You rounded the car and got into the passenger seat.

She struggled to start the car as the tall figure continued to make its way slowly toward our direction, seemingly taunting her.

"Oh, come on. Start damn it!" Jill panicked.

Finally, she got it to start the third time she turned the key.

"It's my turn, bitch!" She yelled, slamming her foot on the gas and directing the car toward the tall figure. You braced for impact.

The car slammed into the monster, it barely reacted, the impact was similar to slamming into a tree. It punched through the windshield and grabbed Jill's neck. You screamed and quickly tried to get the giant hand off her throat. Jill continued to desperately push on the gas, trying to get it to budge.

The car finally knocked the monster off its feet, driving across the car park and crashing off the roof, taking you both with it. Your stomach jumped at the sensation of falling. Yours and Jill's screams filled the air as you once more braced for impact.

The car crashed and flipped on the ground, causing you and Jill to fall to the roof of the car. Your seatbelts weren't on. You groaned in pain, your body aching everywhere from the rough ride.

On your left, Jill whimpers and chokes in pain. You quickly, or as quickly as your bruised body will allow, sit yourself upright to check on her.

"You alright?" You asked, looking her over to make sure nothing is broken.

"No." She said, her eyes on the tall figure that growled and slowly got up from the ground. As if it didn't just get hit by a car and off the roof.

"Oh, what the hell? Okay, get up." You struggled to get her sitting upright, dragging her out of the car as fast as you physically could. You both grunted in pain from the pressure on your injuries.

Just as you got out of the car, it exploded, causing you both to yelp as you, once again, got thrown through the air from the blast. You groaned as your bruised and scraped body landed on the rough ground.

You turned around and saw the monster was walking through the fire, still persuing Jill. Its face was melted and deformed. The monster just looked more terrifying now.

You got up with a groan, stumbling over to a frantic Jill, who was trying to crawl away on her back. You grabbed her arms and attempted to lift her up, nearly falling over yourself as your knees almost gave out.

"Hey! Fuckface!" A voice yelled, getting yours and the monster's attention as a rocket was launched at it. The monster caught the rocket with a tentacle it somehow formed, throwing it away to a police car, causing it to explode.

You looked over and saw a man in combat gear with a rocket launcher on the hood of a car. He shot the monster once more, this time succeeding in hitting it. The monster fell to its knees, not dead, but disoriented.

The man dropped the rocket launcher and ran over to you and Jill, who you were still struggling to help stand up.

"Hey, easy lady. I got you." He said as he went to help Jill up.

"Who are you? What are you d-" Jill started, gasping in pain.

"Name's Carlos and I'm saving you two." He said, succeeding in helping Jill up. "Come on, let's get you two someplace safe." He wrapped Jill's arm around his shoulder to help her walk. You join them with a slight limp.

"Are you able to walk?" He asked you. You nodded, waving your hand at him.

"Yeah, I'm good." You told him. You patted your pocket, the flash drive is still there. Good. You checked your backpack. Everything is still good and fully intact. Your backpack had managed to save you from a broken back quite a few times already.

You studied Jill's savior a bit closer. He was a well toned man, with curly dark hair that nearly covered his eyes and tanned skin. He was cute. If you were into men you'd be interested.

As you looked at Carlos you froze, noticing the Umbrella logo patched on his sleeve. Wonderful. Just what you needed.

You could make a run for it. But you didn't want to leave Jill behind without knowing if she's safe. He can't be all that bad. He did just save Jill. But you didn't want to let your guard down. So you just continued to carefully follow behind them, watching the man and your surroundings.

-September 28, 1998-

Carlos led you two to the subway near Downtown Redstone street. You all stopped and gasped for air, trying to calm your beating hearts.

"I think we're in the clear." Carlos gasped.

"Hope so." Jill muttered, out of breath.

"We've been bringing survivors here." He said.

""Here" where?" She asked.

"My guys have converted some subway cars into a shelter. It's safe." Carlos said, going to help Jill walk again.

She brushed him off, "I'm fine."

He raised his hands in surrender. "Personal space. Okay, I get it. Let's go." He began to lead you through the subway station. Brief flashbacks of when you were last at a station went through your mind. You hope your friends are okay.

You walked closer to Jill, muttering under your breath. "Did you notice the patch on his sleeve?"

"I did. What I don't understand is why you're so weary of Umbrella. What do you know?" She whispered quietly, not wanting Carlos to hear the two of you.

"A lot. Too much. Enough to get me killed if they found this on my person." You pulled the flash drive out of your pocket to show her, then quickly put it back.

"What is it?"

"Evidence. Something I have a feeling you need. And I'm willing to give it to you. Once I know you're safe and can get it into safer hands."

"You would just hand it over? Just like that?"

"Only to the right person. Ben had tried to do the right thing and tell the people, but that backfired on him. I honestly don't know who else I could trust to help with this. I figured a S.T.A.R.S member would be my best bet." You looked at Carlos walking in front of you, and held out your arm to stop Jill for a moment.

"I just need to know it will be safe in your hands, Jill. Ben and I went through too much for all this to be for nothing. I need to know that after this is all over, people will know who was the real cause behind his outbreak. You must understand, it all goes far deeper than you realize. "

"I will. This evidence is exactly what I needed to start proving that Umbrella was no good." She started.

"You two coming?" Carlos questioned, realizing we fell behind.

"Yeah, one second." Jill said, before turning back to you. "Hold on to it for now. Once I know I can keep it safe, I will like to have it."

"And I will gladly give it to you." You laughed in relief, before you both finally continued to follow Carlos.

"Hey, what do you know about that monster?" Jill asked him.

"Nothing. I've never seen anything like it. But it's no zombie. It knows what it wants and won't stop till it gets it. Don't you like that in a man?" Carlos jokes, still leading us through the station.

"No thanks. He's all yours." Jill said dryly. You snorted, choking on a laugh in your throat.

Carlos chuckled. "Listen, I promise you're in good hands. I'm with the Umbrella Biohazard Countermeasure Service. U.B.C.S for short."

"Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding? You guys are the one who caused all this!" Jill shouted, not believing that anyone in Umbrella was here to help.

"Whoa. Whoa, whoa. What are you talking about?" Carlos asked. "You don't have to trust me, but I'm going to the shelter. You two coming?" He kicked a door open. "C'mon, it's this way."

You and Jill shared a look, before following Carlos.

"I don't think everyone in Umbrella knows what really goes on in Umbrella. He might not know, Jill." You whispered.

"I still don't trust them." Jill mumbled.

"You don't have to." You said. You both make your way into the train that was being used as shelter for survivors. Beside Carlos sat an injured older man, also in combat gear, who you assumed was more higher up than Carlos.

"Hey, Captain. This fine young lady could use our help." Carlos said, gesturing to Jill.

"Carlos, you didn't even think to ask fine young lady her name?" The man asked, an accent in his voice that you can't quite place. Russian?

"She is an elite operative of R.P.D Special Tactics And Rescue Service. Her name is…something…Valentine." He continued.

"It's Jill." She said as she took a seat. You stood from the side, watching the scene unfold.

"Nice to meet you, Jill. I am U.B.C.S Platoon Leader Mikhail Victor. My team was sent here to rescue civilians." He grunted in pain at the end of his sentence, the wounds on his abdomen severe from what you could see. A bite, perhaps? You weren't sure.

"Right. How's that going for you?" Jill asked, a distrusting tone in her voice.

"The city is completely cut off. Isolated. Most of the hundred thousand civilians will wind up dead. Ah, correction: undead." Mikhail Victor said. Jill looked irritated and saddened at those odds.

"My Platoon has suffered serious losses. Just keeping them alive is more than I can manage." He admitted.

"Well you can thank your corporate overlords for that." Jill snarked.

"Yes, well… we are doing all we can. If we can get the subway train moving…we can evacuate some survivors." Ah, he's gonna ask her for help.

"But we need help. My men cannot do this alone." He finished.

Jill looked to the side, debating. She made eye contact with you, looking for some advice. You huffed and shrugged. You can help, but it's up to her on whether she wants to do this or not.

She sighed then smirked. "Alright, I'm in." She stood from her seat. "But I'm on their side. Not yours." She pointed to the civilians in the cart next to us.

"Oh hey, hey. That's cool. We all want the same thing." Carlos said.

"Thank you, Jill." Mikhail Victor said.

"Alright, supercop. Here you go. We can use this to stay in contact." Carlos said, handing Jill a walkie talkie.

"I know what a radio is." Jill snarked. Carlos huffed a laugh, before shrugging.

"You coming with?" Jill asked you.

You figured you at least owe any surviving civilians that. Seeing as you had failed to shut Umbrella down sooner and failed to prevent all this from happening. Ben can wait a little longer.

"Yeah, I can tag along."

"Okay, first thing's first. We need to get you two geared up. Head up to street level. You'll find supplies there." Carlos said.

You both nodded and made your way out of the train. "By the way, what's your name? I never got the chance to ask." Jill questioned.

"Oh, Y/n. Y/n L/n."

"Nice to meet you, Y/n. Thanks for saving my ass."

"Yeah, well, I have nothing better to do at the moment." You laughed.

#ada wong x reader #ada wong #resident evil x reader #resident evil #jill valentine #leon kennedy #claire redfield #carlos oliveira #idk what else to tag #resident evil 3 remake #I Wish I Could Walk In Heels

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elizabethplaid · 8 months ago

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a drafted note - April 7, 2021

I've now had 3 former romantic-interests reach out and check on me in the past 6 months. Maybe I'm too entrenched my own bubble-world, but I don't understand why they're reaching out. We weren't that close; we drifted apart, sometimes even by my choice. I kinda understand the ex from 15 years ago, but not the other 2.

Is this part of growing older, the passage of time? People stop and reflect, then want to reach out before it's too late. No, because we don't say anything, don't solve anything. Anything of substance. There’s a status update, the mention of “I’ll message again later, take care”, and then no follow-up.

I have this figurine with an electric eye, and it plays music when it “sees” light. So anytime you pick it up, the music starts and won’t stop before the end of the song. These check-ins from lost contacts feel like someone has dug out the figurine, and I’m suddenly reminded of how startling that song-feature is. It was packed away, safe from light, with me happily forgetting it. Not a big deal in the long-run that it came back. But the silence was disturbed and the emotions, memories, and lack thereof came rushing back. Just a rock thrown in my pond.

Whenever someone has done this sort of check-in in the past, I’ve hated how I can’t trust them to stick around and keep talking. Now, I purposely don’t want to talk to them; those chapters of my life are closed to me and carry no interest. There’s no appeal to reconnecting.

My ex probably does care about my well-being, as he saw me through some of my worst anxiety attacks and mental health stuff. But it was short-lived puppy love of a 19-year-old girl. And neither of us were good for the other.

I don’t know what’s expected of me. Should I just say, “I’m dense/confused enough that I don’t know what you want of me. Please give me the parameters of this interaction, so I know how to navigate. What’s the goal? Why now? Why me?”

--------------- Finally posting in Feb 2024: Nothing much came of these interactions. I told one guy to not bother messaging me, as he had been doing it once a year with the same results.

For the record, we were still in quarantine and under masking mandates per covid at the time.

#draft saved April 7 2021 #daily notes #clearing drafts #queued post is queued

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sweetbillwriting · 1 year ago

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This Is Bad, Billy

Part 3 - Life Is Too Short

Description: 1961. Joanie is a dreamer. She dreams of Hollywood, fashion and handsome men. Her favorite is the actor Billy Skarsgård. When she works as a volunteer at the hospital she meets him in an unexpected way and comes closer to him than she thought was possible.

Characters: AU Bill Skarsgård, here called Billy. He's inspired by real life Bill but also the character Clark Olofsson in the Netflix series Clark.

Setting: This story is set in the 60s L.A and a smaller town close to L.A.

Warnings: 18+, historical preferences, mental health problems, mental illness, abuse, smut, sexism, mentions about racism.

Billy moved around my room and looked at my stuff. He had thrown his leather jacket on my bed but kept his leather shoes on and succeeded in imprinting a brown footstep on my light green rug. He stopped in front of my ceiling high shelf full of extravagant porcelain dolls. I had always been proud of my collection but now I felt childish when a man like Billy looked at them.

"Is it like a collection?" He asked, pointing to them with a finger while he turned around and looked at me.

"It is. Many of them are handmade, my father bought them from his trips to different countries."

Billy made a face I couldn't read and then laughed a little.

"Aren't they quite scary? Like, watching you while you're sleeping?" He said with a creepy voice, walking slowly towards me with a hunched back and wiggling fingers. I giggled at him and moved side to side in embarrassment.

"They aren't alive, stupid," I said but cringed a little when I heard my own words. Of course he knew that. Billy smirked and continued to look around. It felt like I had killed a moment but pretended to be unbothered and sat down on my bed. He looked at my photos that stood on my vanity table. There were some from birthday parties and graduations and the picture of me with my father at my high school graduation had caught his interest. He looked at the photo and then at me.

"Is this your dad?"

I just nodded and silently wondered why he asked. Billy made a face again that I couldn't read and put the photo frame down, then he smiled charmingly at me.

"I don't know, it's something about you… It feels like you have potential," he said and sat down on the bed next to me.

"What do you mean by that?" I smiled and played with a curl that had fallen down from my updo. Billy shrugged his shoulders and looked at my face, examining.

"You can do better than this. You're much more interesting than this," he said, spinning his finger in the air.

"You're not that boring girl. Not that kind of girl that lets men run the show."

It was odd hearing a man say such a thing. I've just heard it from women my own age, girls that wanted more from life than being a housewife. I smiled at Billy and looked him in the eyes.

"My daddy thinks I should be a doctor like him. But… I'm not so good at such things."

"And why should you do what he wants? Okay, he has higher thoughts about you than being a man's servant but he wants you to be in his world, follow his rules."

I nodded and dragged my fingers over the back of Billy's hand which laid on his thigh. He took my hand in his and searched my eyes again.

"You should be in L.A. I can help you, you know."

I looked at him with big eyes of fascination but also of doubt. He was a psychiatric patient.

"I will be out of the ward soon. Trust me. I have the hearing in like a week."

"The hearing? For what?" I asked confused and looked at him with furrowing brows.

"Just a bullshit thing that they locked me up for."

I nodded a little bit but after a minute I took courage to ask what it was. Billy laughed embarrassed as he dragged his hand over his face.

"You will judge me."

"No. I promise."

"It's with a girl," he said and looked at me examining. He probably believed that I couldn't handle hearing that he had been with other girls. I nodded and looked at him curiously even if I was afraid of what he would say.

"I went down on a girl at a restaurant." He looked away and rubbed his eye in discomfort.

"Went down like..?" I asked and swallowed hard. Did he mean what I thought?

"I licked her pussy."

"Oh… But.. Is that enough to get locked in at a psychiatric ward?" I was embarrassed to hear his confession but was also confused because it sounded like an awful thing but not enough to be a lunatic.

"I have a history… I've been there before."

"For what?" I don't know what gave me the confidence to ask but it all sounded strange.

"Depression. Schizophrenia. Autism. Nymphomania. Anger issues. Manic episodes. Psychosis. Delusions. Psychopathy."

He smiled at me but didn't look happy, more like he was challenging me.

"But… You're all normal?"

Billy laughed and looked at our hands that still were wrapped around each other.

"Am I? I don't know. I've heard there is something wrong with me since my teens."

"Why?"

He pulled the corner of his mouth down and shrugged.

"Because I don't fit in. Because they can't control me. Because life is too fucking short."

I didn't know what to say. I had never believed Billy was one of the disturbed people but I had never thought about what had actually made him get admitted. I wanted to believe doctors, I wanted to believe they knew more than us others but watching Billy I couldn't deny something was wrong.

I dragged my other hand up over his arm and Billy looked at it then up to my face and leaned closer.

"Life is too short," he whispered and kissed me. I continued to hear his words in my head as we kissed and let them guide me. Guide me up in his lap, pushing him back in the bed and continue to kiss him. Billy dragged his hands down my back and squeezed my bare cheeks. His hands were big and warm and made me moan into his mouth. Life was too short. I dragged off my slip so I was just dressed in my white underwear.

Billy leaned back to be able to look at my nakedness and smiled at me.

"Beautiful girl… I think you know what I want to do to you…"

I smiled but swallowed hard. My parents were at the end of the hallway. They both had taught me to be a good girl, to save myself for marriage but I knew it wasn't what I wanted. I wanted Billy to be as close as possible and live without my father's rules.

It went fast, so fast I didn't really realize what was happening but it didn't scare me, I wanted to be in that bubble Billy created. I touched the naked skin he exposed to me, dragged my hands down his muscular back and felt with my fingertips his smooth skin and the hairs around his nipples and the trail from his belly button. He was a beautiful man, tall, slender but with all the masculine tributes a girl could ask for. I wasn't embarrassed, not even unsure what to do, something else took over and I pulled my panties down so his hands could explore me even more.

Billy smiled a little and spread my legs so he could see between my legs. I was just as wet as on our first date and it made Billy bite his lip. He dragged his hand up my thigh and then made small patterns with his fingertips between my legs and over my folds. I breathed heavily and looked at him teasing me with a boyish smile. After a while he dragged his fingers up and he found a spot that made my whole body tingle and made my leg jerk.

"Oh!" I said but it wasn't unpleasant. Far from it. The feeling took over and I let him continue.

"That's it… just let it happen…" whispered Billy and at the same time he started to do fast, harder circles over the spot. The sensation became stronger and stronger and I felt it take over my body and soul. When I moaned loudly Bill put a hand on my mouth and smirked lovingly towards me.

"Don't let your parents hear us…"

I would have probably giggled if it was in another situation but I was occupied with coming down from my high. Billy pulled down his white briefs and when I opened my eyes he stood on his knees in front of me with his hard member pointing at me.

"I hope I don't scare you…" said he softly but dragged his hand erotically over his hard on. I didn't know where to look. I wanted to look at it, watch him touch himself but it felt so exposing even if he chose to take his briefs off.

"We can stop if you want to?" He said and dragged his hands over my thighs that were on each side of him.

"No… No. I want to." I said because I really did. Yes, I was nervous but I would be later too. I wanted it now so I took the chance. Billy took hold of his dick and slowly pushed into me. It hurt a bit but it was also a new kind of pleasure and with two fingers in my mouth he started to thrust in and out of me.

×××

"Was that it?" I asked him dumbfounded and looked up at the ceiling with the sheet around me.

"I'm sorry… I came too fast…" he said embarrassed and dragged his hand over his face while lying on his stomach next to me. He laid naked and I looked at his bum, his cheeks were round and smooth and he had deep dimples on his back. I smiled at the view even if I was a bit disappointed that our love making had ended so quickly.

"You don't feel… Sticky?" He suddenly said after a few minutes of silence. I knew what he meant. His semen dripped out of me slowly but I didn't know what to do about it. Maybe he would take offense if I ran to the toilet to clean myself up.

"A little," I just said and looked up at the ceiling.

"You know, you can go freshen up. I guess you might want that?" He didn't say it meanly but he sounded like it was obvious and I felt stupid and so I left my room and ran to the bathroom without answering him. The bathroom was between my room and my parents' room but at that moment I didn't even think about how they could come out and see me naked with cum on the inside of my thighs. I just thought about peeing because as soon as I stood up I realized how badly I needed it.

Billy sat on the edge of the bed fully dressed when I came back to my room. He smiled at me when he saw me naked and licked his lips.

"I wish I could stay… But I must go back before they notice I've disappeared."

I looked at him disappointedly and pulled on my slip that was laying on the floor. I really had wanted to just snuggle a bit but didn't say that to him. He looked at me where I stood with my head bent playing with my fingers and with a small smile he dragged me down in his lap.

"Thank you… For tonight. I promise the next time… Will be better." He said it jokingly but I could see the embarrassment in his face. "And maybe we can snuggle a bit then too? I will try to come earlier tomorrow. Okay?"

I giggled and hugged him around his neck. It was insane that I had Billy Skarsgård coming to my bedroom like this. It felt like something I could just dream about but here he was and we had just made love. Had sex. I was really a woman now and I just wanted Billy as my man.

"So tomorrow?” He asked sweetly and played with the edge of my slip.

"Tomorrow," I said and leaned closer to him so he could kiss my lips.

×××

He had come to me, night after night. We made love, cuddled and talked about my future. Billy had made a plan for me. After his hearing he would call his old agent that also worked with models and then they would arrange it so that all three of us could meet in my little town. Billy was sure the man could help find me a contract at an agency then he himself could help me get an apartment in L.A. I was overwhelmed over how much Billy wanted to help me and my dreams about luxury and a Hollywood handsome boyfriend felt scarily close.

We kissed deeply in bed while I fantasized about our future in L.A. Without my parents close I would become a bleached blonde. As blonde as I could become and buy sexy lingerie and wear lipstick that shifted to orange. I would be a model.

"Hi, I'm Joan Woods, model."

I tried it in my head and it sounded so good.

"I'm a model and this is my actor boyfriend Billy Skarsgård." Or even better; husband. I would get everything in life I've ever wanted.

Billy crawled down between my legs and kissed my folds like they were my lips. I looked down at him and giggled softly. He had never given me oral sex before but I didn't even get nervous. It was just so natural. He looked up at me with a hooded gaze and licked between my folds and I spread my legs more to see what he was doing. Billy smirked at me and then worked his tongue faster all the way up to that spot that made me see stars. He worked his way between that spot to my opening and licked up and down with a fast tongue. I had just started to get really worked up when he moved away and harshly thrusted into me. I moaned loudly both in pain and pleasure.

"I want you on all four," he said after just a few strokes and as the good girl I was I did as told and he thrusted into me from behind just as hard. He worked his hips hard and skilled and I couldn't stop myself from moaning louder and louder. We were so deep in our own bubble that we hadn’t noticed the door opening. I continued to moan loudly while Billy breathed loudly watching his member move in and out of me roughly. For every stroke his member became more and more shiny with our juices.

"Rupert!!" Screamed my mother at my father which caused me to look up at the door where she stood with her fluffy robe. She looked horrified and so did I when I realized what she was seeing. Just then Billy came and his cum dripped out from my pussy and down on the bed cover.

"Joan! Joan!!" Screamed my mother with a cry in her voice.

"Mom?" I said with a small voice. I felt eleven again but with a big penis inside of me and his cum dripping. Billy continued to breathe heavily but started to dress quickly when my mother once again screamed after my father. I should have stood up and put on clothes but the shock made me stay in the same position.

"Dress before your dad comes! You… Silly girl! I didn't raise you like this!" Screamed my mother who threw my robe at me. She looked at Bill zipping up his pants with a judging, angry look.

"Rupert!" She screamed even more upset and it finally seemed to wake my father up. He looked in through my door in his striped pajamas and saw me sitting on the bed in my robe while Billy, in a panic, put on his shoes by the window, ready to jump down the window again. His light green button down hung open over his white t-shirt while he had already thrown out his jacket from the window. My dad stood quietly looking at the scene, obviously he could put two and two together and his eyes darken when he looked at Billy.

"You…!" Hissed my father towards him while Billy had one leg out the window.

"Good evening Dr. Woods, time for me to go," said he cockily and gave him a salute. My father ran up to him believing he could catch Billy before he jumped out. It was impossible and I couldn't see how my dad would be able to do something more than that towards Billy. Billy was much more muscular and could probably hold my dad down with one hand.

Billy jumped out from the window, just giving me a final smirk. My dad screamed after him, ugly words I never heard him use before then he turned to me with an equally dark look.

"And you, young lady… I will lock you in here until you have stopped being such a stupid… disgusting… Whore," he hissed and put a finger against my chest like he had wanted to shoot me if he could. I swallowed my tears and looked at my mother who stood with her head bent. Even she reacted to the word he used. Whore. Whore.

×××

Everything changed after that. My parents didn't want to talk to me, not even look at me and it felt like I was just a ghost in their home. But I had changed too. Of course I could understand it must have been traumatic for my parents to see what was happening between me and an unknown man but I never believed they would shut me out in the way they did. I would have believed they would be angry at me, scream and threaten to take away money and other conveniences but instead they had talked over my head for a week and didn't seem to care if I got home from work okay or not.

I had continued to work at the psychiatric ward but I didn't see Billy anywhere. I believed for several days that he had run away and left me behind until I actually asked Nurse Larsen. At first she didn't want to answer but then sighed and told me anyway. Billy was moved to isolation because of a manic episode. Something didn't feel right with me with that explanation because I didn't see Billy have any mental illnesses at all. I also hadn't learned what the isolation was for and after almost a week of not seeing him I took courage to ask a male caretaker I'd seen Billy with. We stood at the staff's yard and he smoked a cigarette with heavy eyes. He looked around to see so no one was listening.

"He isn't in isolation," he said and looked down at the ground. It actually looked like he cared and I wondered silently if he was the one helping Billy out at night.

"They gave him electric shock treatment so his brain is just mush right now…"

I looked at the man with horror and he looked up at me with kind dark brown eyes.

"He will be okay, after a while. Just lose some memories and… rebelliousness."

"Has he gotten it before?" I asked carefully. I knew I didn't have the right to that information but it seemed like the man felt a need to talk about it too.

"I think in Sweden. When he was young. They are worse than here than it sounds. I think he ran away from this institution and in some way succeeded to take a ferry here. And then he became Billy to all of the world."

I nodded with wonder. It was a sad story but also full of hope. Maybe his story was why he was so eager to help me come to L.A.

"I want to see him," I said determined but the man just laughed a little.

"He will be locked in for a long time. And he wouldn't want you to see him like that. With empty eyes and drool on his shirt."

I swallowed hard and felt my heart beat with worry for him.

"When can I see him, you think?"

The man looked out over the yard and then at me. He took a deep drag.

"They canceled his hearing indefinitely. Because of his "episode". They’ll do everything to make him seem like the worst maniac. Don't ask me why. Maybe jealousy? White old men, you know. My people know all too much about them," he smirked bitterly but then continued.

"I'm not sure we will see him again. They will probably move him into a locked institution. Maybe he will even be isolated for the rest of his life…" he said defeated and sighed. I stood for a long time and watched him before I started to sob. The man looked at me a second but then took a deep drag again.

"He is a good man, just too colorful for this world. Like many of the patients here," he said with a low voice before stubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his scuffed shoe and left me alone on the yard.

×××

It smelled of roast chicken when I got home. Lucky for me I still received food even if my parents seemed to want to forget about my existence. It smelled heavenly. I looked into the kitchen where my mother stood making a fruit salad for dessert.

"It smells great, mom," I tried and took off my coat and went into her. She didn't answer, just continued to chop a banana.

"Mom?" I said to see if she reacted at all but it didn't seem like it. It was like I didn't even exist.

"Mom, please talk to me, please! I'm sorry for what I did. I'm sorry! But I love Billy! And we're going to move to L.A. and…" I said it with a high upset voice that must have upset and stressed my mom because instead of slicing the banana she cut her finger and made a pained, shocking sound before moving to the sink to hold it under running water.

"Mom!" I said again like I hadn't even seen her injury.

"Yes?!" She screamed angrily at me and turned around. I had rarely seen my mother mad so her sudden outburst scared me a bit.

"Please talk to me," I said with a small voice. She looked at me with an angry expression at first but it soon got defeated. She sighed and looked up at the ceiling to hold her tears in.

"Can't you understand? You can be pregnant and then your life will be destroyed. He is mentally ill! Insane! He can't help you with a child. Joanie, what if you're pregnant?"

She looked at me with glassy eyes while blood from her finger dotted the kitchen floor. I stood in silence and felt a lump in my stomach grow. Or was it a child? I didn't know. My mom was actually right this time, I couldn't have a baby.

"When did you have your… period?" She whispered like she was afraid my father would hear even if he wasn't home.

"...oh, now?"

My mom gave me a confused look but then relaxed and even laughed a little.

"Well then you can't be pregnant?"

She said and shook her head towards me. First it didn't connect for me, I had never really needed to think about such things then I remember the biology lessons. I smiled a bit relieved and looked at my mother again who laughed a little again and I joined her. She took a deep breath and looked at me seriously.

"I'm really disappointed in you, Joan. I understand… He is handsome. So tall! But… You must think about your future. He can talk the talk but he is mentally ill."

I looked down and saw her finger bleeding and took a napkin to help her at the same time I thought about what she said. Billy wasn't mentally ill. Or was he? I actually didn't know and his promises sounded so good but now he was locked up somewhere.

We stood close together by the sink while I held pressure on her finger.

"When your father gets home…" she said worriedly and looked at me. I nodded sadly. I knew what she wanted to say. When my father got home she had to ignore me again. I looked at her questionably. I really hoped what Billy had said was true because I really didn't want to become like my mother.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #fan fiction #writing #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #clark

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cf56 · 2 years ago

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My thoughts on episode 3

SPOILERS for season 3, episode 3 of the Animaniacs reboot

No beating around the bush, I LOVED IT!

The first segment was funny and interesting. I love seeing snippets of the Warners' everyday lives. Even if this goes against all the headcanons I held of them. I mean, why would a rambunctious group of kids living together with no rules wake up at 6 AM?!

Here I am writing this at noon after having woken up an hour ago. Wait, didn't they say something about writers being nocturnal?

It's consistent with episode 1- "You'll have to wake up pretty early to catch the Warners." followed by "WHO WAKES UP AT 4AM?" (Two hours before when the Warners apparently wake up.)

Wakko's a little cutie in this episode. We finally have a hard number on how much food he eats a day- 20,000 calories. Seems low, honestly.

When this part happened, I got upset.

Damn you, narrator! Can't you just let our kids get some sustenance in peace?

I LOVED seeing the Warners pull off some Looney Tunes antics!

This image was really funny to me, with Dwayne's huge teethy smile and profits shooting up around him. I wonder if they knew how topical it would be? Having The Rock in a super hero franchise? (They knew Black Adam would be coming out, but they probably didn't know it would flop.) This season seems to be on point with the pop culture timing so far, as opposed to the first two seasons seeming out of date at times.

I liked seeing the in-universe realities of toon creation. First, the new toon being born, the pitch failing, and then it just being thrown on the streets.

It's a nice bit of world building for an aspect of their universe they usually ignore, especially in Animaniacs. I mean, if you're writing an Animaniacs fanfiction and you need an original villain, that's the go-to backstory. A toon who was abandoned and thrown on the streets, now jealous of the Warners' success. It also proves that there are toons in that world who aren't famous TV stars and probably just live normal lives. Heck, it proves that probably the vast majority of toons in that world aren't TV stars who made it big. There's far more pitches that fail than pitches that succeed in the animation industry.

And then the very next shot is this, showing the Warners up in their warm, dry tower eating hot food.

That's... interesting. I feel like it's trying to say something. Like the Warners don't have it that bad compared to most toons. Or that they're aloof in some ways. I wouldn't like the latter, if that's the implication. The Warners are definitely meant to be characters who are among* and sympathize with the downtrodden.

The end of the short asks us to watch Animaniacs, every day. I'm way ahead of you there, buddy.

The Pinky and the Brain segment was good. I liked their dynamic, with Brain being forced to coddle Pinky for once. I also found it hilarious whenever Pinky would get stressed. He takes on such a different personality.

I liked Brain's impressions. Shoutout to Maurice LaMarche, doing his impression of Orson Welles as the Brain doing poor impressions of Christopher Lloyd and Morgan Freeman while still having it sound like the Brain. Also doing Orson Welles as the Brain doing an impression of Orson Welles. I'm sure I'm far from the first person to have typed that sentence by now.

The tickle fight was cute. I was honestly grossed out by Pinky sucking on Brain's finger. Their bare little rat hands have always kind of creeped me out.

So yeah, good segment.

So about the first joke in the next segment, I have a lot to say. First off-

Wait, sorry, I'm being reminded that this is a SFW blog.

...

...........!!!

I could freak out in all caps, but I know others have handled that for me already. It's what I've been asking for in the reboot. Jokes that make you question if they can say that, if they should say that. Stuff right on the very edge of what's acceptable. Heck, this might not even be on the edge. Some people might say it's over it. I haven't seen the general reaction and I won't for seven more days.

I love how they knew what you'd be trying to look at for the rest of the episode, and in every single frame they carefully obscured the bottom of that poster so you can't see it.

I know my reaction here might be disappointing. Truthfully, I was spoiled on this joke. But while it's what everyone will focus on, I just have to gush about the rest of this segment!!!

For one, the concept in general of the Warners framing fanart is super cute. I was going to write a chapter for Wakko's World exactly along those lines. I was beaten to the punch.

For two, the song is AMAZING!!! WAKKO'S SINGING. GLORIOUS.

I have never dropped an f-bomb on this blog. But

Why the FUCK don't we get to hear Wakko's singing voice more often?! I legitimately got tears in my eyes from how hard I was smiling during his part. It blew me away.

This song was just so. DAMN. CUTE!!! Their singing, the tune, the antics. It just fills me with a feeling of pure, unadulterated joy on every single listen.

Put simply,

I was going to start this post by talking about how poorly I've been handling being separated from the fandom. This episode gave me so much joy I just couldn't bear to be negative. It blew all of that angst right out of my heart.

My current ranking of season 3 episodes:

Episode 3

Episode 2

Episode 1

This season just keeps getting better as it goes along. It would be funny if this list just ends up being in reverse order of the episode numbers. I would be surprised if episode 3 ends up ranked 8th, though. That would mean this was a season of truly extraordinary TV.

I encourage you to add to the discussion on this post if you have anything to say about episode 3 or the ones before it. Don't say anything (and I mean anything) about any of the episodes after episode 3. Pretend as if you're watching this along with me and haven't even seen the other ones yet.

*sus

#animaniacs #animaniacs reboot #animaniacs season 3 #animaniacs 2020 #animaniacs screenshots #animaniacs analysis #animaniacs spoilers #animaniacs episode 3 #cfposts

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wine4thewin · 2 years ago

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Any tips for writing smut/romance? Because yours is delicious!

Thank you ☺️

Well, I’d say it’s a long process of trial and error within finding your voice in writing. I’ve been at it for probably 20-ish years and when I first wrote smut maybe a decade ago…it was soooooo bad 🤣 even to this day I will post something with a scene and feel extremely insecure! I’m like, oh God, was it bad!? 😅

Take all of this with a grain of salt. What I feel strongly about, other people may not feel the same. The writing process is different for everyone.

It also depends on your goal. Just regular p*rny smut or thought-out erotica?

1. Emotional Payoff: I find myself writing giant slow burns more than anything these days. Why? Because I want the cumulation of events to feel impactful to the reader. I don’t even mean “oh, the characters have fallen in love” emotional payoff. Sometimes, they aren’t in love. Sometimes, they are struggling with feelings, with beliefs, with conflicts…and I want the first erotic scene to be impactful to the plot, not just ‘thrown in for the hell of it’. It must add to the story and I want it to be a turning point or realization of sorts for the characters…for better or worse. Can this be done without a slow burn? Yes. But it takes a very precise prose to do it in a short piece.

Essentially, beyond my long-windedness, I am saying the smut should mean something to the story to be emotionally impactful to the reader, even if the act is meaningless to the characters themselves at that time. That is the difference IMO between erotica and flat, emotionless p#rny writing.

More below the cut - 18+ for some scenarios mentioned, but nothing crazy or offensive.

2. Sometimes Less Crude is More Sexy: This depends on your goal. Are you aiming for just how many dirty words you can cram in a paragraph? Seems a bit wild, but sometimes certain words can make a smut scene more impactful. I used to write every single gory detail with blunt, crude words. Did it work? Sure. Was it the sort of writing that made people feel a flutter or emotional response aside from ‘ooo dirty smut’? Maybe not.

Back to emotion. Emotional words can take your smut to the next level. You could say your male character ‘grabbed her thighs and spread them quickly, his huge *insert crude word* hard and ready to stuff her dripping *insert crude word*’.

Or, you could say instead, ‘the calloused tips of his fingers ghosted across her skin, making her shiver with anticipation. The tremble in his touch betrayed his inexperience, even as he moved slowly between her thighs. She could feel that he was eager for her, pressed as he was against her own desire…and she would take all he had to offer and more.

There would be no going back from this.

“Am I what you want?” His voice was an utterance across her lips, gaze dark and questioning. Pupils wide, consuming her.

There was no need to answer aloud. She shifted her hips and took him for herself.’

The above is me setting the stage for the act itself, all while putting in words and sentences that reveal small emotions, details, insecurities, dominance, and desires. Idk, you tell me, I just made that whole scene up on the spot 😂

When you read something that makes you react, remind yourself of the words the writer used that made you feel. Was it because they pulled you into the scene, had you feel with the character you love? Or was it because they said dripping vajayjay twenty times? Different strokes for different folks!

3. Don’t Be Repetitive: Refer to genitalia in different ways, but don’t be obnoxiously flowery like the harlequin novels of old and their “his staff of love quivered in her touch” sorta thing. More like, “his desire was velvet covered steel under her grasp / his firm length” or “she was swollen against his fingertips, ready, glistening with arousal”. You can get away with saying d#ck a few times, but it gets annoying and eye-rolling if it’s every sentence. You can check out this list for ideas!

4. Use Location/Situation to Your Advantage: where are these characters? Semi-public? In private? Are they forbidden being together? Or is their love considered illegal or shameful in your fantasy/sci-fi country? Bring feelings of ‘could we be caught, excitement, the thrill, shame, struggling with own beliefs, reluctance yes, even reluctance’ into the smut to amp up the stakes.

5. Not All Sex is Perfect: hey, we don’t always get it right the first time. I’ve written one character having the time of his life from his POV, only to find out his partner didn’t exactly find him as awe-inspiring 🤣 but, his partner gave him another chance, what a saint jk jk, and the emotional aspect of this previously very selfish character realizing he feels strongly about pleasing someone other than himself for the first time ever was a huge plot point with the smut.

Don’t be afraid of awkward sex, reassuring sex, figuring things out together sex…they can always get it right the next time!

6. If You Write a Kink, Go Deep: size kink, BDSM, A/B/O, etc. if you are going to do it, really commit to it. Don’t mention it vaguely, because if people are looking for that in your smut because you tagged it as such, don’t leave them hanging! I had to study BDSM terms, read blogs of those in the life and their experiences to even come close to writing authentically about it (and I mean stuff beyond generic spanking, such as the risks of edgeplay, knife play, wax play, sensory deprivation, subspace, etc).

Closing thoughts before I ramble you into the abyss from whence you won’t return:

Overall, writing is to have fun! Don’t be hard on yourself, it’s always a learning process. Ask for feedback on your smut, observe what you like about your favorite authors, practice practice practice.

Much of my advice may be considered advanced (or maybe it’s all shit LOL) but I hope some of it helps bring food for thought and helps others on their ever-continuing journey of creative writing!

#story writing #writing life #creative writing #writing #evilpeaches ao3 random writing tips #writing process #writing tips #original work #fanfiction #writing romance #romance writing #love scene #writing love scenes

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quickdeaths · 1 year ago

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GET TO KNOW YOUR ADMIN !!

name — Bryn

pronouns — She/Her.

preferred comms — Discord for sure! I'm on Discord basically all the time and I try to be pretty responsive to things. If you unlock the secret friendship tier, I will also bother you with memes/ship inspo/random conversation/etc. but even if you don't want that, it's got a big window and a search bar so it is infinitely better for plotting than anything else. That said, I do tumblr IMs too, if necessary.

name of muse — quickdeaths.tumblr.com/muses there's a lot of them take your pick

experience in RP — I started out 17-18 years ago on the forums for a D&D webcomic. Eventually I checked out of that scene, bounced around LiveJournal, had a cup of coffee in Gaia Online, and then came to Tumblr around 2012ish. Was pretty off-and-on here until 2015, and I've been part of the furniture here ever since. I've done a few things on Discord and through Google Docs since, but I think for better or worse, I'm just Here Now.

best experiences — Meeting my girlfriend will always be #1! We met here on tumblr and even though she doesn't RP as much anymore, I'm always going to be thankful for the things we wrote, and how RPing together helped us become friends, and then girlfriends. After that, all the things I've done with people that were long-term and plotted, with mutual investment. I've been doing this long enough now that even people who've left or who I fell out with, I still have a lot of fondness for those stories, as well as the long-term stories I'm doing now.

pet peeves / dealbreakers — The number one ultimate pet peeve for me is people dropping threads without personally notifying their partners. Not everyone lurks on dash, and it's easy to miss posts, and when people say things like 'gonna drop some of my drafts,' it's easy to feel like you've been put in a limbo state. Hiatuses are one thing but dropped threads like that just drive me crazy. Super long wait times on replies (I'm talking like, consistently 2-3 months or more) are rough for me too. Lack of communication as well, especially when it comes to choosing a muse(s) to write with.

muse preference ( fluff, angst, smut ) — Angst > fluff > smut for me. I'm an angsty bitch and I love the drama. I like drilling down into character flaws and weaknesses and forcing them to Go Through It and confront things they don't super want to confront, so I'll probably never get tired of writing angsty stuff. I like fluffy stuff too, but a bit more sparingly just because sometimes I think it can get a little circular. Smut... to be honest, I'm not against writing it if a plot calls for it and it makes sense for characters but I've had a handful of rough experiences in the past with people, and it's an area where I'm not very confident as a writer. You will never see a spicy sideblog from me though, I will simply put it on dash like a shameless heathen.

plot or memes — plots plots plots. Honestly, I would never do memes at all if it weren't The Culture here on tumblr. I never know who to send for, or from, when it comes to multimuses, I worry that the ideas aren't interesting and can't sustain long replies, and they don't usually inspire me. Plotting is great because you can figure out a dynamic, whether there's any preexisting knowledge, maybe a general direction you want things to go, etc. Almost everything I've loved doing has come from plots, but I'll still be offering both forever.

long or short replies — have you seen my blog i should be locked up and the key thrown away. I have lost the ability to write a reply under 5 paragraphs and with Certain People Who Know Who They Are I get up to like 8, 10, 12, occasionally some deeply unhinged 33 paragraph drabbles. I don't even have a good excuse really, it's just what feels comfortable for me to write. It lets me do all the inner world stuff that I use to round out my characters in a scene and contextualize them, while still (hopefully) having enough action and dialogue to respond to.

best time to write — It depends. Late afternoon/early evening is probably best, but later evening is fine too. Sometimes I will start a Particularly Ambitious Reply late late late and get too tired to finish it, and then finish it when I get up in the morning, and that seems to work for me too.

are you like your muse — Not really, I don't think? Although I guess that's for other people to judge. I try to give all my muses traits that I can relate to on some level, or at least one thing that feels connective between us, but I honestly think I'm too boring to be a very good RP character. I think Rio is probably the character I'm most similar to, but even then, I think it's more superficial similarities like hobbies than much else.

Tagged by: @more-than-a-princess Tagging: i will fill this in later, if you are seeing this post then i forgot to fill it in and that means it is a runabout, you can steal it, no one will ever know

#dash memes

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hospitalterrorizer · 1 year ago

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diary28

10/2-3/2023

i'm listening to the 1985. they make stupid noise.

today i ate leftovers and recorded vocals, choruses for a song are down now, and i also did vox for one of the new short songs. the bad news is i've gone so long w/o doing vocals (not so long but after getting practiced again and then stopping for like 2 weeks to fix / remaster shit) i've maybe thrown my voice out a little. it's kind of sore, we're gonna see how that is tomorrow, but i should at least be able to do some less intense stuff tomorrow, w/r/t re-recording bits and stuff. and then, i dunno, we'll see, there's at least one song that needs that, and maybe another but i'd probably want to start screeching on the other one, because it's faster.

i've been thinking about fast today a little, a lot of these songs are over 150 bpm, frequently hitting 190, is that a normal bpm for this stuff, is that excessive, some locust songs aren't that fast, should i try a new song where i keep it short and also sit at like, below 150, i dunno. it's stupid anyways. i like 80-ish when i want to go slower, because it's not really slower how i handle it, i just have it at double time mostly so i'm really hitting 160 and then when there's slower ideas i have they feel super slow i guess. but not that slow. really i just like things that are fast and irritating, i talk about that so much.

doing vocals, at least how i was going at it today, was really exhausting even if it's like a bunch of takes on one song and a little less on some parts of another. i felt so lightheaded but i think i'm getting pretty good at just powering through that, which might be stupid but for 40 second long songs it's fine, right. hopefully. and hopefully it doesn't hurt to speak tomorrow.

i also got to write some today, just a little, and i also finally finished this mishima book of short stories i was slowly going through, really good, the last two stories were very strange and the last one especially reminded me of something flannery o'connor might do, someone writing from a place of being obsessed with the consequences of the world as it is, the standard ways of treating people, stuff like that. it's not exactly sympathetic or anything, to the suffering, it doesn't hate them either, it sees the downtrodden as sort of transformed into a force of fate and thus nature, which is not really true outside of the exact kind of character he was writing, an upper middle class person worrying, and her worrying thus transforms them into that, even if she's trying to express empathy, she's already figured that there, beyond her guilt, there is some kind of villain waiting for her, and so there is. the poor are bound to servitude of those psychic fantasies, or something. that feels like what he gets at there, the story prior, is about rich women, and is funny. he really handles the abject's entry/appearance in otherwise "regular" lives very well, as something that can and will meet us all, no matter what, and so the consequences of material reality will always be upon us, even if transformed by our fantasies that freely shape the world (this is the case especially if you are rich).

this isn't some communist reclamation of mishima but i do think even these relatively simplistic stories (the word tales almost seems better (and not all stories in the collection are tales (meaning they aren't quite similar to parables (particularly onnagata and patriotism (interesting that they feel the most tied to his queerness))))) more complex than people would give him credit for. makes me think of what eiko hosoe said when taking photos of mishima, this is a paraphrasing of a translation, it was something about the photos being the destruction of a myth, mishima was always constructing himself and subjecting himself to the elements to return to himself a weathered thing, it felt like, undoing himself as much as possible, because being kept to yourself, subjected to yourself as if it were real, is intolerable. so it makes sense then, to kill yourself theatrically. everyone who tries and succeeds is ultimately a drama queen dealing with this kind of difficulty, probably. i know i am. maybe i just relate too much, and it is different for others. i mean, i know it is, ultimately, but some people are convinced they could wield their suicide as a weapon against life or maybe more so, the eyes that have seen them living and would like to say: this is what you have been. of course, no one really cares that much. people could scarcely hear his speech, because he was cut off from the pa, before he gutted himself, so there he was, humiliated and seen still, at war with himself and putting his sex totally into his final moments, a beautiful man chosen to behead him does so, whatever.

but for some people like me i guess that's an intense thing to know about, it's going to sit in my chest forever and ever i guess.

next i'm going to read gary indiana's gone tomorrow. another gay man. i love rent boy quite a bit, i'm semi worried this one won't give me the same feelings, but that's lame, i shouldn't seek the same things from one artist, what i hope though is his prose is as great as it is in rent boy, loose and sharp all at once, i want to be drawn into the pulse immediately, as i was before. i hear this is a great book from a close friend, so i'm excited.

now, after listening to this 1985 record nerve eighty, and also from thinking earlier in the day, i want a fuckoff annoying trebly guitar, maybe different from the others in some way. sharper, hissier maybe, i'll call it "superhissyfit" if i like it.

before i go do that, i really hope i begin reading more. i think listening to richard hell today and singing along made me feel more literary or something. or maybe it was talking about the birthday party with someone. this record i'm working on started off with me reading rimbaud and baudelaire, at a job on break, and i've read plenty in the interim, but recently it's been missing from my life. i want there to be more. i want everything always though. #stupid.

thinking about "we assume sublime poses deep and true to life"

or whatever the line is.

here's the sound. i've never done this before, but i realized i can, which is fun. i don't know if i'll use any of these riffs here but i like at least 2 and think one unexpectedly works well with another, making something pretty compelling as like, a structure, accidentally. now i have something horrifically annoying that also just does that radio search feedback noise, it sounds just like the noise bits in that first jerome's dream record, a total accident but i like it, it's super irritating and i can put it in / just take it out if i want to. the sound overall has a really compelling tinniness that i think can help out on a couple songs where i'm like, not feeling that enough.

the thing with fake guitars is it gets easier to imitate higher strings, probably because there's less of a range of overtones or whatever, harmonic junk and stuff, that you're hearing. i also really like how this one pitch bends, i guess it was made for that super freakish sound some people make riffs out of, cuz like, why haven't i tried harder to do that, cuz i'm lazy i guess. now i try, and some songs i might go back and fuck around w/ this and throw it in, actually i like that idea for one especially, and the feedback could be filtered in at points in a cool way probably too.

i wonder if there's any other random music stuff to stick in here. right now i'm listening to this record:

it's really good, if you like this kind of thing. shocked honestly a couple times by how good the riffs are, and how this really doesn't fall into the regular "screamo" traps (screamo a delineating line i guess between faster/harder-core things, and stuff like this) but this is good because it veers pretty hardcore, it's never twinkly, it's sometimes really pretty and it uses those really great chords guys at this time became really fond of. idk what they are, they always feel spanish to me, it's fun stumbling into them and seeing their anatomy and not really knowing what to call them. this band also has everything free on their bandcamp, that's sick, the lyrics here are clearly super commie so it's not a surprise, it just also wouldn't be a surprise if they were asking like 5 bux (good enough + i get it (anyone would)).

anyways now i am way tired.

so,

byebye!!

#Bandcamp

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klonoadreams · 2 years ago

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I just- I NEED more about Jacq and Scarnoa cuz they look like a mess together, and Jacq sounds a minute away from hiding under his desk-

they look like an absolute mess together, especially when Scarnoa is still a recent addition to the academy and has gotten her hair cut short by Nemona because she thought it'd be easier that way, never mind that Mimi was going to do her best to save as much of her hair as possible. RIP.

Scarnoa might not be the best at keeping it together, but when it comes to lab wear, she's just "CLOSE TOED SHOES DAMMIT" (that is the VERY least he can do, and HONESTLY, he should since someone could step on his foot)

Jacq literally hiding under his desk like, he didn't expect this pipsqueak to be as scary as Tyme. LIKE... "it's just for this class..."

since they aren't working with anything dangerous (or chemicals), it's just biology class. BUT NOPE, SCARNOA GIVES NO SHIT.

The only time Jacq is allowed to wear his chanclas is when he's outside of the lab. Sometimes gets bonked upside the head by a loose chancla, coming to you live from Scarnoa herself.

Probably the most vocal about teh Pokedex stuff like...PICNICS?? WHAT ABOUT DAYCARES???

"Oh they exist, though this is more or less convenient for our students and those on the go, here in Paldea."

Like, gotta make your mons comfortable. But like... "Is it ONLY picnics???"

Jacq trying to ignore the toddlers in the room who are just as curious "Nn...Nooo - listen, this is something more advanced, so I'll get back to this topic."

Because I have thrown game mechanics to the side when it comes to breeding. Unless otherwise, you can get a Pokemon taking after either parent in terms of species. Very rarely, you'll get an actual hybrid (low chances, but it happens and it's not recommended to just BREED for this)

Some Pokemon are born from eggs (the real mystery is how eggs mcfucking function because of how long it can remain dormant), others are born live, some are both (still a mystery of what determines this and why), and then you got something like a Polteageist spawning Sinistea with a few teacups. :V

It's 3 am and Jacq gets woken up by his Rotom Smartphone because Scarnoa received a random egg in her fucking picnic basket LIKE "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS"

Jacq: yeah that also happens....please, it's 3 am - WHY ARE YOU AWAKE?

Scarnoa: I was hungry. also, I just slid down a slope and spent the last five hours trying to find a way back to civilization.

Jacq: You could've called a taxi.

Scarnoa: oh....I KEEP FORGETTING ABOUT THAT.

Jacq regrets ever putting himself in her contact list, as it was he who handled everything. Also the egg really is just a rando egg that some Pokemon dropped off in the basket while Scarnoa and the others weren't watching.

It's a Nacli in case anyone was wondering. Sometimes Pokemon see Pokemon Trainers and go "have an egg."

or sometimes you also get Bombirdier causing chaos by dropping shit from its pouch and in that confusion, just leave an egg behind. Gets a kick out of people's reactions lmaooo

#ask #pokemon scarlet and violet #jacq #scarnoa (oc)#no manches (fanfic)#feel free to ask me about scarnoa

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nicotinzwei · 2 years ago

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January

So after no December entry my January was still pretty rough. But I think it’s interesting how comforting and chill my January Favorites are compared to Novembers. Also RIP Angelo Badalamenti whose twin peaks soundtrack I mentioned in the last post.

Instrument

So after tweeting that I have a feeling a harmonica would really fit my vibe I bought a used one for 5€. (The seller was super cute) My favorite song to play is Piano Man by Billy Joel, which was also the inspiration for me getting one. To be honest I had no idea how harmonicas worked, but after finding out they come in different keys and mine was in B I got the same model in C. And then I fell into a rabbit hole. Because the model I got is discontinued and has been around for a long time, and both of them have different cases so one of them has to be from before 2004 and could even be a lot older. I’m still on a quest to find out so any harmonica experts please hit me up! (It’s the Hohner Piccolo) Also, I really want to buy one of those holders so I can play freehand.

Music

I have a really hard time listening to new music but I came back to an artist I really liked a few years ago. Weyes Blood isn’t really my typical genre of music, but to me her songs don’t feel like singular pieces but like a big body of work so it’s easier for me to listen to her new stuff, because it feels so familiar. I used to be obsessed with her Album and album Artwork for Titanic Rising. (There is a cool youtube video about the making of.) I even wrote my bachelors thesis about her music video Movies. Her new Album And in the Darkness, Hearts Aglow has stunning visuals and my favorite new song is God Turn Me Into a Flower, because same. But my favorite overall is probably Something To Believe In. (Like last month this is your cue to listen along)

Game

As a kid I never got into Professor Layton even though I was a nintendo kid and LOVE puzzles. Because it was available on mobile we kind of started with Pandoras Box so I’m missing some of the lore here and have no idea why a grown man is travelling with some kid stranger. But I’ll assume that Luke has not been kidnapped and forced to solve riddles for this older man but is just having a fun time. I really wish instead of talking about work it would be acceptable in real life for people to just give you a fun little riddle immediately after introduding themselves. Maybe I should just start doing that.

Show

Oh god here we go… I became obsessed with Bluey this month. Bluey is supposed to be a kids show about a cartoon dog family, but to me it feels more like a family sitcom that just happenes to be dogs. Where other kids shows thrown in a few jokes for the parents here and there Bluey really seems to be equally aimed at everyone. The situations and characters feel really real because the creators aren’t afraid to give them flaws. Even Bluey herself (She’s a girl) isn’t always the good guy. (Also if you draw human Bluey fanart please don’t giver her long hair, she’s always mistaken for a boy just give her short hair.) My favorite episode is Sleepytime, and IMDB users agree.

Food

This comes with a little disclaimer. I have been vegetarian for 9 years now, mostly because I just never liked the texture of meat and also because I don’t like the meat industry. But last year broke my streak like 3 times and never really regretted it. Because I never ate meat growing up I also never had the typical bacon and eggs breakfast. So one Sunday (while watching Bluey) we made that with coffee (which I also rarely drink) and IT WAS SO GOOD. So I’ll look out for vegan bacon maybe. But I think as long as it’s an exception I can have a big breakfast sometimes, especially when I’m having a hard time. (Also, butter your bread and put it in the oven for 5 minutes before the rest is done)

Thanks for reading and hopefully on to a better February!

#january #january favorites #weyes blood #bluey #professor layton #harmonica #riddles #breakfast #food #bingo #bandit #chili #titanic rising #hohner #music

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togglessymposium · 1 year ago

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I notice that I’m confused. Adjusting for inflation and population, 75% of the 2023 Unites States GDP is… the economy in 2015 or 2016. From $76,000 per capita down to $57,000. Hardly the dark ages! This has pretty much always been true, right? At least in the modern era. If your entire economy is growing by a 4% a year, that compounds very quickly, and cutting a linear percentage off of that means going back in time a relatively modest amount. During the postwar boom, that would shrink down to only a couple years!

Going back in time to 2015 by making 3/4ths as much stuff (per capita) doesn’t even mean making 3/4ths of any given good; you can grow just as much food and offload the reduced production in to other stuff. In particular, you can trim down positional goods with a fairly minimal impact on quality of life, although I don’t know how much of the physical actually-real economy really is in that category. That seems like a difficult thing to measure, but I wouldn’t be enormously shocked to discover that some 15-20% of the actually-real economy gets thrown down the bottomless well of red-queen-race competitions; for example, shrinking the amount of wealth sunk in to advertising agencies would probably leave the relevant firms in basically the same relative position they are in now, with a slightly higher quality of life for the rest of us. And in a free market, allocation of resources should in theory take care of this ‘mostly automatically’, with the price of advertising rising faster than the price of food since demand for the latter is inelastic, perhaps helped along with some farm subsidies like we already have. So I don’t think that even necessarily puts you back the entire 25%, not in a way that matters!

Now, some of this may just be that economic growth numbers are basically fake, I suppose. Like, if the stock market goes up 10%, that doesn’t mean that the community has 10% more stuff to go around, it just means that a larger fraction of that stuff is controlled by the sort of people that own lots of stocks. But on paper it can look like the economy ‘grew’ for a bit, at least until inflation reaches its new equilibrium. But quite a lot of it is also real improvements in ‘worker productivity’, that is, in the force multiplier that technology offers to the typical man-hour in an aggregate of productive firms. And at least in principle, shrinking the overall labor-hour pool by 25% doesn’t seem like it would also tank the rate at which we reap these technological and capital gains; if we could grow at 4% per year in 2015 when the GDP per capita was $57,000, I don’t see why we couldn’t grow at 4% per year in 2023 if the GDP was $57,000 per capita. So we’d ‘keep pace’ in that sense, staying a fixed few years ‘behind schedule’, in exchange for workers getting an extra ten hours a week of leisure for their own use.

Now, this isn’t an argument that this plan is fine and we should just wave our magic wand and reduce full-time employment to 30 hours, because contra OP I do have a certain faith in the proposition that this stuff actually is complicated, even if robber barons do love to hide behind that complexity to justify their own evils. I’m not assuming this model is right. If nothing else, this would have to break as you cut back to really short work weeks like five hours. But I am saying that merely ‘making 25% less stuff’ doesn’t seem nearly as bad as it sounds, unless the GDP numbers are just wildly dissociated from the facts on the ground. For a 25% cut to be really scary, it seems like a great many other things have to be false, including most of what people point to to justify the current ordering of state power.

I'm up to the "I dunno maybe children working 13 hour shifts is bad, guys" part of Capital and it feels important to inform people that haven't read it yet that capitalists in the 19th century were not by any means wringing their hands and twirling their mustaches about employing children to squeeze out profits, they were hiring "experts" to write newspaper articles for them, explaining how "well, the socialists have these big demands about an 8-hour work day, and taking Saturdays off, but it's actually just so complicated, it's too complicated for most people to understand, we just NEED to hire children for night shifts because the stamina of their strong, youthful bodies is the only way we can survive as a business! It's science, you see. Economics doesn't work like that, just ask our economics professors at Oxford. You CAN'T turn a profit only working people 8 hours! Trust the experts, they know. It's just so complicated..."

That exact infuriating cadence that you read in New York Times articles, in the Atlantic Monthly, in the WaPo and all the other bourgeois rags where "everything is so complicated, and it's actually a lot more complicated than you think.." that has been around since the beginning. It is nothing new. So the next time you see some op-ed from Matt Yglesias or any of those other guys huffing their own farts about how "complicated" everything is, and how "unrealistic" a 30-hour work week is, remember that Marx was dealing with that exact class of "intellectuals" "explaining" how working 13 hours at age 10 was "vital" to the "moral fibre" of those poor kids.

#The most obvious way for this to be wrong is if there's a big hit to growth rate #Far better to tank 50% of your existing economy than to sacrifice even a single point of sustained growth #But I don't see any obvious impact to GDP *growth* following from 30 hour weeks #tl;dr: If it's true that we've gotten 30% richer in the last 7-8 years #then having 30% more wealth seems like a surprisingly not-that-big-a-deal change #and funging against it for something obviously very nice like adding ten good hours to everybody's week #should not automatically be off the table #but if we didn't actually get 30% richer in the last 7-8 years #then we should probably stop listening to the economists full stop #because they are lying to us pretty bad #in which case many many things are not automatically off the table any more

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