#Just forget the world and roadtrip

[scealaiscoite]

vacation prompts: otp edition ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

-ˏˋ. dialogue ˊˎ-

— “you have a whole suitcase full of your own clothes, and you still insist on wearing mine?”

— “hey, you slept on my shoulder for the entire flight! it’s only fair that you let me sleep on you for a little now.”

— “come on, you’ve seen me in this a million times - there’s no reason to start staring at me now.”

— “if i find out you wanted to come here just to get me in swimwear for a week, i’ll never let you forget it.”

— “i’m game for a night of room service and subtitled tv if you are.”

— “i’m not sure what the point was in us booking a king bed if you’re going to insist on laying directly on top of me every night.”

— “it’s our last night here. we’re going dancing, whether you like it or not.”

— “next year, we’re roadtripping. or staying in, or literally anything else in the world.”

-ˏˋ. actions / scenarios ˊˎ-

— discarding the plans they’d made in favour of staying in bed together all day

— being especially protective of their s/o in their new surroundings

— surprising their partner with a date night they’d planned without their knowledge

— admiring their partner whilst they sunbathe

— one of them being fluent in the language of the country they’re in, and the other surprising them by having learned it too

— treating their s/o to something they’ve had their eye on for the whole trip

— the grumpier of the two being the one to propose the funnest activities

— becoming more outwardly affectionate with one another, given no-one knows them here

[swanlakebaby]

— sugar daddy | pjm

prompt: time with your sugar daddy.

⸝⸝ pairing: rich!jimin x sugarbaby!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: rich jimin, sugar daddy material, sugar baby, random stuff

⸝⸝ word count: 1.5k

⸝⸝ note: n/a

non smut!

-

you aggressively close the door behind you , shuffling around the front entrance as you plop down heavy shopping bags onto the kitchen counter. exhausted , you plop down onto the couch out of breath from the long flight upstairs to your apartment. you had just spent the day with jimin , your sugar daddy. you hadn’t known him that long but he blew his money on you like as though he’s known you for years.

your phone vibrates in your pocket. still out of breath , you grab it and see jimin’s caller ID.

“what were you doing when i called?” he said teasingly , hearing your panting. you roll your eyes and look over at your bags. “i had to go up six flights of stairs with these heavy ass bags.” “you’re welcome by the way.” you hear shuffling on the line as jimin shifts his position on whatever he was laying on. “are you busy this weekend?” he asks.

you look over at the magnetic calendar on your fridge. “i have an appointment saturday , but after that i’m free.” “great . ill pick you up from your appointment then.” you hesitate for a moment , wanting him to go in detail. “what did you have in mind.”

“i booked us a reservation at a resort for the weekend. don’t worry , all you need is a bag. we can roadtrip there.” jimin says. “i didn’t even agree to it yet.” you say. “really? so you don’t want to go?” jimin sounds disappointed. “i mean— it’s a free trip.”

“exactly.” he hangs up. you roll your eyes and sigh , getting up and going through the bags. jimin bought you basically a whole new wardrobe. you wondered if it was because of the trip he had planned.

you didn’t understand how something like this could happen to someone like you. you got paid thousands of dollars to exist. you wondered if jimin had actual feelings for you , or if he did this to many girls despite not being sexual with them at all. regardless , you were still getting paid and that was all that mattered.

-

a few days later , you stand outside after your appointment waiting for jimin. you scroll endlessly on your phone , escaping reality and forgetting your surroundings. a loud honk comes from a nearby car , making your body jump at the sudden noise. you see jimin in the car , his sunglasses on as he looks up at you , waiting for you to come to the car. he honks again as you walk over , making you jump again. you can see his white teeth through the dark tint of his car as he laughs.

“ha ha.” you say , getting in the passenger seat. “you have your bag?” he asks you , looking over. you pat your bag and throw it in the backseat. from there , you head on your way. the road trip is long. every few hours you’d stop at a gastation for water and something crunchy or sweet. jimin would watch as you’d indecisively look around for something good to snack on for the last few hours of the trip. he’d grow impatient , telling you to just grab everything you want.

“i have a question.” you say abruptly once you’re both back in the car. “hm?” jimin says , seemingly in his own world as he stares ahead on the road. “why me?”

“what do you mean?” he says confused. “like— why me? why out of all the women in the world do you choose to treat me like this?” you take a big sip of water , waiting for this response. “well- i’m not sure. i guess i’ve always been intrigued by you. and the more time i spend with you , the more money i want to shower you with. it’s weird.”

you still didn’t get it. “but , why did you even approach me in the first place?” you look over at him. he doesn’t look back at you as he has his eyes fixated on the road. “if we’re being honest , i thought things would be quick and easy. like a fling. i had just gotten out of a toxic situation , so my perception of women was quite tainted at the time. not in a concerning misogynistic way , but the way that made me want to give up on women altogether. but when i met you , it felt different i guess. of course upon looking at you , i thought , ‘damn i need her’ , but now it’s different. now i know you and think you deserve everything and more. is that a good answer?”

you stare ahead in shock. you didn’t know that’s how he felt about you. “i’m actually flattered. the whole hookup fling part kind of makes me want to pinch you , but the other stuff is kind of cute.”

he smiles , shaking his head. “you can pinch me. but don’t be upset when i pinch you back.” he says. “what does that mean?” you cross your arms. “are we going to forget how you acted when we first met?”

6 months ago - 📍red ruby night club

you drunkenly stumble over to the bar , leaving your friends over at the table. you see a tall guy with dark hair beside you , looking in your direction. you smirk as you order your drink , and sit on one of the bar stools. you turn over to jimin who now has his back turned to you. you sloppily tap his shoulder. you see him flinch slightly as he turns around to face you.

“hi there.” you say. the bartender places your drink in front of you before walking off. “you’re a dancer?” you ask him. he chuckles , noticing your drunk state. “no. i just frequent the bar.” he says , taking a sip of his own drink. “no no no.” you say , shaking your head slowly. “i mean like— because you’re hot.” you down your entire drink.

“i’m flattered. would you like another drink?” he looks down at your now empty glass. you giggle as you shake your head no. “no- i want to go home with you.” you say.

his cheeks flush red at your assertiveness. “that doesn’t sound to good. you’re drunk and your friends have been eyeballing us.” he says. he asks the waiter for a glass of water for you. “so are you saying i’m not fuckable?” you say , getting offended. “it’s just that , it would feel wrong. especially because you look like you’re two minutes from falling out.”

you push him playfully , standing up and pulling your club dress down. “i got to go then.” you say. a random guy comes over , placing his arm around you. “do you wanna dance?” he asks. “yes!” you say , before leaving and heading off to the dance floor. this man watches as you leave.

only a few hours later , you found yourself in a random apartment , your head ringing and the world spinning. “good morning.” a voice says. you turn around and see the same man from the bar , walking over to you with a banana and some water. “did we—“ you start. he shakes his head. “you were super wasted when dancing with that guy. you threw up on his shoes , he began yelling. i had to whisk you away and take you out before the security guards came over. you couldn’t find or contact your friends so i just took you home with me.”

you take a deep sigh of relief. “well , thank you. i was probably a mess.” you take a long sip of water.

“you were. but that’s okay. you can lay here until you feel better.” he smiles up at you before then leaving the room.

“shutup.” you say with a smile , remembering foggy memories from that night. a few minutes later , you arrive at the resort with jimin. the check in process seemed quick and easy , being that jimin had vip access.

once you arrived at the hotel room , you notice something. “only one bed?” you say , furrowing your eyebrow. “yes. as long as you know how to control yourself this time , we’ll be fine.” he says with a laugh. “if that’s a reference to the club , you’re not funny.” you smile , putting down your bags. “what do you wanna do first?” jimin says. “we can explore the shops , grab a late lunch. it’s only a two day resort so we can cram as much in our schedule as possible.”

you watch as he rambles on. you didn’t realize now cute he actually was until now. you’ve always thought he was attractive , but seeing a fluffy soft side of him was new. he was usually very direct and sexy , but it felt like he was slowly revealing more of himself the more you spent time together.

“let’s do whatever you want.” you say.

written by swanlakebaby™

[lovebugism]

YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN, KID | the beginning.

summary: a year after the end of the world, you and steve share one cigarette and two confessions. (6k)

listen to: "as the world falls down" by david bowie

tags: f!reader, roadtrip fic, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, angst & comfort, post st4, selective canon divergence (some things happen, some things don't), reader goes by the nickname "scout" TW panic attacks, conversations about grief, steve harrington smokes but he's still hot, outfit inspo (not indicative of what r's body type/skin color/etc.)

a/n: kinda surreal that i'm posting this because it's something i've been working on/thinking about for Months. i put so much time and effort and tears into this series so pleasepleaseplease enjoy it! as always, let me know what you think! let's watch these two (sort of) friends run away and fall in love with each other, shall we? <3

JOURNALS | MASTERLIST | SPOTIFY

★。＼ ｜ ／。★

The beginning of the rest of your life starts in the murky alleyway outside The Velvet Lounge.

It’s pretty fitting, actually. You feel like you’re close to dying anyway.

The lightning strike of a panic attack comes first as a cold hand around your throat. The clawed talon of a long-gone monster strangles you — sucks all the air out of your lungs and leaves you gasping for a breath you know won’t come. 

A second later and the light-up dance floor beneath your feet begins to sway. You blink, and it becomes the desiccated terrain of the Upside Down — again, and the glowing rainbow tiles return. Eventually, it becomes impossible to discern the real from the imaginary.

You feel a bit like the world’s caving in on itself as you stumble through the bustling crowd. The thumping of the heady bass strums throughout your body as you squeeze between a mob of sweatier ones. The merciless pounding makes you forget that your heart’s no longer beating.

The heavy breeze of a summer night smacks you in the face. There is no fresh air outside the buzzing nightclub, just more emptiness. 

You lean against the brick wall, clutching desperately onto your chest as you stumble from the exit. The world around you starts to spin on its side, going blurry like you’re being pulled underwater.

You’re drowning, but none’s coming to save you.

To everyone else, you’re just a girl that’s had too many. The girl that’s lost too much.

You duck into the dark alley with the intention of withering away there.

A warm hand brings you back to life.

“Shit, Scout,” Steve Harrington curses behind you. “Are you— Are you okay?”

You’ve never heard the nickname leave his mouth so gently. You don’t think he’s ever touched you so softly, either. It’s all so foreignly tender compared to the war raging inside your skull — you think it would’ve made you weep if you were capable of catching your breath.

His presence is only startling in the sense that you hadn’t expected to find him there.

It was pretty much the reason you’d slinked through the dimly lit passageway in the first place — to die completely and utterly alone. The flickering orange lamplight and damp brick made this place more adequate for puking college kids, canoodling couples, and conniving Ted Bundy’s of the world. Not pretty Steve and his pretty clothes and his pretty hair.

You’re more humiliated at having been caught than you are alarmed by it.

You figure you really shouldn’t be. He’s already seen you at your worst. On your deathbed, crying so hard you puke, so far gone from the world that you’re practically a ghost — that kind of worst. 

But for some reason, his wide palm on your shoulder makes you feel fragile. Small. He stands fathoms above you and you’re nothing but an ant under his sneaker — a little delicate thing he could crush completely if he wanted.

Instead, Steve holds you.

His long fingers cradle your trembling shoulder in a steady embrace. A warm reminder that you’re not alone in this gloomy alleyway that still thrums with life. That, in some ways, you’ve never really been alone at all.

“Yeah,” you answer finally, nodding but not looking over at him. You swallow through a tightening throat. “I just… I just need to, uh… to catch my breath.”

Steve eyes you with a gaze swimming with apprehension.

Your shoulder presses into the rough brick while your other hand clings desperately to your chest. Your fingers dig into the soft cotton of your shirt like you’re reaching for your thundering heart. Each of your breaths is ragged, forced, worked for. You grunt your way through every impossible inhale.

Facing away from him under the dim amber streetlight, he can barely make out your profile. He only gets glimpses of your scrunched face and the tear that glimmers gold on your cheek. But with his hand on your arm, he can feel the rapid up-and-down motion of your heavy breaths. Panic sizzles off of you and onto him like static shock.

“Yeah, it was getting kinda crazy in there, huh?” he says within a halfhearted laugh. “I didn’t know people like Duran Duran so much.”

It’s nothing more than a feeble attempt to get you to laugh. 

And it works. Sort of.

You’d lost sight of Steve somewhere around the time “Girls on Film�� came on. Nancy’s drunken hand pulled you to the dance floor, and every other tipsy woman followed right behind you. He hadn’t seemed to care much about dancing, though. He just sat in the corner booth with Robin until Vickie came by and stole her away. The last you saw him, he was sitting alone at the bar with a basket of chicken wings before disappearing entirely.

But he hadn’t disappeared, you figured. He was just here, in this eerily empty alleyway, trying to get away from it all just as much as you were.

Steve sees the corners of your mouth quirk upward in a grimacing sort of smile. A scoff sounds from your throat a moment later. He thinks that might be the sort of laugh you get from a girl who doesn’t have much to find humor in anymore.

Your newfound relief is his own.

“You okay now?” he asks once you’ve caught your breath.

You nod and settle back against the brick. The fabric of your shirt sticks to the prickly clay. “Yeah,” you repeat, more truthfully this time. “Thanks— Thank you.”

You’re forced to mourn the warmth of the broad hand on your shoulder when he pulls away from you. 

He doesn’t stray far, though. He remains at your side with his back to the brick —  his frame much taller than your own, broader too. His woody cologne swirls with the purer scent of a summer night and the distant smell of beer. He holds within him an air that can only be described as all-consuming. He’s exactly the feeling of everything warm despite the several inches that separate you. 

Steve offers you the lit cigarette in his left hand, and for a reason you can’t name, his kindness takes you by surprise. You’ve fought a monster with the guy, but he still feels like a total stranger to you sometimes.

He sees you hesitate and thinks that this might be the first time either of you have been alone together. You don’t have anything in common except for the party. Without one of the members to accompany you, the fact becomes a heavier weight to bear.

It’s sort of like a peace offering — this half-gone cigarette. A ‘hey, I know we aren’t really friends, but maybe we could be.’

You take it. “Thanks…”

Steve watches you puff from the stick. You hold the thing between your thumb and forefinger, pinching it as you bring it up to your mouth. The huff you take isn’t a deep one, probably the fault of your still staggering breaths, but your eyes flutter shut on the exhale like you’re grateful for the nicotine fix.

He realizes then that he’s never looked at you before. Like, really looked.

Like a ghost, you tend to blend easily into the background, floating around in the shadows without ever being seen. You’re only out tonight because Robin and Nancy forced your hand, but in your darkened outfit — cropped tee, plain skirt, worn boots, all varying shades of black — you threaten to blend in with the night. You do it all with the finesse of a girl who’s all but disconnected herself from the world.

You catch him staring when you hand the cigarette back.

You don’t look weirded out by his prying gaze — quite the opposite, really. You cower under the attention, chin tilting toward your chest and a sheepish smile hinting at your lips. Embarrassed without any actual reason to be.

“Wanna tell me the real reason you came out here?” Steve asks you, covering the serious inquiry with a joking lilt.

Your brows furrow as you watch him bring the cigarette to his own mouth. He’s got this look on his face — raised brows, wide eyes, and quirked lips — almost like he’s teasing you.

You breathe out an awkward laugh.

“What do you mean? I just told you.” You try to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. It looks more like you’re wincing as you shift your weight on your feet. “I just needed to—”

“To catch your breath,” Steve finishes for you, smoke billowing from his pink lips. The grey lingers between you for a moment before disappearing entirely. He nods with a lopsided grin before handing you back the cigarette. “Yeah. I heard you. I just don’t believe you.”

Your eyes go wide. He can’t tell if you’re shocked by his bluntness or if you’re embarrassed at having been caught so quickly. Maybe a healthy mixture of both.

Your throat tightens all over again. You swallow thickly as you turn away from him and it feels like you’re forcing down a too big pill. The back of your eyes burn with unshed tears, so many stinging needles that you force yourself to blink away.

And even though you’re just trying not to cry at the reality of the situation you’ve spent a year hiding from, to Steve it looks like you’re searching for a way out. Your gaze snaps to the opening of the alley where nicely dressed people bustle on the other side, their conversations far away and muffled.

He hadn’t meant to make you uncomfortable. He just thought you could use a friend, considering you were only just recovering from the windswept panic spell.

“Look. You— You tell me why you’re out here, and I’ll tell you why I am,” he offers, partly to make you feel better.

The other half of it, which he finds it startling to admit, is that he doesn’t want you to leave.

He’d spent fifteen minutes by himself in the dark — half comforted by it, half frightened. Despite his distant unfamiliarity with you, he’s weirdly comforted by your presence. Steve’s seen enough people walk away from him to know he doesn’t want you to join them.

You look at him again, more glassy-eyed than you’d been before. Your sniffle is nearly inaudible. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “You know… A you-show-me-yours, I’ll-show-you-mine kinda thing.”

It sounds a lot weirder coming out of his mouth than he expected it to. It makes you laugh, though, so it feels sort of worth it.

“That sounds really pervy,” you tease with a more sincere smile.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just— Maybe just ignore that last part, yeah?” he stammers stiffly, laughing softly at himself shortly after.

You finally take a hit from the cig between your fingers. Your gaze falls to your boots.

They were a gift from someone you knew a long time ago — someone you don’t know anymore because they’re gone.

It was a well-loved anniversary present you’ve worn every day since you got them. They’re a bit tattered now, obviously worn on the platformed bottoms. You don’t know how many times you’ve glued the soles back together now — or how many times you’ve tried to wash away the faded bloodstain by the laces that refuses to come out.

It’s as stuck there as the memories in your head are.

And even though you’ve never talked about it out loud, you think you could write a million words about how looking at the stain makes you feel — about all the thoughts that swirl within you at the sight of it and why you can’t throw them out despite it all. You’d write about the boy who bought them for you, whose name it’s still so hard to say — the boy who you loved who was gone.

It was just easier to shove it all down.

You kept your grief horribly discreet, like a poorly stitched-together wound.

If you couldn’t even burden yourself with it, why should you expect anyone else to?

But here Steve goes, offering to let that raging wound breathe. 

Something about the ultimatum makes it more comforting. It’s a lot easier to tell a kept secret when you know another hidden confession is coming right after it. You don’t know if you’ll ever get this chance again — to shield your grief with someone else’s. 

“Okay,” you answer suddenly before exhaling the gray from your lungs. You outstretch your hand to give him the cigarette back. You try to smile. “You first, though.”

Steve puffs from the stick before he answers you. For a moment, it’s nothing but muffled conversations and a stifled bass that rattles the brick. The quiet is noticeably less suffocating than all the quiets you’ve known before — less lonely now that you’ve got someone to share them with.

“I hate parties,” he summarizes with a shrug.

“Yeah, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” you joke.

He flicks the end of the cigarette to dispel the ash. Grey specks fall to the damp concrete. When he hands it off to you again, your fingers brush his own. Your skin is much cooler than the humid summer air surrounding you.

“I mean, I used to like parties. I think,” Steve explains, still rather vague, gesturing with wild hands like you’re used to. “Really, I just liked to drink, you know? ‘Cause everyone liked me when I was drunk. I was the popular guy — Mr. Funny, Mr. Cool. But, uh… I guess somewhere down the line, I forgot how to have fun like that.”

“Forgot how to have fun?” you repeat with a sad sort of laugh. Your brows scrunch and your swim with sympathy. The streetlamp casts sharp shadows on his chiseled features, but he still looks at you so soft — eyes sweet with the tenderness he holds there and smiling just the same.

It’s hard to believe that the King of Hawkins High could’ve ever felt anything other than total elation when he had a whole ocean outside his front door on Fairview Lane.

“I think they have a name for that these days, Harrington.”

He laughs and turns to press his shoulder into the brick. He’s facing you now, and it feels much more like he’s looming over you. 

You remain against the wall, still a bit overwhelmed by the presence of a boy who never would’ve looked your way a year or more ago. It takes everything in you not to duck away from him completely.

“Well, I was only having fun because I was drunk, right?” he elaborates, brown eyes a golden amber beneath the flickering light. They twinkle looking down at you.

“Sure…” you shrug to humor him.

“And, like, I can deal with the hangovers and everything no problem, you know, but the… The waking up the next morning. The remembering, I guess. Remembering everything I was trying to forget when I was drinking. That’s… That’s the worst part.”

You don’t realize how intently you’re looking at him at first. Every quirk of his rosy mouth, every twitch of his bushy brow, every glint of his chocolate eyes as he divulges a deeply held secret doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Behind all the pretty hair and expensive clothes is a boy much sadder than you could’ve imagined. 

Something bigger had done a number on him. Something more than the end of the world.

His upturned gaze returns to you and you realize you haven’t blinked once.

You do a rather shit job of pretending you weren’t just staring. You haphazardly turn away again, handing him the cigarette despite not having put your mouth to it.

“Yeah, I— I get what you mean…”

Your words seem to surprise him. His brows pinch like he was more prepared to be made fun of than empathized. He takes the cig from you with an absentminded hand. It goes quickly forgotten.

“You do?”

“Well, not so much with drinking, but… It happens to me in the morning sometimes,” you shrug, feigning nonchalance, and trying not to seem like it’s a phenomenon you’ve experienced every day for a year and a half. “It’s, like, that split second of bliss right before the grief comes back, right?”

Steve blinks owlishly. Then nods.

“That half a moment where nothing bad’s ever happened to you, and it’s just the sun shining on you before the… the bad shit comes back again. Like it never even left.”

And Steve, who’s never met another person who could so easily understand him and that otherwise indescribable feeling so perfectly, is stunned into silence.

Maybe it’s his fault for keeping it all to himself, like a love letter he can’t bring himself to unfold. It’s entirely likely that he could find a million people in the world who’ve felt all the same feelings he’s garnered over the past couple of years. It still wouldn’t hold the same weight as being understood now — being understood by someone who’s been through the end of the world with him.

Being understood without all the empty words.

“Yeah,” he nods finally, clearing his throat. His cheeks glow red when he realizes he’d forgotten to speak because he was too busy looking at you. “Yeah, exactly— Shit!”

The sides of his fingers sting with a sharp ache. The cig in his hand drops to the ground, half the size of his pinky. There isn’t much left of it now, and that’s why it burns him so. It hits the concrete, more ash than stick. The skin of Steve’s finger blackens as it blazes.

“Oh— Are you okay?” you grimace.

Steve snuffs out the burning cigarette with the toe of his sneaker.

“Yeah, I— I just wasn’t paying attention,” he dismisses with the shake of his head, more so at himself than anything else. It’s the first time he’s had an actual conversation with you, and he’s already embarrassed himself twice. He’ll count himself lucky if you care enough to talk to him again.

“Your go, Scout,” he offers suddenly in a measly attempt to get the attention off of him and his blunder. He wipes the ash from his pointer and middle finger on his jeans. “See if you can out-miserable me.”

You roll your eyes at him, still smiling. “What is this? The trauma olympics?”

“C’mon. I’m kidding,” he assures with a lilt. He reaches out to nudge your arm with his knuckles and, like before, his touch is almost too soft for you to feel it. The act of platonic intimacy takes you momentarily by surprise.

His smile is crooked. His eyes glimmer with honey. “I was kidding,” he repeats.

“It was just that, um— that song,” you answer. It comes out more choked than you expected it to. “They started playing that song.”

Steve’s brows furrow. “What song?” he asks. Not pressing. Only curious.

���That one that… that Eddie played when I…”

“Oh.”

“I used to love that stupid song— I mean, obviously. It sorta saved me from what should’ve been an unavoidable death, so…” You manage to laugh at yourself as you ramble.

Steve can’t find it in himself to do the same.

He’d been terrified when it happened to Max — when the kid he was involuntarily babysitting started to float in midair, nearly succumbing to the curse of a monster that should’ve been make-believe. He was relieved when she fell back down again, but you? He was certain you were a goner. 

You were too high up and Eddie’s guitar was too far away. The beginning notes of I Was Made For Lovin’ You were too grim and Vecna’s claws were in too deep. You were too distant, too banished.

For several agonizing seconds, you were destined to remain a stranger to him.

But here you are now, sharing cigarettes and secrets.

Your eyes squeeze shut as you shake your head at yourself. “But, um, anyway. Yeah. It’s just… Sometimes things will happen, you know? Like I’ll— I’ll hear a song or… I’ll see something that reminds me of him— of Eddie. And it’s just like…”

“…Like you’re in the Upside Down again?” Steve finishes gently for you when he sees that you can’t.

You nod, wordlessly for a moment, until the words catch up with you.

“Like nightmares, but when I’m awake,” you force through a closing throat. “And they’re so real. Like… I can— I can hear him. I can hear him talking to me, and I’m— I’m holding him, and I can feel him breathing, you know? He’s still breathing, but—”

You take a staggering breath in. For a moment, Steve’s scared you’re tumbling headfirst into another panic attack.

His attentive eyes flit between your scrunched up face and the trembling hands you hold out in front of you. You’re cradling something that isn’t there anymore. You look down at your palms with a horror that tells him you understand that, too — that the person you used to hold isn’t able to be held anymore.

“I can feel the… the blood. And it’s just… It’s all over me. And I’m losing him. I’m losing him all over again—”

You hiccup a measly sob when your lungs force you to take a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It puts an end to your rambling. You’re grateful enough for it. You’d already said more than you were planning to — more than you thought you’d say in a lifetime. 

You think you must sound deranged, talking about a corpse like it’s still a warm body you hold every night.

In some ways, it is.

You sniffle and blink back burning tears. Your smile edges on sincerity. “So, what do you think, Harrington? Did I out-miserable you?”

Steve scoffs in the place of a real laugh. “I didn’t have a dog in that fight, did I? What you went through… I mean, I shouldn’t even be complaining.”

“Hey, c’mon,” you scold gently. “We both went through shit. It was all bad, no matter how you look at it. Just because we didn’t go through the same stuff doesn’t mean what happened to you is any less important.”

You just barely catch his cinnamon eyes going glassy before he turns away from you entirely. His stubbled cheeks blotch with varying shades of pink, glowing with an emotion he can’t keep hidden. He looks down at his dirty sneakers because he can’t bare to look at you now.

Understanding, that’s what this is. Understanding without all the empty words.

It’s still hard for him to believe them, though.

In the grand scheme of things, what happened to him wasn’t so terrible. 

He wasn’t under any sort of curse. No one he cared about was irrevocably hurt, either. And he didn’t have to hold someone he loved in his arms while they bled to death — doesn’t have to feel like he’s still holding onto them a year after it all.

Despite the marred scars on his mind and body, Steve convinces himself that he has no reason to be sad — even though that’s not really how sadness works. Grief isn’t the kind of thing you can just will away, but he beats himself up when he can’t — when the heartache wins.

It’s a never-ending cycle. A loop he’s been stuck in since he was seventeen. A portal he was terrified would never close. 

Now, at least, it feels sort of possible.

“You shouldn’t talk like that, Scout,” he jokes after the urge to weep has passed. He tilts his head to his shoulder and smiles a crooked grin. “I’m gonna start to think you like me.”

Without missing a beat, you retort: “Please, never ever think that. That would completely shatter my reputation.”

You both laugh with the knowing that it’s all just a joke.

You never had much of a reputation because you spent your whole life being invisible. You liked it best that way because never being seen meant nothing was ever expected of you. You’ll happily take someone you went to school with your entire life never knowing your name than any bogus Hawkins High royalty status any day.

Steve, better known by his title of King, wishes now that he’d taken a page out of your book. He learned the power of invisibility far too late.

“Who woulda thought, huh?” the boy sighs, chocolate eyes turned up to the velvet blue sky. “You and me… being friends.”

You arch a brow at him. “Oh, is that what we are now?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve scoffs like it’s obvious. “They didn’t tell you? You fight monsters together, and you’re bonded for life.”

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. I mean, why do you think me and Henderson are so close?”

“So you’re saying you would’ve never been friends if it wasn’t for the end of the world?” you reiterate with a challenging squint.

“That’s almost exactly what I’m saying. Yeah,” he nods with his pink lips jutted softly out. “If none of that shit ever happened, I’d still be that raging douchebag I used to be. My life would be… so much different.”

“Worse?” you press.

He thinks for a moment.

Without the whole end-of-the-world thing, he never would’ve met Dustin. He never would’ve gotten closer to Robin. Nancy never would’ve had a reason to break up with him, and he figures he’d have long settled down with her by now. They’d be that miserable couple that somehow manages to make it.

He’d probably still be friends with Tommy Hagan, too, getting drunk at parties he’s too old to be at. He’d still be the King Steve everyone loved and hating every second of it.

Fighting monster after monster changed him for the better. Even with its horror, how could he ever take that back?

He winces at the realization. “Yeah…”

“So you’d do it all over again?” you ask, dumbfounded.

“I think so, yeah.” Steve’s smile is shy as he ducks his gaze, peering at you through his lashes. “I’m a total idiot, right?”

Your brows pinch together as you shake your head. “No. I don’t think so… Actually, I think the end of the world looks pretty good on you, Harrington.”

He knows you don’t mean it how it sounds. He gets the feeling you’re talking less about his appearance and more about why he’s standing out here in the first place — talking to a girl he’s halfway known all his life whose name he didn’t know until she almost died.

For the same reason — the one that’s brought you to him and this alley — he jokes back: “It looks good on you, too, Scout.”

Again, you laugh with the understanding that you’re joking. For the most part, at least. 

You’re both so weathered with grief, looking much older than your years, forced to wear your woe all over. For whatever transformation the trauma might’ve done internally, it hadn’t done anything on the outside than leave scars that won’t fade.

When the laughter subsides, a silence roars to life. 

Not a total one. You can still hear the pounding bass from inside The Velvet Lounge and the muddled chatter of people coming in and out of it. It’s not a totally uncomfortable one either, which is far more than you thought you could ever say about talking to Steve The Hair Harrington. 

But it’s still sort of heavy in its way. Likely with the idea of what the both of you know and of everything you’ve confessed out loud.

Now that it’s all out in the open, Steve’s got no idea how to move on. How is he supposed to joke around now? How does he say anything but sorry to the girl who holds all her grief in her eyes?

“Hey, Scout?” he calls quietly.

Your leftover grin hasn’t yet faded. “Hm?”

“I’m… I’m really sorry.”

The smile ebbs entirely.

“Why are you apologizing?” you ask with the shake of your head, almost flinching at the sudden condolence. “You didn’t… You’re not the one that killed Eddie.”

“I know. I just… I feel like I should— like I should say it, you know?”

“That’s the worst part about all of this, I think. Like… you lose someone, and no one knows how to talk to you anymore,” you confess, a sad smile hinting at the very corners of your lips — so soft it’s barely there. Your gaze falls to your boots again. “Everyone just feels so sorry for you all the time. All anyone ever wants to do is talk about what happened like I don’t have to think about it enough, you know? It just… It makes it impossible to move on.”

Steve winces. He can’t ever say the right thing. “I’m sorry—”

“Stop apologizing,” you tell him, laughing. “I’m not saying that— I’m just… I’m just saying. I think it’d be easier if I didn’t have to stay here. You know, where everything happened. If I could… Like, if I could just go, I think that maybe I could get better.”

“You could,” Steve affirms with a nod.

Your brows furrow. “Get better?”

“Well, yeah,” he shrugs, amber gaze flitting between your glittering eyes and his dirty sneakers. “And… And leave. You know, if you wanted to.” 

The thought alone makes you laugh. “By myself? With no car? Barely any money?”

“You wouldn’t have to go alone,” he promises.

“Yeah?” you scoff, still grinning like it’s all a joke to you. “And who would want to run away with a girl with a broken heart?”

He answers without thinking and with a lopsided smile. “The boy with nothing to lose.”

Your smile fades with the heavy weight of his offer.

It isn’t just about running away. It’s about running away together — two people with nothing in common besides a mutual hatred for a dark wizard from the underworld, ditching a town that hasn’t done shit for them, and pretending like nothing’s ever hurt them.

And at first, you’re shocked. Who wouldn’t be with such an offer thrown at their feet? But then, and more than anything else, you’re confused. Why would Steve want to run away? you think to yourself. Why would he want to run away with you? 

When the bolt blue finally dissipates, you’re left with a simmering feeling of disbelief.

Steve shouldn’t want this, and he shouldn’t want it with you.

“You’re drunk,” you conclude, smiling because it’s a joke again.

“Yeah. Maybe,” Steve shrugs with his gaze pointed to the sky. The stars are hidden beneath layers of light and pollution. They’re out there somewhere, but he can’t see them — not from where he is now. He looks back to you, a sheepish smile playing on his pink mouth. “But… I’m not.”

“Would you seriously want to leave?” you squint. With me, you keep to yourself, unsaid.

“I’ve, uh— I’ve been wanting to for a while, actually. Even before all of… this,” he confesses, waving his hand out into the ether. He grins in reminiscence, but not the fond kind. “My dad— he’s just been dogging me about work and college and everything, you know? I think he wants me to be the same big shot business douchebag that he is, and I get it, but…”

You lean closer to him, brows furrowed. “But what?” you press.

Steve exhales a sad laugh. “I really don’t wanna end up like my dad,” he admits — a thought he kept like a thorn in his side finally said out loud. “And I’m scared that, if I stay here, I will.”

“So you’ve just been looking for a way out. All this time?” you wonder aloud. While I thought you were on top of the world, you were wanting out of it.

Steve shrugs, then nods.

“And a girl with nothing to lose?” you joke.

“Yeah,” he chuckles softly to himself. “That, too.”

You turn away from him again, deep in thought. Steve mourns your gaze — its attentiveness more than anything, the way you look at him and seem to understand him without saying a goddamn word. He didn’t think that was possible before now.

You think to yourself for a moment. Mostly because it’s something you know you should think about before you do it.

How will you pay your way? Where will you go? What will you do when you get there? 

What will your parents say when they notice you’re gone? How long will it take before they do? 

Who’ll feed the stray cats outside the trailer park? 

Who’ll leave flowers at Eddie’s grave once a month and clean it when it’s ultimately vandalized by assholes who still think he was a mass murderer sent from Hell to do Satan’s bidding?

There’s a lot of questions you don’t have answers for.

What little you do know, though, you’re certain of.

You know there’s nothing left for you in Hawkins.

You don’t have much family — especially not since Eddie — and your friends aren’t really your friends. Sure, Nancy invites you out from time to time, but she’d never call you to dish about secrets and shared trauma in this way. Sometimes you think they only include you because your boyfriend died, and they all saw what it did to you.

And you also know that there’s nothing holding you back but grief. To absolve yourself from it all, to finally move the fuck on, you’re going to have to leave it all behind. It’s not like you’d be missing much anyway. 

You’re still a ghost because you live in a soul-sucking town full of people who only want to talk to you when it’s to remind you that the only person you’ve ever loved is dead.

Nothing has brought you back to life quite like this boy and his secrets and offer to run away.

You think you’d been an idiot to walk away from it. From him.

“Fuck it.”

Steve almost flinches at how feverishly you turn to face him again. 

His brows raise to his hairline, honey eyes going wide at the abrupt nature of your sudden reply. “…Fuck it?” he echoes, not nearly as confident as you’d said it — just grateful that you’d said it at all.

For a boy who always expects rejection, your innate acceptance of him and his previously kept secrets makes his chest swell with so much warmth that it’s started to burn him. He can feel his ribcage turning to ash and his heart melting as he speaks.

“Fuck it,” you nod, more serious than he’s ever seen you.

You turn to face him fully, something you’d been too timid to do just minutes ago. You’re more sure now — of him, of this. The proximity between your bodies forces you to tilt your head up to look at him. Similarly, his chin falls to his chest to peer at you.

Tucked away in this alley, you’re made of shadows and shades of gold. The lamplight still flickers over your heads. The brick still shakes with the drumming, muffled bass. You don’t realize until now that you can feel your heart beating again.

“Let’s do it,” you shrug with a blast of hopeful anticipation swelling in your chest, more optimistic than you’ve been in a year. “Nothing to lose, right?”

Steve grins.

“Nothing to lose,” he repeats, reminding himself of the fact when reality starts to set in on him. Even if he fails, even if it all goes wrong and he’s waking up in his childhood bed a week from now, he can’t get any lower than rock bottom. Besides, now he’s got you to fall back on, right?

“Fuck it.”

★。／ ｜ ＼。★

[mixtape-racha]

boyfriend!felix thoughts

in a felix brainrot after his insta stories with hyunjin icl | sfw and nsfw under the cut

warnings: mention of alcohol, sub!felix, use of "mommy", voyeurism, pussy eating // minors dni, 18+

sfw

boyfriend!felix who buys you a pandora bracelet for your first birthday/christmas as a couple, and then gets you a new charm for said bracelet every anniversary

boyfriend!felix who coordinates outfits with you for every event - even if its just similar colour schemes, or matching shoes, all the way down to identical outfits

boyfriend!felix who surprises you with holidays to australia - you thinking you'll be visiting his family - but really the two of you rent a camper-van and go on a roadtrip to visit all the places he wanted to when he was younger

boyfriend!felix who helps you prepare for presentations and gets a little too into character - coming into the living room in a cardigan and glasses with a clipboard, marking down everything you did right and anything he feels you could edit or work on (which he happily helps you do)

boyfriend!felix who makes a point to call or text you at every opportunity if you go out for the evening - checking in on where you are, who you're with, how much you've had to drink. he gets worried letting you head home alone from a bar, so is always on call to pick you up if you need it

boyfriend!felix who takes you to any concert he can - an artist you love, a small and upcoming artist you has free tickets to their first proper gig, anything. he loves the way you sing the songs to each other, or sway to the music like you're in your own world. he knows gigs are your favourite place, and is more than happy to indulge you

boyfriend!felix who adopts animals with you so often to the point that you have a collection of plushies and bracelets that you received for adopting sharks, penguins, polar bears, lions, etc.

boyfriend!felix who has a note in his phone of all his most important dates, so he could never, ever forget. the top ten all include you - from your first date, first kiss, the day he asked you to be his girlfriend, to the first time you stayed over at his, or the first time you wore his clothes

boyfriend!felix who's love language is making playlists and mixtapes. you can't even count the amount of spotify links or burned cd's you have courtesy of your lovely boyfriend. he truly has one for every occasion, and a cd for each year you've been together

boyfriend!felix who always, without fail, remembers your dog's birthday. you never have to remind him or hint, he just knows - he actually remembered it before he remembered your birthday, and always comes over equipped with treats and toys and a birthday cap and a doggy-safe cake

nsfw

boyfriend!felix who gets off on the idea of the boys watching you fuck him with his favourite purple dildo and making him show how much of a needy slut he really is in front of his closest friends

boyfriend!felix who spends hours between your thighs just mouthing at your pussy to the point where its so normal that you could be playing a hame on your phone while he's down there whining and mumbling to himself

boyfriend!felix who is a complete service top. he gets off on your bossing him around and telling him what to do - it makes him feel stupid in the best way and makes his head all fuzzy

boyfriend!felix who found out he was into cock-stepping when you accidentally knelt on his bulge while trying to climb over him in the sofa - if he jizzed in his pants when you did it again, no one had to know, right?

boyfriend!felix who has genuinely cum in his pants to your voice. you sent him a voice message while he was away on tour, and of course you were getting yourself off, but just the sounds you made and things you said made him cum without realising

boyfriend!felix who wants to be used as your personal sex toy. just tie him up and use him, honestly. he genuinely doesn't care if his needs are being met, just meet your own and trust him when he says he'll enjoy it

boyfriend!felix who sometimes gets so needy that he practically makes out with your pussy through your panties. no, don't bother removing them. they're already so wet and warm with your slick, whats the harm in keeping them on? and honestly its one of the best orgasms you've ever had

boyfriend!felix who has only dommed once in your relationship, but its was exhilarating for both of you. he had you cuffed to the bed frame with a blindfold on, and the hottest part was the way he described everything he was currently or going to do to you in the sexiest way possible

boyfriend!felix who no matter what positions you're in, holds you as tight as he can. he knows you get off on feeling every single muscle in his body working purely just to give you an orgasm/ the muscles in his arms as he holds you, the muscles in his abs as he thrusts, the muscles in his legs holding himself up, the muscles in his tongue as he wrestles with your own - god, its so hot

boyfriend!felix who fucks you in a hotel hot tub on your first vacation as husband and wife. its a rooftop hot tub that you stumbled across, and headed back to you a 2 in the morning when you knew it would be empty. it was risky, it was exciting, it was fantastic. and if thats where your eldest son was conceived, well... no one needs to know that, do they?

taglist: join taglists here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @taeriffic @mits-vi @chanssmiles @5kayzee @queen-klarissa @torixx80 @fawnpeaks @bangtanmix73 @savluvsmingi @boi-bi-ahaha @skz-streamer @demetrisscarf @4evrglow @demetrisscarf

[neiptune]

does he take care of you or could I easily fill his shoes?

c/w: explicit sexual content, degradation if you squint, best friend's girlfriend trope, not sure what the hell possessed me, reo isn't really great at handling the relationship between you and nagi :)

Truth is, Reo has never taken any special interest in you. Or so he thought, anyway.

You’ve always been a good friend, one of the old ones from middle school first and high school later, your family nothing more than acquaintances for his parents. But he genuinely liked spending time with you, always so wild and fun and certainly shameless enough to make him pay for your tickets or gas every time you decided to go on random roadtrips and general weekend getaways. It was like you were his better half in a way, the one person he could truly be himself with just because you were so similar to each other. The only exception to his otherwise dull friendships.

He’s the only one you’d wake up in the middle of the night to not so timidly ask if he could pick you up to go for a ride, you’re the only one he’d actually get out of bed for and drive all the way to Roppongi, the choice of either staying in his black Bugatti to share burger and fries in an empty parking lot or wandering around the lively neighborhood until dawn always belonging to you.

That is, until he met Nagi and his entire being started gravitating towards a whole new world, one that didn’t have much space left for you to squeeze in. Or so you thought. Because despite his new dream, exclusive friendship, a whole elite training program that had eventually opened the doors of a successful career as a pro player, Reo has never really allowed you to recede to the back of his mind. His calls grew more sporadic and he often left you on read but you still kept in touch and he never failed to let you know when he was in town. Sometimes he’d even go as far as texting you out of the absolute blue, something dry as well as demanding like playing on national tv tonight, make sure you watch.

The particular balance of your friendship further shifted when you met Seishiro, an unexpected additional presence in what was meant to be a chill afternoon at your favorite cafe to catch up and spend some time together. Reo was happy to finally be able to introduce you guys to each other, he truly was. Until you hit it off so quickly it only took him ten minutes to scoff at how you were looking at his best friend.

There was that glint in your eyes, the one you got whenever you liked something enough to sit cross legged and smile that pretty smile of yours until your eyes crinkled. Just as Reo absentmindedly took note of how good that sundress looked on you, just as he wondered if he could find an excuse to give you another hug to breathe in more of the tropical body mist you must’ve sprayed on before leaving the house, right as he suddenly ached to ask if you had watched their latest game, his winning goal, Seishiro decided that your smile was distracting enough to put his phone down, forget about the game he was playing and actually engage in conversation.

Reo didn’t see it coming at all. All of a sudden, you were always around once again but for the wrong reasons. Of course you’d won Nagi over, it was naive of him to expect his friend to resist your charm. And so leave it to him to make all the efforts Reo had been too blind to make throughout the years: he’d buy you expensive dinners, take you out even when he was too worn out from training, he’d insist on taking you with them whenever they had to travel overseas for a game and holy shit, didn’t you always comply? You were mockingly happy, sitting on his lap in front of the whole team, all affectionate smiles and gentle fingers carding through milk white hair. Nagi’s hands were always on you somehow, nose grazing your neck, breathing you in as he pressed his lips right along the line of your jaw again and again, persistent enough for Reo’s train of thought to pathetically derail at your giggles.

He hates when you travel with them. The nights and early mornings are the worst: his room would always be right next to Nagi’s, walls thin enough for him to hear each and every sound you draw from each other. His best friend’s barely suffocated groans and panting, your honeyed whimpers inevitably turning into lewd moans as he picks up his pace, if the headboard slamming against his wall is an indicator. Fuck, he hates it. Even as he gives himself lazy, languid strokes, he hates it. Don't you remember how good he had kissed you all those years before? Drunk and happy and together, your hands in his hair tugging at the strands so wonderfully he didn’t even care if your jeans were probably scratching the hood of his car. He wanted to devour you right then and there. He probably would’ve had and you certainly would’ve let him if his stupid phone hadn’t interrupted your ministrations. If Reo closes his eyes, he can still see your fingers ghosting over his hips, eager to undo his pants. He doesn’t think he’ll ever forgive you for forgetting.

And what to say about Seishiro? How can he succumb so easily to a distraction so huge? They still have plans. They’re supposed to become the best players in the goddamn world, does he believe he’ll be able to achieve something as important by burying his dick in you every single night? What a fool. What an idiot. He’s never even had a girl before, does he even actually know how to pleasure you?

Fuck.

Reo hisses at your muffled cries, they have him desperate enough for his cock to painfully throb in his hand. He knows he'd have you creaming on his fingers without even putting in the real effort. Hell, he’d press his lips to the shell of your ear right as he rubbed you back and forth, refusing to stop as you dripped and dripped and the obscene sound of his fingers persistently stretching you open would be the only thing your fucked out mind would be able to focus on. He’d stroke your hair and whisper gentle words in contrast with his unforgiving pace: you could so easily be his good girl, his princess, his perfect little slut.

Ah, man. You need him, you both need him. He’s enough to take that stupid relationship of yours to the next step, he’s the missing fucking piece. He knows Nagi, he’s sure he’d be into it as long as he wouldn’t have to do more than he needs to and Reo certainly is good enough of a friend to efficiently take care of both of you. Isn’t he?

[devilsrecreation]

we've talked about this before, but i wondered if you had any ideas of what would happen if the outlanders went on a roadtrip in a zootopia/human au? :3

OHMYGODDDDDD SPINNY HI :3

Tbh I honestly can’t remember when we talked about an Outlander road trip but I DO have ideas!

I’m guessing it all depends on which Outlanders are going. It’s chaotic every way tho fjfhfh

The destination: The Tree of Life

Jasiri would obviously be the one driving while Reirei rides shotgun

Janja, Kiburi, and Mzingo are riding in the back….that’s gonna be fun. Janja DEFINITELY isn’t gonna annoy the fuck out of everyone hfhfhf

Shupavu and Njano are there too cuz they don’t take up much space (if it’s the Zootopia AU, if it’s a human au then they have the third row to themselves)

Kenge drives the skinks and Sumu on their road trip. It’s fine until some asshole cuts him off and he gets road rage

Kiburi’s mostly keeping himself busy by looking out the window or listening to rap music

When the car runs low on gas, everyone plays rock, paper, scissors to determine who gets to fill the car up (nobody wants to do it). Reirei loses and she has to witness the boys either being smug (Mzingo) or laughing and flipping her off (Janja and Kiburi)

Janja’s fun doesn’t last long since Jasiri tells him to buy everyone snacks. It’s mostly candy and beef jerky for Kiburi. Shupavu and Njano only get one measly pack of gum and nothing else

At some point, the skinks take an interesting picture of Janja sleeping on Kiburi’s lap like a pillow

For a croc road trip, Tamka and Neema are the one in a weird position. You could mistake them for a sleeping couple hfgfvfgf

Nduli and Cheezi are in their own world while everyone else is arguing. They’re just happy to be here

At the most inconvenient time, Njano has to pee. Same goes for Chungu, Goigoi, and Tamka 😭

Mzingo’s phone has the GPS plus he knows a couple shortcuts here and there so he’s very useful

Unfortunately they forget him at a gas station and it takes them like an hour to realize it. Dw they go back for him

On a hyena road trip, Janja “accidentally” forgets Nne and Tano at the gas station. With the crocs, they almost forget Neema. Jackals? It’s poor Goigoi. The skinks THINK they forgot either Nyeusi or Sumu but it turns out they just moved to the trunk lol

Lots of arguing happening no matter which Outlanders are on the trip

When everything’s quiet, Janja turns around out of curiosity and catches Shupavu and Njano making out (nothing NSFW just kissing)

Jasiri’s eyes start to droop a bit but is woken up by death metal on max volume (thanks, Janja lmao. Reirei was just gonna yell but that works too)

If it’s just Janja, Reirei, and Kiburi on the trip, then it’s like this

Constant fighting over music. Jasiri plays pop music, but Janja changes it to a rock and roll station, which is changed to country by Reirei, then classical/opera(?) by Mzingo, then rap/hip hop by Kiburi. In the end they all jam to “What is Love” along with the head bopping thing lmaoooo

Thank god the trip is a win and everyone has a good time!….until the ride home where everyone starts arguing again

[piwstri4]

un coco | ln4

pairing: f1 driver!ex!lando norris x fashion designer!ex!reader summary: your life goes on but what about your peace? fc: rosalía part two - part four

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ynclo los carros de f1 son más rápidos en persona view all comments

arthur_leclerc don't ever come near me again ynclo › arthur_leclerc 👍🏽

lewishamilton Thank you for coming! ynclo › lewishamilton anytime!!

user4 girly really said f1 cars are faster in person and called it a day user1 › user4 lmaoooo yn didn't even bother

user2 mother is BACK!!

user3 the last pic omg

danielricciardo And what about ME? ynclo › danielricciardo girl next time send me an invite

user5 arthur doing the yn kiss face im DEAD

user6 lewis comment????

user7 never beating the ferrari garage allegations i see user8 › user7 well probably thur's idea? let's not forget she only ever went to alphatauri's and mclaren's bc of her connections.. user7 › user8 ik it's just kinda weird

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ynclo y que vivan las mujeres!! view all comments

user1 my mothers 😭😭😭

user2 something lgbt is happening to me

bellahadid ❤️ ynclo › bellahadid ❤️💕💖💞💋

lalalalisa_m let's do that again !! ily ynclo › lalalalisa_m whenever you say bby ❤️💞 (ily+)

user3 you're telling me she posted men just for the hell of it????

user4 guys she's just simping for women take it or leave it user5 › user4 translation 🔫🔫 user4 › user5 ??? (long live women)

kyliejenner omg we're so hot 🥵 ynclo › kyliejenner who's we??? i can only see one hottie (you)

user6 aren't we noticing some lack of... luka? user7 › user6 i didn't wanna say anything but user8 › user6 i was thinking the same!!

user9 yn world tour and i love it

user10 mom where's dad???

user11 i can't go through another divorce PLEASE

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ynclo italy roadtrip (@ scuderiaferrari can i drop him off at yours?) view all comments

arthur_leclerc 😡😡😡 ynclo › arthur_leclerc i was this close🤏🏽to kicking your ass next time im driving all the way to maranello arthur_leclerc › ynclo boohoo we drove all the way to maranello stfu

user1 omg????? yn?????

user2 guys where is luka?? 😔😔 user3 › user2 fr where's my bestie luka??? is she dating this guy now?? user4 › user3 "this guy" 🤡🤡 that's her best friend

user4 im happy and all but missy........

user5 la vita senza amore che vita è????????? yn???????? the post???????? user6 › user5 i don't get it 😭😭 user5 › user6 what life is a life without love basically

user7 congrats???

scuderiaferrari you can have him girl ynclo › scuderiaferrari no. ❤️ arthur_leclerc › scuderiaferrari ?????

vogueitalia beautiful ynclo > vogueitalia ❤️

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liked by arthur_leclerc, lukasabbat and others ynclo solo me queda agradecer ♥️ 📸: @ elenavelez view all comments

lukasabbat ❤️ ynclo › lukasabbat ❤️

user1 living the dream

user2 luka and arthur >>>

elenavelez prettiest 💋 ynclo › elenavelez no u 😘

arthur_leclerc why is luka's pic first?? ynclo › arthur_leclerc guess (he finished 1st on the race sim) arthur_leclerc › ynclo just say u hate me and leave

user3 i missed my mom being happy

user4 "there's only thankfulness left" i love it here so much

user5 i can't be the only one noticing the red theme..

lukasabbat forza ferrari ❤️ ynclo › lukasabbat get tf off my page arthur_leclerc › lukasabbat you dropped this 👑

user6 yn and arthur shutting everyone up lol they're in love w luka user7 › user6 fr arhut loves luka more than yn lol user8 › user6 arthur's in his steal ur bf era

user9 thank GOD they didn't break up

user10 luka's a ferrari fan 😭😭 ynclo › user10 little guy doesn't know a thing bout cars :// arthur_leclerc › user10 everyone´s a ferrari fan

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[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! Do you have any recommendations for ttrpgs like Kentucky Route Zero?

THEME: Kentucky Route Zero

Hello, I looked up Kentucky Route Zero for the first time thanks to your ask and I understand why you’d want to find a game that replicates it to some degree. Let’s establish what elements of KRZ I’m focusing on when providing recommendations.

The game is modern, and feels transient in some way.

The game offers a subtle or unsubtle critique of capitalism.

The game allows for magical realism, in that odd things are accepted by the characters as fact, or disregarded entirely. This is used to draw attention to the strange and might even highlight abuses of power.

The game allows you to contribute to the lore, but characters still feel to some extent that their choices won’t take them where they want to go.

Now, the games I’ve got for you don’t necessarily have all of these elements written in, but I’m suggesting them as avenues that are more likely to point you in this direction.

Over the Edge, by Atlas Games.

During your stay with us, please remember that Liberty is Job One, Disarmament Means Peace, It's Polite to Speak English, and, of course, Paranormal Activity is perfectly legal.Thank you for your consent.

The Edge is the weirdest city in the world. Get into trouble. Question your place in the crazed multiverse. Transcend mortal limits. Join a cult. Fight a baboon. Along the way, you might find out who really controls humanity. Unless, of course, you've been working for Them all along.

Over the Edge describes itself as an alternate reality; there are otherworldly entities, large conspiracies, psychic powers, etc. Characters follow “Hollywood” reality: they exist at the culmination of plot-relevant world elements, interacting directly with the conspiracies existing underneath the surface. You are playing a typical protagonist. This means that while playing this game, you are likely to run into pulp-action territory, which might not be exactly what we’re going for here, but what I think this game might really do well is place you in a setting where things are just a little bit off from normal. One of the pieces of art in the Quickstart is of a lady walking her pet hyena: that tells me that we’re probably going to have hefty amounts of Magical Realism in this game.

Midnight Roads, for World of Darkness, by White Wolf.

The roads are lovely, dark and deep…

There are things in the world that no laws account for – things that bestow blessings no man remembers or curses for slights long past. But the things, they do not forget. They wait for the right hand to fall upon them, the right eyes to see their glory, the right heart to recognize their power.

World of Darkness is a long-standing horror roleplaying game originally published by White Wolf. Currently the system Midnight Roads is built for is actually obsolete - having been replaced by the newer Chronicles of Darkness - but the advice and guidance in Midnight Roads is still solid. It focuses on tying real-world fears to supernatural phenomena, and includes a number of example antagonists that make the blank stretches of open road across the United States feel alien and terrifying. Even if you don’t run a game in this system, I highly recommend checking out the supplement for inspiration.

Apocalypse Roadtrip, by Mynar Lenahan.

Apocalypse Roadtrip is a 34-page Forged In The Dark game for 2-5 players about normal people finding their way after the world has ended. Navigating their way past roaming Kaiju, military bombings, otherworldly cryptids, UFO fleets, and other survivors (friendly and not), the characters work hard to achieve their goals and, ultimately, make some changes in their world.

This game is great if you’re looking for that perpetual on-the-road feeling, for transient characters who don’t have a good place to call home. It’s less about the horrors of late-stage capitalism, and is more suited to stories that embrace oddness, especially in a settings where Kaiju, cryptids, and aliens all exist.

If you want to make the weirdness normalized, push the timeline forward from what is established in the book, to a point where all of these events have become old hat for folks - if the aliens and cryptids aren’t weird or strange, perhaps what is weird is how one specific Cryptid keeps entering the chicken coop and doesn’t seem to eat any of the chickens. Or perhaps the government has confiscated a piece of alien technology, but the business owner who found it isn’t acting the same anymore. Your characters will probably find themselves doing odd jobs as the move from one place to another - whether or not they uncover a larger story is probably up to you.

Absurdia, by Quinn Majeski.

Absurdia is an absurdist modern fantasy roleplaying game about the inane hilarity and understated horror of everyday life. Inspired by works of absurd humor, surreal horror, and literary nonsense like Welcome to Night Vale, Alice in Wonderland, Gravity Falls, and the Twilight Zone, Absurdia is an opportunity to indulge in the surreal and outlandish while subverting the absurdity of modern society.

This game takes place in a strange and surreal town of your own making. It's Powered by the Apocalypse, which means much of the direction of the story will unfold as you play, with staggered successes on anything that requires you to roll - this means that any given action is likely to give you a little bit of what you're looking for while also providing obstacles that you didn't expect. It's also well primed for a magical realist kind of atmosphere, since the abnormal and supernatural might be part of the everyday, such as it is for the residents of Night Vale. The designer, Quinn, is excellent at running games that always keep the play group on their toes, and I expect this game designed by them is much the same.

Liminal Horror (and supplements), by Goblin Archives

Liminal Horror brings adaptable modern horror to TTRPGs. It is a rules-lite, fail forward system that leverages creative problem solving in order to create memorable experiences at the table. Players act as 'investigators' navigating a modern world full of terrible and unknowable horrors.

I’m recommending Liminal Horror not just because it does an excellent job of building suspense and making your characters feel less-than-powerful, but also because it’s got a lot of modules and add-ons that help you customize your game. Swineheart Motel, by Kill Jester, is a cosmic horror adventure set in a roadside motel. Tunnels in White, by MeatCastle GameWare, places an old corporation front and centre as a suspicious entity disappearing locals. The Bloom, by Goblin Archives, is about a small town that is hiding something, and seems to be losing people at an alarming rate. You can also tweak the premise of the game if you want to make your characters indentured to their employer, or freelancers just trying to make ends meet.

If you want to see more Liminal Horror options, you can check out the Tales from The Void, a game jam for Liminal Horror modules!

Hopes & Dreams by Fari RPGS (René-Pier Deshaies).

Hopes & Dreams is a rules-lite tabletop role-playing game where you play as young adults who want to make a difference in a world that won’t let them. Government officials are corrupted, your leaders are broken, and the future looks bleak.  Play in this original grunge industrial fantasy setting where you and your friends haven’t abandoned hope yet. You still have dreams of what life could be, and are willing to fight for it.

Hopes & Dreams has a lot of potential to give you a taste of Kentucky Route Zero, in the hopefulness present as a mechanic. Dreams & Nightmares are goals and tracks that hit off at a certain point and are guaranteed to shift the story in what might feel like moments that your character can’t control. Fill your Dream? The world changes for the better. Fill your Nightmare? The world changes for the worse. The original game is industrial fantasy but I can see you using the SRD to make a game that is cyberpunk, modern dystopia, or an alternative Kentucky where Consolidated Power is buying up your debt so that they can get free labour.

If you want to get a bit of a peek into the bones of Hopes & Dreams from the point of view of the designer, you can check out this review by Junk History, which includes an interview with René-Pier Deshaies.

[distort-opia]

I'd like some director's commentary on-- shocker!-- my favorite angst, "this knife, like silence." A couple questions:

1) "He just steps off, removes himself from the narrative, and when you awake you can’t remember what you yell at him. What things you tell him to try and get him to stay."

Just curious if this is always how it went, or if you played with Bruce remembering what he yelled and what it was.

2) Just any further thoughts on Selina, really. I just keep thinking that Bruce does love her, and that's why he married her, and it'd be awful if maybe deep down the reason he did is because he thought it would bring Joker out of the woodwork! But then at the end of the story, Bruce ends up doing the same thing to his family that Joker did to him, and Selina is so painfully aware of how much Bruce feels Joker's absence that it's probably already occurred to her. Just imagining her deciding settling down with Bruce is worth the loss of freedom, and in return… 🙃 We've talked about a companion story from Joker's POV, but hers would be something too.

Always happy to hear that fic breaks hearts as intended, thank you for the ask!

1) I'm pretty sure I wrote it like that from the start. The thought process behind it was a bit similar to the one behind "friend, please" actually... in the sense that in an extreme situation, Bruce would choke on his repression. He'd desperately want to say the right thing, but he's never been good at expressing his emotions, he's always had issues with directly expressing his desires (hell that's why it took me 90k words and mental torture in REMS for him to even approach actual communication of emotions). So in a way, that line is about him abstractly dreaming that he managed to yell something out to begin with, but he doesn't remember what it was because he doesn't know what it was. Because he still doesn't have the words for what his feelings for Joker are... especially in a world where Joker's gone.

2) Oh Bruce definitely does love Selina; he didn't marry her because he thought it might get Joker to intervene, though the thought was definitely there. Selina has always made him feel less alone, but in a different way than Joker does. Joker and Bruce are similar in a two-sides-of-the-same-coin way, Bruce and Selina are similar in a Venn-diagrams-overlapping way. And he loves the understanding and the kindred spirit he has in her, and married her because of the peace that brings him... and well, partly because he thinks that it's The Thing To Do. He can be happy and have a family and be the man his parents would've wanted him to be. On Selina's part, I think that yeah, she's definitely acutely aware of Bruce's complicated feelings about Joker, but she feels the same way about Bruce, and perhaps hopes that it'll go away. That with time, Bruce will forget about Joker, and the part of him that's never present will slowly come back and be with her fully. Obviously, that's not the case, and Bruce does disappear. I see Selina reacting in a similar way as in Batman/Catwoman (2021), though perhaps a lot more bitterly and in grief... "They live together, they leave together." And damn, a companion piece from Selina's POV would be heartbreaking in a whole different way, though the Joker POV companion piece-- I am promising the second born for that one, since the first one is saved up for the roadtrip fic :))

fanfic writer ask game - director's commentary

[albatris]

💿 for the albatris namesake, tris?!

thanks for the ask!! :D

Little Bird by The Weepies

Little bird, little bird / Brush your grey wings on my head / Say what you said / Say it again / They tell me I'm crazy / But you told me I'm golden

A song relating to experiences of isolation and psychosis, plus Tris has a whole symbolic thing with birds c:

Sloom by Of Monsters and Men

To be asked to take this plunge / To forgive and forget / And be the better man, to be a better man, to be a better man / So love me, mother / And love me, father / And love my sister as well

A tune for Tris's relationship with his parents

Boys Will Be Bugs by Cavetown

I'm a dumb teen boy / I eat sticks and rocks and mud / I don't care about the government / And I really need a hug / I feel stupid, ugly / Pretend it doesn't bother me / I'm not very strong, but I'll fuck you up if you're mean to bugs

Just a bop honestly

I'd Go With You Anywhere by Birds of Tokyo

But don't give up, don't back out on me / Enough's enough, if we stay we'll never leave / You know I'd go with you anywhere / Just get me out of here

A song for an end-of-story Tris coming to terms with his complicated feelings about his family and - more importantly - going on a roadtrip with his friends for funsies

The Universe is Laughing by The Guggenheim Grotto

Why is it everything we love we can't explain? / Like if the world should disappear / Only music will remain

A song for the unravelling of reality with Tris vibes, and a song of acceptance of the unknown

:3

[cool-person-yey]

Taking notes on tmagp episode 4 : taking notes!

Hey folks! Sorry for taking this long, had a busy day and could only listen to the episode now and this... Was an eventful one I'd say.

Anyways, spoilers for tmagp episode 4 and it is tagged as such.

• Do I still need to say ominous music at the start of these things or

• I love the printer (?)noises

• " I invented what!"

• oooooh

° sammy boy. why are you doing that.

• "because the government love secrets you dickhead!"

• wait what

• not everything is about you Gwen

• AUGUSTUS IS HERE YALL

• LET HIM TALK GODDAMNIT

• nephew hmmm

• instrument....?

• Spooky Family Heirloom™ story ?

• spooky roadtrip ?

• relatable

• oh no

• not the far away music

• I mean I do listen to far away music but I think it's just the ADHD

• oh you didn't kill him?🤨

• dude just jumped outta there and fucking died

• oh fuck

• a figure ??

• a gentleman???

• you really just ate the food the random guy you found in the woods offered you ???

• " oh yeah I killed this two guys btw" " Oh. What a shame."

• luck huh

•ooooh violin

• is that guy the mikaele salesa of this world or what

• oh yeah that happens sometimes

• will this be like grifters bone

• you don't even know the fucker's name GODDAMNIT DON'T ACCEPT GIFTS

• playing a new instrument for something important fucking sucks

• Oh The Anxiety™

• Oh so NOW you did terrible things???

• the Music 🎵 🎶🎵 🎶

• OH FUCK BLOOD

• THE FINGERTIP DANGLED WHAT

• AND YOU KEEP PLAYING WHAT

• GIRLIE IDK HOW TO SAY THAT BUT IF YOUR FINGERTIPS FUCKING FALL OFF YOU DON'T KEEP PLAYING

• " I mean he's very determined yk" " HE PLAYED TILL FINGERTIPS FELL OFF"

• the best lubricator is blood y'all

• actually forget I said that

• " And all the while, I bled"

• " did those who listen to me ever truly realize my sacrifice?"

• fuck we're getting some great lines

• it doesn't need to be yours. Oh no.

• oh the classes are good actually

• oh no

• oh fuck

• fight! fight! fight!

• HE SUCKED THE GUY'S EYES OFF???

• WHAT THE HELL

• ok so they're back

• Dyhard <<<333

•WHAT

• PLEASE WHAT?

• DISAPPEAR AGAIN?

• I THINK I RECOGNIZE THAT DISTORTED VOICE ?

• WHAT

• NOOOOOOO IT ENDED FUCK

yep. It was that, thanks for reading! See y'all next Thursday!

[in-flvx]

Snippet time

Formerly known as Jily Roadtrip, the fic Epicyom now marinates until I'm ready to edit it. So long:

Sirius raises an eyebrow.

"Is it true what you said? About my star?"

Remus nods.

"Remus," Sirius whispers, as he steps closer. Remus forgets how to breathe. He looks up, and sees nothing but Sirius, and the way he reflects the world. His lips are so dark, they still look like he uses a lipstick, even though Remus now knows that this is just natural.

"I think you do need to learn your stars again, then, Remus. Because Sirius is only visible in the winter months," Sirius says quietly. It's intimate. Remus swallows again, but now because his mouth had gotten dry.

[uselessmicrowave]

HII i was the anon asking for a matchup hehe (both bots and cons, literally anyone) im just so interested and excited abt the matchup since its my first time doing one :DDD

Im quite short, around (5'6), i have a darker shade of green eyes (w long lashes) and long black hair with pink highlights that end around my mid back, (it's quite curly too); im very pale, and i mean "the first time they see me they tell me im a vampire" kind of pale, i have plump lips that are pink, kinda like a blushy pink! I have an ear piercing, and some snakebites, tho it's not pierced, its those ones where you can hook them on, ive also got a thing for silver rings (one is vine like and the other is a silver snake that goes up halfway on my pointer finger [i love snakes]; on my right hand tho is a single gold ring)

On how i dress, i usually do not give any fucks- literally, i just throw anything on (my usual fit is a black shirt, and some soft pants)

I'm an INTP (for some reference since i really suck at describing things) Me as i describe myself, am a very quiet person, quiet as in "my friends forgot i was in the backseat" kind of quiet, im usually a homebody, literally, another reason why i get called a vampire is that i hate sunlight, alot, i dont like going out as much as my friends do, since i hate loud and public places tho i would really be down to hangout with them whenever. I always keep to myself and refrain from ever speaking out, always observing, and just listening; but when i get closer to someone and get to know them more i usually get loud and very talkative. Even tho im always patient doesn't mean i wouldn't punch someone if they mess w me or my friends, as i could really have a high temper; on a side note, im very patient! Really im not even kidding i literally put up with someone's shit for 3 years and still going.

Hobbies or things i generally like/ like to do is art!! Mostly digital art, you'll always see me with my tablet everywhere i go, and i rarely share them as i have absolutely zero confidence, i also love to read! (Fav being tolkien books, both LoTR and TH) i also write my own stories and could be so into world building, its taking me 3 years to actually build my world properly. I love music like its not even funny; aside from seeing me w my tablet, i guarantee you'll always see me wearing earphones and jamming, im a sucker for roadtrips while i gaze outside just daydreaming and forgetting about reality (im a hardcore daydreamer). I really dont have a certain music taste since i just play whatever sounds good!!

Hello anon! I’ll match you up with TFA Prowl!

Prowl is fascinated by your piercings. How do you get one? Does it cause daily issues? How do you take care of them? What are the other kinds (He'll keep these questions to himself though, but he will encourage you if you start rambling about it or want to talk about it)?

He's also very quiet compared to the other bots, and he'd prefer to have a 'home date' or just hang out with you somewhere outside in a quiet and shady area.

Prowl is glad you get talkative when you two are alone, because he really won't speak up about anything unless it's dire or bothering him an insane amount.

He is very interested in your digital art process, he'd love to watch you draw if you'd let him.

You'll have to introduce you to your favorite authors and books if you want him to understand a specific reference/joke.

He's amazed that you had taken three years to... make a world? He doesn't completely understand but, tell him about it, please, he'd love to hear about it.

If he sees you wearing headphones/earbuds, he'll ask what song or what artist you're listening to, especially if you look like you're enjoying it.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

doing that ask game with titans characters because why not, right?

Classic - Fuck, Marry, Kill: Dick, Jason, Gar (I have a feeling who you'd choose for what but I wanna see it anyway)

Best Friends With Them, Roommates With Them, or 'Friends With Benefits' With Them: Donna, Kory, Dawn

On a long roadtrip - who you would trust to drive, who you would trust with the aux cord, or who you would trust to plan the whole trip: my favorite season 2 trio, whom I deserved more of: Jason, Gar, Rachel

it's so wild because on my old blog, I had a huge long post with a specific, long explanation as to why I would FMK Gar, Jason, and Dick (but I think it was Fuck, Marry, and 'best friends with' instead of kill lmao).

but here, with far less explanation:

Fuck, Marry, Kill with Dick, Jason, and Gar

I would Fuck Jason (because he's hot, but annoying), Kill Dick (because he's more annoying than hot, and maybe throw him in the Lazarus Pit afterwards. idk), and I would Marry Gar. cause he is husband material all the way <333

Best Friends With Them, Roommates With Them, or 'Friends With Benefits' With Them: Donna, Kory, Dawn

I would choose Donna for my FWB because she's too hot. I need her carnally omg.

I would choose Dawn for my roommate because looking at her and Hank's apartment, she has really good taste in decorations - from the time the apartment belonged to just Hank to the time it belonged to Hank and Dawn, she decorated it so nicely. So I feel like she would be the type of roommate to put popourri in the bathroom and have like a really nice knife set. And I want that in my life.

And so - Kory is my best friend. And I think that would be awesome, because she is the ride or die best friend. She would kill for you. Which is also something I need in my life.

On a long roadtrip - who you would trust to drive, who you would trust with the aux cord, or who you would trust to plan the whole trip: Jason, Gar, Rachel

oooh omg. I also love this trio so much. chaotic siblings

It's wild because out of these three, I would trust NONE OF THEM to drive. But if I had to pick one of them, I would pick Jason, I guess? Because he has the most experience driving. Because he drives a motorcycle and he said that he drives the Batmobile. But he still gives chaotic driver vibes.

I would trust Rachel with the aux cord. Because Gar probably listens to Minecraft parodies and FNAF music and Jason listens to trash metal (which is okay for like five minutes) - Rachel probably listens to Arctic Monkeys and synth pop and probably the emo trinity, which is good for a long drive.

Which means Gar is planning the trip. Omg. I guess that could be okay. He's probably gonna take is to see the world's biggest ball of string and he'll take us to the Goatman's bridge and then be scared when we get there. He would pack hot cheetos and mountain dew as snacks and forget water. But he has good intentions, so that's okay

Send Me 3 Characters and A Number!!

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Upset - Part 1

(Whump fic disguised as a headcanon)

Jaskier was typically outgoing, charming, and had an amazing sense of humor. He was good-natured and wasn't one to get upset easily. Except when it came to Valdo Marx. That a**hole was a completely different story!

But Jaskier did get angry, or sad, or got his feelings hurt, like any normal person. And while he did get upset, he was also quick to forgive his friends. He may not forgive himself as quickly or easily, but would always forgive the people closest to his heart.

He had even forgiven Geralt for abandoning him on the mountain, but Geralt wasn't so sure Jaskier was going to forgive him for this...

Geralt and Jaskier had just pulled into the driveway when Jaskier had been called away for band business. He'd jumped out of Van Roach, broken the world's speed record for showering, thrown on clean clothes, and headed over to their little studio.

Geralt had been left to unpack everything from their recent roadtrip: two weeks on the Path, hunting monsters in Temeria. He was tired, but he had to get the van cleaned out and restocked for the next trip. He gave it a good vacuuming, took out all the empty food containers and packaging, and tossed all the empty cans and bottles.

He shampooed the carpet and seat where Jaskier had spilled his drink after Geralt hit the brakes quite suddenly, on purpose, after Jaskier kept forgetting to put his seatbelt on, and wouldn't stop putting his feet up on the dashboard. Jaskier had folded in half with a surprised shriek, and Geralt had to stop to pull his a** out of the footwell.

Geralt restocked the medical supply cabinet, then bundled all the bedding up and shoved it into the washing machine. Was it overloaded? Most likely. Was Yen going to be mad? Not if she didn't find out. Geralt left the machine to do its job and f**ked off to go do something else until it was time to dry everything.

After half an hour of sitting in front of the tv, he heard the washing machine stop, so he peeled himself off the couch and went to shove everything in the dryer. He was pulling the blankets and sheets out when he saw it...

Geralt experienced a mental pause while his brain devoted most of its function into verifying that what his eyes were seeing was really true.

Then came the wave of panic as he carefully pulled the blanket out of the washer. Ohsh*tohsh*t! It had gotten mixed in with the other bedding, and he hadn't noticed! Sh*t! Oh gods! Were the tattered spot worse, or had they always looked like that? Ohhhhhhhhhh.....

Yennefer was out in her herb garden when she heard Geralt swear loudly and emphatically, "FFFFAAAAAAAHHHHKKKKKHHHH!!!!". She ran inside immediately, and heard him swear again in the laundry room.

She flung door open, voice raised in righteous fury, "You better not have overloaded the washing manchine again, Geralt!", and froze on the spot when she saw Geralt standing there, holding a blanket.

Yennefer gasped, experiencing the same panic as Geralt when she recognized the familiar, but now much cleaner looking ratty blanket. That wasn't just any blanket. It was Jaskier's blankie. And Geralt had just washed it! Their eyes locked, and a single thought passed between them,

oH sH*T!

They both knew the significance of what had just happened. They were f**ked. There was no way to fix this. Geralt's brain made a valiant effort though, and coughed up an absurd, but simple solution.

"Yen, quick, magic it back to the way it was!"

"What?!"

"Just...I don't know, put the...the 'yuck' back on it!"

"You want me to just magic decades of drool, dirt, sweat, and gods know what else back on to it? What the f**k, Geralt?"

"Ok, ok, then at least put the stink back on it so it will smell like it did before I accidentally washed it!"

"I can't, you nimrod! I don't know what it smells like!"

Geralt gave the blanket an experimental sniff. That one corner still smelled funky to him. Maybe it was going to be okay.

Yennefer burst his bubble. "He's not a Witcher! He doesn't have your sense of smell!" She took a sniff herself. All she could smell was lavender and linen. "And I don't either!"

"D*mn, it's a little...uh...ragged too!" Yennefer groaned, looking at the bits where some of the old, slapped on patches had frayed and pulled away from the other bits of fabric. There were stringy bits, and small areas where the old batting was showing through.

Geralt felt his heart sink with dread. The blankie was mostly in one piece, just a little 'battle worn', but it was still obviously damaged and would need repair.

Oh, f**k, we're...f**ked!"

They were very much f**ked because that was when Jaskier walked in. He knew something was wrong. He could sense dread and urgency through Yennefer's mental link as soon as he walked into the house.

Jaskier opened the laundry room door and froze. He saw Geralt holding his blankie. Saw the open door of the washing machine. Saw the ragged look of his blankie. Smelled laundry soap. And put one and one together.

"You...you...washed it..." he said, his voice small and flat. Geralt and Yennefer both flinched. Jaskier slowly reached out and took the damp blanket from Geralt's hands. He started trembling then, and Geralt could smell the distress coming off him. It was making him sick to his stomach.

Jaskier ran his hand over one frayed patch where the stitching had given way, his thougths racing as he tried to both process what had happened, and simultaneously come up with a way to fix it.

"Jask, I-!" Geralt began to try to explain, reaching over to lay a comforting hand on Jaskier's shoulder.

Jaskier jerked away from him, "No!" he barked, his voice rough and tight. He was shaking now.

"No..." he whimpered, his voice sounding small and broken. Yennefer gasped when, out of pure distress, he started banging his fist on his head and repeating "No" over and over.

Geralt grabbed his wrist, "Hey! Stop it!"

Jaskier twisted and jerked, then tensed up as he felt a familiar pain flare in his chest. "F**k you!" he cried, suddenly angry. "F**k you, Geralt! F**k you!"

"Geralt, his chest-!" Yennefer said quickly, feeling the pain through their link.

Geralt immediately released his grip.

Jaskier stumbled as Geralt let go. He took a step back and bumped up against the counter, sliding down to sit on the floor. He felt light-headed.

"Breathe, Jaskier..." Yennefer said, her voice full of concern. She crouched beside him and lightly slapped at his cheek until he blinked and took a breath.

Yennefer tried to press her hand to his chest, to feel if those ribs had separated from his sternum again, but he turned away from her slightly.

"Let me see, Nightengale. Please?" She asked quietly.

Jaskier shook his head and hugged his damp blanket to his chest, sniffling and trying to get a hold of himself. "Get out." he said quietly after a minute.

"Jaskier," Yennefer said gently, pulling on his hand when he started fisting his hair. "Let's get your blankie in the dryer, okay?"

He didn't look at her, just stared at the floor numbly, holding his wet blanket, eyes glistening with tears.

"Jask?" Geralt rumbled softly.

"Just f**k off, both of you. Please."

Geralt looked at Yennefer, who nodded. They quietly left the room...

[jomiddlemarch]

Reality has no place in our world

“Mom, stop. You can’t do this,” Rory said. She didn’t fold her arms in front of her chest or glare, two gestures Lorelai herself might have chosen to accompany giving an order, but then Rory was a better person that Lorelai would ever be and also, not nearly as accomplished at glaring; unlike Lorelai, she hadn’t spent the formative years of her facial expression life under the tutelage of Emily Gilmore and neither Luke nor Michel every gave Rory a hard time.

Rory didn’t look angry or exasperated or impatient. She looked a little frustrated, a little tired, and mostly, disappointed. Christ, it was so early, the sky still the dull dark of the moonless hour before dawn, and she’d already made Rory give her that look, the one that wasn’t a glare, and speak in that tone. 

“Do what? The cha-cha?” Lorelai shuffled a bit, shimmying a lot more. “Wake up before my alarm—check. Face the future without fear? On it—”

“You can’t leave Max. You can’t run away the day before your wedding,” Rory said. “You can’t do that to him.”

“No?” Lorelai said, as if she was going to add Try me or watch me or you’re not the boss of me, when it came out sounding like a real question and she was open to alternate suggestions, which as she said it she realized was, in fact, the truth.

“No. You can’t. Whatever’s going on inside your head, you can’t be that mean to him, to just leave. You can’t be cruel because you’re freaking out,” Rory said. “You’re freaking out, right?”

“So, I’m mean and cruel? Did you forget nasty?” Lorelai said, crossing her own arms in front of her. Someone ought to and it didn’t seem like Rory was going to. She carefully avoided answering the freak-out question, though it didn’t take a world-class genius to raise the hypothesis.

“I didn’t say any of that and you know it. This isn’t some cute rom-com, where you can ditch the guy at the altar and then there’s some montage of a roadtrip or a bunch of zany, over-caffeinated high-jinks,” Rory said.

“That sounds better than this,” Lorelai said. “A lot better. What’s the soundtrack?”

“It’s not. It’s not real,” Rory replied, ignoring her attempt at deflection. “You have to call Max. You have to talk to him, before you decide to do whatever you decide to do.” 

“I do?” They both heard the reference to wedding vows and Lorelai raised an eyebrow. Rory frowned.

“Don’t make this weirder, Mom. Call Max. I’ll get the phone,” Rory said.

“Okay. Fine. You’re obviously not going to let this go,” Lorelai said. Was she a little relieved that Rory had called out her imminent scarpering? Around 23% seemed fair. 

“I’m not,” Rory agreed. “You’ll thank me for it.”

“Don’t press your luck, kiddo—"

She called.

Max answered on the second ring, his voice the kind of growly that meant she’d woken him, which wasn’t a huge surprise because it was still hovering around 5 am. They didn’t talk for long. She asked him to come over and he said he’d be there in 20 min without asking any questions why, which was big of him given the time and date and she knew she herself would have expected some kind of explanation and probably would have taken more like 40 min to get to his apartment, because she damn well would have made a travel-mug of coffee even if she was heading over in yesterday’s jeans and the first tee-shirt she could put her hands on.

With only 20 min, she made a pot of coffee and put on fresh jeans. She didn’t change her tee-shirt. The coffee had been Rory’s idea. Lorelai recognized Rory was looking for other ways to keep her from bolting besides guilt and that coffee, naturally, was the best available approach. Lorelai sat at the kitchen table and waited for Max, letting Rory be the one to open the front door and then take herself off to Babette’s, since it was too early for anywhere else to be open.

“What’s wrong?” Max said, sitting across from her, a mug of coffee in front of him, untouched. Lorelai herself was also untouched, Max forgoing a hug or a kiss or even his hand on her shoulder or pushing back the loose hair by her cheek. She couldn’t be bitter about it, but she was, a little, even though she knew she was being unreasonable.

“Why do you think something’s wrong?” she countered, as if this would be some kind of ordinary sparring, like whether Al’s food could ever truly be called Chinese or if Brandy was a good name for a dog.

“Why do I—it’s 5:23, you called and asked me to come right over. There’s no good news you deliver that way,” he said, pretty calmly given that he could well be deeply frustrated, annoyed or outright enraged at her dancing around. He hadn’t even gotten to see her cha-cha.

“Maybe I do, maybe that’s something you don’t know about me—”

“Lora, enough,” he interrupted and she couldn’t have said whether it was hearing the nickname only he ever used or the brevity, just two words, or the tenderness in his voice, in his tired, dark eyes, but something in her broke.

“I don’t think I can marry you,” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “Why couldn’t you wait to tell me?”

“Okay? Okay?!” she repeated, screeching if she were being honest with herself, which is what this whole thing has been supposed to be about. 

“I didn’t mean I was happy to hear you say it. It was an acknowledgement, nor approval. Why couldn’t you wait until actual morning?” he said.

“I wasn’t planning this.” She took a sip of her coffee. It wasn’t as good as Luke’s but that was nothing new.

“You weren’t planning this—” he paused, looking at her with a degree of acuity that made her want to flee. Or squirm. She gripped the handle of the mug and hoped it wouldn’t break off in her hand. They sat there for like forever or 47 seconds, she couldn’t be sure. “This wasn’t your idea. This was Rory’s idea, us talking, she’s the only person you’d do this for—”

“I’d do it for you—”

“No, you wouldn’t,” he said. “You were going to leave. You were going to leave me a day before the wedding.”

Well, she’d known he was intelligent and good at reading her and quick, so fucking quick, that was why she’d fallen in love with him—

“Were you going to write a note? Call?” he asked. Lorelai sat, feeling lumpish and pathetic and all betrayal-y, and didn’t say a word. Max closed his eyes for a moment and let out a breath. “You weren’t going to do anything. You were going to run away and someone else was going to have to tell me. To deal with everything.”

“Sookie would’ve called you,” Lorelai said. She tried not to mumble, though she really felt like mumbling, more than she’d ever want to mumble in her whole life.

“You’d have called her from wherever you went,” Max said. “She’s making the wedding cake.”

“Five tiers,” Lorelai said. “All buttercream frosting. She has a thing against fondant.”

“It tastes like shit,” he said. It was quiet between them, so quiet a bird could have twittered or sung its cute little morning song so they could share a smile or the eye-part that went with a smile without actually moving their lips, but it was quiet and she wondered if Max would get up and walk out. 

“What’s wrong, Lora?” he said softly, which was a far cry from stomping out or shouting or making a snide, sarcastic remark about her, which were all the responses she would have expected from the other men in her life, Luke, her father, and Christopher respectively, and for the first time, she felt her eyes fill with tears.

“I don’t think I can do it. I’m not—you won’t want, I, I didn’t look at my dress every night,” she said in a rush.

“Is that a thing? Looking at your dress every night?” he said.

“My mother says it is.”

“But you think she’s wrong about almost everything,” he said. He made a good point.

“She said she wanted to, that’s how she knew she wanted to get married,” Lorelai said.

“Maybe that’s not how you’d know,” Max said. “In fact, I would bet good money that it’s not how you’d know, because I know you like your dress but it’s not even a distant second to coffee in your regard.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Lorelai said.

“Have you ever thought you don’t have to? That we don’t care about each other because it’s something we deserve, but because I want you and you want me?” he said.

“You don’t want me,” she said, before she could think twice, could stop herself or figure out something that would come after, some explanation about how there was a much better woman out there for him and he shouldn’t get derailed by her. She didn’t want to be his trainwreck.

“Don’t tell me what I want,” he snapped, then rubbed his face with his hand. “I’m sorry, this is hard. But I know what you expect. You expect me to walk out, plus or minus lashing out at you first.”

“What—”

“It’s what Christopher does. He leaves. It’s what Luke does. He walks away, he shuts down. It’s what you father does. He scolds you and he stalks out,” Max said. “Lora, I’m not going to do that.”

“But why?” she said. “Why not?”

“Because I love you. Because if loving you, I need to leave you, I’m not leaving like that,” he said.

“I was going to,” she said, almost under her breath.

“I know. But you listened to Rory and she wouldn’t let you,” he said and then he scrunched up his forehead in a way that was unfairly adorable. “She’s very insightful. And not here—is she next door at Babette’s?”

Lorelai could count on one hand the number of times Christopher had ever expressed concern about where Rory was, who was looking after her, or uttered a smidgen of praise that wasn’t of the generic “so pretty so smart” variety. 

“Yeah, she’s next door,” Lorelai said. “I still don’t think we should get married.”

“I know about Luke,” Max said. Lorelai suddenly understood the expression knocked over with a feather, though she didn’t know who was keeping feathers around for such a purpose. She felt herself goggle at Max and knew it was not her most attractive look, but needs must.

“What do you mean, you know about Luke?” 

“He hand-carved a chuppah for you to get married beneath. I can recognize when someone else cares about you. You never asked, but he must have,” Max said.

“Must have asked what?”

“He knows you’re not Jewish. He found out I am and he built a chuppah for you,” he said. “It sure as hell wasn’t for me.”

“You’re Jewish?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “My mother’s side. The side that counts. She was a Cohen before she married my father.”

“I had no idea—”

“I didn’t fall in love with you for your astonishing attention to detail and detective skills,” Max said. “I’m in love with you and I know Luke loves you and you love him, but are you going to throw away what we have when I’m not asking you to give him up?”

“What are you saying, Max?” Lorelai shook her head. “Despite what my mother thinks of me, I’m not…kinky.”

“Wow, that is a whole other conversation,” he said, laughing, which was not something she’d had on her bingo card for the discussion about breaking an engagement at the last minute. “I meant, you don’t have to stop caring about Luke, I don’t expect that. I don’t expect him to stop loving you—if there’s anything I can understand, it’s loving you. But not as a husband. Not as Rory’s stepfather—I want that and he doesn’t—”

“How do you know he doesn’t?” Lorelai said. It was the second time this night-into-morning that she’d said something that was intended as a challenge and realized she’d just asked a question of someone she trusted more than herself.

“Because you’ve lived here for over ten years and he’s never said anything, for all the breakfast, lunches and dinners he’s made for you. He’s never asked you out on a date or stayed for pizza or Al’s. He’s never been the one who ran out to the pharmacy to get Tylenol when Rory spiked a fever or needed posterboard for a school project at the last minute,” Max said. 

“Rory has never needed a school supply at the last minute,” Lorelai said. 

“He’s never made the cupcakes for the bake sale. Sookie did that and she still does,” Max said. He pushed his coffee mug away and left his right hand palm up on the table top. She’d held that hand, felt it cupped around her cheek, pressed against the small of her back and the curve of her ass. It was unclear whether she’d ever touch him again and she wished she could read the future in the creases and lines being picked out by the early morning sunlight. 

“Look, I’m not telling you you have to marry me and it’s not a contest and it’s not a guilt-trip. I’m only saying that I love you and I think you love me and what you’re worried about, about needing to choose, about not caring in the right way, the right amount, I think it’s bullshit. It’s partly your mother’s fucking bullshit and some of it is societal expectations and some is your own stuff going back to Christopher and the teenage rebellion that turned into being a teen mom. I want you to be happy, to do what makes you happy, but I want you to know where I stand. What I can live with. You’ll never stop loving Luke and Christopher will always be Rory’s father and I am okay with that, with all of that. Because I fucking love you, Lora.”

“I love you too,” she said. “But maybe, I don’t know if it’s the right way—”

“When has doing anything the right way ever mattered to you?” he replied and she had to laugh because it was true and because he understood her enough to know it and say it.

“I’m not sure it’s enough,” she said.

“What is enough? Is a thousand yellow daisies enough? Is agreeing to call me at 4:53 enough?” he pushed. “This isn’t a rom-com, it’s real life. And we’re not both sixteen, we’re adults. Let me ask you, why did you call me today? I know if was Rory’s idea but you did it, you could have refused, you could be driving to God knows where right now—”

“I wanted to,” she said. “I wanted to hear your voice. I didn’t call because I felt like I owed it to you. I’m not that good a person.”

“I want to talk to you first thing in the morning,” Max said. “I don’t ever want it to be too early.”

“What about too late?” Lorelai said. She’d done a fair job of royally fucking things up for all his protestations to the contrary. The caffeine and sun might be hitting him, he might think twice about sticking around.

“No such thing,” he said. He didn’t move, so she let go of her coffee and put her hand in his. “But maybe you want a new dress?”

“I can’t get a new dress the day before the wedding, Max,” she said, already thinking of that sweet little number she’d seen in a consignment store window in Hartford, all nipped in waist and Givenchy New Look attitude and the look Max would give her if she were walking toward him in it. She thought of Max watching her come closer and Luke watching her walk away until she was in the shadow of the chuppah he’d built. She thought it was impossible and that she’d heard worse ideas and not just from Kirk on any topic.

“Says who?”

She wore the new, second-hand dress.

Max stomped a glass wrapped in a cloth napkin in lieu of a rabbi. 

She didn’t take his name. In the receiving line, Luke kissed her cheek and called her Lorelai. Cutting Sookie’s masterpiece (Every tier a different flavor! Homemade quince preserves! Candied white violets!), she didn’t notice the weight of her wedding ring, but she couldn’t look away from the gold band on Max’s hand.

When she woke in the night from a dream full of dread, regret, the terrible mixture of mistake and failure, that hand lay gently on her hip and when she grew too tense, he murmured what’s wrong, Lora and then she could go back to sleep.