#also realize i could've done this for song day but this came to me like last night ok

[jamiepaige]

Constant Companions Closeup #3: ROT FOR CLOUT

(also on bandcamp and spotify!)

WHAT'S going on guys, welcome back to another Constant Companions Closeup, the show where we take a DEEP DIVE into what makes these tunes tick! Last episode, we went aaaaaall the way there on Not Quite There, and today, we're making that liggity-line go up up up up up with ROT FOR CLOUT featuring VISUALEYES!! Before we get started, remember to SMASH that like button, SLAM subscribe, and FUCK the bell icon. This week's community challenge: leave your credit card info in the comments! Bet you won't!

(*cough*)

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I check my notifications way too fucking much. It's a habit I'm trying to curb, and to my credit, I am doing better lately, but being chemically predisposed to dopamine deficiencies has done a number on my ability to go five minutes without checking the funny glowing numbers on my phone. Naturally, I also very much seek more validation than I should from the opinions of strangers yadayadayada yeah that's what the song is about but none of that actually has to do with why I started writing this song in the first place.

Have you ever taken a flight with American Airlines?

This was after waking up at 4 in the morning to fly out of Houston thinking I'd be napping on a couch in Ohio by 2 pm at the latest.

I want to make one thing clear here, and that's that I made this bed for myself. Tucked the sheets in and all. You see, on the rare occasions I fly, I normally take Southwest. Southwest does not overbook flights like a lot of other airlines do, so it's a practice I am mostly unfamiliar with. So, when I received a notification on my phone promising genuinely ridiculous amounts of flight credit money in exchange for taking a slightly later flight, I thought - well, shit! That sounds nice!

This is how they trick you. I didn't really realize I'd been tricked until I was on my second flight of the day, sitting in a middle seat at the very back of the plane, heading from Dallas, a city I don't live in, to Washington, DC, a city I was not trying to get to, staring down the barrel of another flight I was destined to get on that had been delayed like two fucking hours.

I became the Joker. All I could do to remain sane was write a song about it. This is how ROT FOR CLOUT came to be.

I guess the moral of the story is this: Don't go to Ohio. And to answer your question,

Yes I am

Not really

No

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This is a complete sidenote but I want to mention it here: I'm genuinely overjoyed at the amount of people excitedly talking about my songwriting or the intention behind my lyrics. For a long time, it really felt like lyricism was the last thing people cared about from me, while it was always the thing I wanted to take pride in the most... So genuinely, thank you everyone for caring!! Every single fire emoji people have put next to a line I've written has extended my lifespan by multiple years

There's a brief little moment where the song's chords leave the key, doing a really stereotypically jazzy 2-5 movement, and it's one of my favorite parts of the entire song. I'm not really a music theory buff or anything, and I'm certainly not formally trained, but I've always been very passionate about more complicated harmony in otherwise poppy and accessible contexts - bo en's album pale machine really rewrote my brain when I first heard it.

On that note, there are microtones in the vocal melody - During the chorus, some of the rapidly repeated words move up in quarter tones! Possibly the simplest way I could've included microtonality, but I'm genuinely afraid if I learn more than what I already know about it I'll be lost to the darkness.

Obviously, the work of Sasuke Haraguchi was a massive influence on this song, particularly the song Igaku. I think basically everyone on the entire planet has picked up on that at this point, but I do also wanna point out some other songs that were on my mind at the time! (two for three on these posts mentioning louis cole now)

I'd also like to take a moment to spotlight the vocal samples on this! They previously appeared on エビチャーハン!, and they've honestly become some of my favorite samples to throw in things. They're also just a fucking goldmine sincerely

Finally, HUGE thanks to Visualeyes for the delightful synth solo on this!! I had put out a call on Twitter looking for instrumentalists, genuinely originally envisioning a super jazzy piano solo, but their synth playing genuinely brought the whole song together perfectly!

That's about it for this song - though again, if there are any more questions people have, I'd be happy to answer them in the replies to this post or elsewhere!! (*ahem*) THAT'S gonna do it for today's video, folks! Feel free to leave a like, comment, hit the subscribe button for more and click the bell so you don't miss any new videos. Tomorrow? I Wish That I Could Fall. it hurts.

[mrsstarkey1]

this is me trying - rafe cameron

SUMMARY: based on 'this is me trying' by taylor swift. takes place after the events of season three.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

WARNINGS: season 3 spoilers

A/N: you cannot tell me this song doesn't portray rafe cameron perfectly like ??? it's insane. also check out my most recent rafe fic

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i've been having a hard time adjusting

i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

rafe couldn't remember a time before the gold, before the cross, before his dad became obsessed, before he let his dad drag him down with him, before his dad was dead.

rafe's entire life, he made decisions with one thing in mind; his dad. then suddenly, he was gone. it was as if in one singular instant, rafe's life became meaningless. his purpose - gone. his reasoning for every terrible thing he's ever done - gone.

he wanted to be angry, to blame someone. he wanted to not believe the story that sarah told him. but something inside him wouldn't let himself blame anyone but himself.

as rafe wandered the streets of whatever city he ended up in running from his problems, he found remembering glimpses of his life before everything got complicated. he used to have money that didn't come from gold; he used to have friends; he used to have the possibility of a future; he used to be happy. he missed that. and he could finally admit it.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back

i have a lot of regrets about that

rafe left the outer banks without saying a word to anyone the same day that sarah told him about his father. he didn’t even say anything to you, but he wished that he did.

now it’d been so long, he was so worried that even if he came back to you, and God knows he wanted to, that you'd never forgive him.

he told himself that you probably wouldn't even care if he came back. in reality, he was just terrified that if he faced you and you felt how he thought you did, he'd lose the one thing he was still living for.

if he lost the idea of you; the possibility that maybe one day he could hold you in his arms again, then he'd have nothing. he couldn't bare the thought of that.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout

could've followed my fears all the way down

rafe twisted the key out of the ignition, tossing it onto the passengers seat. he opened the car door with a shaky hand before he could talk himself out of it.

he dragged his feet along the ground, dirt kicking up as he walked. breathing in the mountain air, he looked down, kicking a rock over the edge. he estimated about it was about 300 feet until the first ledge.

rafe lifted his eyes up, blinking the tears away that he hadn’t realized had formed. he took in the view along with a deep breath. his head was level with the clouds, and he’d never seen something so beautiful; so calming - the fresh air, the mountain view, the feeling he got. taking it all in, rafe finally felt at peace. which made sense, given what he’d pulled over the car to do.

almost every part of him was ready. every part of him except for the part that still loved you; the part of him that wanted to make things right.

he was still terrified of facing you, even more so now since it had been almost a year. and now he had a choice to make. he could take one more step forward and chase that fear all the way to bottom; take the easy way out. or he could turn around, and follow his fear back home.

and maybe i don’t quite know what to say

but i’m here in your doorway

i just wanted you to know

that this is me trying

rafe could barely keep his eyes open by the time he’d pulled into your driveway. a twelve hour drive running on no sleep and no food, it was a miracle he hadn’t wrapped his car around a tree.

rafe’s heartbeat quickened when his eyes met your car parked on the side of the street. you were inside. a part of him had been hoping you wouldn’t be home, and he’d have a little longer to decide what to say. he’d thought 12 hours would have been enough, but his shaking hands suggested otherwise.

he gripped the steering wheel, closing his eyes and forcing in a deep breath. this is why he was still alive, for this very moment.

he pushed open the car door as soon as he’d psyched himself up enough. within a couple seconds, he was at your front door, fist held up inches from the wood. this is when he finally realized what he was doing.

you were never going to forgive him, what was he doing? his heart beated against his chest like a drum, and he suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. his body went completely weak, and he practically crashed into the front door.

it was the footsteps on the other side of the door that brought him out of his weakened state, and he realized what had just happened. you were coming to the door. he was going to be face to face with you in less than a minute. he stepped back from the door, glancing back at his car, weighing his options.

the door swung open so quickly, rafe jumped out of his skin, for a lack of better words. he opened his mouth to say something, but not even a breath came out.

there you were. you looked even more beautiful than he remembered. your hair was lighter and a lot longer, reminding him that it had been an entire year since he’d seen you.

“rafe,” he’d barely heard you say, still trying to believe that you were within his reach. you took a step closer, eyes scanning over his entire body. “you-you’re here,” you breathed out.

your eyes asked a million questions, and all he wanted to do was answer them. but every time he opened his mouth to say something, only silence followed. before he knew it, your arms were wrapped around him and hands tangled in his hair. your hugs still felt the exact same after a year, and the second he breathed in the scent of you, it felt like he’d gone back in time.

his eyes fluttered shut and his arms closed tightly around you, hanging on for dear life.

the embrace didn’t last nearly as long as he wanted, which was forever. you pulled away, keeping your hands on his arms. “where the hell have you been, rafe?” you asked, eyes scanning his face. he wanted to tell you everything, he needed to, but his throat was closed shut. all he could do was stare into your eyes. “talk to me, baby. you’ve been gone for a year. no contact, no nothing. i understand why you left, okay? you lost your father, and i know how much me meant to you. but you’ve got to tell me what’s going on. please, rafe, just talk to me.”

“i-” he started, a pathetic feeling engulfing him when his voice broke after one word and he looked at the ground. you moved closer, hands slipping from his arms and up to the sides of his face. you trained your eyes on his, silently begging him to talk. rafe took a shaky breath, “i’m trying,” he let out weakly.

you nodded your head intently, “i know you are.” you saw it in his eyes, the broken part of him. you leaned in, resting your forehead on his, “i know you’re trying.”

rafe nodded, a sigh of relief escaping him. twelve hours ago, he was standing on the edge between life and death. looking into your eyes now, he knew that he would spend the rest of his days trying to pay you back for being the reason he chose life.

at least i'm trying

taglist (message me to be added): @withbeautyandrage @willowpains

REQUESTS OPEN !!

check out my obx masterlist || taylor swift song inspired fics

if u follow me & reblog my posts i'll do the same for u !!

[fryingpansareswag]

Welcome back to the annual yap session about hangster! :)

So I listened to I Bet You Think About Me by Taylor Swift featuring Chris Stapleton for the first time the other day and absolutely fell in love with it and immediately thought about Bradley and Jake (Miles Teller is also in the music video).

I had to tell someone or would actually start tweaking out about it so you guys get to hear about it! I’ll be analyzing the whole song based on hangster (I will be including my own headcanons btw). This was also from Jake’s point of view with some lyrics more about Bradley.

Get a nice blanket and some hot chocolate (its a long one)

3 AM and I'm still awake, I'll bet you're just fine

Fast asleep in your city that's better than mine

After they broke up, Jake moved back to Texas and Bradley moved back to Philadelphia (I personally think Bradley lived in Philadelphia in his early childhood, moved to California after Goose died, and moved back after his falling out with Mav [just stay with me okay?])

And the girl in your bed has a fine pedigree

After they broke up (B was the one who broke the relationship up), Bradley started to just get with people to fill the hole he lost when he broke up with Jake.

And I'll bet your friends tell you she's better than me, huh

Well, I tried to fit in with your upper-crust circles

Yeah, they let me sit in back when we were in love

Pheonix was always nice to Jake when he and B were dating but when Bradley broke it off she never talked to him after. He texted her but left him on read.

Oh, they sit around talkin' 'bout the meaning of life

And the book that just saved 'em that I hadn't heard of

But now that we're done and it's over

I bet you couldn't believe

When you realized I'm harder to forget than I was to leave

And I bet you think about me

Even though Bradley is getting into a new relationship every week, Jake knows that he can never forget about him. They went through so much together and experienced so much together. How could Bradley forget and not think about him?

You grew up in a silver-spoon gated community

Glamorous, shiny, bright Beverly Hills

Bradley never got into detail about his childhood with Jake and from only seeing his childhood home in San Diego, he believed B came from a pretty wealthy, happy family. Jake knew nothing about Carole, Goose, or Maverick.

I was raised on a farm, no, it wasn't a mansion

Just livin' room dancin' and kitchen table bills

Jake's childhood consisted of living on a farm in Texas, he was a Mama's boy. Sometimes when he was little he would sneak downstairs to watch his mom and dad dance in the living room together after they thought all the kids went to bed.

But you know what they say, you can't help who you fall for

And you and I fell like an early spring snow

When Jake and Bradley first met, they almost immediately fell in love. There was nothing "casual" between each other. Even though Bradley was pretty reserved and timid with being in a romantic relationship, they connected easily and said they loved each other pretty quickly.

But reality crept in, you said we're too different

Bradley broke up with Jake stating that he was not ready for a relationship, he wasn't ready to open up, and--of course-- they were too different and would never make it.

You laughed at my dreams, rolled your eyes at my jokes

Mr. Superior Thinkin'

Do you have all the space that you need?

Bradley: "We need space. This isn't going to work."

I don't have to be your shrink to know that you'll never be happy

Jake watched from afar as Bradley dated other people (he stalked his Instagram account). Bradley never looked truly happy like he did with him.

And I bet you think about me

I bet you think about me, yes

I bet you think about me

Bradley thinks about Jake 24/7. Everything he does is for Jake.

Oh, block it all out

The voices so loud, sayin'

"Why did you let her go?"

Bradley regrets it every day that he broke up with Jake. They could've made it work. Bradley just couldn't open up like Jake wanted him to. He couldn't explain to Jake his past. He feared that Jake would leave him because of how miserable he actually was. Jake made him feel safe and loved for once.

Does it make you feel sad

That the love that you're lookin' for

Is the love that you had

Bradley really thought that he would eventually get over Jake. He'd find a nice girl he could settle down with, have a family, and live a happy life. Now he's thirty-six.

Now you're out in the world, searchin' for your soul

Scared not to be hip, scared to get old

After he lost Jake, Bradley became self-conscious and scared that everything he did would eventually lead to his downfall.

Chasin' make-believe status, last time you felt free

After Bradley and Jake broke up, Bradley put all of his attention into his work. Work would at least distract him from breaking the love of his life's heart.

Was when none of that shit mattered 'cause you were with me

Nothing mattered when Jake and Bradley were together. They were happy and that's what mattered.

But now that we're done and it's over

I bet it's hard to believe

But it turned out I'm harder to forget than I was to leave

Jake nor Bradley never forgot about each other. They always think of each other. Even when doing the most mundane tasks.

And, yeah, I bet you think about me

I bet you think about me, yes

I bet you think about me

I bet you think about me when you're out

At your cool indie music concerts every week

I bet you think about me in your house

Jake practically lived at Bradley's house at the height of their relationship.

With your organic shoes and your million-dollar couch

I bet you think about me when you say

"Oh my God, she's insane, she wrote a song about me"

I bet you think about me

Jake and Bradley never forgot about each other. They'd eventually see each other again, a mission that would change both of their lives.

Also here's the song if you'd like to take a listen :D

[liveforjeongin]

hi umm, can u write a lee!Felix and ler!Hyunjin with prompts, 18, 21 and 53? Have a good day!

Sketchbook

Okay I absolutely LOVE Hyunlix tickle fics so I was really happy writing one myself

Also, I wasn't sure which list you meant for the prompts so I assumed it was list #1 cuz list #2 has only 30 prompts but still not sure so I'm sorry if it wasn't the prompts you asked for💔💔💔💔

Anddd, thanks for the request anon, I hope you have a good day too<3

-tickle fic, if you don't like that you can keep scrolling

requested by: anon

warnings: nibbles, raspberries

Prompt 18, list #1: “I’m gonna count down from 10.”

Prompt 21, list #1: “I know other ways to make you talk…”

Prompt 53, list #1: “You wouldn’t.”

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It was all normal in 3racha+Hyunjin dorm. It was about 2pm and 3racha were on the company producing some songs cuz... Why not? So Hyunnie was home alone, on his bed staring at the ceiling.

Until he got an idea. He wanted to paint something, but didn't know exactly what to paint, so he opted for taking a look at his old sketchbook, to maybe get some inspiration from that, but he couldn't find it.

Huh... He could've swore it was in the drawer...

Not willing to give up, kept on searching it, but still couldn't find it. Hmm... Maybe someone took it? But who would've done that? It was surely not one of 3racha guys, they respect a lot Hyunjin's artist things and they never touch anything.

Maybe Lee Know that they he and Chan wreck the shit of of him?... Nah, Chan wouldn't have let him.

Seungmin was totally discarded, he barely went to visit the other dorm, and he never touches others' things unless it is to organize them.

Jeongin last night? Nope, he only went to tickle Changbin so just was in his room and in the living room, and barely had entered before at Hyunjin's room, so it wasn't Jeongin neither.

There was only one member left.

Felix.

I know what you're thinking. "Why would a sunshine like Felix do that?" Well, I don't know, and Hyunjin neither, but then the realization hit Hyunjin like a cold water bucket.

"I'm gonna sell this online" Said Felix once in an interview on GQ, referring to that sketchbook.

No... He would never do that...

Or he would?

There was only one way to find out, so Hyunjin immediately went to maknaes+Lino dorm, in where there was also just one member, casually Felix.

"Hi, Lixie" Hyunjin waved with a small smile.

"Oh hi, Hyunjinnie, what you doing here? You almost never come" waved back as he moved aside to let Hyunjin in.

"Nothing much, just came to ask you a little question" entered the dorm.

"Oh really? What's it?" Felix asked as closed the door and sat on the couch, where Hyunjin sat too.

"Have you seen my sketchbook, Lix?"

Felix seemed visibly nervous for the question "Y-Your sketchbook? You mean that old sketchbook you used when you first started to paint and draw?" wanted to make sure, the panic visible in his voice

"Yes, Lix, that old sketchbook I used when I first started to paint and draw"

"U-Ummm... Yeah, uhhh, I..." Felix was about to confess, but decided not to in the last second "... Haven't seen it since... A lot time ago" lied.

"Oh really? Are you sure? Cuz you know... I know other ways to make you talk..." Hyunjin grinned slightly as he said this.

Felix paralyzed for a second, and then spoke up "You wouldn't" said, sounding extremely flustered cuz he knew what the ferret boy was about to do.

"Oh, Yongbokkie... Trust me, I definitely would. You sure you're not gonna confess?" The taller one teased.

"I... I... Ummm... I have... Nothing to confess" Felix denied, blushing slightly.

"Oh really? Alright, since this is how it is going to be, I'mma count down from 10" Hyunjin warned, and started counting, making the younger extremely flustered.

"N-No... Hyunjin... Hyunnie please... Plehehease don't" the freckled boy started giggling in anticipation.

"Four... Three... Two... One" Hyunjin finished counting, and immediately jumped over Felix, sitting on his hip and going wild squeezing his sides.

"N-NOHOHO HYUnjihihihIHIHIHIN! IT'S REAlly bahaHAHAHAHAD!" Yongbok started squirming the more he could, but surprisingly, he wasn't trying to stop Hyunjin, just layed there and received the tickles.

"You still not gonna talk? Alright" then proceeded to lift the younger's arms and scribbled slowly and slightly on his left armpit.

"H-Hyuhuhuhunjihihin! That tihihihickles! It really dohohohoes!" Said Felix as he blushed more.

"Just tell me what I wanna know, Lixie, and we'll finish this~" Hyunjin started to go down on the younger's torso to tickle his ribs slightly, an ultimate death spot for the freckled boy.

"N-NOHOHOHOHO! HYUNJIN, HYUNJIN PLEASE NOT THEHEHEHERE!"

"Aww... But Lixie... You haven't told me to stop... Have you? Besides, I'm being the gentlest! How can you still laughing like that?" Hyunjin used a bit more of pressure and speed to tickle Felix on his ribs.

Lix couldn't help but blush at the older's comment, he wasn't supposed to figure out how much he was loving this "HYUHUHUHUHUNJINNIHIHIHIE! PLEASE NOT THERE, NOT THEHEHHEHEHERE, ANYWHERE BUT THEHEHEHERE!"

Seeing the younger wasn't gonna talk still, the ferret boy decided to go really bad now, so he took a breath and leaned down to blew a pretty long raspberry on the younger's ribs.

And, as if that weren't enough to absolutely kill Felix, Hyunjin also used one of his hands to poke, scribble, and squeeze all over Lix's belly and sides, while occasionally also changed between blowing raspberries on his ribs and nibble his sides.

Needless to say this was absolutely wilding Felix crazy, he was laughing and squirming madly.

"AAAAAHAHHAHAHHAHA HYUHUHUHUHUNJIHIHIN! HAHAHAHHAHAHA FIHIHIHINE! FINE FIHIHIHIHIHINE! I SURRENDEHEHEHEHER! I TOOK YOUR SKETCHBOHOHOHOHOOK! I STILL GOHOHOHOHHOHOHOT IT! IT'S IN MYHYHYHYHY DRAWEHEHEHER! PLEHAHAHAHHAHAHASE STOP NOHOHOHOHOW!" Was the last thing the sunshine boy said before his laugh went silent at the overwhelming feeling of the tickles.

Hyunjin, of course, stopped immediately, he didn't want to kill his little sunshine at all.

After stopping, Hyunjin got off of Felix and walked to the boy's room, opened his drawer and took back his sketchbook, after that, he came back to the living room with Lix, with some water for him.

Felix, meanwhile, was still layed on the couch, all blushed, recovering his breath and with a couple more giggles still scaping his mouth. Hyunjin handed him the glass of water and Lixie sat up to drink it.

After a while, he spoke up again "Thank you" Felix said.

"Did you just thank me? For what?" Hyunjin asked, kinda confused.

"For... You know, tickling me" Felix answered, a lot embarrassed.

"You're thanking me for tickling you?"

Felix stayed silent for a couple seconds, and then nodded shyly with his head.

Hyunjin couldn't help but smile and pull the sunshine into a hug "Oh, Lix... You're too cute"

They just cuddled for a a while on the couch, and after some minutes, they fell asleep. Minho, Seungmin and Jeongin came back home after about 10 minutes later, and found them sleeping on the couch. They found it extremely cute.

Minho brought a blanket of Felix and put it over them two, to make sure they're comfy enough.

That afternoon, Felix dreamt with the scene of Hyunjin tickling him, while Hyunjin... He limited to enjoy the warmth feeling of cuddling with his sunshine.

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Hellooooo again😻

Okay I know the name is WAY much simple than the usual but I couldn't think of anything else so😻

I also have a lot of requests so I'm gonna try to finish them this week (emphasis in try)

I've like 8 more to go so I'mma keep working on them

I hope you guys liked this one<3

[strangeholic]

YOURS [W2S × MINIMINTER]

A brilliant idea to tease minter, as always.

[nsfw!]

Harry stared at the date on his phone, he was opening his calendar to check on the date for the dinner being held at Josh's place. They were celebrating his engagement, with Freya cooking the dinner. As he was checking on it, he realized something important was happening on the same day. His and Simon's 1st anniversary of dating.

He stares at his screen with many thoughts.

It's actually still a shock to him how he managed to date Simon after secretly being into him for years. And now it's going to be a year since they've dated. Although they're still hiding it from their friends and family, they currently feel content with what they have and are still planning to come out soon. But this.. Harry doesn't know how to come about it.

He knows for a fact that Simon doesn't know because he's the worst at remembering an important date, he probably doesn't even remember when his mom's birthday is. Harry smiled after a thought came across his mind, what if.. he doesn't tell Simon? What if he just acts dumb and only tell Simon like 5 minutes before midnight? That would be fun, right?

"What're you smiling about?" Harry jumped at the voice and closed his phone. "Just a funny TikTok." Harry turned to the source of the voice and there Simon was, still slightly sweating from his run. Simon took off his shoes and walked towards the couch where Harry was laying down on. "C'mon let's go shower." Simon nudged Harry's leg with his own and Harry grinned as he sat up. "Also, it's time to throw those pajamas to the laundry, they stink." Simon scrunched his nose and Harry just nodded as they walked to the bathroom for their usual weekend 'shower'.

☆

Harry sat on the bed, towel wrapped on the lower half of his body. He opened his phone to check on his messages.

"I need to go, okay?" Simon looked at Harry while putting on his shirt and then layering it with his jumper. "Remember, you need to leave the house at 5 and then pick me up and then we'll go to Josh's place." Harry only nodded with a 'yeah', eyes still glued to his phone. "Bye, love you." Simon patted Harry's head and gave a kiss on the cheek. "Mhm, love you too."

Harry heard the door click and then laid down on the bed, still naked with only a towel. He knew Simon would kill him for laying down on the bed like this, but he's way too lazy to put anything on, especially when he's fixated on his phone.

He has now moved apps to TikTok and began doom scrolling. After around 2 hours, Harry began feeling shivers, which reminded him that he was still butt naked on the bed. He told himself, 'Just a few more videos.', which ended up being way past that. He could've probably scrolled for another hour, but then a video caught his attention.

It was a guy wearing a sports jersey and lip syncing to a song. The caption said 'secretly putting on his jersey and taking 🔥 pics to send when he's working out of state (iykyk)'. This immediately gave the most brilliant idea that Harry's ever had. He got out of the bed and rummaged through their closet. There it is. Harry grabbed the hanger and took out what seemed to be their charity match jersey, but it had 'MINTER' written on the back.

Harry grins and puts the shirt on the bed. He then searched for his black boxers. If he's going to do this, he's going to do it right. He and Simon have never sent nudes to each other, it's never been their thing. The closest they've done was probably sending a shirtless picture after a gym session and that's it. So, this? It would be a pretty nice anniversary present, right?

He puts his boxers and the jersey on, looks in the mirror and realizes that he's missing something important. He looked left and right to look for it, which he then saw on the bed side table. Simon's favorite, Harry's glasses. Like the saying that people on TikTok always use, 'It stays on during sex'.

Harry walks back to the mirror, now with his glasses on, and fixes his hair. He's thought about what pictures he wants to take and as someone that rarely takes aesthetically pleasing pictures, he already knows he's going to struggle with this. First, a back mirror selfie. He saw this on the video that he got the inspiration from. He positions himself in front of the mirror, turns around and positions his phone until the angle looks good.

"Damn." He mumbled when he saw how good his ass looked, Simon's really going to love this now. He then used his free hand to lift up the shirt from the side to show a bit of his waist and back. Of course, he doesn't forget to look to the side so that it shows that he's using his glasses, another added bonus. First picture done, and now what? Harry sat on the bed for a minute to ponder, and then tried another pose. He placed the phone on a chair that he dragged, close to bed. He then kneeled, back facing the camera, near the edge of the bed, legs a bit parted, and his shirt pulled on the front so that he is showing off his ass now. Again, he looked to the side to show a bit of his face with one finger on his bottom lip.

He tried to think of other poses, but it seems like the first two that he did were good enough. As he was looking at the pictures, he couldn't help but get turned on. It's weird cause he's looking at himself but the fact that he's posing like that while using Simon's shirt really did feel extremely hot. Oh, he can't wait to surprise his boyfriend with these later, and possibly getting railed after that.

☆

"Heyy, how was the shoot?" Harry asked as Simon entered the car. "It was good, I'm really hungry though." Simon sighed and Harry chuckled, "Well, let's hope Freya didn't burn the kitchen."

"Oh, shut up. She's an amazing cook."

Harry felt a bit distracted, he was still wearing the jersey but under his hoodie. He was still feeling a bit heated from before and just wants to attack Simon with kisses. "Oh, right, what should we tell them?" Simon turned his head to Harry, "Haz?" Simon called out and Harry snapped from his thoughts. "Hm?? Tell them about what?"

"Why we came together? They always ask, you know."

"Oh! Right, right.. Uhm.." Harry tried to think about it but his head was still spinning from his other thoughts. He really shouldn't be thinking about it this much when he still has to wait until the end of the day to give Simon his surprise. "Maybe that I was actually at your shoot? They won't be asking details about the shoot." Harry finally gave a reply, "Sure."

They didn't talk much until finally arriving at Josh's house, being the first two to arrive, unsurprisingly. As they waited for the others, Simon helped Josh on a weird computer thing upon being asked and Harry decided to help Freya in the kitchen. There was quite a lot to be prepared for the dinner, although it was mostly prepared already. "By the way, you do realize we have the heater on, right? Aren't you hot?" Freya asked as she was placing down wine glasses on the counter. Harry felt his heart jump, he realized that everyone would be asking about his choice of shirt. "Hm, not really. I'll just keep it on." Freya shrugged it off and Harry's now worried that everyone's gonna ask the same question.

The others finally started arriving, of course with JJ as the last, weird how he's always the latest one despite being the only one to have a personal driver. Dinner was out by then, and they quickly started eating, with conversations in between about things that each of them are individually working on. Not much talk about Sidemen stuff since they're fed up with always talking about that.

"Minter, when are you gonna start dating again, man?"

Both Simon and Harry took a glance at each other when Ethan asked that question. This always comes up during their dinners, and they're both used to it by now. Sure, Harry gets asked that question, but very rarely. Simon is the one with the most recent break up, 2 years ago to Talia. And the others being themselves, keeps asking questions about his love life and if he wants them to set him up almost every week. They have no idea Simon has been dating someone for a year now, to their own friend, even.

"When are y'all gonna stop talking about me dating?" Simon shook his head and took a sip of his wine. Ethan then decided to shut his mouth, although it was because Tobi told him to. Harry didn't say anything, instead he just looked at Simon and when they made eye contact, Harry stretched his leg to brush it against Simon's. They were across each other, so holding hands weren't really reachable.

As time went on, their glasses were empty and JJ was talking about the details of his most recent boxing match. Luckily, Simon and Harry were at the end of the table, so deciding to just stare at each other instead of listening to JJ's story was not noticed by anyone at the table. That's when Harry decided to be sneaky.

He pulled up his phone and sent the picture he took that afternoon, he sent the back selfie first. Simon saw the notification pop up on his screen and raised an eyebrow. Harry was trying to hide his grin, but seeing how Simon was amused at the mysterious text, made him even more excited. Harry signaled with his hand to open it below the table, and Simon did.

The moment he saw Simon's eyes go wide and his head slowly looking back up, Harry was now covering his smile with his hand.

'WTF?'

'Hehe'

Simon looked back up again and Harry could see his cheeks getting red. Simon couldn't stop looking back down on his phone, to look at the picture, Harry assumed. As Simon was still looking down, Harry sent the next picture, the spicier one. He typed 'Yours.' on the keyboard, and the moment he pressed the send button, Simon suddenly stood up, hand covering his mouth like trying to stop himself from gasping.

Everyone turned their heads to him and he was still so stunned.

"Dude, what's wrong?" JJ asked and Simon finally looked up, a drip of sweat going down on the back of his neck. "Need the loo, be back." Simon hurriedly walked away from the table, "Well, that was a bit dramatic, innit?" Ethan laughed and they then continued with their conversation.

Harry is now full on grinning and staring at his phone as a new message pops up.

'Bathroom, now.'

He felt his heart beating even faster, this feels even better than he thought it would be.

"Hey guys, I'm feeling a bit dizzy. Can I lay down a bit in the guest room." Harry interrupted, "Oh god, of course. No wonder you were being so quiet." Freya immediately looked worried. "Let me take you," Josh stood up but Harry quickly pushed him back down. "It's fine, I know where it is." Harry smiled and quickly walked away, not to the guest room, obviously.

Harry knocked on the bathroom door and the door swung open, a hand reached out to pull him in. The door swung closed and Harry's now being pinned on it.

"Care to explain?"

"What? You don't like it?"

Simon sighed and placed his forehead on Harry's shoulder. "This is so sudden, and it's driving me crazy."

"Well, surprise! Gotta make an anniversary gift good, no?" Harry chuckled and there was a sudden drop in atmosphere as Simon pulled his head from Harry's shoulder and looked at him with a scared look in his eyes. "You're joking.." Harry gulped, did he say something wrong? "What..? No..?"

"Oh my god," Simon took a few steps back, Harry might be seeing things but Simon's eyes are watery?? "Fuck, I'm fucking horrible." Tears started streaming and Simon used both hands to cover his whole face. Harry's shocked, he didn't expect this reaction at all. Oh, he might've made a big mistake.

"Jesus, Simon. It's okay, I don--"

"I'm so stupid." Simon mumbled in between his cries.

"What?? No, no, Simon, please." Harry put both his hands on Simon's shoulders, "Si, I'm so sorry, I should've told you instead of doing a dumb prank. Please, don't cry."

There was a few seconds of silence until Simon finally uncovered his face, it was completely red. "It's not about that. I'm angry at the fact that I couldn't remember it myself, I'm such a shit boyfriend." As much as Harry wants to comfort Simon right now, being called his boyfriend really made his heart flutter.

Harry put a hand on Simon's cheek, "I literally don't care, just having you as my boyfriend is enough. We don't need special celebrations or anything." Simon sighed and finally gave a small smile. "I love you."

"I love you too." Harry leaned in and gave him a peck on the lips. "Christ, Haz. Can't believe it's been a year already."

"Yeah, it's actually crazy." They can't stop looking into each other's eyes. "Did you like my surprise gift, though?"

Simon's cheeks turned red again. "Well, uhm.. It's very--" Simon stopped and took a step back, his eyes looking down on Harry's torso. "Wait, a-are you still wearing it?" He looked back up to Harry who had a cheeky grin on his face. "Don't you want to find out, yourself?"

Just as Harry was going to move closer, Simon grabbed his wrist and dragged him out of the bathroom, heading towards the guest bathroom. "Hmm, patient, much?"

As they went inside, Simon threw Harry onto the bed and locked the door. "Take off your hoodie. Hurry."

Harry didn't fight back, he's just as excited as Simon is. He took the hoodie off, revealing the jersey he was wearing, Simon's jersey. Simon took a moment to look at it and finally walked closer towards the bed. "You must really like it, huh? Putting my shirt on," He crawled on the bed, getting between Harry's legs. "Taking pictures while wearing it, even putting on your fucking glasses."

He leaned down, closing in the distance between their faces. "I bet you were turned on when taking those pictures, imagining my reaction when sending them, what I would do to you while you're wearing the shirt that has my name on it." A hand reaches down on Harry's stomach, slipping inside and slowly brushing up his torso.

"What about you? Weren't you turned on when I sent it?" Harry smirked, heavy sighs escaping his mouth when Simon's hand reached his chest. "You probably got so desperate to fuck me, seeing your own name, marking me as yours."

Their faces were now only a centimeter apart, Harry's hand unconsciously placed on Simon's pants, having already zipped it down.

"You're right."

Simon finally closed in their distance and their kiss went from 0 to 100 very quickly. No slowing down, no small kisses, their lips immediately parted to let the other's tongue enter each other's mouth. Harry could feel Simon grinding down on him, his hands pulling on Harry's hair meanwhile his are all over Simon's ass and back. As much as he loves making out, he's been excited all day and is growing impatient.

After a few minutes, Harry finally pulls away. "Can we fuck already, please?"

Simon nodded excitedly and sat up to take off his shirt, Harry helped him pull down his pants and boxers. The moment his hard on came out, Harry couldn't help but stroke on it and go as far as to put it inside his mouth. "Shit, Harry." Simon groaned at the feeling, he can feel the enthusiasm from Harry, and it's killing him. "Fuck, stop, I don't wanna come yet." He stops Harry from going any further and finally takes his pants off.

"Turn around." Simon ordered and Harry obliged. He proceeded to run his hand on Harry's back, admiring his own name on the jersey. Thankfully for him, Harry was wearing joggers as usual, which makes taking it off so much easier.

"Stop drooling and fucking put it in, Simon." Harry groaned, "What? You don't want to stretch first?"

"We already did it this morning. Are you doing this on purpose?"

Simon leaned down and whispered near Harry's ear. "Maybe. Just be patient." Simon licked his earlobes and went to kiss Harry's neck, definitely leaving a hickey. While doing that, his hand held on his dick and guided it onto Harry's entrance. "Fuck-" Harry moaned loudly as Simon thrusted fully without a warning. Simon leaned back and now got a good view of Harry's back, his hands now holding down on Harry's waist.

He thrusted in and out slowly, trying to tease Harry.

"Jesus, Si." Harry whined, "Please don't do this to me."

Simon then finally picked up the pace and went a bit faster. Harry's moans started getting louder and less secretive. He himself really couldn't help it either, looking down on Harry's arched back with his name written on it really does everything.

"At this rate, they're really gonna hear, Haz."

Harry didn't respond, his moans were still loud and Simon was enjoying it too much to stop.

"Fucking kiss me then, please. Kiss me." Harry's hand clenched on Simon's thigh.

Simon stopped and pulled out, Harry understood and turned his body around, now facing each other. Simon thrusted back in again, even faster now. Before Harry could scream his lungs out, Simon leaned down to kiss Harry and now the moans are drowned out. He used his hand to reach down and stroke Harry's dick that was leaking so much pre-cum.

Harry felt it coming, it was so close. He grabbed on Simon's back, not caring if it's going to leave a bunch of marks. His legs were also wrapped around Simon's waist now, practically pushing Simon down for a deeper thrust. "I'm so fucking close." He mumbled in between their kisses and Simon only grew even more aggressive, he might kill Harry. "Shit!" Harry moaned loudly as he hugs Simon closer to him, his cum dripping down onto Simon's hand. He's a panting mess.

Simon pulls away and Harry watches as Simon takes his cum covered hand to his mouth and licks on it.

"Fuck, you're so gross, Minter."

Simon only shrugs and jumps out of the bed. "C'mon, Haz. They're probably looking for us."

He puts on his clothes and throws a tissue to Harry, which didn't actually land on the bed. "You haven't come, though."

"We'll save that when we get home. I hope you didn't think we're only doing one round. Gotta get those glasses on."

"Jesus."

[7grandmel]

Todays rip: 05/03/2024

Grand Dad Metropolis

Season 1 Featured on: GiIvaSunner's HighestQuality Video Game Rips Volume 2 Also on: GilvaSunner's Highest Quality Video Game Rips: Volume 3 & Knigra, 7 Somari Dad

Ripped by MtH

Requested by an anonymous reader! (Request Form)

Juxtaposed to yesterday's post on a rip that's barely a week old in Willievan Afton Polkka, today we're going OLD school: to a time early in Season 1, back when the mere act of melodyswapping in any capacity still felt like witchcraft (and honestly, to me it still kind of does!). At first glance, Grand Dad Metropolis may appear to just be yet another funny flintstones edit amidst a sea of others - but in the context it was released in, it managed to both be incredibly funny, and mind-bendingly impressive at the same time. I'll try to summarize.

I've been alluding to the significance of April Fools on SiIvaGunner a handful of times on here, notably in Violet Snow Memories, and I've gotten quite a few requests to cover Season 7's April Fools event in particular. Rest assured: that day will come, but I think its important to cover some history beforehand. SiIvaGunner as a channel, one initially all about lightheartedly bait-and-switching unsuspecting viewers, obviously goes hand-in-hand with the very essence of April Fools. But then that raises the question: if the channel, in the early days of Season 1, was already aiming to pull pranks on people all days of the year, what could they do to change that up for when April Fools rolled around? The answer that the team came up with was perhaps the funniest one they could've done: for the entire day, every rip uploaded was of *actually* completely unedited video game music. Funnier yet, all the music chosen were of songs that already featured *some* of the notes from The Flintstones theme, giving the illusion that they had been edited just subtly - effectively driving the audience mad with confusion over whether or not the funny Grand Dad theme was going to play or not.

But where does Grand Dad Metropolis come into this? You can probably hear yourself that, unlike what I'm talking about here, it IS actually edited, if you're familiar with the original track. That's the thing - viewers back then were VERY familiar with the original track, as part of a running joke dating back to just a month after the channel's creation. The track Grand Metropolis, playing off of its very funny name, had been uploaded *six times* to the SiIvaGunner channel (back when it was still called GiIvaSunner) before April Fools rolled around - and in each of these instances, the track had been completely unedited. It was hard to really discern what the point of these repeated uploads was other than to just be mildly funny filler, that the joke was just in how the name of the track evoked the thought of the Grand Dad meme itself without any need to change the melody - until you realize the number that comes after six. Seven. The Seventh Grand Metropolis rip was yet to be uploaded - until, again, the day of April Fools.

With these two in jokes combined - the joke of Grand Metropolis being repeatedly uploaded without any edit until it had reached six out of seven total Grand uploads, and the joke of Season 1's April Fools being to do the complete inverse of the channel's typical activity - Grand Dad Metropolis was the ultimate payoff to a joke almost two months in the making. But see, the quality of the rip runs runs yet further: It was understood, back in the early days of Season 1, that most melody-swap rips made used songs where replacing or modifying its lead melody wasn't all too much work, be it well-understood 8-bit music such as on the NES, or songs whose stems and such were fully available to make isolating individual instruments a non-issue. Grand Metropolis had no such advantage, its performed with a live guitar played by Jun Senoue of SEGA's sound team, it doesn't have any sort of release out that allows for isolation of its instruments, and its sound is distinct enough to where it would seemingly be a huge challenge to recreate from scratch - Yet somehow, ripper MtH was still able to make Grand Dad Metropolis sound shockingly authentic-sounding, to the amazement of many. Check the video's comment section yourself, you'll find even some rippers like SonicHeroesFan1 of Green Panty Zone (Sequenced Ver​.​) fame left amazed at how a rip like this was - at the time - even possible.

There's of course a handful of other jokes featured throughout the rip as well, following that initial hit of getting the long-awaited funny flintstones. The melody goes through Snow Halation, Hiroyuki Sawano's Before my Body is Dry and Gangnam Style - all three jokes being quite historically important to SiIvaGunner's legacy, as I've covered in Stone Halation, voiceless and One Winged PSYcho - V​.​S. Sepsyrop respectively. That importance, paired with the prior-described lengthy context that surrounded it, really makes Grand Dad Metropolis a sort of milestone in early SiIvaGunner, a distillation of everything that gave the channel its initial intrigue, featuring some of the most core-to-the-channel jokes, ones pushed hard by the team's earliest members since the channel's inception. That part of the rip is undeniably important, of course, and yet...its the gag that still sells it for me. The gag of finally receiving the seventh Grand Metropolis was such a genuinely funny one to have unfold in real time and, paired with how funny April Fools of Season 1 was to begin with, ensured that Grand Dad Metropolis would be one I'd remember for all of time. For as often-sloppy, unplanned and rough as Season 1 can often feel, the novelty of the channel's conceit and the cleverness of the team resulted in it being one of the most devious and surprise-filled periods of the channel's entire life. And to me, that is what Grand Dad Metropolis most proudly represents. Pure, unfiltered Season 1 silliness.

Speaking of that silliness - huge shoutout to the "GiIvaSunner's HighestQuality Video Game Rips Volume 2" April Fools album this debuted on, featuring 245 uncompressed FLACs of Grand Metropolis, where exactly ONE of them was actually Grand Dad Metropolis. I don't know if I'll ever get a chance to actually talk about Volume 2 on here, so please look it up on the Wiki - its one of the funniest things the channel's ever done.

[lynlyndoll]

Strangers

genre: angst (it starts cute, but uhm.. yeah)

wc: 0.7k

pairing: minho x fem! reader

appearances and specifications: well, this is only a Minho x reader fic, no other appearances of someone... And as specifications, I'd say that Y/LN is your last name and Y/FN is your first name. Also, I'd recommend listening to "Strangers" by Kenya Grace, I wrote it because of the song.

summary: Was it just in your head? No. Did you do something wrong? Maybe. Or Minho just didn't want you anymore. Maybe all these were lies and he never truly loved you. But today, you were ready. Ready to say good bye from him forever.

an: I listened to the song "Strangers" by Kenya Grace and OMFG.. it gave me Minho vibes idk why, but I just thought of this, after.

You had your first love at a young age. More precisely, you were 16 when you met Minho, the guy in your neighborhood. You just moved into the house and a boy and his family saw you and started helping you and your family in unpacking the new stuff for your new home. He looked interesting, maybe a little bit cold, but with a warmer part of him sometimes showed. You ended up going at the same high school as him. he noticed you as well, a slight smile on his face when spotting you. He came to you, helped you with your schoolbag and books, little talks in between classes.

Soon, these little interactions became bigger and that's how you and minho became friends. Hanging out after school, him accompanying you on your late night walks and little café meetings near the high school. You loved these moments with minho and, when you thought about these moments for more time, you figured out, it wasn't just the moment. But it was minho himself, you loved.

This thought made you think and re-think your entire decisions. You wanted to tell him how you felt, but the thought of minho leaving you alone if he didn't reciprocate the feeling was eating you alive. However, on your 18th birthday, after getting drunk, you vaguely told minho you liked him. Minho was a smart guy, he knew what you meant and for a matter of fact, he liked you too. Since you showed up in the neighborhood, he felt like you were the only girl he would lay his eyes on. Your eyes flickered on his face, his eyes looked at your lips and withing seconds, both of you were making out with each other, stealing passionate kisses.

The next day, you woke up with minho in your bed, him already smiling while looking at you. You smiled at the sight of him, your dream feeling so perfect that you could've said you lived the perfect life.

This only to crumble up in million pieces. Yes, the dream life was, for a moment, amazing. Café dates, movie dates, your own little safe places and little nothings that, for both of you, meant everything. Well, at least, for you. He came back to your shared apartment one day, to tell you he wanted to break up. Not only one explanation given, just a quick good bye and a quick "I'll miss you" being said before the apartment was almost empty. Silence took over the place, only to be broken up by your quiet sobs. What have you done wrong? What if he found someone else? Why didn't he tell you anything?

Your agony lasted years. Years of cries and years of despair. Whenever you liked a new person, everyone turned out to leave you again and again, just like Minho, your first love, did. Until one day. One day, you had enough of it. One day, you looked at yourself in the mirror and saw that you weren't an 18 year old teenager anymore. You grew, you should've been more mature. So, you took a breath and made the most important decision you made till then. You made the decision to try and move on.

Today, you wanted to grab a coffee at the café you always loved going to with Minho. This time, however, you went there alone. No Minho by your side and no stupid giggles at his funny jokes. You did miss them, but you realized that Minho was not the one for you. While you were in the café, drinking your Ice Americano, a guy entered. You glanced at the door, seeing a tall, handsome man. You looked at his face as he scanned the room and saw you. He smiled at you, however you didn't smile back, his smile fading. You saw him trying to get to your table, however you got your coffee in your hands and exited the café, whispering a "Good bye, Lee Minho" to the man who looked at you. You said goodbye to both the versions of him, finally being ready to get over him. His face saddened, but a soft, sad smile appeared on his face. He also whispered a "Good bye, Y/LN Y/FN" and then, you turned your back and faded into the crowd of people in the city.

taglist!!

@agi-ppangx @hyunjin-lover20 @lisaaassophhhieee

[highwaytothedangerzone502]

Foxtrot Alpha Alpha - Chapter 22

Pairing: Hangman x Female OC

Word Count: 3206

Warnings: Swearing, grief, death

Summary: Hangman learned his lesson a long time ago to never show his true feelings when someone's words or actions hurt him. To do so showed weakness that could be exploited, and Seresin men couldn't show weakness. Of course, there was an exception to every rule, and Jake's always came in the form of women, three in particular: his mom, Juliette Kazansky, and the girl whose name he could no longer bring himself to speak. She was the girl that got away; she was his biggest 'what if' and his biggest regret; she would forever be the ghost that haunted his dreams. Jake believed that's where she'd stay, for he would surely never see her again after what he did.

Or so he thought.

Notes: This is the sequel to India Lima Yankee; I'm using the same callsign for the Female OC as in Ghost Story because I just really like it, but they are different characters; chapters in italics are flashbacks. Also happy birthday @shanimallina87!!

Chapter Songs: State of Grace (Acoustic) Labyrinth

****

Ghost

After the catharsis of finally admitting all her troubles, concerns, and self-loathing for having felt the way she did for so long, a small weight lifted off of Ghost's shoulders. Juliette, the saving grace that she was, had listened so graciously and consoled her distraught friend when needed. She had validated the fact that Ghost had endured a severely traumatic experience, and while Ghost herself recognized this, she had never truly been able to accept it because why had no one else reacted similarly to her after enduring such a horrific event? Why had others been able to move past such awful circumstances, whereas she held onto this grudge for years?

Maybe because I technically lost two people I loved that day...

The realization did not help lessen the knot in her throat, but Raptor laying next to her with his head on her knee while she built the crib certainly eased her anxiety. Add in Juliette's uncanny ability to keep Ghost talking while avoiding any topic where Hangman would be brought up, she found herself wholly at ease again. Not long after, the first crib sat fully constructed on the girl's side of the room.

Ghost and Juliette stood, admiring their handiwork and teamwork. The latter inquired, "How long do you think this would've taken the boys?"

"Oh, at least a week. In their defense, they only had the Chinese instructions. We found the English ones. That did help."

"True, but we're not going to tell them that, are we?"

"Oh, hell no. We'll make them think we're just that good." Ghost grabbed the instructions and crumpled them up. "Hey, is my makeup okay? I'd be amazed if my earlier breakdown didn't ruin it somewhat."

Juliette studied her friend's face. "Yeah, we might want to touch up your eyeliner. It's smudged enough that the boys might question it. Come on."

The girls headed to Juliette's bathroom, the dogs on their heels. Sure enough, when Ghost caught her reflection, she grimaced at the messy eyeliner. It definitely gave away her tearful confession. Juliette dug through her makeup bag and handed Ghost her concealer and pencil liner.

"You're a lifesaver in so many ways today," Ghost said, leaning forward to apply the makeup.

"This is what friends are for. Besides, you saved mine when I passed out at the Hard Deck."

"Any of the Daggers could've done that."

"Yeah, but you kept Rooster calm at the hospital. Trust me, that's not an easy feat. He's distrusted doctors ever since they misdiagnosed his mom's cancer, and he's not trusting them with me either. Seriously, you kept him sane."

"Maverick helped."

"Maybe, but they're still working through some things, relearning each other after over ten years of not speaking," Juliette said, leaning against the counter, "I'm honestly not sure Maverick could've calmed Rooster down the way you did."

"How are they doing?"

"Compared to when the mission training started? It's a million times better. They're still working each other out, seeing how much the other wants them around, how much they can prod without pissing the other off, and it's mainly Maverick being hesitant. He doesn't want to bother Rooster and inadvertently cause him to withdraw from him, but then Rooster still knows when Maverick isn't telling him everything and starts thinking he's hiding some big secret again, and it's a... whole thing."

"Sounds like this happened recently," Ghost noted, putting away the borrowed makeup.

"This morning," Juliette confirmed, shaking her head. "Rooster thinks Maverick is hiding something because he went to the hangar without telling us like he normally does, and I agree with Rooster; I do think Mav is hiding something, but he's also a grown man who doesn't need to tell us everything. I think Rooster's paranoid that his dad's keeping another life-altering secret from him again. I'm trying to convince him that's not going to happen, but you know Rooster: once he gets an idea stuck in his head-"

"It won't go away unless he's proven firmly right or wrong."

Juliette nodded. "Exactly."

"Speaking of Rooster, has he or Hangman texted you about where they are with dinner? I'm starving," Ghost said. Her stomach growled in agreeance with uncanny timing.

"No. I should probably check on them," Juliette mused, taking out her cell phone. As if their ears had been burning, the garage door opened, followed by the irked voices of Hangman and Rooster. Sharing dubious glances, the girls went to greet them and to check what had taken so long. Upon seeing the men, it took no time to figure out why. Paint splattered their jeans and shirts and speckled their faces, hair, and Rooster's mustache.

Ghost looked them up and down in disbelief. "Did you have a fight with a paint can?" 

"Actually-" Rooster started, setting his bag of food on the counter and glaring at Hangman- "you wouldn't be far off."

"They shouldn't have had an open paint can on an unstable ladder," Hangman grumbled, setting his bag on the counter.

"You shouldn't have been near said unstable ladder!"

"It was either that or us getting barrelled into by that biker gang, and I'm choosing the damn paint, Bradshaw."

"You could've pulled us in the other direction," Rooster pointed out.

"Yeah, but it was farther. You're the one who tripped on your own damn feet and caused us to start falling in the first place."

"You're lucky they love Juliette so much; otherwise, I don't think we'd be allowed back there." Rooster turned to his fiancée and said, "We went to Home Depot to get them a new can of paint, and it was a bitch to find. That's what took so long. I'm sorry."

Juliette laughed. "I always know to add an extra hour onto whatever errand you're running when it's you two. Why don't you take off your clothes, change into new ones, and I'll try to get these stains out?"

"Honey, if you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask," Rooster teased, winking playfully at his future wife while stripping off his shirt. Hangman followed suit, and Ghost tried to avert her eyes so she wouldn't be caught ogling his Adonis build, but a few sneak peeks happened. 

The two men hurried to the master bedroom to grab some new clothes. Juliette and Ghost both peered around the corner, watching them go. The girls glanced at each other, then burst out laughing and hurried back to the counter before Rooster and Hangman caught them.

"What are you two giggling about?" Rooster asked when he returned, wrapping his arms around Juliette's waist from behind and resting his head on her shoulder. Hangman stopped on the opposite side of the island, watching the couple with an unidentified emotion.

"Nothing," she and Ghost said simultaneously.

"I find that hard to believe," Hangman jested. He grabbed some of the to-go containers and placed them on the table. Ghost followed with the remaining ones, purposefully putting her food next to his to reserve her spot. She wouldn't separate Rooster and Juliette because of her feelings toward Hangman. She would take the high road and continue being as cordial as possible with him in front of others. 

The group sat down and dug into the food, chatting amiably about wherever the conversation led them. Ghost tried to bring herself to ask Hangman questions directly but choked on the words every time. What could she ask? What could she say? How could she even think about attempting to reach out when she couldn't think of a simple thing to say to him?

Ghost listened to the bantering between Hangman and Rooster, but Juliette fiddling with her necklace caught her attention. After commenting on how pretty the dainty anchor locket was, Juliette responded, "Thanks! It was the first gift Rooster ever gave me when we started dating. It has our saying on the back: India Lima Yankee."

"India Lima Yankee?" Ghost repeated, perplexed.

"Means 'I love you' in the phonetic alphabet. It's how we used to say I love you when we were just friends, so our other friends wouldn't read anything into it. Of course, then we started dating, but we let it stick."

"That's so sweet!" 

"Yeah, I had a crush on her for the longest time," Roosted admitted, jumping into the conversation. He placed his hand on Juliette's thigh. "I meant the saying romantically for most of the time we started saying it, but I never realized she did too until we finally admitted our feelings for each other."

Ghost smiled nostalgically, the story reminding her of what she and Hangman used to say to each other. Without thinking, she said, "I had a similar situation with a friend. We loved each other, albeit only platonically, unlike you two, but still kind of similar. We had a saying we reserved for each other only, too."

"What was the saying?" Juliette asked, her gaze flicking momentarily over to Hangman.

"Forever and always. I would say, for example, 'I've got your back.' He would respond with 'Forever,' and I would say 'and always.'"

"Oh, that's adorable!" Jules gushed. "I'm blanking right now, but what would that be in the phonetic alphabet?"

"Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Hangman said, staring at Ghost with a mixture of confusion and wistful reminiscence and the silent question: why are you bringing this up?

Ghost held no answer for him because she had no clue herself. The memory popped into her head and rolled off her tongue before she could consider the consequences of voicing it. Maybe this was her sign to rekindle her friendship with Hangman. Maybe she had to suck it up and accept that she would never get an explanation from him about that fateful day. Or perhaps she had to start the friendship again in order to get the explanation. It was worth a shot. 

"I like that: Foxtrot Alpha Alpha," Juliette said, standing up from the table and grabbing her empty container along with the others'. 

"People might think you're referring to the Federal Aviation Administration," Roosted joked. Standing up, he added, "I'm going to work on the crib some more, see if I can make heads or tails of those instructions. Hangman, you coming?"

"Right behind you." Jake followed Rooster to the bedroom. Juliette and Ghost locked eyes and silently waited for the impending interrogation about the newly built crib. Sure enough, hardly five seconds later, the boys returned, and Rooster said, "Now, I could've sworn when Hangman and I left, the crib had not been built."

"Maybe it was the dogs," Juliette suggested innocently, popping a missed fried crawfish into her mouth.

"I might believe that if they had opposable thumbs, but they don't. Please tell me you did not build that by yourself."

"Don't worry, I sat the entire time. Ghost did all the heavy lifting. Literally."

Rooster sighed. "Fine, fine. Did you find the English instructions?"

"No, we followed the Chinese ones," Ghost lied easily, standing up and stretching. "I don't know what you two found so difficult about them. Y'all need help with the second one?"

"We could probably use some supervision," Hangman said, meeting Ghost's gaze. Unless she was mistaken, she saw a glimmer of hope in his green eyes.

"Count us in," Juliette chirped. They all headed into the nursery and sat down to build the last crib. Juliette, now wholly outnumbered, sat in the recliner and watched. She asked, "By the way, Ghost, how's Jackie?"

"Oh, shit, I completely forgot to tell you about that!" Ghost exclaimed, straightening in surprise. She dove into the story of her sister's woes and broken marriage. Hangman, Juliette, and Rooster listened intently, aghast at the flimsy excuses Ryan had given Jackie for ending their relationship so suddenly.

"That smells fishy," Hangman declared in distaste. "Sounds like there's someone else in the picture."

"I started wondering the same thing. However, I didn't want to say anything when she was already distraught. We'll likely find out if it's true sooner or later. See, this is why I don't trust marriage. Outside of you two-" she waved the Allen key at Juliette and Rooster- "I see so many problematic marriages. Hell, even my parents briefly split up about a year before I was born, if only for two weeks, but still. Now Jackie and Ryan, so many people from high school-"

"Oh, yeah, I saw Braxton and Paxton were getting divorced. Guess they couldn't come up with a kid's name that rhymed with theirs," Hangman joked.

Ghost chuckled. "See, the one that shocked me was Nelly and PJ. They seemed so smitten."

"Did you go to the ten-year reunion?"

"No. I wasn't friends with anyone, and I didn't want to stand around awkwardly while everyone else caught up. Did you?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't wait to get out of high school. Why would I want to go back?" Hangman finished tightening the last screw, and the group stood up. "Well, looks like we can get a lot done with the girls watching over us."

"And when we have English instructions," Rooster added, glancing at the aforementioned packet lying on the floor next to his feet. 

Juliette joined the group to admire the handiwork. "Thanks for helping you two. We owe you."

Hangman waved a dismissive hand. "Nah, this is on the house for our future niece and nephew. I think Uncle Jake and Aunt Annalise have a good ring to it." 

"Agreed. If y'all need help with anything else, you know who to call," Ghost said, checking her phone. "I should get going. I promised I'd talk to Jackie later to see how breaking the news to Mom and Dad about her divorce went."

Jake turned his attention to Rooster. "Bradshaw, it's been fun."

Rooster frowned. "No, it hasn't."

"We make a good team," Jake continued, offering his hand to shake.

Bradley took it and broke into a grin, replying, "No, we didn't. It was a disaster."

"I look forward to the next project." He and Ghost headed to the front door with Juliette and Rooster behind them. Bidding the couple farewell, the two aviators left the house and walked silently down the sidewalk to their rides.

"You okay getting home this late?" Hangman queried, unlocking his truck. 

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Ghost said, wondering where the question had arisen.

"You feel safe getting home by yourself?"

"Yeah. Why?"

Hangman rubbed the back of his neck. "I've been worried about you ever since you told me about Kyle. I don't trust him not to stalk you because his behavior is obsessive already. And look, if you're saying you feel safe because it's me and you want me to leave you alone, then just let me know, and I'll get Coyote or Rooster-"

"Jake-" Ghost interrupted- "I'm not saying I'm fine to get you off my back. I'm telling you that because it's true. If I felt unsafe, I would rather have you escort me home than potentially risk my safety."

Hangman nodded. "Good, good. I, uh, I'll let you go. Enjoy your night, Annalise. I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah, see you around." Ghost turned toward her bike and then stopped, an idea popping into her head of how she could potentially break the ice between them and set them on the road of reconciliation. She took a deep breath and called, "Hey, Jake?"

He whirled around instantly. "Hmm?" 

"Something dawned on me earlier-" Ghost stepped toward him with her hands clasped tightly in front of her- "you and I are both close to Juliette. We're not going to be able to avoid each other because of it, and I don't want Jules to feel like she has to choose between us. It's not fair to her. I understand I'm the one who cut contact between you and me, so I felt the need to be the one who tried to reestablish it. I'm not- I'm not saying we need to hang out outside of other people's invites-"

"Then what are you saying? Because I know it's not that you want to be friends again."

The sadness in his eyes added the missing emotion to his stoic tone, and Ghost ached to reach out for him, to embrace him and confess how much she'd missed him all these years, that she did want to be friends again but didn't know how or where to begin repairing what had been broken between them. Ghost forced herself to stay rooted to the spot and mulled over what to say. Hangman would sense if she lied, so she twisted the truth. "I'm not sure we can be friends again, not in the way we once were, but I do believe we need to find a way to at least become friendly acquaintances. For Juliette's sake and our future niece and nephew's."

Hangman nodded. "Agreed."

Ghost offered her hand, and he shook it. She barely managed to stop herself from shivering at the contact and the tingling sensation engulfing the parts of her hand where his skin touched hers. Snatching her hand back before her mind traveled down the road of desire, Ghost cleared her throat and said, "Good, good... well, I should, uh, I should get home. See you around?"

"Yeah. Are you going to be at dogfight football this Saturday?"

"I don't know." It sounded better than saying, 'I haven't gotten an invite from Maverick because, despite his cordialness to me the other day, I don't think he likes me.'

"Why not?"

Ghost shrugged. "The invite was a one-time thing last time. I don't want to show up uninvited."

"Then this is me inviting you. Besides, if you say no-" a cocky smirk spread across his chiseled face- "I'll tell Juliette, and then she'll call you asking where you are. We don't want her thinking it's because of our fall-out."

Ghost narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you using my own argument against me?"

"Yes," he said unabashedly.

Ghost tried but failed to bite back a smile. "Fine. I'll come."

"Great. I'll pick you up at nine. That way, we can swing by Starbucks on the way there."

"I can drive myself." Despite her protest, Ghost couldn't ignore her heart fluttering in anticipation at the idea of being alone with Hangman in his truck. A flood of memories washed over her: singing along to country music while cruising down roads in his passenger seat, sitting in the bed of his truck while star-gazing, and chatting while they drove through the hills of the Smoky Mountains to escape the Academy and see the fall foliage among so many others.

"Yeah, but then you can back out at the last minute, and I'm not letting you do that. I'll see you Saturday at nine sharp." Not giving her the chance to respond, he winked cheekily at her before getting in his truck. Ghost smiled to herself while she went to her motorcycle, simultaneously elated and nervous about the new situation she'd put herself in with Hangman. This plan would either take off or crash and burn. Right now, she couldn't tell which way was more likely, but Ghost knew what she hoped for.

****

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[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3461

today was quiet. i talked to leo early on but i was laughing so hard that meredith sent him a message "molly is laughing too hard. go to sleep." it was so funny omg

anyway it was pretty quiet. i like getting to hang out with meredith. she's delightful.

at the end of the day, i ended up staying for another hour and a half to sit and talk to and hang out with jey and leo because i don't get to see them much. it was a great decision. i got to see leo's cats, we all talked about a bunch of things, and i laughed a LOT and im very happy.

when i left, i drove down the road and ended up at a red light. my windows were down because it was nice out (to me), and the car next to me had music playing, so i was nodding and moving along to the music. and then the lady in the passenger seat of the other car says to me, "you can do the macarena to anything, it works! try it!" she was doing the macarena to a song that should not have the macarena done to it. i laughed because that was the LAST thing i expected to hear today 😂 so i said i would and i laughed down the road when the light turned green. and at the NEXT red light, i was a few cars back from the front of the line, and that SUV would be the first in that line, but they slowed down next to me and the lady was dancing more! it was SO FUNNY because she (1) stopped to say something, (2) said something, (3) danced while saying it, and (4) stopped AGAIN to show me that she was dancing! 😂😂😂😂😂😂

literally i laughed halfway down the bridge.

and joel's out for now, and i realize how often he comes home really late. i would like to cuddle with him one of these evenings.

a couple other things, but they're trauma-based.

tw religion, religious trauma, personal trauma, mental and emotional manipulation and abuse

tldr i remembered some ~church~ and "friend" shit that made me angry for my past self and my current self.

as i was driving in cambridge yesterday, i found the mormon church in the area. it's on the road i take to get back to the main thoroughfare to get back to the bridge to get back to the highway. it's right there. i could've lived without finding it. but today as i came up to it i cursed it out and all the people and establishments that fucked me over for so long. i thought about all of the mental gymnastics and hoops i had to jump through to stay and to believe it all.

and then as i was on the highway coming back home, i thought of another experience that i have zero qualms with talking about.

once upon a time, i had a friend at church named lisa. she was funny and smart and no-nonsense and was bisexual, so we understood the lgbt. she also had an account on here and freaked out when she learned that i was in charge of the account. it was nice.

for a while.

lisa and aaron and tyler, the three friends ("friends") i had in that group i had told before that when they hang out if they want to include me that i needed an explicit invitation. i told all of them that. they refused to respect it. but i ignored it.

i texted the group the most, i think. i always texted first. i ignored that, too.

and then one evening when the gathered young adults were playing a game for family home evening, the teams got into an argument and were shouting and yelling really loudly at each other. i didn't want to play but i got up, threw my hands in the air, and yelled as a response, "okay! i'll go next!" just to appease everyone. and i went into the hallway and proceeded to have a panic attack.

while i'm in the middle of breaking down, lisa and tyler and aaron come out to "check on me," which im sure was their intent, but it didn't come across that way.

lisa asked me what was wrong and i said i didn't know. she then said something to the effect of, "this is why we walk on eggshells around you, why we can't talk to you, because we don't know what will set you off since you won't tell us."

it was the meanest thing i can remember her saying to me.

(this was SEVERAL years ago.)

i was just beginning to work through my trauma, much of which stems from constant arguments and screaming matches between my parents throughout my entire childhood.

i didn't know that listening to people yell like that was going to set me off.

if someone is having a panic attack, you don't go up to them during it and say "we can't talk to you because you don't tell us your triggers."

how am i supposed to tell you what's going to set me off when even i don't know what's going to set me off??

it's not okay to blame someone for your actions because they don't know something. it's less okay to do that in the middle of a panic attack. it's even less okay to disguise it as care.

i left that night in tears. i felt terrible. i was exhausted from the attack. but that was the first time i started to think about the mental gymnastics i was doing. i didn't ignore it.

i realized that i always texted first. so i stopped texting first.

i didn't get any more texts.

i stopped offering to do things.

i stopped getting asked to do things, eventually.

and the three of them have been blocked since.

tyler came to visit once, which was nice of him. my only ire towards him is that he went along with lisa's narcissistic tendencies and didn't speak up when she was out of line. narcissistic tendencies don't look good on you.

aaron had been my friend for a long time. not anymore. he didn't stand up for me. he didn't reach out or call or text or try to contact any other way. too mormon for his own good. it's obnoxious. and he's a narcissist, too.

and lisa? i hope she stubs her toe and steps on a sliver of glass. that someone she loves and trusts does something so incomprehensibly unfair and unkind that she knows and feels what it's like to lose an entire group of friends. you don't fucking blame someone for not knowing triggers when they just fucking find out about them. for someone who was getting a phd in criminal justice, you really lacked the empathy and understanding to be a good friend. you fucked that up and you treated me so terribly. and for what? because you and the other two stooges who also were narcissists needed someone to take advantage of?

fuck you.

get fucking bent.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

Writing Advent Calendar

Day 11

Prompt: Santa's Elf AU

Aka: A dcla crossover where everyone is elves

Read on ao3 in the link above or under the cut

In the north pole, Santa's elves worked hard to get all the work done. However, it sometimes didn't go exactly as planned.

Luna came rolling by in a room with tons of workers. She was a delivery elf and thought it went quicker if she went on roller skates.

"Luna!" Nina said, handing her a book, "Take this to the arts department and ask Bia to illustrate the pictures."

"On it!" Luna said and rolled away with her book in her hand. 

On her way, she passed the musics department, where the elfs inside were very busy finishing all kinds of instruments, songbooks and singing toys.

Violetta was right now recording a song for a voice box that would be inside a singing racoon. 

"No, Violetta," Naty said, "You have to make your voice more high pitched. You have a beatiful voice, but the racoon is supposed to sound more like a baby."

Violetta took a deep breath and made her voice more high pitched. She made sure to also sound a little bubbly and energetic, like a little kid.

Meanwhile, Broduey, Maxi and Andres were over at a table. They had just finished a keyboard for toddlers - one of those where you pressed different buttons and music would play. Andres was already pressing buttons, dancing along to the beat.

"Easy Andres, we can't let the batteries run out!"

"I wish we could just sing for fun and not to create stupid toys," Ludmila sighed.

"We can," Naty said, "Every month from janurary to september, essentially."

"UUGGHHH! WHY IS IT DECEMBER?!"

"I'm gonna get this to the crafts room," Francesca said, holding the voice box Violetta had just recorded. In the crafts room, they made all the stuffed animals.

As she went out in the corridor, she encountered the roller skating elf.

"Oh, good! Luna! Can you get this voice box to the crafts room?"

Luna was going very fast and Francesca had to stop her by holding her hand and spinning her around several times. Eventually Luna could stop.

"Oh..." she said, all dizzy, "Uh, you wanted me to get that voice box?"

"Yes, please. To the crafts room."

"I am sorry, but I can't. I just delivered a book to the arts room for illustrating, and they asked me to retrieve some more paint."

"Aah... do you know who else I can ask?" Normally, anyone could be a delivery elf for the time - really, many of the elves had rotating jobs. You just went to whatever department or room of your preferred choice of the day. Though, many elves often stayed in the same spots. And Luna loved exploring every surface, which was why she more or less had taken the delivery job permanently. Though, she also helped out in other ways when necessary. Just the other day, another elf realized her laughter would fit for a talking doll they were making. So, she spent the entire day recording laughter.

"I think Jim and Yam aren't doing anything!" Luna shrugged, "They should be around here somewhere... anyway! Gotta go!" 

Jim and Yam were elves that very rarely were seen without each other. Francesca only really saw them whenever they came into the music department to sing or help creating instruments. Otherwise, they were over at the sewing room creating outfits, or just doing various things in the arts department. 

Francesca however realized they could've been at another place. She had heard a sound from a nearby closet.

Since elves were so short, they could easily hide behind normal human-sized furniture and almost create little cozy corners from it. In this closet, there were a bunch of instruments. And behind the piano, placed in the corner, she could see a tiny little elf shoe. She immediately pulled it, causing two startled elves to shriek.

"So here's where you're hiding," Francesca said teasingly.

"We were just..." Jim said.

"Uhm..." Yam said and stumbled over a guitar, almost getting her feet stuck in the strings.

"You're not busy, are you?" Francesca asked. "I know, it's easy to get bored and... get busy... but you have like 9 months of the year to do that. Now it's december, and it's chop chop!"

"Of course!" Jim said awkwardly.

"You two can do me a favor. You can take this voice box to the crafts room."

"But you only need one to do that..." Yam said.

"Well, it's good to be two, one can make sure the way there is safe."

Yam got her foot out from the strings and then accidentally made a box of maracas trip. Francesca gave her the voice box. "Can I trust you two?"

"Yes!" the girls said, standing up and then running out the door.

Francesca then observed the corner behind the piano. Hmm... this looked like a good place to be when you wanted to have a private conversation. Or do... something else. When you're an elf and you live for so long, you more or less have to keep yourself busy in one way or another... let's just say, everyone got with everyone and that was just how it was. Well, except for Jim and Yam. They seemed to not prefer anyone except themselves.

Francesca hoped they didn't break the voice box on the way. Or that Luna crashed into them while she got paint.

Then again, she would be surprised if an accident didn't happen. There was always something going on in Santa's workshop.

[fuckyeahvanhalen86-95]

Sammy Hagar’s all-star band got their much-anticipated The Best of All Worlds tour underway over the weekend, and the vocalist has discussed why Joe Satriani understands Eddie Van Halen better than anyone else.

According to Jason Newsted and Michael Anthony, both bass players were in talks for a David Lee Roth-fronted, but ultimately failed, Van Halen tribute in 2022. That tour would have put Satch at the helm, to many the perfect player to step into his enormous shoes – a sentiment Hagar shares.

Hagar has since gone one step further, recruiting Satriani, Michael Anthony, and drummer Jason Bonham for a tour that so far has featured 15 Van Halen songs, from both Roth and Hagar eras of the band.

In a new conversation with Classic Rock, Sammy Hagar hailed Satriani’s attention to detail and pointed out that there’s no-one better for the job.

“I think probably the smartest move I made if I was gonna go out and do this was to get Joe Satriani,” the vocalist says.

“A million guys could've done it – well, not a million. But you walk into a music store and you see a 12-year-old kid sitting on an amp with one of Eddie's guitars and he's playing Eruption. These genius little kids can do it now, but they don't necessarily know what he's doing. You ask him to write a song like that, and he's going, 'Ah, I don't know how.' You say, 'Joe, write me a song like that,' Joe'll write you a song like that 'cause he knows where it's coming from.”

That last line is especially interesting – is Hagar hinting that this band could be looking to work on original music together, or is he simply making a point?

The tour setlist – look away if you want to avoid spoilers – includes a raft of Van Halen anthems, from Jump to Ain't Talkin' 'bout Love, as well as lesser-played deep cuts such as Judgment Day and The Seventh Seal. The tour also marks the first time Hagar has performed Panama with his solo band.

Speaking to Guitar World back in November, with the tour an intimidating speck in the distance at that time, Satriani had said he would need to go through some “mental therapy” to get over the fact his playing wasn't going to sound exactly like Eddie's.

He also added that he expected .9 gauge strings “will be part of the secret formula for the Eddie Van Halen sound. Without those, you don't get the expressiveness and the slinkiness.”

It was an early indicator that no stone would be left unturned during his exhaustive tone quest.

Indeed, Satch has felt the pressure of emulating/honoring his idol for the tour. As such, he’s worked with 3rd Power amps for a custom amp to nail Eddie's 1986 guitar tone, built a new pedalboard, and modded several EVH guitars after saying his live rig needed to be "a different animal”.

In fact, so conscious was the guitarist not to let Eddie's influence dull the shine of his personality, he revealed he'd never learned how to play Eddie's music before the tour opportunity came along.

“After being a super-fan of Van Halen when they first came out, I realized that if I learned how to play this stuff, it would seep into my playing,” he said. “So, around ‘88, I consciously decided not to figure it out. I'd put it on and have a good time, but I never looked to figure out what Eddie was doing. And then, I got the call from Alex [Van Halen] and Dave [Lee Roth] a couple of years ago, and I realized, 'Wow, I don't know how to play any of it.’ I explained that to them, and maybe every three or four weeks, I'd call them up, saying, 'I'm not doing it. I'm sorry; I'm not your guy.' So many guys were good at it, but they would talk me back into it, saying, 'No, you're the guy.’”

The rest, as they say, is history.

[bringbackmaes14]

It's honestly so crazy that I'm seeing this post now because I've been thinking about family (specifically siblings) a lot lately.

For ease of typing, I'm the 3rd of 4 kids and I'll refer to my siblings as 1, 2, and 4.

We had a tumultuous upbringing. It seemed like one bad thing happened after another at some point. The main things being our parents divorcing when I was five years old, and it wouldn't be long after that that I'd become extremely unstable mentally and remain that way until I was almost twenty years old. Before that all happened, we were a tight knit group. We still did tons of stuff together and shared a lot of fun and a lot of traumatic experiences, which helped us bond, but when I was in the worst years of my instability, I was hostile and violent and lashed out regularly. This drove my siblings away from me. It was this weird mix where I separated from all of them. 1 and 2 also separated from each other because 2 resented 1 for their becoming more like a parent rather than the older-sibling/friend they'd had before our dad left. 2 and 4 got closer because 2 was super protective of 4.

1 and 2 left for college when I was at my lowest point, so 4 was the only one who was really with me while I recovered. Eventually me, 4, and my mom ended up living with 1 (and their spouse) again, so 1 got to see my recovery efforts and we reconnected. We're not living with 1 and their spouse anymore, but I'm close with them now and we talk almost every week. 4 and I still live with Mom, and we've managed to recover our relationship as well. I've heard recently that 1 and 2 are reconnecting. 2 and 4 have grown apart in the past year because of personal conflict. And I'm pretty much no contact with 2 because they never really saw any of my recovery. They left when I was at my worst, and they still, to this day, literally a decade later, treat me like I'm an unstable uncontrollable preteen a lot of times.

But I've been thinking, that maybe I need to try harder to reconnect with 2 and show them who I am. Because my grandfather recently got diagnosed with cancer, and my mom is having to connect with her two younger siblings, one of which she's really close with, and one who doesn't talk to either of them because of some insignificant spat that they took to heart. And it's so hard for them to connect right now in this difficult time when family is really super important.

And it makes me realize that I want my siblings. I want all of them. I want their friendship, because even though there's been years and years of hardship between us all in differing ways, I remember the good things.

I remember the games we played and the shows we watched and the events we went to. I remember late night talks we had together when we weren't supposed to be up about how we know Mom is trying to do her best but maybe she could've done these things better. I remember how even when I was lashing out physically and verbally regularly and my siblings were literally scared of me, they still comforted me and protected me from our dad in moments when he lashed out. I remember when we were on a family trip once and we got robbed and 4 was having a panic attack, so me and 2 and 1 came up with funny songs about 4's stuffed animals and sang them and I can still bring up singular lyrics and my siblings automatically know what I'm talking about. I remember the four of us posing together for a couple of photos at 1's wedding and not being able to keep straight faces because we kept cracking jokes.

If you don't get along with your siblings, I implore you to reach out to them and try to fix it. Of course I'm working on that myself with 2, and it's a slow process, but I'm sure it will be worth it because it was worth it with 4 and with 1. You will literally never have another relationship like the one you have with people you were raised with. You will never find another relationship with both love and hatred as pure as it is found between siblings. And I'm sorry to the person in the previously mentioned tags who thinks that siblings aren't something that can be cherished. I'm standing proudly to say that I'm going to cherish mine through the good and the bad moments, and hope that there's more good ones to come.

One time I read that post that goes "once upon a time an adult put you on the ground and never picked you up again" and it made me sad so now I lift everyone. I'm 5'3" and kinda dumpy but the trick is to plant your feet, get 'em in a gable grip low near the hips with your knees bent, and then just tuck in your Elbows and straighten your legs. Gets those fuckers right on up there. I'm the oldest of eight and also the shortest but that sad shit lives with me so I'm hauling around these kids around like it's nothing. My little brother is a hockey player and a full head taller. I carried him around when he was a baby and I carried him around last weekend. My Papa is a 230lb Bavarian man who watches Stargate in a bath robe, he's smoked a pack a day for forty years. You think I haven't lifted him? I have. He said I couldn't do it but I did. God didn't give me social skills but I'm full of love and jacked as hell and he's not here to stop me

[alinastracker]

malina week day 5 — free choice

false saint

a smutty one-shot inspired by taylor swift’s “false god” (ao3)

Alina Starkov had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

ruin and rising spoilers!

For the first time since they opened Keramzin up to Ravka’s orphaned children six months ago, the halls were quiet. Gone were the sounds of running feet and squealing laughter. Even though they only had four children, not including Misha, currently staying at the orphanage, happy children were often loud children, and it was the young couple’s top priority that the kids they took in were happy — as happy as any child who’s lost everything could be. 

The quiet was oddly startling, even though Alina knew that the children were perfectly fine, out on a trip into town with their teacher, Karine, and the orphanage’s gruff cook, Stasia. 

“Children should learn about their food early,” the woman had insisted, and so the little field trip into town had been planned. Karine went with, partly because five children were a handful for one woman, and partly because some of the children were still rather intimidated by Stasia. 

The children were safe, and Alina was enjoying the quiet. But every now and then, caught off guard by the stillness, came a flicker of panic, and she had to remind herself once more. The children are safe. The Darkling is dead. 

And though the home was quiet, she was not alone.

Alina pressed her forehead against one of the full length windows of the upstairs reading nook. They had wanted this room to be comfy and bright, and the large windows that faced the back of the property certainly assured that. She could see Mal down there, tending to the garden, his hands deep inside of the dirt. For a moment, she let all of her worries float away and pictured his fingers deep inside of her instead. She had to squeeze her thighs together as heat rushed to her center, demanding friction. 

The sun was shining brightly through the window, and so she angled herself to stand fully in its rays. Alina brought her hand up, letting her fingers play in the light, forcing her sinful thoughts away. She couldn’t say how long she stayed that way, lost in her longing, but it was long enough that Mal had finished in the garden and had come to sneak up behind her. 

“Playing with the light again?” he murmured as his arms wrapped around her. 

Alina nodded, leaning back against his chest.

Mal pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

It was what they always asked each other when they got into these moods, when she became entranced with the sunlight, and he found himself stuck silent and still in the woods. Sometimes the longing hurt, and sometimes it was just the pull to be in the element again — welcoming an old friend, rather than feeling the hole left in its absence. 

“I was just thinking that I miss the feeling sometimes,” Alina sighed. “When I summoned, it was like every inch of my skin was brushed with the softest warmth. I can feel something close to it sometimes, standing in the light like this. Just not as . . . wholly.” 

Mal was quiet for a moment, and she knew if she looked over her shoulder, she’d find the small pinch between his brows that indicated he was thinking. She knew the exact moment when his mind had come to a conclusion, feeling the way his body relaxed. 

“Perhaps,” he murmured, angling himself so his lips just brushed her ear as his hands moved to grip her hips, “it would help if the sun could hit every inch of you.” 

Desire returned thick between her thighs, if it had ever truly gone away. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know.”

He was right, she knew exactly what he meant. But they were out in the open, standing right in front of a window. The children were gone, though. The staff, too. There would always be the chance that someone came stumbling into their backyard and looked up, but maybe the risk made it all the better. 

She had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

She took one slow, steady breath, channeling her confidence. 

“Then undress me, Malyen.” 

Mal tensed for a singular breath, then brought his hands around her again, feeling his way up her chest until his fingers found the first button of her shirt. He took his time undoing each one, letting their skin brush each time more of her was bared. When he had the last button undone, the shirt was tossed lazily away. Mal’s hands continued their journey down her body, though her skirt took considerably less time to remove. 

Standing in nothing but her under clothes, Alina closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of the sunlight brushing new parts of her. She thought for a moment that Mal might stop here. It could be enough, even if she still craved more. 

But he didn’t stop.

Mal hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear, and when she didn’t object, tugged them down. Alina stepped carefully out of the fabric, brushing it away with her foot. His fingers crawled up her backside then, and a moment later, her bra fell to the floor, letting the light consume her whole. 

Alina let her head fall back against Mal’s shoulder, bringing her hands up just as she used to when using her power. It wasn’t quite the same warmth that summoning had brought her, but it was something. 

Mal pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered, “Sankta.” 

Encompassed in the light, she almost felt like one. Mal had always had blind faith in her, had died for her. But saints had to prove they were worth the title. 

Alina turned, meeting his eyes. Mal could’ve sworn some of the light had stayed twinkling in her brown orbs. 

“Let me give you something to worship,” she said, and dropped to her knees.

Mal sucked in a sharp breath, but made no move to stop her as she worked to undo his trousers, dragging them down. His underwear came next, his half-hard cock happy to spring free. 

“You don’t have to—” he started. Alina shushed him. She spit into her hand — rather unceremonious for a saint, but alas — and gripped him. Any lingering words of Mal’s fell to the wayside as he moaned. 

It took very little time for him to harden fully with her stroking him. Still, she waited until he couldn’t possibly throb more for her, his cock hard as steel and bulging, before she brought him to her lips and sucked the tip of him into her mouth. 

Mal cursed fervently, his hand forming a fist in the tangles of her silky, pale hair.

Alina swirled her tongue around him, dipping into the place where his desire gathered for her, only encouraged by his curses and the almost painful pull on her scalp. His words were like a prayer, and he only got louder as she took in more of him, swallowing him down her throat even as her body protested. 

She still didn’t know if his size was a blessing or a curse. 

Mal was on the edge from the sight of her alone, those pretty lips he had spent years dreaming about perfectly parted around his cock. He saw the tears in her eyes, though, and so he began to pull back, only for Alina to grip his ass, nails digging into the skin of his backside. Let me, her eyes said, determined. And fuck if it didn’t make his hips thrust against her mouth. 

“Alina,” he moaned.

Her response was a brief, but not gentle, scrape of her teeth against him. Mal hissed, but he didn’t need to look at her to know where he had gone wrong

“Sankta,” he moaned instead, and it felt right. 

Even if she was a false saint, their love — and everything that came with it — was like their own personal religion, blind and eternal. Though the moan that ripped from Mal’s throat as his release hit was anything but holy. 

And this was what Alina had wanted more than anything — to bring him to the edge and push him over. It was a different kind of power, and she let the evidence of it dribble down her chin, droplets landing on her breasts and chest. Different than the blood a saint usually ended up covered in. Different, and much better. 

When she finished milking his release out of him, Alina stood. Backlit by the sun, she looked as saintly as she ever had. Mal licked his lips as he greedily took in the sight of her. She had, undoubtedly, given him something to worship. 

As any righteous man of faith would do before his saint, Mal dropped to his knees. It was not the first time Alina had driven men to kneel before her, and it would not be the last.

“Sankta Alina,” he whispered, bringing his lips to the altar between her thighs, his tongue forming a prayer that felt better than Alina thought possible. 

But it wasn’t just a prayer, it was a whole sermon — every lick, suck, and plunge a promise of his allegiance. He had her mewling and trembling above him in minutes, barely able to keep herself standing as he pushed her past her limits. And she thought, as he rose with his lips glistening from her cunt, that service was over. But Mal only turned her over and pressed her naked body against the window. The glass chilled her bare skin even as the sunlight warmed it.

Mal had his lips at her ear again. “I’m not done worshipping you yet,” he murmured, and smoothly thrust his hard-again cock inside of her. 

If anyone walked by outside or came into the reading nook, there would be no hiding their heavenly sinful act. To her surprise, Alina found the slightest thrill at a stranger discovering such a display. And as Mal fucked her with relentless devotion, she sent a prayer to the true saints that the glass held true. 

This time, they jumped over the edge together, in the way that only the faithful could. Screams on their lips, sweat dripping down their necks, pleasure so intense that it could only be called a religious experience. 

After, Mal scooped her into his arms and brought them to their room. He sat Alina on the bed, leaving briefly to gather wet rags for them. With a gentleness quite opposite from their frantic fucking, Mal cleaned the spend from her body, then his own, before taking the spot beside her, curling his body around hers. 

Though she may be a false saint, Alina could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin as the peaceful call of sleep pulled her under, a smile on her face.

[nightingaelic]

Companions react to: the Courier's ludicrously-high pain tolerance! Never calling out in pain, walking for a while before noticing a broken leg, and all sorts of other things we've done while playing the game.

TW: Blood, gore, needles

The courier was an extraordinary fighter. That much was obvious, had been obvious, ever since Benny Gecko made his infamous mistake and they rose from their own grave to hunt him across the Mojave. Most wastelanders only knew about the courier through stories, and they recognized the usual embellishments in the tales of their exploits: Too many enemies, too little ammunition, hordes of angry creatures and ever-impossible odds. They were the kind of stories that brought warmth on a cold night, words woven with an understanding that maybe the storyteller was adding some fantasy into the mix, extra details that made the courier's triumphs all the more thrilling.

Then they met the courier in the flesh, witnessed them throwing themselves into the path of danger. They shrugged off machete swings, swallowed bullets like a shooting range target, set their own broken bones in the middle of a wrestling match with a yao guai and walked away, and the questions began to grow. Had they really done all those things people said they had? How were they still alive? And what kind of a person were they?

Arcade Gannon: "It's some kind of neuropathy," Arcade speculated, every time the courier came up with a new bump or scrape and completely failed to notice until blood was dripping down their limbs or they suddenly realized they couldn't walk anymore. "Could be hereditary, could be lack of vitamins, could've been brought on by some kind of disease you picked up in your past, or more recently-"

"I'm not going to stop poking around in pre-war ruins just because my nervous system is a little slow on the uptake," the courier protested, even though they usually held their new injury still for Arcade to take a look at it. "There's so much stuff just lying around, waiting for someone to come and find it. You get it, you and the Followers are all about retrieving the wisdom of the old world."

"We're also not big fans of our patients gallivanting off to get themselves tetanus," Arcade would reply, biting his lip in concentration as he examined the courier.

It was a song and dance both knew well, and the courier would perennially refuse to get themselves examined beyond regular check-ups. When they showed up one day at the Old Mormon Fort while Arcade was on duty, riddled with new scars and looking absolutely ashamed of themselves, he didn't even ask. He began prepping his usual check-up materials, but the courier stopped him and popped a holotape into their Pip-Boy. "Just... listen, first."

The holotape picked up in the middle of some guy's tirade. He was putting on a theatrical accent, British maybe, and was practically screaming. "-shot in the head and buried in a shallow grave? Hmm?Do you think I enjoyed that little moment?"

The courier's voice cut in. "Oh come on, that stuff's fun!"

"Fun? Fun?! Is tetanus fun? Hmm? Is rickets? What about sepsis, enjoy that do we? The things you do with our body are suicidally dangerous, and if you could silence your glandular impulses, you would hear me screaming at you!"

The courier shut the tape off. Arcade looked up at them, confused. "Who was...?"

"My own brain," the courier moaned, slumping back into their seat. "It's a long story, but if that's not a sign that I should start listening to you, I don't know what is."

Craig Boone: The third time the courier waved Boone off when he pointed out an injury they were ignoring, he straightened his sunglasses, unslung the rifle on his back and manhandled them into a sitting position in the middle of the road. They were too surprised to resist, but once he pulled out a stimpak they began to fight back in earnest. "What the fuck are you doing, Boone?!?" they shrieked.

Boone paused to point the stimpak at the huge gash on their hip. "You'll bleed out. I'm saving your life."

"Oh, yeah, this really feels like you're saving my life," the courier replied snarkily, doing their level best to keep the needle away from them. "It's not as bad as it looks, I've walked miles with worse-"

Boone feinted with the stimpak, and the courier squeaked and scooted the other way. Their eyes followed the needle as he waved it around, and a smirk appeared on the sniper's face. "You're afraid of these."

"No!" The courier scrambled backward on the asphalt, impeded somewhat by Boone's grip on them. "No I'm not! I just think it's a... it's a waste, that's all. I mean, who knows when we'll need that stimpak, the Mojave is a really dangerous place-"

"Sure." Boone nodded, feigning agreement. "You never know if there are deathclaws just over the ridge. I get that."

"Right!" The courier's shoulders went down a bit in relief. "So just... put that away, and we can keep going. Okay?"

"Hmm." Boone lowered the stimpak and let go of the courier's shoulder. They accepted his helping hand and struggled to their feet again, and they were in the middle of opening their mouth to thank him when realization sank in. They looked down to see the stimpak embedded in their upper thigh, its medicine pushed into their veins by Boone's thumb on the plunger.

"You fuck," they said with unparalleled venom, before fainting dead away in his arms.

Lily Bowen: Lily wasn't always the best at noticing when the courier was in need of some patching up, but as soon as she did, her grandmotherly instincts completely took over. She'd pause whatever they were doing, no matter where they were or how important their current task was, and sit the courier down in the nearest chair for a head-to-toe check while she tutted and massaged their shoulders with her firm hands. If they protested or tried to wiggle away, she plunked herself down and settled them into her lap- and then there was absolutely no hope of escape.

"It doesn't hurt!" the courier wailed when she insisted on stopping in the middle of their bounty hunt for the three Fiends that had been giving the NCR so much trouble. "Lily, if Cook-Cook gets away because he got wind we were coming..."

"Never mind Cook-Cook," Lily scolded them, tilting their chin up to get a good look at the bloody wound on their forehead. "That angry man with the golf club whacked you good. Just hold still, sweetie, let Grandma Lily bandage it for you."

The courier huffed and crossed their arms. "Fine. Let me help with the bandages, though, I know your fingers can't manage them super well anymore."

"Don't you worry about my fingers," Lily replied. "I've seen more than my fair share of scraped knees, bruised knuckles and dog bites, especially after Leo came along."

She tenderly wiped the trickling blood from the courier's face and swathed it in some gauze and wrapping from the doctor's bag they kept on hand. "There you go. Now you'll have to remember to thank that nice doctor man for all the supplies he gives you, we do go through them so fast."

"Yeah, yeah." The courier slipped out of her lap and picked up their weapon again. "I'll give Arcade my best, next time I see him. And maybe Cook-Cook's pet brahmin, I hear the fort needs a new one."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: "It's not natural, boss," Raul always said, eyeing the latest addition to the courier's running tally of bumps, scrapes and scar tissue. "You're part ghoul. Got to be."

The courier laughed at the accusation. "Even ghouls can't shrug off a hug from a deathclaw, Raul, but I did that last week. Deja de preocuparte por mi. I can take care of myself."

"Yourself, sure." Raul frowned. "Those around you, no sé."

"What?" The courier put their hand on their hip and cocked their head to the side coyly. "Worried I'll put you in danger, viejo?"

"Constantly," Raul admitted. "But not just me. The whole Mojave is looking to you, now. They know your story."

"And?"

Raul sighed. "Just make sure it's a story you'd be proud to tell. And por el amor de Dios, use a stimpak or something on that gash in your shoulder."

The courier didn't know what he meant, at first. During their next visit to Freeside, though, they started to get the picture. As soon as the pair passed Mick & Ralph's, some of the local kids noticed their arrival and dropped their game of tag to run over and greet them. "You're that courier!" one of the boys cried with excitement, looking in awe at their ratty leather traveling armor and swinging holsters.

"You are," a little girl said in wonder, looking up at the courier with big eyes. "I wanna be just like you, when I'm big."

"Just like me?" The courier glanced at Raul, who raised an eyebrow.

"Mmm-hmm!" The boy shoved the girl out of the way to get a closer look at the courier's guns. "Don't listen to Stacey, she can't take a punch. I can, though! Watch this!"

He turned to another of the boys. "Hit me, Max!"

Without hesitation, Max slugged his friend on the jaw. The kids scrambled to join in on the fight, leaving the courier and Raul to watch. While Raul was mildly amused, the courier looked horrified.

"Shall we?" Raul offered, indicating a path around the kids.

"I feel sick," the courier replied.

Raul clapped them on the shoulder. "If you want to be a good role model, boss, maybe put some more effort into your other talents too."

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: While Cass wasn't nearly as hands-on in her attempts to get the courier to take better care of themselves, she had her own way of drawing attention to the courier's uncanny ability to lose track of their own health. The caravanner was used to pushing herself too far, primarily at drinking establishments but also out in the field. The courier's carefree attitude about injuries was yet another excuse for her to throw herself into the moment and the jaws of whatever wasteland beastie had her number that day.

"Not today, motherfuckers!" she'd yell at the Vipers who tried to ambush them, sporting a bloody nose, pieces of shrapnel in her legs and a smoking shotgun. The mere sight of her and the courier pushing through their own pain was enough to scare some enemies away. Nobody wanted to tangle with someone who could keep walking after losing that much blood, let alone two someones.

Ironically, Cass' acceptance of the courier's tactics was what drew them back down to earth, made them realize just how hard they were pushing her and themselves. More often than not, the courier was the one initiating periods of rest, tenderly examining their foolhardy companion and washing away the grime of battle to stitch up the newest scars. Cass usually grumbled a bit about not being "in need of coddling," but she'd come around as the day grew long and resign herself to their attentions. When they were finished, she'd return the favor, even if she pinched a bit too hard when she was stitching and her hand wasn't as steady as theirs. At the end of every clean-up session, she'd pat the courier on the chest affectionately, right above where their heart was. "Watch your ticker," she'd remind them. "Yours might be in better shape than mine, but I still don't want to see it broken."

The courier always smiled at her when she did this, but it had a hint of sadness in it. Like maybe her warning was too late.

Veronica Santangelo: "Stop walking!" Veronica cried out, after a particularly bloody run-in with some night stalkers outside Morning Star Cavern. "Christ, you've got tooth marks all up and down your legs, and you know those stupid things are venomous, so stop working it deeper into your bloodstream!"

The courier turned to her, somewhat disheveled but clearly not worried about the prospect of mutated toxins. "I feel fine, Veronica. Their teeth are pretty thin, compared to a normal coyote. It's like getting poked by a cactus versus being chewed on by a brahmin."

"That doesn't even make any sense!" Veronica grabbed them by the arm and stooped down to pick some of the tattered fabric away from the wounds. "I don't know a single person who'd choose to fall into a patch of cacti, and brahmin don't even have teeth on the top of their mouths, they just have molars in the back for chewing cud. Stand still, or I'll jab you accidentally."

The courier muttered impatiently but they obliged, and Veronica cleaned up the worst of the bites with the help of some water from her canteen. She applied a little homemade healing poultice to the bloodiest bits, but mourned the fact that the pair didn't have any antivenom between the two of them. "Maybe it's just as well," she mused. "You don't seem to be as affected by venom as the rest of us wastelanders. It's kind of weird."

"Ever been bitten by a night stalker?" the courier asked her as she straightened up again.

"Once," Veronica answered bitterly. "Thank god I killed the thing. I spent the next two days in a cold sweat, puking my guts out and losing all feeling in my limbs. Luckily a patrol found me or I'd probably be dead."

"Oh man." The courier's eyes widened. "No wonder you were worried about me. I've been bitten at least a dozen times and nothing like that ever happened."

"Yeah, well." Veronica leaned forward to lightly tap the scar on their forehead. "Everyone around here knows you're hard to kill."

ED-E: The little eyebot that hovered at the courier's side was confounded by this behavior, as it was usually very good at picking up on the pain of those around them. There were clear signs: Changes in gait, breathing, even unusual noises. With the courier, ED-E had to rely on its visual sensors, which were admittedly up to the task as long as it remembered to use them. After a few too many instances where the courier sustained damage in skirmishes with cazadores or radscorpions, ED-E took to scanning them every 30 minutes just to keep tabs on their physical status and beeping in alarm if some new injury was discovered.

"I'm fine, ED-E," the courier insisted every time they caught the little bot inspecting them thoroughly. "I'm just less affected by pain than other people. Some might call it a gift."

ED-E filed this opinion away, but tucked it right next to the files on sepsis.

Rex: While the courier might not have noticed their own injuries, Rex always did. He knew the smell of their blood and adrenaline, could pick it out even in the middle of a rotting Fiends camp or a hostile super mutant hive, and he would whine and refuse to move until the courier let him sniff them over and pinpoint the source of his concern. Once his nose led him to the wound, Rex would begin licking the surrounding area, attempting to stimulate the tissue's healing process, but the courier usually pushed him away gently at this point.

"Thanks, Rex," they always said, as they either pulled out their doctor's bag or slapped a quick bandage on it. "Don't know what I did before I found you, but I'm glad you're here now."

[aftqrglow]

A Blessing, Beautiful And True

pairing: bucky x fem!reader

word count: 3.2k

warnings: use of she/her pronouns; swearing if you squint; mentions of death; mentions of food

a/n: this is a rewrite of one of my old fics that i absolutely hated with my entire being. i hate this a little bit less djaksjsjs also pls ignore how i literally cannot write a good ending to save my life.

dedicated to @xsamsharons for lending me her name. i hope i did it justice mi amor ily <3

Bucky learnt to value things.

Not the great, terribly material things people around him seemed to rush after. Not money, not even when he was barely getting by.

No, for Bucky, it was the small, seemingly insignificant things.

The tiny toy WWII soldier figurine he found at a yard sale one Tuesday afternoon, the one with the missing arm. The near-exact model of the car his father used to drive—rusted around the tiny steel axel, the rubber wheels worn from use. That yellow screwdriver set that sat at the very back of the tool cabinet in the garage, unusable because of the cracked plastic handles and rusted steel, that looked exactly like the kit he had once used to fix up the plumbing in his first apartment.

Bucky was used to valuing the broken little things.

He never truly understood what loving something whole, something complete felt like—not until he met you.

You, in your white sweater and blue jeans, hair tossed up in a braid. You, your eyes that dancing with unbroken light, like the rays of the sun on the ocean on a bright summer’s day. You, with the sort of kindness he never truly thought he would ever be worthy of, not until you showed him that he was.

You, the girl he fell in love with before he could ever truly know what love was.

Steve might’ve been the first to notice. He was with him that day, the day he first saw you. They had been hunting for a Christmas present for Tony, and even though Bucky wasn’t exactly thrilled to have to attend, he wasn’t about to show up empty handed.  

Steve didn’t even realize that the sly-footed assassin wasn’t by his side until he had walked the two blocks from the mall to his car. Hands ghosting over the gun tucked into the holster hooked into his waistband, Steve retraced his steps, his heart thundering in his throat.

Until he heard Bucky’s laugh.

Not the obviously fake chuckles he used to placate those around him. No, this was the laugh he remembered, the laugh he thought Bucky had lost.

This was Bucky’s laugh—his Bucky’s laugh, before the world stole him away. Pure and innocent.

Happy—so undeniably, inexplicably happy.

The tension eased from his shoulders when he saw you. Steve knew who you were, of course. Everyone did—or at least, everyone who had been around after the Battle of New York. Everyone who had seen you walk among the rubble, bleeding through your jeans, helping dig survivors out of the rubble, guiding them to shelters. Everyone who had seen you do everything you could help those who needed it more than you did, until your legs finally gave way and the only reason you didn’t collapse to the floor was because Steve caught you.

But Steve also happened to know why you’d done it. Because you were kind. Because you were selfless. Because you knew what it was like to lose everyone you loved, and to garner the strength to build yourself up anyway.

You’d lost people too—everyone you loved, killed during the Battle. Your family. Your friends. It might’ve seemed cruel to be spared. Might’ve seemed like a cold, dark twist of fate—and for a time, it did.

Steve had never known anyone to be resilient the way you were.

And maybe, just maybe, he thought to himself, as he watched his friend from through the glass, maybe you would teach him to hold on to the tiniest sliver of hope too.

—

Bucky didn’t even like books.

The only book he’d read—aside from the coursework assigned to him in his school days—was The Hobbit. And even that had taken him an ungodly amount of time to finish.

So yeah, Bucky didn’t exactly like books.

But he still visited the tiny bookstore on the corner every day.

He didn’t even buy anything. He just looked around, running his fingertips over the spines of the books that jutted out of the wooden shelves, the sunlight turning his eyes into uncharted waters of the oceans, swimming with undiscovered secrets and untold lies.

You would talk to him. All the time, and with no trace of the usual pity or sympathy that he heard when he spoke to people. You talked to him in a way that made him feel like himself, in a way that made him feel like he just might rediscover the man he used to be.

That first time he’d seen you was burned into the back of his brain, the image of you standing there with a hip braced against a bookshelf, dressed in a white sweater and jeans, your hair pulled into a braid over your shoulder. He had watched as a strand escaped, falling into your face.

And him—he'd stood there, watching you talk to another woman he couldn't recall because really, how could he look at anything else but you? Bucky was certain he looked like a gaping idiot, both wanting your attention to turn to him, and dreading the fact that he would surely make a fool of himself if you so much as looked at him.

Back in the 40s, things would've been so much easier. He would already have said something witty to make you laugh, he would already have been telling you about the carnival down at the beach and asking if you wanted to go with him.

But when your friend left, and you asked him if there was anything you could help him with, his voice sounded strange to his own ears as he croaked, "Books?"

You had laughed—and he found himself laughing along. A true laugh—for the first time in a long time, the sound didn’t sound fake to his own ears. For the first time in a long time, he felt like himself.

Bucky had taught himself to value that which wasn’t whole—because he wasn’t, either. Love was give and take. Love was equal.

If he was to deserve your love, he would have to be whole again. If he was to deserve your love, he would make himself whole again.

—

There was a sudden shift in the way Bucky viewed the world.

It had been three days since he last saw you, but he walked in through those doors anyway. He had no cause, no reason—he just couldn’t go any longer without seeing you.

You were sitting by the bay window at the very back, reading a book. He took a second just to take you in, to get used to the fact that you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

The second you looked up, your face split into a grin, like you were truly, genuinely happy to see him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had smiled at him that way. “Hey, you’re back! It’s Bucky, right?”

He nodded. He couldn't trust himself to speak, not when he was sure he would stumble over his words, not when he couldn't bring himself to string together a coherent sentence in your presence. 

"What can I help you with today?" you asked, snapping your book shut and placing it on the table. 

"Uh... What're you reading?"

You glanced down at your book before looking up to meet his eyes again. Blue, you thought, supressing a smile. Icy blue, but warm nonetheless—familiar in the way most things aren’t. "Wuthering Heights. You've never read it?"

He shook his head no. "Never been much of a reader, no. Is it any good?"

"It's one of my favourites," was your answer, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The light caught the steel of the chain around his neck—the chain of one of those military-issue dog tags.

And maybe that was how it started—on that dreary cold Wednesday, when you'd stood next to the bookshelf by the window, telling him about your favourite book, but really all he could focus on was the late afternoon sun rendering the hue of your eyes several shades lighter, the soft slope of your nose, the fullness of your mouth. Every little detail about you was etched permanently into his mind—and he wanted to learn more.

He wanted to know everything there was to know about you. 

It was about closing time when he decided he had to go. Not because he wanted to, but because he had promised he would have dinner with Sam and Steve. And as much as Bucky wanted to stay, he was a man of his word.

Which is why when he promised you he would come see you as soon as he finished reading the book, you knew he meant it.

—

And you were right.

Two days later, he was back. 

It was raining that day, early in the morning when you were just about to open up. And there, standing under the awning in the freezing rain, was Bucky, the collar of his coat turned up against the wind, drenched to the bone.

"What're you doing here?" you asked, eyes wide.

"I just... I don't know," he said. Because he didn't. Bucky didn't even like books—but he did like being around you. There was a strange sort of calm about you, a sense of peace he'd only known in Wakanda. Around you, he was just Bucky—not Sargent Barnes, not the Winter Soldier—just Bucky. 

He liked being just Bucky.

You shook your head, but he could've sworn he saw the corner of your mouth tilt upwards as you fished your keys out of your pocket and unlocked the door. "Well, come on inside. I'll turn up the heat and get you something warm to drink. Christ, Buck, you could get pneumonia or something.”

He only nodded once. It didn't matter that he wouldn't get sick—not when the serum in his veins healed his body faster than normal. It didn’t matter that even if he could sick, he wouldn’t have cared, not when you were looking at him like that, with concern in your eyes for something other than your own safety.

You had a coffee machine in the back room, you told him. He followed you, lingering in the doorway as you bustled about, humming a tune under your breath. He recognized it as a song from that one Marvin Gaye album Sam couldn’t stop talking about. He recognized it as a song he wanted to listen to for the rest of his life, if only you were the one singing it.

He recognized that, for better or for worse, you would be his undoing.

—

After that, he came to see you every day.

When the weather got colder still, he brought you steaming cups of hot chocolate from your friend Bella’s café down the street. And on the days when he didn’t, he would head into the back room and make you coffee. You’d never had to tell him how you took it—after that in the rain, he’d somehow remembered what you liked.

You weren’t about to tell him, but you remembered what he liked too.

It started out simple—plum cider that you found on your weekly trip to the farmer’s market. An old vintage copy of The Hobbit from the forties. Rubber silencers for his dog tags that he never used but carried around in his pocket anyway—until eventually, you had something new for him every week, some insignificant thing that he looked at with the kind of childlike awe that made your heart twist into knots in your chest.

He walked you home too. Every evening, with his hands stuffed in his pockets, slowing his stride so that he could walk alongside you. He would stand outside, across the street, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to walk into the apartment you shared with Bella. Only leaving when the lights came on and he knew you were safe.

Bucky wasn’t much of a talker—you learnt that about him. He would spend all day sitting quietly in a corner of your store, reading one of the books he found on the shelf of used copies you kept in the back of the room.

He seemed to love those used books more than the new ones—books someone had already read, books that had already been loved.

He felt a little that way sometimes, too. A little too used for love, not loved enough for use.

But never when he was with you.

And you—you were falling for Bucky Barnes. A little by little, day by day, without even realizing it—not until it all came rushing to you one afternoon, like a dam breaking, like the ocean of his eyes pulling you under, especially when you felt his gaze on you from time to time, watching you as you worked.

That afternoon, a new shipment of books came in. You didn’t even have to ask him for help—he was already on his feet, snapping his copy of Anna Karenina shut, mumbling a soft, “I’ve got it,” as you signed for the order. Hefted the two cartons of books like they weighed nothing at all, and carried them inside.

There was a strange tightness in your stomach as you watched him, standing in the middle of your store—the only thing the Battle of New York hadn’t taken away from you—and you wondered just how it took so damn long to realize that the feeling of familiarity didn’t lie among these books, but rather, in Bucky himself.

—

It was a slow day, so the two of you spent the rest of the afternoon restocking the shelves. He asked you about each of the books, watching your eyes light up as you talked about your favourite ones, until conversation lapsed into a comfortable silence, the two of you basking in each other’s company as you worked.

You didn't even realize how much time had passed until you heard the door open and your friend Bella breezed in. She'd been here the first day Bucky had walked in, had noticed the way your eyes shifted to him mid-conversation like you couldn’t focus on much else when he was around. “Ready for lunch, y/n?”

You looked at Bucky, opening your mouth to ask if he wanted to come along. Not because you didn’t trust him to be alone at the store, but because you wanted his company. Because being around him felt like coming home.

He only waved you off. "Go ahead. I've got plans with Stevie. I'll be here when you're back though."

You believed him. You believed that he would always be around, for as long as you wanted. And you wanted forever.

"Was that the guy from before?" Bella asked, looping an arm through yours as you left the store, walking down the street. She brushed her fiery hair out of her eyes, turning her head slightly to look at you, yellow-green eyes filled with curiosity. “What’s his name?”

"Bucky. He... He's a friend," you said. 

"Well," Bella said. "He sure doesn't feel the same way."

"What do you mean?" you asked, confused.

"Y/n, he looks at you like you put the stars in his sky. Are you sure he's just a friend?"

"I... I don't know, Bella."

Because you didn't know what else to call him. Because you and him weren't friends in the way people usually are—you had always been more.

Bucky was always more.

—

"I've barely seen you," Steve said, picking up his can of Diet Pepsi and taking a sip. "Where have you been?"

"Around," Bucky mumbled. Because how could he explain why he was spending so much time at the bookstore with someone he'd only just met? How could he explain the magnetic pull he felt toward you, the inexplicable desire to just be around you?

How could he explain the way you made him feel like himself again?

But Steve knew. Steve always knew. He saw the growing stack of novels on his friend's bedside table, saw him reading at the kitchen table, book propped up against the jug of milk.

He also knew that all this was because of y/n. Because Bucky mumbled that name when he was too exhausted to even know what he was saying. Because Bucky talked in his sleep—and Steve could hear him calling that name through the thin walls that separated their rooms. "You've been at the bookstore?"

Bucky set his drink down. There was so use denying it—his friend would see right through him. Steve had known him for too damn long to believe in his lies. "She's so... I can't even put it into words. She makes me believe that there's good in this world. That all the things I did wrong don't even matter—not when I'm with her. It’s the way she looks at things, the way she’s capable of finding a little bit of good in everything. Like she found something good in me, Steve."

Steve knew it was true. Because he hadn’t seen Bucky this way for a very long time. Because he hadn’t seen that light in his friend’s eyes in a very long time, and ever since he met you, it hadn’t gone away.

—

Bucky had to leave for a couple of days.

He didn't tell you why—just that it was a work thing. How long would he be gone? He didn't know.

"I'll be back soon," he said. "I promise."

And he was. Five days later.

But Bucky was quiet—quieter than usual. 

It was a Sunday, and you’d somehow managed to drag him along to the farmer’s market with you. He walked alongside you, hands in his pockets, like he was aching to reach out and touch you but desperately holding himself back.

He’d almost gotten himself killed on that mission.

You took up too many thoughts in his head, too much space in his heart. And when the bullet narrowly missed him, grazing his ribs, his only thought was whether or not you’d miss him if he was gone.

You deserved better than someone who’s life was tied to the death of others. Someone who didn’t have so much blood on his hands.

A few paces ahead of you, Bella walked hand-in-hand with Bucky’s friend Sam. You were glad that Bucky had introduced them, glad that Sam made Bella happy in ways you’d never really known or understood before.

“Look at them,” you said, watching with a smile on your face as Sam quietly slipped a couple of oranges into Bella’s bag. “They look real happy.”

Then, turning to look at him, you smiled, and he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Because you might deserve better, but he was selfish and stubborn, and the only thing he had wanted in so goddamn long was you you you.

“Go out with me,” he blurted, every thread of self-control he had so carefully cultivated to keep his head in your presence snapping. He felt like he was taken back to that December evening he saw you for the first time, when the words refused to leave his mouth, when you’d rendered him tongue-tied and helpless. Only this time, he couldn’t stop the words from coming out, not as he said, “One date, y/n. One date, and if you don’t have a good time, we can just forget it ever happened and move on.”

His heart shuttered when he saw the small frown creasing your brow, your voice soft as you asked, “Are you sure?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything. I want to do this for the rest of my life with you, y/n,” he said quietly. “But for now, I’ll take that date.”

“Okay,” you said, nodding slowly. “Okay, Bucky, I’ll go out with you.”

He couldn’t help it. Bucky wrapped his arms around your waist, drawing you to him, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around until you were both laughing, childlike and breathless, blissfully unconscious of the knowing look on Sam and Bella’s faces.

Because really, how could he see anything but you? You had been it from the first day he saw, and you were it now—a blessing, beautiful and true.

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[bi-bard]

Red - Team Free Will 2.0 Song Preference (Supernatural)

Title: Red

Characters: Sam, Dean, Castiel, Jack

Song: Red by Taylor Swift

Requested: Nope

Word Count: 1,777 words

Warning(s): mentions of character death, arguing, cussing

Author's Note: PLEASE SEND IN SONG PREFERENCE REQUESTS!

ALSO! Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

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Sam Winchester (Between Season 5 & 6):

Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes Tell myself it's time now gotta let go But moving on from him is impossible When I still see it all in my head

After Sam and Adam were dragged into the cage, I moved in with Bobby. Dean had gone to live a normal life with Lisa and I told him I would find my own place.

Bobby was great.

He took me in, gave me food, gave me a job to do, and let me help him with the lore and hunting.

It was a few months later that I could've sworn I saw Sam through my window. I ran over but... he was gone as soon as I had gotten there.

At the start, I was convinced it was grief. My brain playing tricks on me in some futile attempt to feel comforted. So, I didn't tell Bobby.

It kept happening.

I would see Sam for a second but he would be gone before I could do anything about it. Through the kitchen window, on my way through Bobby's salvage yard, when I went into town to do the grocery shopping. It was like Sam was haunting me.

I knew that I needed to move on but I couldn't. He was always there.

One day, it all came to a head.

I was in the kitchen. I had made a meal for Bobby and me that was a little fancier than usual. It was a thank you of sorts. I was putting plates down as Bobby sat in his seat. I looked out the small window and I saw him... Sam... just watching.

I was set on not letting him get away.

"Hey," I yelled, going to run outside.

I sprinted into the maze of cars.

"Sam," I yelled. "I saw you!"

I stopped where I knew he had been. There were footprints there but not walking to or away from the spot.

"I... I saw you!"

Bobby followed close behind me.

"I... I saw you," my yelling had turned into a soft voice. I looked at Bobby, who looked concerned and confused. "I saw him."

"Come here," Bobby held his arms out, letting me hug him as tight as possible. "You're going to be okay, kid."

"He was here," I mumbled. "I can't be hallucinating. Sam was right there."

"Let's go inside," Bobby stepped back enough to lead me back to the house. It was silent until we got back inside. "I'm gonna give Dean a call."

"No, no, don't call Dean," I shook my head. "He's happy. He's safe."

"(Y/n)-"

"Please, Bobby, don't call Dean," I begged. Bobby finally nodded.

"Go get some rest, okay? I'll bring you some food in a bit."

"Am... Am I crazy?"

"No, not at all," he promised. "Go rest. We'll talk in the morning."

I walked to my room and curled up under my blanket. I didn't know if what I saw was real... I just knew that I wanted it to be. I didn't want to let go of Sam yet.

Dean Winchester (Season 13):

Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword And realizing there's no right answer Regretting him was like wishing you never found out That love could be that strong

We had just gotten back to the bunker with the adult-looking Jack. They were confused, clearly scared, and Dean's anger didn't help them at all. Listening to Dean and Sam yell back and forth made my head pound.

Sam walked out and Dean wasn't done. He continued trying to rant at me about how the kid was going to be evil.

"Stop it," I finally snapped. "You are blaming a child who's not even a week old! They didn't kill anyone!"

"They tricked Cas! They manipulated him," Dean screamed.

"They were a fucking fetus," I yelled back. "They didn't kill Cas! Lucifer did! They didn't get Mary stuck in that other world! Lucifer did! They are not the reason Crowley felt the need to sacrifice himself! Lucifer was! Don't blame Jack for something their father caused!"

I stormed away, wanting nothing more than space from Dean.

"They-"

"Dean, I swear to fucking God," I stopped and turned around. "If we punished people for what their parents did, I would've shot you and Sam down years ago! Stop being so fucking dense!"

"Don't compare my dad to Lucifer!"

"I'm comparing you to Jack!"

He walked over but I held my hands up, going to leave the room.

"You can't just walk away from this," he snapped.

"I can when there's no point in talking," I said. "You're fixated on blaming someone but you're aiming at the wrong target."

We were both silent. We weren't going to get anywhere with conversation tonight.

"I'm gonna... I'm gonna sleep on the couch in the Dean Cave tonight," I mumbled. "We both need a chance to calm down."

"(Y/n)," I looked at him as I walked out. "I love you."

I smiled, "You too."

I just needed a night without the tension that was obviously there. Hopefully, we could talk tomorrow because we were not going to solve anything tonight.

Castiel (Season 7):

Losing him was blue, like I'd never known Missing him was dark gray, all alone Forgetting him was like trying to know Somebody you never met But loving him was red

I remember being little and dreaming of my future. I was convinced I would have a fun job and I'd live a nice life.

Now, I was curled up on a couch in Bobby's hidden cabin, crying as quietly as possible over the angel that I had fallen in love with.

Nothing goes to plan.

After Castiel died, things got too crazy for me to properly handle what had happened. I was just along for the ride that the Winchesters had dragged me on.

Now, I had no other distractions. We were in hiding so I didn't have anything else to focus on other than the loss. I was shaking and trying to keep myself from sobbing loudly as I finally let the weight of losing Cas hit me.

"(Y/n)," I looked over to see Sam looking at me. I wiped my eyes. He walked over, sitting next to me. "Come here."

I scooted over and let him hug me to his side.

"I've got you," he promised.

Sam could relate to this moment better than anyone. Not only had he been through the same thing with Jess, but he was also the brother that had an easier time getting in touch with his emotions.

I stayed in that position, sobbing into his shoulder until I couldn't cry anymore.

I slowly sat up, wiping my leftover tears and letting out a deep breath.

"Do you wanna talk about it," Sam asked.

I shook my head. I didn't wanna talk about Cas's death. I wanted to talk about anything else.

"Do you wanna talk about him," he corrected.

"Umm," I trailed off for a moment. "Yeah."

"Okay," Sam nodded. He waited for me to talk.

"Cas never slept, he never needed to," I said after a few moments of silence. "I always considered the sweetest thing is when he'd lay with me through the night while I slept."

Sam chuckled.

I continued talking about Cas for... hours, probably. I had told countless stories. At some point, Dean walked out and sat down with the two of us.

"I don't... I don't want to forget anything," I muttered. "His voice, his face... I don't... I just want him back."

Dean moved to sit next to me as I started shaking again.

The brothers held me in a tight hug as I grieved. I was terrified of saying goodbye and I was terrified of forgetting.

"He adored you," Dean mumbled. "I saw it. Before you two were even together, he would focus on you whenever you walked into the room. We could've been face-to-face with the most dangerous thing in the universe but you would've been the center of his attention."

"He was the center of mine," I replied. "And he was the love of my life. I'm not going to let him go. Ever."

It was a promise I was prepared to always keep.

Jack Kline (Season 14):

Loving him is like trying to change your mind Once you're already flying through the free fall Like the colors in autumn, so bright, just before they lose it all

Love could be a lot of things. Brilliant, terrifying, memorable, crazy... so many things.

I liked to describe love as one thing, "not for me."

I spent years thinking that my life in hunting would cut me off from any potential romantic relationships.

Then, I met Jack.

I didn't even know them very long before I found myself behaving like a lovesick teenager. I was blushing when they got too close, getting nervous when they looked at me silently, staring too often, and just being an absolute mess. It all happened so fast. I fell before I had even seen the edge of the cliff.

It all happened too fast and I couldn't stop it.

"Just tell them," Sam said. I looked away from Jack, who was at the other table, talking with Cas.

"Am I that obvious," I asked.

"Oh yeah," he nodded. "Almost obnoxiously."

Cas walked away from Jack and Sam smirked at me before standing and following him. I glared at him as he left.

"Hey," I said awkwardly as I walked over and sat next to Jack.

"Hi," they smiled.

I almost froze. Imagine being able to fight demons and angels, but not being able to ask someone out on a date. This is what my life had turned into.

"Did you need something," they asked.

"Yeah, kind of," I took a moment to close my eyes and take a deep breath. "Jack. I really like you. This life had convinced me that I wasn't going to ever feel this way for someone. Then, I met you and I think I fell before I even realized it. I just... I really, really like you."

Jack blinked at me for a moment. I was about to apologize and walk away when they smiled at me.

"I really like you too," they replied. I let out a deep breath and smiled again.

It was a moment of light. We didn't get many in the bunker. We've faced so many dark moments in this place but this moment was so different. It was a small moment of lovely light when I was convinced I would never get that.

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