#and i had to explain well it’s anonymous so i’ll never really know if they even see it.. but i hope they do

[farmerlesbian]

i have been enjoying the asks y’all have sent in lately! it usually takes me a couple days to a couple weeks to answer asks so i hope y’all anons who send em in do eventually see the answer when i post it. i really do hope you find it helpful!

[4ranghaes]

leehan as hearthrob????

drop that leehan x f! reader! angst/fluff reader kind of running after leehan 😝

kim leehan x reader [fluff, fem!reader]

a/n - this may be a bit different to my usual blurb structures but i had an idea IMMEDIATELY after reading this and i had to see it through…

warnings - use of real name, mentions of reader getting bullied

16:08 - “y/n.”

you furrowed your eyebrows, turning around, “donghyun?”

he smiled, “wait up.”

you looked around for anyone else around you who might’ve had the same one - there was no one at all, let alone name twins. you paused, watching the boy jog slightly until he reached your side, “are you walking home? i’ll walk with you.”

“uh..” you faltered, donghyun smiling kindly as he placed his hand out, indicating you to walk. “look, if this is some sort of prank, or if your friends are waiting round the corner to laugh at me just save it - i’ve had a really long day.”

now it was donghyun’s turn to be confused, furrowing his eyebrows and grabbing your arm as you brushed past him. “what? no. my friends all went home hours ago. i was at dance practise. it runs the same hours as your club,” he explained, beginning to walk along side you, “and no this isn’t a… a prank? i just wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

“why?” you scoffed, looking up at him. god he’s handsome.

i mean, of course, that’s why he was as popular as he was. that and the air of mystery he had about him. the way he never spoke to anyone except his very select few friends, even in class, despite getting the top grades. he kept to himself even though he was part of several extra curricular activities, and showed little to no emotion for any of them. you supposed that’s why the girls were obsessed with him - with the idea of him. why they fawned over him at break or secretly filmed him in p.e. or even confessed by giving him extra desserts at lunch or leaving chocolate and letters in his locker.

“because i like you.”

you choked on air, stopping in your tracks, “wh-what?! donghyun – we don’t even know each other!”

he smiled, stopping after a few paces and turning around to face you, “i know, but we’re in the same classes, right? and i’m always watching you… that sounds creepy, but– i just mean that you’ve always intrigued me. i love watching when you fall asleep during the teachers explanation o-or when you bitch to your friends about the teacher or even other students. and when you chew on your pen when you don’t understand!”

you were still confused, but there was sincerity behind donghyun’s eyes, and a glimpse at a personality you’d never seen coming from him before.

“it’s like–” donghyun continued rambling, “corydoras. in their natural habitat they have to come to the surface to breath in oxygen because it’s so murky where they live along the bottom. for me, school is like the bottom of the river, and whenever i need oxygen i look… at… at you.”

“what?” you breathed, shocked at his sudden confession and confused at his sentiment, “what’s corydoras?”

donghyun’s mouth dropped open, as he contemplated his whole speech, “it’s a– uh… a fish.”

you bit back a smile, “a fish?”

he nodded, “can i at least walk you home? i’m sorry for taking up your time, i just wanted to let you know how i felt.”

you nodded, beginning to walk again, remaining close to donghyun’s side.

“i… i don’t know you very well,” you started, “but you’re lovely, donghyun. and i’m willing to get to know you.”

“really?” he asked, breaking out in a smile as he looked down at you, nodding in response, “well then, let’s do that. i’ll– we can eat lunch together.”

you thought suddenly of the crowds of girls, eyes on only him in the cafeteria. you hummed, “o-or, outside of school!”

“you don’t have to mind them, really,” he smiled, slightly saddened, “i don’t.”

you sighed, the realisation suddenly dawning on you that maybe it was better to live your high school years in the shadow of anonymity like you did, than be the one who everyone threw themselves at constantly, “so tell me about these corydoras, then. surely it’s counterproductive to live on the bottom if they can’t breath.”

“well no, because they play a very active role in the ecosystem! even in a tank. i have ten in my fish tank at home if you want to meet them one day.”

extra? ->

the next day, 12:13 - you clutched the lunch tray tightly as you turned around, scanning the hall. all you had to do was follow the eyeline of most people. lunch had only began not even 15 minutes ago and he already had three trays on the table beside him, fruit and yogurts left over as though given as offerings.

“y/n!” he smiled, standing up and smiling. you smiled at the action, you don’t think you’d ever seen him displaying that much personality in school.

now, though, all the eyes turned to you. you took a breath, smiling politely as you started to weave through the tables, reaching donghyun’s when he finally sat back down.

you sat opposite, putting your tray down and climbing onto the seat. the angry and confused stares of the majority of the school - same age, younger, older, girls and boys was on you, but donghyun just continued to stare at you and smile.

“you’re seriously pretty,” he murmured, reaching out and tucking some stray hair behind your ear.

you blushed, smiling. he knew just how to get your attention back on him.

“donghyun!” you suddenly exclaimed, looking at his tray, “you barely have any food!”

he shrugged, “don’t eat much.”

“please,” you exclaimed, exasperated as you picked up some of the noodles you had on your tray, passing them over to his.

he smiled at your caring face, “thank you.”

“and don’t eat any of the desserts,” you said, sudden jealousy passing through you as another one got put on the table with a hair flick and a ‘hi donghyun’, “you can have mine.”

donghyun chuckled, picking up and holding your hand as it rested on the table, “yes, princess.”

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i love that you draw me

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by anonymous and anonymous

heyyyyy :)))Could you do a Fred x Fem! Reader? where the reader is an artist like absolutely amazing . and she does art all the time whether it’s just doodling on an assignment or full blown masterpieces? And she’s not popular but well known? and Fred knew her, as in they only talked in passing. And one day in class he had seen her doodle on her paper and was like ‘woaaahh that’s super good!’ And she was just like ‘oh this isn’t anything. It’s not as good as my other stuff’ And Fred is rlly interested in art, but wouldn’t pick up a pencil or quill to draw because he knows he’s not rlly good. But he loves to watch y/n draw and paint. and like he’d save up for Christmas to buy her some supplies. Nothing much but she thought it was so sweet. She would make him little drawing, whether it be him in class or playing quidditch. He was her muse, and he absolutely loved it

Heyy, Could you do a Fred x artist reader? 🥺🥺

masterlist | navigation

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Fred Weasley had always been aware of you, the girl who spent more time doodling on the corners of her assignments than paying attention to the lessons. You weren’t exactly popular, but everyone knew you for your art. Whether it was a quick sketch on parchment or a painting hanging in the common room, your talent stood out.

He’d never really spoken to you beyond a casual “hello” in the halls or a shared joke in passing. But one day during class, Fred found himself sitting near you, close enough to glance over and see what you were doing. The professor was droning on about something Fred couldn’t care less about, but you? You were completely absorbed in your sketch, your quill flying over the parchment in swift, graceful strokes.

Fred leaned over slightly, trying not to be too obvious. His eyes widened at the intricate design you were creating, the way your hand seemed to bring something to life with ease. “Whoa, that’s amazing,” he said before he could stop himself.

You looked up, a bit surprised but not embarrassed. You just shrugged, glancing down at the doodle like it wasn’t anything special. “Oh, this? It’s nothing,” you said casually, “Not as good as my other stuff.”

Fred was floored. If that wasn’t impressive to you, he couldn’t imagine what your “real” art looked like. He watched as you absentmindedly added more detail to the drawing, almost like it was second nature. “Well, if this is ‘nothing,’ I’d love to see what your other stuff looks like.”

You smiled a little, the corners of your lips turning up in a way that made Fred’s heart skip a beat. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

From that day on, Fred became fascinated by you and your art. He’d find himself looking for you in the common room or during meals, always hoping to catch you in the middle of a sketch or painting. He loved the way you got so lost in your work, your brow furrowing in concentration, your fingers smudged with ink or paint. Sometimes, he’d sit beside you quietly, just watching, completely mesmerized by how easily you created something out of nothing.

Fred wasn’t much of an artist himself—he could barely draw a stick figure without it looking ridiculous—but that didn’t stop him from admiring your talent. You seemed to love the fact that he enjoyed watching you work. Sometimes, you’d even talk while you drew, explaining what you were thinking, how a certain line could change the whole feel of a piece.

It didn’t take long for Fred to start saving up for something special. Christmas was coming, and he wanted to get you something that showed just how much he appreciated your art. He wasn’t sure what to get at first, but after sneaking a few glances at your supplies and asking around, he finally decided on a small set of high-quality inks and a couple of sketching quills.

On Christmas morning, you were surprised when Fred handed you a small, neatly wrapped package. You weren’t expecting anything from him, but the second you opened it, your eyes lit up. “Fred, this is... this is amazing!” you said, clearly touched.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool even though his heart was pounding. “It’s not much, just thought you could use some new supplies.”

You smiled so warmly that Fred felt his chest tighten. “It’s perfect,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

After that, you started making little drawings for him. Nothing big—just quick sketches of him sitting in class, or playing Quidditch, or laughing with George. You’d hand them to him casually, as if they were nothing, but Fred treasured each one. He loved the way you saw him, how your art captured moments that he didn’t even realize were special.

He became your muse, and it felt right. Every time you handed him a new drawing, Fred felt this strange mixture of pride and awe. You saw something in him, something worth putting on paper, and he loved it.

One evening, as you sat together in the common room, you were finishing a sketch of him mid-laugh. Fred watched you closely, the firelight flickering across your face as you worked. “You know,” he said quietly, “I love that you draw me.”

You looked up, a bit surprised. “You do?”

Fred nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I do. I may not be good with a quill, but I love seeing myself through your eyes.”

You blushed, but the smile on your face showed just how much his words meant to you. And as you handed him yet another sketch—a simple, heartfelt portrait of him leaning against the Quidditch stands—Fred knew he’d keep every single one forever.

[amakumos]

CUPID’S CORNER — fifteen ; hyungyeom’s adventures in hell

because he’s a little shit, nishimura riki sends a totally embarrassing confession about you to “cupid’s corner”, a twitter account that posts anonymous confessions from decelis academy students. but when that joke confession suddenly makes a bunch of people confess to you on cupid’s corner (for real this time!) riki finds that he’s jealous — and oh… he can’t believe it took him a fake confession to realise that he’s crazily in love with you.

Someone taps you on the shoulder, and you look up from your phone, expecting it to be Riki.

But, instead you’re met with the sight of your cheating ex boyfriend, Hyungyeom.

Your eyes narrow, and your smile drops. “It’s you. What are you doing here?” you ask in a monotone voice. You’re not remotely interested at all in Hyungyeom’s comings and goings, but you haven’t seen him since the tournament (where Nicholas had to drag you away from Hyungyeom so you wouldn’t smack him across the head with your racket.)

“I work here,” he tells you, brushing his hair out of his eyes. You frown as you look at him — you can’t believe you ever liked him.

“Well, I’ll never come here again. Thanks for the heads up,” you say, before turning to leave.

But then Hyungyeom grabs ahold of your hand, stopping you in your tracks. “Wait.”

“Let go.”

He does.

“What do you want? You know I told you I never wanted to see or talk to you again.” you seethe. Where is Riki? you think. Riki would never just leave you, so he’s probably looking for you — this arcade is pretty big.

“I want to explain myself.”

“I gave you plenty of chances to do so,” you say, crossing your arms. “And you lied every time. So is this going to be an honest explanation or a deceitful one?”

Hyungyeom sighs. “(Name), just give me one more chance. I know I messed up, and I really like you—”

“That’s enough.”

Riki shuts Hyungyeom up immediately with his arrival. “Haven’t you hurt her enough?” Riki asks. Your best friend slips his hand into yours, giving your hand a small squeeze, as if to tell you to not worry.

Hyungyeom rolls his eyes at the sight of Riki. “This is a conversation between (Name) and I.”

“She doesn’t want to have a conversation with you.” Riki says, and Hyungyeom presses his lips together into a thin line. “That’s for her to decide.”

“I just told you that I didn’t want to see or talk to you again.” you say. Matter of fact, you had said that just a mere 2 minutes ago.

Hyungyeom looks at yours and Riki’s hands laced together, and his eyes narrow slightly. “So what, are you guys dating now?” he asks, nodding towards your linked hands.

That question would usually be bothersome, especially coming out of Hyungyeom's mouth. But you find that you don't quite mind Hyungyeom asking that question - maybe it's because you secretly want people to think that you two are dating.

“Why is that any of your business?” Riki says, before you can reply to Hyungyeom’s words. “Look, (Name) told you she didn’t want to talk to you again. It’s not that hard for you to understand, Hyungyeom.”

“Let’s go,” Riki tells you, dragging you away from your ex boyfriend, who’s eyes follow your figure as you both leave the arcade. “You okay?” he asks you, when you both have left.

“Yeah. Just super weirded out by him.” you say, and Riki hands you one of the plushies he had won for you. “This is new,” you hum.

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “Got it when I had accidentally left you alone. I know you like Winnie the Pooh.”

A small smile makes its way onto your lips as you look at the Pooh plushie he had gotten you. “Thank you, ‘Ki. It’s very cute.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

He’s not going to tell you this — but his heart was beating a million miles an hour when his hand was holding yours. He would’ve probably fainted.

He also hopes that the fluorescent lights in the arcade hid the blush dusting across his cheeks.

“Now come on, don’t think about that asshole. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

fifteen － hyungyeom's adventures in hell! previous ☆ next ♡ masterlist

author's note. is acegod inspired by quadgod.. yeah. yeah it is. because everyday figure skating stays in my mind

CUPID'S CORNER! a riki smau. genre: smau, crack, fluff, idol au pairing: non-idol! riki x non-idol! reader warnings: swearing, ignore timestamps taglist is CLOSED!

[wind-it-up-p21]

PSA this is going to be very long and I would post it on my own blog but I am not ready to talk about this without being anonymous yet since a few of you know who I am in “real life.”

As someone who grew up in a sport very similar to dance and had what seems to be a very similar experience to Dyllan here’s what I have to say (disclaimer my experience obviously was not exactly the same but I will explain how they overlap).

I was a part of a team that was and is still known to be one of the top teams in the country. If you wanted to make a name for yourself in this world my team was one of the places you would go to do that. Girls travel from all over the country to compete with them.

On my said team I was one of the “favorites” though I never thought of myself as one until I got older and I realized it again when I walked away and looked back on my experience and it became more obvious to me.

To start, my coach made it very clear to the rest of our team that me and 3 other girls were “the hardest workers” and that we had special relationships with her. Just to name a few things she did to validate this with me: She told me consistently that she loved me and that I was special, I was one of four students invited to her wedding, and she would put me and the other 3 favorites in groupchats or have meetings with us to basically tell us we needed to lead the team to victory and it fell on us to be the examples for the team. I could go on and on but you probably get the point.

I was apart of this team for the same amount of time that Dyllan spent with Molly. My last year on the team I was in high school and wanted to enjoy my social life as well as competition life. I was dedicated to the team, but I also wanted to maybe you know go to a school football game or two. The minute that my team wasn’t tunnel vision in my eyes my coach started to put such intense amounts of pressure on me, take away “privileges” I had, and threatened what I now realize was my status on the team in order to get me to forget my social life and eat/sleep/breathe our sport and team. She had done this before, but it was now on another level. My mental health was at an all time low and nobody but my parents knew. People would say that because I was one of the team stars there was no way I could possibly feel like a victim in this situation. I felt trapped and didn’t know what to do because this team was my everything and everyone knew how big of a role it played in my life, but I needed to get out.

It has now been many, many years since all of this went down. I have taken time to process what I went through and I still am impacted by the trauma of it all. When I finally decided to walk away after that last year, a ton of my teammates ended up following me. It was an exodus like the one p21 had. Meanwhile, one of the other favorites now works for the organization, but clearly suffers from anger issues and anxiety now. At least one of the other favorites has openly regretted not leaving at the right time.

All in all, everyone is gonna have different experiences on a team like mine or project 21s. However, if it’s a toxic environment for so many people it’s toxic for everyone. Some people may just not realize it. They have drank the kool aid and they’re knee deep in it. We can’t control who stays and who goes, so what we can do is support the girls who are there while continuing to validate the emotions of those who left. If Dyllan and so many other girls were so clearly negatively impacted by Molly and P21 there’s obviously some truth to it. With that being said it doesn’t mean we can’t root for the success of girls like Gracyn and Regan. They’re children, and they’re individuals. They are not the reason so many people have struggled at P21. I have a lot more on my mind regarding our support to them and P21 but I’ll spare you all of it considering this is already a 400 page novel.

This was so interesting to read and I really agree with everything you said! It really puts into perspective how someone might seem really successful at their dance studio or any sport but actually be really struggling mentally

[butuhaventseenmyman]

and way up there, i actually love it.

hi. i'm Juno. i'm AFAB, she/her, and a Virgo. you can totally talk to me in spanish or german if that's your preferred language. can't promise i won't need a translator for certain words, and i know more spanish than i do german, but i'll try my best <3

rules:

Be kind to everyone while you’re here. Everyone. Even if they aren’t to you, kindly ignore or block them. Respect is universal.

please, no suicidal jokes. even if it is just a dark humor joke, it's just not something i've ever found funny- especially because my older sister has had an awful experience with the subject. i don't care if you do it in your own space, but it's disrespectful to me and honestly cringy for someone to joke about it here even after i've said this.

On that note, I won’t write anything harmful, illegal, or problematic. If you're unsure about a request, feel free to ask before sending it! I'd rather be clear and respectful than make anyone uncomfortable.

I have the right to decline a request if I’m not willing to do it.

please please pick an emoji or character if you're an anon!! i like getting to know my friends <3

That’s pretty much it! Just be a good person, and that’s all I ask of you.

what/who i will write for:

At the moment, I’m only writing for Mouthwashing- Curly (pre-crash onlu), Anya, and Daisuke. I promise to try my best with Daisuke, but I feel like I don’t know him as well as I do Curly and Anya. Swansea for the same reason, and I don’t think I respect J enough to write for him- we forget, but we never forgive. I appreciate your patience

But like I said in my intro, if I mention a fandom I like, you can ask for that as well and I’ll most likely write it- it probably won’t always be just Mouthwashing, but I’m just trying to start simple. However, the aesthetic and theme will probably always be centered around that. 

I won’t be writing long fics. For now, let’s just focus on shorter scenarios and headcanons.

Finally, I will write for female and gn, but I can’t write for male. I myself am AFAB and I don’t know enough, so I feel like I wouldn’t do my male friends justice.

anons:

You can be a character anon (just tell me where they’re from!).

You can be an emoji anon (see what’s taken).

If you want to share your pronouns, feel free to drop them in your message!

Feel free to remain anonymous, but a little introduction is nice if you’d like to chat!

masterlist

current anons

my moots <3

Sorry if this feels like I’m being really strict, just want to make sure I cover everything. Thank you! <3

(if you want, keep reading to see why i started this blog)

you can call me K or Juno. i'm AFAB (she/her) and a Virgo.

so i got into Mouthwashing not long ago, and i just kind of had the random urge to do this tonight (aka create a blog solely dedicated to writing about it). this isn't my first rodeo, so i know how this works- but i'm always learning. essentially, "feeling cute might delete later"

this is definitely going to be a side thing for me, because, like everyone, i have things going on and might get busy sometimes. but, unlike my first time, i'll do my best to churn out good-quality work as quickly as possible.

i can't really explain why i want to do this, i just do. and if it don't feel good, what are you doing it for? so i think it's worth a shot.

but this isn't just a writing blog, either. feel free to drop headcanons, ideas, or just random thoughts about Mouthwashing. for the sake of simplicity, i think it's a good idea to just start with one fandom for now- in the past, that's probably something that bogged me down. but i may add more eventually!! if there's anything you see i'm into and you want to request something for it, i'll more than likely be willing- just gonna start off by focusing the theme on Mouthwashing.

all this to say, thank you for reading all this. disrespectful and/or hateful asks will be deleted, because i want to ensure that this is a place where everyone feels welcome and respected.

enjoy your stay.

[istorkyou]

A Thousand Battles (A Modern Ivar AU)

A modern!Ivar x F OC (Julietta Lothbrok)

Warnings- Angst, violence, death, smut.

Synopsis - Julietta wakes up with no memory of her life or her husband, Ivar. Will it ever return? Does she want it to?

Word Count - 3113

Tag List - Let me know if you want on or off :)@smears-and-spots @punkrocknpearls​​ @youbloodymadgenius​​ @momowhoo​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @not-another-viking-fanfic-blog​ @ivar-s-my-brat-tamer​ @pieces-by-me​ @heavenly1927​​ @berryonasummerevening @synnersaint​​ @out-of-the-box-and-into-alchemy​ @petite-hime​​ @serasvictoria​​ @mimiiinspace​​ @itsmysticalmystery​​ @lonewolf471​​ @mylifeisactuallyamess​​ @draculasbride-blog​​ @love-all-things-writing​​ @southernbe​​ @redhead7799​​ @kaybee87​​ @ivarlover​​ @ivarhoegh​​ @idgafiamallthefandoms​​ @darkphoenix5037​​ @profoundtyrantharmony​​ @snarling-through-our-smiles​​ @crazyunsexycool​​ @xceafh​​ @noway4u @batmandallyboy​​ @complicatedbutrare @readsalot73​​​​ @meandmycherrytree

Masterlist

Chapter 14 - Final Chapter

He is in a meeting when his phone vibrates in his pocket. Well, it’s not really a meeting, more of an information gathering session in a warehouse involving sharp instruments and spilled blood. He’s been taking on more and more of these ‘meetings’ since she disappeared, a good way to expel some of his rage and sadness productively.

He walks away from the man he is dealing with, wipes his hands on a cloth and gets his phone out to an interesting message on his screen.

One of her passports was used to get into the country three hours ago.

A smile quirks onto his lips very briefly followed by a deep inhalation of breath.

“You, take over from here. Just kill him. I’ve got the information I need now.”

He hears a gunshot behind him as he heads out to his armoured SUV to take him back to the estate.

When he arrives back he doesn’t go to the main house but straight to their house. He knows Ragnar would have got the same message and he needs to check something out first before he sees his father. He hurries to their shared closet, still full of her clothes and he pulls out the black shoes with the red soles, her stash spot, pulling out an untraceable phone. He turns it on and waits. The phone beeps twice. Two messages. Both from anonymous numbers, both from her.

Coming home. Too dangerous now.

See me before they get to me? I will come alone. I miss you so much.

He texts back quickly.

Yes. Will message soon. I love you. Thank you for all the photos last week, baby.

As he stashes the phone back he lets his finger run over the notebook that took him less than three days to decipher. One of the reasons he searched so hard for her and established secret communication. He cried for days when he broke the code and read her words. An anthology of love, dating from the night they met, describing every feeling she ever had for him, her deep love, the light he had reignited inside her after years of living in the black. Much as he had before he met her. The reasons why she acted as she did after Sardinia, the threats made against his life, the coldness she showed him when underneath she felt nothing but adoration. She explained it all in a diary she never intended for anyone to read. Her soul lives in these pages, and so does his.

Always and forever, no matter how far apart.

———————

He heads to the main house and into his fathers study.

”I am sure you’ve seen the message. She has returned.” Ragnar says without looking up from his papers.

Ivar nods. “I’ll take care of it. She will contact me soon, I’m sure of it.”

Ragnar looks up and stares into his son's eyes, carbon copies of his own. “Will you be able to finish the job this time? She cannot live, Ivar. She simply must die. If you feel like you can’t do it, or she will get the drop on you again I’ll send a whole team to hunt her down.”

“I’ll do it father. She is my responsibility. I will not fuck it up again. I’ll let you know when she contacts me and what the plan is from there.”

Ragnar nods in agreement and rounds his desk to embrace his son. “I am sorry for this, sorry it has to be done. You understand though?”

“I do. It’s been a long time coming,” Ivar says tersely, “I’ll speak to you soon.”

———————

He leaves the estate in his own vehicle, he drives for an hour and no one is following him. He pulls into a multi-storey car park and switches cars and drives for an hour to another car park and does the same.

It’s dark by the time he reaches the hotel. A shitty, off the track hotel he’d never be seen dead in usually. He walks as quickly as he can to a door and knocks three times.

The door opens a fraction and he pushes it the rest of the way, slowly revealing his wife to him. She has her gun pointed at him.

“Alone?”

“Alone, baby.” He steps in and shuts the door behind him before they walk quickly towards each other, arms pulling the other into a tight embrace, clinging to the other, tears falling.

“I missed you so much, Liet.”

“Fuck I missed you so much too.”

They pull at each other’s clothing, frantic to get the other naked as quickly as possible. When their goal is managed they fall onto the crappy, lumpy hotel bed together on their sides, her leg over his waist before he pushes her onto her back and he crawls over her, their mouths attached the whole time. She grabs his hard cock and lines him up a half a second before he pushes deep into her.

Their mirrored groans into each other’s mouths make them giggle.

“Fuck, love, you feel so good,” he says into her mouth before moving her inside of her, drawing deep, low moans from her. “I missed you every second of every day.”

“Me too, Ivar. Harder, please, harder!”

Their fingers dig into each other's skin, pulling into the other, trying to close the millimetres left between their bodies, a desperate need to feel every part of the other, a desperate need to fill the two year gap since they last were with each other physically.

It takes no time for their knowledge of each other’s bodies to kick in and they make each other orgasm. Shuddering against each other, the air blue with obscenities.

When they finally loosen their grip on the other they stay as close as possible, noses touching, laying on their sides, hands running up each other’s backs.

“Hi, baby,” he laughs out.

“Hi, love,” she giggles in reply.

They just stare at each other, who knows for how long. Long enough for him to run his hand through her longer hair. To run his fingers over some new scarring on her body. Long enough for her to touch his thigh where she inflicted a break. Long enough to revel in his eyes and compare them to his.

“Anyone since us, Ivar? Are you happy?”

“No one. No one ever again. Always and forever, baby. You?”

“Never for me, Ivar. You and only you. I need you to be happy again though. After all this.”

Ivar waves his hand as if dismissing her words. There is no point in lying to her, pretending he will ever let anyone in again so he just changes the subject.

“I did what you asked, love, I killed Lev.”

Her eyes fill with tears and she lets out a giggle of relief. “Thank you, Ivar. How?”

“I peeled his skin off slowly and I made him watch videos of us when we were happy, after the accident. He begged for your forgiveness and his life in the end, love.”

A nasty sneer flashes across her face. “Good, he deserves every second of pain you inflicted on him.”

A comfortable silence settles between them again before Ivar breaks it. “Where is he, Liet?”

“He’s safe I promise. I will need to get back to him in the early morning. That’s why I’m back, it’s too dangerous now. I’ve had too many close calls and I’m frightened for him. He needs stability, Ivar. I’m done running. I’m here to face what I need to, and to give you your son. You need to keep him safe from now on. I can’t offer him that any longer.”

Ivar knew this is why she had come back. Knew his men had almost caught her in Belize. Had heard rumours of her father almost tracking her down in Peru. Ivar almost gave himself away numerous times trying to throw them off her and their sons scent, Ragnar was suspicious at one point and that was when the Belize incident happened. He had warned her but a little too late. He begged her to bring his son back to him but she wasn’t ready.

She is ready now.

Ivar clears his throat, trying to dislodge the ball in it. “I am going to talk to my father. Things are different now, with the baby. I… I’ll talk sense into him. We can be toget…” the rest of his sentence is cut off by her lips crashing his. When she pulls away she gives him a little smile.

“Ivar. We’ve talked about this. Your father will not allow me to live, for his reputation and his own peace of mind. I knew coming back here it would be the end for me, I’m under no illusion I will not die tomorrow. I thought you had come to terms with it, baby?” She runs her hand over his furrowed brow and her thumb wipes a tear away. “Even if Ragnar allowed it, which he absolutely will not, I wouldn’t allow it. If my father knew I was back, knew about our son, he would never stop coming for me, for him. He wouldn't stop until we were all cold in the ground, everyone, your mother, father and brothers. There would be no peace until he had our son in his care. I can not allow that. I’m here so our baby can have a life without being hunted for the mistakes I made.” She is aware her voice isn’t as soft as she would like it to be, but she also knows that Ivar responds to this cold, detached hard truth. “I have loved you enough for a whole lifetime, this is how it has to be, love. You know this.”

He doesn’t reply, he nods stiffly and a silence settles between them.

“Liet. He will always know about you, I’ll never let him forget how much you love him, how much we love each other. No one will poison his mind against you.”

His heart breaks entirely to pieces as she crumbles down in front of him. She knows this is her last night on this Earth. Her actual last night this time. She is giving herself up for the sake of their baby. Their 14 month old baby who has his fathers eyes nestled in the features of his mother.

The greatest sacrifice a mother can make.

“Ivar, try to raise him out of this life. I know that won’t be easy, but send him to college, make him useful away from the violence. Make sure my father doesn’t get to him. Make sure Ragnar doesn’t ruin him. I’m trusting you with our baby, Ivar. You need to do for him what my past had robbed from me, a chance at a happy future. Be soft with him, like you are with me. Be loving and supportive no matter who he turns out to be or the choices he makes. Show him my Ivar, not the Ivar everyone else sees. Promise me?”

“I promise. I will be the best father,” Ivar says resolutely.

She gives him a genuine smile. “I have absolutely no doubt that you will.”

“Tell me more about him, baby.”

They spend the next few hours talking about him, his likes, his dislikes, how he sleeps curled up next to her every night with his favourite Elephant cuddly. She explains how rough the next few months will be for Ivar, he is his daddy but FaceTime can’t replicate a real connection. She explains how to best comfort him, what songs to sing him and how to make him laugh, what she wants for him in the future. She tells Ivar she has written letters for when he is older so he can understand what happened, but that it will be up to Ivar to judge when and if he feels their son can handle the information. Ivar says nothing, he just soaks up every word.

“I think that’s it.” She glances at her watch.”I will send you a text at 11am to tell me to meet me at 4pm. Your father will intercept it, we both know he will send someone. Just…. Just cover his eyes before, promise me you won’t both watch me die.”

“I promise. I promise you. We have 8 hours until I need to be home to get the message.”

“8 hours.”

“Those hours are for us and us only.” He reaches for his phone, and taps until the room is filled with music.

Everywhere by Fleetwood Mac.

He stands up and holds his hand out to her. “Come dance with me one last time, baby.”

Her eyes mist over again as she goes to him, clinging to him tightly. She closes her eyes, compartmentalises the coming day and enjoys every second they have remaining.

————————-

9am rolls around and it’s time for him to go.

They cling to each other before she loosens her grip and grabs his face, pulling it closer to hers.

“In the next life, Ivar. I will find you in the next and every life we have after. Look after our baby.”

He holds her face, forehead touching hers. “This life and the next. I love you. I will keep him safe. I promise on everything I am, my beautiful Liet. The bravest person I’ve ever met, my fighter, my Valkyrie.”

They share a kiss, a kiss so full of love, pain, admiration and promise that they both smile and cry as they pull away and he leaves.

—————————

His phone beeps dead on 11am.

Meet me at warehouse 2c at 4pm. Just you. I have something for you.

He enters the main house to his father waiting in his study.

“You saw the message?” he asks his Father.

“I did. I wonder what she has for you?”

“A bullet in my brain I would imagine?”

Ragnar regards him, hard eyes travelling over his face. “Take your gun. You shoot her on sight. There is nothing she has that we need, nothing she can give you worth anything. Kill her and we can all move on.”

Ivar nods quickly. “That is my plan.” He turns to walk out of his fathers office.

Ragnar waits until the heavy slam of the front door hits his ears before picking up his phone. “4pm. The docks. Set up a sniper. Kill her if he hesitates.”

——————-

Ivar pulls up to the warehouse and sits for a second. He closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to stop the flow of tears that have been cascading down his face the whole 45 minute ride over. His heart is ripping to shreds inside his chest, despite having years to come to terms with it, a tiny sliver of bright hope lit his black soul thinking they could be a family one day. His rational brain knew it would never happen, she told him weekly it would never be the case, but the fact that the end is now is too much for him to bear.

But bear it he must. Not for her, or himself, but for their beautiful son.

He walks into the warehouse and his trained eyes see the minuscule glint from the sniper rifle up high in the corner. He will be sure to tell his father about the snipers fuck up.

His eyes find her, standing in the centre of the massive room, her back to him. His heart stops. She hasn’t brought the baby, he can’t see his son. When he is close enough he gets his gun out and points it at her.

“Liet?”

She turns slowly, their baby asleep in her arms, she doesn’t look at Ivar, she doesn’t take her eyes off their baby, soaking in every last second she has with him. He lowers his weapon as soon as he sees his son.

“The sniper is shit, love. I spotted him the second I walked in,” she chuckles lightly, “tell Ragnar I said he needs better men.

————

The sniper can’t hear what they are saying, and neither can Ragnar watching from his office from a camera feed attached to the rifle.

“Sir, she has a baby in her arms.”

“I can see that.”

“Shall I take the shot?”

“No. Do not dare. I’m pretty sure I am looking at my grandchild.” Ragnars eyes are full of tears. It’s been years since anything elicited such emotion from him. He understands now why Ivar has tried to keep her safe these past two years, not just out of love for her, but a fathers love for his child.

Ragnar wipes his eyes and rolls his shoulder. “Be ready. This is an exchange. When it’s done I will give the word.”

—————

Julietta gives Ivar a look of pure love. “Ready, baby? When I hand him to you I need you to turn away and walk out. Don’t watch me die, love. Okay?”

Ivar’s nods twice. They step towards each other, he drops his gun on the floor so he can embrace her one last time. With their foreheads touching, and tears on their faces she hands the baby to Ivar, bends down, sniffs the baby's head and kisses him before turning her attention back to his father, placing a slow kiss on his lips.

“In the next life, love,” she says

“Always and forever,” he replies.

She takes two steps back and Ivar swivels on his heels, clinging to his son, lurching away on his crutch.

———-

“Sir, shall I take the shot now?”

Ragnar is silent. His heart is breaking for his son but he knows what must be done. Even if he saw fit to let her live Ragnar knows her own father would never stop coming for her and if he were ever to catch up with her he would torture her to death. Ragnar rolls his shoulders and clenches his teeth.

———-

Ivar hears the pop and the whizz of the bullet from the sniper fly past him. He hears the grunt from her chest on impact and he hears as she falls to the floor with a thud.

The tears in his eyes blind him, he squeezes his eyes shut to clear them. He wants to scream up into the universe, make the whole world hear his pain. But he looks into the face of his sleeping son in his arms and knows he won’t, he won’t scare him. So he holds it in, to be let out at a later time when his son is not with him.

He will be the best father to their son

For her.

His beautiful Liet.

FIN.

[reneeluv154]

Panic attacks

This is a Jack x Belle imagine that wad anonymously requested of me!

I hope you all enjoy it, I don't normally write character x character imagine so I apologize if it's not all you hope or hoped.🤍🤍🤍

In this imagine Jack had a ⚠️panic attack⚠️ and Belle learns about what they are as he is having one.

Whoever requested this I really hope you enjoy.

Jack’s POV

The surgery will begin in 20 minutes. I was nauseous, this was going to be one of the most important surgeries of my career. “Dawkins are you alright?” Hetty questioned me gently, setting a hand on my shoulder.

I shook her off, “I’m fine.”

“Glad to see you haven’t started without me.” Belle smiled as she walked through the door, I forced a subtle smile only glancing before continuing to arrange my instruments.

“Are you okay?”

“Why?”

“You're a little shaky, and you’ve got some sweat.” She wiped my forehead with her handkerchief, looking rather worried.

“I’m alright milady.”

I glanced at the clock “10 more minutes.” I muttered in a panic. A wave of heat crashed down upon me starting from the top of my head all the way down to the bottom of my feet. I pinched the bridge of my nose feeling myself sway back and forth. “Jack.” It was Belle, I couldn’t let her see me in a panic, it would scare her, I can’t have someone I feel so fondly for scared of me.

“Yes?” I heard my voice echo and a loud ringing began to play.

“Jack, what’s wrong?” That look she gave me made me melt, she was genuinely worried about me. I felt terrible. My head shook as I felt time slow for a split second. “I just need to use the restroom.” I hurried off, instead making my way into my small living quarters and splashing cool water in my face before dabbing it dry with my sleeve.

Belle’s POV

Jack had been gone far too long, the surgery was starting soon, Belle watched as the eager men piled in to watch the amazing Dr. Dawkins. “Excuse me Hetty, have you seen Dawkins?” She shook her head. “Last I saw him he was rushing up the stairs to his room.” Belle took off out the doors towards his room, what was going on?

She made it to his door gently knocking but getting no response.

“Jack, are you alright?” Once again there was no response but as she listened closely, small sobs became more and more apparent.

“Jack, I'm coming in.” She was met with a worrying sight and immediately rushed to his side. He was sitting on the floor, his back flat against the wall with his head in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees. His breathing was intense and fast leaving almost no time for oxygen to enter his lungs, his hair and clothing, now drenched in sweat, and his cheeks with tears.

“B-Belle.” He gasped, gripping his chest

with his hands.

“What’s happening?” Tears welled in Belle’s eyes, was he dying and hadn’t told her?

“It’s. a. Panic. attack.” He managed to mumble, still hyperventilating.

“How do I help?” A tear ran down her cheek.

“Stay. calm. I’ll. be. okay.” Belle had never seen this much pain and worry in his eyes, it terrified her. But she nodded gently resting her hand on his cheek bringing their foreheads together while taking his hand to her heart.

“Just listen to my heartbeat okay? Close your eyes and listen.” She whispered, caressing his hand with her own.

Jack’s POV

I was now the one holding Belle, I had explained what happened. She was not having a panic attack, just extremely shocked and overwhelmed. “I’m sorry Belle, I didn’t want you to see me like that.” As I moved to look at her she did the same. “I’m glad I could help you, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

I shrugged. “Like I said, I was afraid I would scare you.”

She shook her head moving to bring us closer, “Jack, I was scared I was losing you. If you had told me sooner I would have known what to do.”

I nodded, “I know and I apologize, but for not knowing what to do you were wonderful.” I smirked as I lay a gentle peck on her nose. “Since we missed the surgery, do you mind staying a bit longer?” And she shook her head.

“Not at all.”

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Replieeees, mostly twst-related.

Starting with the one related to our Lilidia sketch from yesterday!

Anonymous asked:

I love how Lilia’s just like, “heheheh, legs >:3

And then Idia is just so confused

Poor Idia doesn’t know how to react lol Lilia’s legs are this powerful…

Anonymous asked:

Hello! I discovered your art recently after getting back to twst and I've been trying to learn to draw digital too. I really really like your art style, specifically the way it looks in the eyes. I just wanna learn how you draw! Do you do lineart first then color? Or color first then lineart? What art program do you use? I really like how you draw Idia and his hair, It's pretty hard for me to draw him because of his hair D: If you could give me some tips that would be great, thank youu💞💞

This is very sweet of you, Anon, thank you for your kind words! I am very happy you like my art style. And I love talking about drawing a lot, so ironically I have either posts or videos for pretty much every topic you’ve mentioned, so I’ll give you some links!

Firstly, to answer your questions: yes, I do lineart first and then colour. Sometimes I draw lineart digitally, sometimes I just colour a scanned pencil sketch (I wrote about this process in this post).

I draw in (pirated) Photoshop, and I do pretty much everything in there: clean scans, draw, do lettering, etc; but I think there are a lot of better alternatives to Photoshop now.

I also have a tutorial + speedpaint of Idia’s hair specifically, I hope it’s helpful! <3 And just in case, here is the post where I talk about how I colour regular hair.

I’ve also done a couple of speedpaints, and in the last two I sprinkled some notes throughout the video to explain what I am doing at any given moment.

I think this is it; if there is anything else you’d like me to talk about or if you have any questions, feel free to ask.

Anonymous asked:

I know you don't ship them since they're both bottoms but we need to address the sexual tension between Vil and Leona during the Cloudcalling event. I know people joke that they're divorced but it really does feel like that right now. (Maybe the reason they divorced was cause the realized they're both bottoms lol)

I haven't seen the event, sorry. You can see the things I've watched in my pinned. As well as the request not to mention to me ships that I don't like, which wasn't there before because I either forgot or didn't feel it was necessary I guess, but now it is there.

We never talk about ships that we actively dislike, but I feel like Vil and Leona are one of the closest things I have to a notp. You had no way of knowing that particular fact though, so no worries.

Anonymous asked:

(links)

The links. Sorry

(It’s about Pinterest links). Don’t be sorry, Anon, and thank you so much for the links! <3

[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 Cops & Robbers 🔞

Chapter 6

Tags: This chapter is pretty tame. I guess implied dead body?

You want me to do what?” Wooyoung tried not to look shocked and failed.

“I need you to drag the river. Well, really just a certain section,” Juyeon repeated. He was sitting in the police chief’s office, the only person who could authorize a search. He also happened to be Younghoon’s boss and Juyeon’s childhood friend.

“If I told you it was for Younghoon would that make a difference?” Juyeon continued.

“You mean a personal favor or looking for his dead body?” Wooyoung asked.

“The dead body we’re looking for is Chanhee,” Juyeon told him. Wooyoung looked at the ceiling and heaved a sigh.

“I knew it,” he said.

“Knew he was dead?” 

“Either that or incapacitated. He and Younghoon are the two most reliable people in this whole department. So Younghoon is still alive?” Wooyoung asked.

“He was pretty beat up, but he’s alive. The only reason I left was because I don’t trust any communication other than face to face,” Juyeon explained.

“You’ve got some balls walking into police headquarters when you’re a wanted criminal,” Wooyoung pointed out.

“And you could’ve had me arrested when you saw me walk in. Just because we ended up on different sides doesn’t mean we don’t have shared interests. I could also argue that you’re responsible for me meeting Younghoon in the first place,” Juyeon replied.

“You haven’t lost your touch when it comes to guilting people,” Wooyoung sighed. He turned to his computer and started typing. “Anonymous tip that missing police employee was dumped in the river.”

“See? You did that all on your own,” the other man grinned.

“I’ll have you arrested just because you’re annoying me,” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“You would never,” Juyeon leaned back in the chair. Wooyoung glared at him then went back to typing. “What do you know about The Mad King?”

Wooyoung whipped his head around.

“What do you mean what do I know? It’s a story that our parents told us to scare us when we were kids. I didn’t think you believed in shit like that,” he questioned.

“I’m beginning to think he’s real,” Juyeon admitted.

“Why?” Wooyoung turned to look at his friend fully.

“More than one of Sunwoo’s searches dead ended with that name. I’m going to sound arrogant when I say this, but they can’t possibly be smart enough to rig a search to return a ghost story,” Juyeon replied. Wooyoung considered what Juyeon said.

“The last time I heard anything vaguely referencing him was last year. A couple of my guys said they kept getting false calls. I eventually pulled them from that area, but the last one was listed as ‘George the Third’,” Wooyoung told him.

“The original Mad King,” Juyeon finished.

“Though Game of Thrones is far trendier reference,” Wooyoung said.

“Yeah that wasn’t exactly pop culture when we started hearing these stories,” Juyeon replied.

“I don’t think this guy is into pop culture anyway,” Wooyoung went back to his computer. “The most recent record I have is from last February. A tip was called in about a drug dealer working out of a club downtown. The caller gave his name as George the Third. I had them check it out, but the club had closed down the previous week. I pulled the building records and it got shut down because they hadn’t paid their liquor license in several years.”

“Only in this town would you get shut down for not paying your booze fee than not paying your rent,” Juyeon snorted.

“Says the one who actually does deal drugs out of his club,” Wooyoung replied.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. That club belongs to Lee Juyeon the First,” his friend grinned. “I also pay my liquor license fees on time. Who were the cops?”

“Jeong Yunho and Choi Jongho,” the police chief replied. “I was considering having them run down leads on Younghoon and Chanhee.”

“What changed your mind?” Juyeon asked.

“I knew you’d show up eventually,” Wooyoung grinned. “You’d come looking for your cop if you didn’t already know where he was.”

“Does everything think I’m that whipped for him?” The other man huffed.

“There’s no thinking about it. You’re about as subtle as a sledgehammer. I never called off the surveillance because you both enjoyed watching each other,” Wooyoung explained.

“That makes it sound like we’re a couple of voyeurs,” Juyeon replied.

“I know you’re an exhibitionist, but I prefer to stay out of Younghoon’s sex life,” Wooyoung gave his friend a look.

“You walked in on me once,” Juyeon protested.

“And I’ve been trying to scrub that image from my head for the past 15 years,” Wooyoung replied. “Do you need anything else or are you just staying to annoy me?”

“That’s it. I have to get back to my cop,” Juyeon got up. Wooyoung snorted.

“I’ll let you know if we find anything,” he waved Juyeon off.

“Thanks,” Juyeon replied.

“He was one of mine,” Wooyoung’s voice turned serious for the first time.

“I know,” Juyeon nodded. As he was walking back to the elevators, he passed a pair of cops walking in. It was comical to see them standing next to each other. One was taller than Juyeon and slender and the other one was easily 4 or 5 inches shorter and stocky. Juyeon inclined his head in greeting as he passed them. There were some perks to being untouchable.

“Is Juyeon back yet?” Sunwoo asked when he came upstairs. Younghoon, Hyunjae, and Eric were in the living room playing with Bori. 

“He’s on his way,” Hyunjae replied, trying to pick up the puppy. She was having none of it. 

“He didn’t text you?” Sunwoo looked at Younghoon. 

“They took my phone. I’ve been using a burner he gave me that only gets service in the house,” Younghoon replied. 

“I’ll add that to the list then,” Sunwoo said. 

“I assume you have an update if you crawled out of your cave,” Hyunjae said. Bori sat in Eric’s lap. Eric gave his brother a smug look. 

“I got a hit on the fingerprint,” he replied. 

“A fingerprint from where?” Younghoon asked. 

“We might have found a body that matched one of the guys who kidnapped you and we might have broken into the morgue to get a fingerprint,” Hyunjae admitted. 

“You did what?!” Younghoon’s jaw dropped. 

“Don’t worry, we didn’t disturb anyone else’s corpse,” Hyunjae told him. Eric was looking at them like a deer in headlights. “Who is he?”

“Han Jisung. He got popped for possession a few years ago,” Sunwoo shared. 

“Did he have a tattoo on his hand?” Younghoon whispered. Eric handed Bori over so the older man had something to hold. 

“No, he was average height, brown hair, brown eyes,” Sunwoo replied. 

“What about his eyes?” Younghoon hugged Bori tighter. The puppy yipped in surprise. 

“What about them?” Sunwoo asked. 

“Did they look too close together? Like someone pinched them close to his nose?” he felt himself starting to panic. 

“I guess you could say that,” Sunwoo said. 

“You okay?” Eric asked, noticing Younghoon’s change in demeanor. Younghoon shook his head. The younger boy put his hand on Younghoon’s back. “Do you want to go upstairs?”

“No, I need to see a picture,” Younghoon swallowed hard. Sunwoo typed something into his phone then handed it to Younghoon. 

“He’s the one who broke my nose,” Younghoon was shaking now. “I remember his eyes. All I could see were their eyes and hands.”

“Do you remember anything else?” Sunwoo asked. 

“One of them had a star tattoo on his ring finger. The leader was blonde. He had a really deep voice. The one with the star tattoo was short,” Younghoon handed the phone back. 

They all jumped when they heard the door slam. No one seemed to know how to close the door quietly. Juyeon looked at the group and immediately zeroed in on Younghoon. 

“What happened? Baby, you look like you’re about to pass out,” he knelt in front of him. 

“The corpse is one of his kidnappers,” Hyunjae said, bracing for the inevitable explosion. Juyeon whipped around and looked at Sunwoo. The other man immediately shrunk in on himself. 

“You told him? You didn’t tell me first? I swear to god Kim Sunwoo,” he went to stand up and Younghoon stopped him. 

“It’s not his fault. I asked him to show me a picture. Don’t punish him,” he begged. Juyeon looked between Sunwoo and Younghoon. 

“It’s true,” Eric spoke up. “He asked and Sunwoo showed him.”

“You should’ve told him no,” Juyeon focused on Sunwoo. 

“Juyeon, stop, please. Please,” Younghoon started crying. “Don’t hurt him. He didn’t do anything wrong. Let him go.”

It was then Juyeon realized how his actions came across. Younghoon tried to save someone’s life and failed. Juyeon wasn’t going to actually hurt Sunwoo. He’d never hurt any of his friends. Younghoon didn’t know that. 

“I’m sorry I lost my temper. You didn’t know that I hadn’t told him anything. That’s my fault. We’ll talk later,” Juyeon stood up and looked at Sunwoo.

“I’m gonna keep looking and see if he was arrested with anyone,” Sunwoo backed out of the room like he was afraid to turn his back on Juyeon. 

“Promise me you won’t hurt him,” Younghoon begged. 

“I promise I won’t hurt him. You know I’ve never lied to you and I’m not going to start now,” Juyeon sat next to him. Bori had scurried into Eric’s lap. 

“Thank you,” Younghoon wiped his eyes and winced. Juyeon felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. He opened his mouth to say something, but Younghoon cut him off. 

“I’d like to be alone for a while,” he said quietly. Juyeon felt like he’d been punched in the gut. He wanted to argue. He wanted to convince Younghoon to let him stay. Hyunjae and Eric gave him twin looks of warning. 

“Okay. You can use one of the guest rooms,” Juyeon stood up. “Or I can.”

“I’ll take the guest room,” Younghoon waited until Juyeon stepped back to stand. Eric put Bori on the floor and the puppy followed him up the stairs. 

“I’m gonna go…do something,” Eric said and walked to the basement leaving Juyeon and Hyunjae alone. 

“He doesn’t even want to be around me,” Juyeon looked at his hands. 

“Can you blame him?” Hyunjae asked. 

“No,” Juyeon shook his head. 

“You should’ve told him what you know. At least he would’ve been prepared. You’re only hurting him more by withholding information. I get that you want to protect him. He trusted you enough to come here after they let him go. You need to trust him. Yeah, he got the shit beat out of him, but he’s still a fully functioning adult who can make his own choices. You owe it to him to share what you know,” Hyunjae told him. 

“The last time I shared everything I knew, someone died,” Juyeon reminded him.  

“Who was also a fully functioning adult and made his own decision,” the other man replied. 

“Do you think he’ll forgive me?” Juyeon looked at Hyunjae. 

“He will, but it might take time. Logically, he knows that you rarely resort to violence. The part of him that was tortured and had to stare at his best friend’s dead body the entire time won’t come around so fast. You need to be patient with him. You also need to be patient with yourself,” Hyunjae replied. 

“I thought things were going okay,” Juyeon bit his lip to keep from crying. 

“Which part? Finally convincing him to sleep with you?” his friend asked. 

“Like we were building something. I honestly didn’t think I’d see him again after we had sex. He left while I was asleep. I acted like it didn’t bother me, but it did,” Juyeon admitted. 

“Is that part of why you’re not sleeping?” Hyunjae hit the nerve Juyeon had desperately been trying to hide. 

“Part of it. If I’m awake then he can’t disappear,” he couldn’t stop the tears. Hyunjae put his arm around Juyeon’s shoulders. 

“He’s not going to disappear. Get some sleep. Eric will listen for him. Kid’s got great ears,” he said. Juyeon nodded. “Don’t make me order you.”

“I’m going,” Juyeon wiped his eyes. He stopped outside the closed bedroom door. It took everything he had to not knock. Younghoon asked for space and Juyeon was going to give it to him even if it hurt. 

The bed was still unmade from that morning. Juyeon forced himself to shower and change into clothes he could actually sleep in. He pulled Younghoon’s pillow into his chest. It smelled like what Younghoon was supposed to smell like. Eric had picked up Younghoon’s toiletries the previous day and Juyeon helped him shower. 

“I’m so sorry,” he breathed into the pillow. “I love you.”

He finally let himself cry until his body gave into exhaustion. Younghoon would still be there when he woke up. He had to be. 

“Yunho! Jongho!” Wooyoung called them into his office after Juyeon left. 

“Yes sir?” Yunho asked. 

“I need you to supervise a river search,” he told them. 

“A river search?” Jongho repeated. 

“I got an anonymous tip that there might be a body in it,” Wooyoung replied. 

“Does this have to do with Younghoon and Chanhee?” Yunho ventured. 

“I don’t know yet. That’s why I need you two to supervise the search. If there is a body then I trust you to do the identification,” their boss explained. 

“And if it is one of them?” Jongho asked. 

“Then we’ve got a murder case to work. The search is tomorrow morning. I expect you to be there early. Think you can handle that?” Wooyoung turned back to his computer. They nodded. 

“Sir, can I ask a question?” Yunho bit the inside of his cheek. 

“You can, but I might not answer it,” Wooyoung said. 

“Why was Lee Juyeon here this morning?” he asked. 

“That’s above your pay grade,” Wooyoung replied simply. 

“Right, of course. Not our business,” Yunho nodded. 

“Your only business right now is searching the river. You’re dismissed,” he waved them off. “Shut the door on your way out.”

“How did they figure out he was in the river?” Jongho asked when they got back to their desks. 

“Juyeon has a lot of resources at his disposal. They probably realized it after Jisung fucked up the original plan,” Yunho replied.

“I’m not sure about this. Maybe we should just back off,” Jongho suggested. 

“I don’t think that’s how it works. We do what we’re told and keep our mouths shut,” the other man said. 

“I didn’t anticipate this many dead bodies,” Jongho said. 

“It’s the mafia. Of course there are going to be dead bodies,” Yunho sighed. Jongho didn’t reply. “Let’s get through this search and hope they don’t find anything. If nothing else I don’t want to deal with a body that’s been in the water for over a week.”

“Do you want to let him know or should I?” the younger man asked. 

“I’ll do it. I am the senior officer here,” Yunho said. 

“Yeah this is the only time you claim it,” Jongho rolled his eyes. 

“Start thinking about ways we can deal with this if they do find a body. I’m gonna go update him,” Yunho got up. 

“Good luck,” Jongho sighed. 

“I’m gonna need it,” Yunho replied and left to go make the call. This was not going to end well at all.

[sitorrothekitsune]

Alright. So. The blog I reblogged this post from deleted their original post, and maybe even blocked me, but I think what I said was actually important so I deleted my post and anonymized it. This is the original post:

And this is the original response from my end:

Hey, I don’t know who or what this group involved, and I’m not saying it’s not wrong, but I’ve actually done this to somebody before. And at least in my case, it was a complete accident.

I was in a Roleplay with somebody and our characters had good chemistry. I was enjoying it. I had typed out this really long response, pressed send, and thought nothing of it. I get a response like five minutes later, but I was kinda done writing for the day so I put it off until the next.

I looked at it the next day and had no ideas on where to take it from there, but I think I’m a pretty good writer, so I knew I’d think of something. Fast forward a couple days and I get a text from the guy. Just checking up on me. He asked me if I was still feeling the desire to continue, and I said yes. I was having fun. But every time I looked at that message, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know how to own up to that, and I don’t think I would be able to still today. Well, a couple days turned into a week, and then into two. He already knew I was a slow writer, but he was starting to get really concerned. It was every day that I got a message, and every day that I told him I still wanted to do it. And one day, I finally owned up to it. Told him my shame. And he blocked me. Ghosted me. And I still haven’t been able to apologize.

Partially, this post is my apology to him. If you ever see this, dude, I’m sorry. This was never about you or your character. I was too invested in the story, and I was too caught up in my own shit to admit that I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how to ask because I was always slightly jealous of how easily it came to you.

But this is partially to say that creativity is hard, and no matter how good someone is at creating a story, it’s hard to sit down and put pen to paper. This is especially true for TTRPGs where you not only have to make the story, but also do all the background math, balancing, character sheets, scheduling, and all this other stuff.

I love RP, DnD, and TTRPGs. I’d pick up another in a heartbeat. But it’s hard, and I don’t want to cast blame on creators for not being able to keep up the pace. At least they tried.

That about sums up my end, but I’ll leave with these final thoughts. These stories are the brainchildren of their creators, and most of the time are given so much thought and attention that they feel real. This gets people excited and emotionally engaged, but comes at a hefty cost. The people experiencing the story can never go back to being bystanders. They are as much of the story as the world is. And this can be a death sentence…

Some of my readers may be unfamiliar with this feeling. “How’s that? It’s just make-believe.” One might say. But the feeling I’m talking about is one more primal. You don’t consciously realize it’s there until it’s gone…

Thanks for reading my little rant if you got this far. I’m sorry to talk about something so frustrating. I just don’t think it’s fair to throw shade at people if they had good intentions. I’m not saying that the DM from OP’s situation did either, I wasn’t there. But we should “never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.” (Hanlon’s Razor)

[candied-peach]

ao3: “for all of my life” rating: T warnings: platonic lamp, panic attacks, crying, roman angst, food mention genre: hurt/comfort description:  Roman's having a bad day. The others unintentionally make it worse. (anonymous prompt:  "Roman has had a really rough day (and is in the verge of tears) and just wants to have a hug or cuddle with Patton, Virgil, and Logan. But they don’t pick up on it and make a snide remark or snap at him about something mindless. They don’t realize anything is wrong until he bursts into tears. . . Fluff at the end pls!!!")

He'll be fine.

Roman repeats it to himself, over and over, as the others' voices get louder and louder. It will be fine. He's okay. Nothing has happened. He definitely hasn't had all of his ideas trashed in front of him. He definitely hasn't been working himself to the bone, over and over, for said ideas to be trashed. He's totally had more than four hours of sleep in the past three days. His fingers aren't shaking. His stomach isn't souring. He doesn't want a hug.

He can breathe.

He can't breathe.

"Roman, honestly, are you even paying-" Logan stops mid-sentence. Roman can barely hear him as he finally bursts into tears. They are nearly silent, trickling down his cheeks, but the room is suddenly dead silent, except for Roman's hitching, gasping breaths as he tries to breathe and tries to stop crying. His heart is pounding in his chest like a runaway locomotive, and his lungs feel like they're collapsing in on themselves, and he can't stop-

"Hey," Virgil is there, soft and quiet and blessedly not angry. "Roman, can you hear me? I think you're having a panic attack. It will be okay. You just have to breathe, okay? In for four...." Virgil demonstrates, an exaggerated loud intake of breath. Roman tries to follow, but he just can't. Not yet. His breathing keeps hitching in the middle. He tries to apologize, but Virgil only shakes his head a little, his eyes surprisingly soft.

"It's okay," Virgil soothes him. "I'm not angry at you. Sometimes it takes a little while. That's okay. I'll just keep breathing and you try to match it, okay?" He keeps going, keeps demonstrating, and Roman keeps trying, because he doesn't know what else to do.

Finally- finally, his chest loosens enough that Roman can look up again, eyes watery. Virgil's there, with a gentle smile on his face, but he can see Logan and Patton over Virgil's shoulder. They look worried.

"There you are," Virgil says, his smile widening a little. "What happened, Ro?"

"Today's been...bad," Roman admits, his voice hoarse and tear-choked. "I- I know that my ideas are inadequate for what Thomas needs, but I- I don't know what else to do, I- I've tried so hard the past several days- preparing for today- I'm so sorry that I'm not up to par-"

"Oh, sweetheart, no," and Patton is there, cradling Roman's face between his hands. "Oh, we've made such a mess of today, haven't we?" Patton asks gently.

"I never intended for you to feel that way, Roman," Logan says, his voice a little stiff, but warm nonetheless. He adjusts his glasses, ill at ease. "Several of your ideas simply need a little polishing, that is all. I am sorry if I didn't explain that as well as I should have."

"It's okay," Roman says, with a watery little laugh. "I- I know I overreact a lot, I-"

"No," Virgil's there again, asking wordlessly if he wants a hug, and when he nods, Virgil enfolds him in his arms. "That's our fault," Virgil tells him. "We didn't communicate right. Your ideas are great, Roman. Even when Thomas can't use them all, they're still great because they're yours. I'm so sorry that we ever made you feel otherwise."

"It's just- well, it's been a bad week," Roman admits.

"It sounds like you put an undue amount of pressure on yourself," Logan says softly. "Would a Disney marathon help?"

Roman considers it for a moment, head tilted to one side, as the others watch him, waiting for his answer.

"If you're all there," Roman finally says.

"Of course!" Patton exclaims. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. What if we all wore our onesies? I'll start making snacks-"

"I'll help," Logan adds quickly, remembering the last time Patton made snacks by himself. Not a healthy option in sight.

"You good?" Virgil asks, his voice quiet, as his eyes search Roman's face.

"I will be," Roman says, wiping his eyes with a conjured handkerchief. "I will be." Virgil pulls him into another sideways hug, gently squeezing him.

"Yes, you will," Virgil states. "Because we love you."

If Roman's eyes get a little damper, Virgil doesn't mention it.

[strangeanomelly]

To write, or not to write?

I’ve spent the better part of my life being told that I should pursue writing because I have a talent for it.

Better part of my life? Who dictates what the better part is? How do I know which part of my life is considered the better part? Do I get to be the judge of that? Are we judged on it? Can we opt out of the judgement?

How about this: For many years, especially growing up, I’ve been told that I have a talent for writing and that I should pursue it as “a career or something”. I was always praised for my poems, my short stories, my essays, everything that surrounded creative writing. You’d think I would have been pleased to hear this, if only I didn’t find it so debilitating now.

I’m sure they meant well, and that they were attempting to encourage me to have a plan for my adulthood, but the only thing it did was make me hyper aware that if I didn’t pursue it, I was no longer going to be considered a successful person.

I know what you’re thinking: “how could one little encouraging comment possibly change whether or not you’re considered successful in their eyes?”

Well, anonymous reader, keep reading and I’ll tell you.

While I had some talent, I didn’t realize it was going to have an expiry date. I also didn’t know that once that little spark of talent for writing that I had dimmed, so would my quality of life and value to this person.

I was told that after high school, college would be easier because I could use the money to get into a program that I liked and was good at. The problem was that I chose a program that I enjoyed and found interesting and meaningful to me and my life. I didn’t choose to pursue a diploma in creative writing, so what I thought was financial aid was ripped from me. I got OSAP instead and went to college without them and without their help, and once I graduated, they were all too happy to celebrate my graduation. When I asked about the money, again I was met with “well you didn’t go into the program I wanted you to go in, so you don’t get it”. I didn’t realize that by choosing something I knew I’d be good at and that I loved that I would be treated that way for not choosing a program that I didn’t like anymore because I didn’t have that talent that they thought I did.

See, the truth is, I’m not that great of a writer. You can see it in my blog posts. Basically, this has always been a way for me to express myself, but it’s never been all that particularly useful in ways that could potentially get me published. It’s been a way for me to convey my thoughts in a manner that made the most sense to me. The problem was that people always saw me writing in notebooks, in journals, on the computer, etc., but what they didn’t see was what I was writing. Those poems, and stories and essays took much longer than they should have, and I was never proud of them because I never liked them and I thought I had to do better to gain approval from everyone, including myself.

I spent a lot of time by myself, and I occupied myself in ways that I thought were productive, but also gave me an outlet to explain how I felt about things. The only ability I managed to keep from all this writing is the ability to prolong posts and sentences, and the ability to make you believe that I’m saying a lot but also saying very little. You see all these words when they could be just as easily replaced with “my aunt said I had a talent for writing but denied me the money I needed for college because I didn’t take creative writing” and call it a day. But no, I’ve stretched it into almost 700 words, and you’ve been reading every single one of them, and I haven’t even really scratched the surface of the point I was originally going to make in the first place.

The point is this: I have had writers block for a very long time. Longer than I care to admit, or even remember. I haven’t been able to write anything decent in a long time. I think it’s because I was pushed into thinking that I had a real talent for it and that I’m still holding onto the need to impress others with this talent, and that if I can’t come up with something genius right away, then I’m not good enough to make it as a writer. Yet, I don’t even want to become a writer. Sure... it’s a pipe dream in the background of my mind that maybe in a different life that could have been my life, but I have long since enjoyed writing about my life and processing my feelings or just writing for the sake of writing and not worrying about whether or not my punctuation is correct, or if I’m writing too many of the same words or phrases, or if I have too many run off sentences. I have no interest in pursuing a career in writing. I have no interest in being judged by people who read my work, when I’m already being judged by others in my personal life about the choices that I made.

I think I’m going to continue to write when I want, how much I want and where I want to, and choose the audience I want it in myself. If I want to spend time typing up useless bullshit to random people on the internet about how I disappointed my family by not doing something that they wanted me to do instead of what I chose to do, I’d be a little more like a cliché than anything, and everyone’s read books about being the family disappointment. So, I’ll stick with blog posts, where anonymous people can comment about my disappointments if they happen to stumble onto my page, and continue making this blog more like my personal journal of anything I want it to be and go from there.

I’m not going to focus on why I didn’t make it as a writer, and instead focus on what other things I can do to make myself happy, and not worry about their happiness or even focus my life on pleasing others. I spent way, way, way too long worried about other people’s happiness over my own and my children’s, and I am choosing to no longer do that. I think my kids and I deserve a little better than that.

Whatever happens, happens. This time, I’ll be the judge of my own life.

[d1d11818]

You’re really trying to embarrass me in front of everyone, aren’t you !!

But really, it means a lot. I’m glad to have met you guys, even if I’m forever too shy to like … Have a real presence. What if I’m not cool ! What if my incessant rambling about my favorite game is toooooo much? OR MY OCS AREN’T COOL ??? The thought is too much to bear ………..

;>_ > I think i’ll stay anonymous.

But I love you guys too! (Platonically speaking, of course)

/

I wouldn’t say I can ‘speak’ the language, but I’m learning! Maybe I’ll be really good sometime and can teach you some stuff, too? We can talk to each other in secret …(except everyone who can also speak Chinese, I guess…)

& I don’t think I’ll burden you with all the nothingy stuff that’s been going on. It’s gonna get better, so it’s okay! Never worry o7

I love random fun facts, so if you have like, cool ones, you should tell me !! Especially your most favorite ones.

Also I suppose you guys don’t really know what I look like ? It’s hard to explain without examples and I don’t really look like anyone from anything i’ve ever seen… Maybe the way people draw Hal from MGS, but even then. I’m sort of the most milquetoast whiteguy with a shitty fake wolf-cut ever.

Sorry this is so short. Last night was kind of rough for me and I don’t really have much energy. I’ll be better tomorrow, I promise !

- I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about. I am completely innocent.

SARCASM DETECTED.

- Ha!

- You know me so well already, don't you?

- Hm hm. Anyway.

- We're glad to have met you too.

- Truly.

- Even if you are a bit odd, and ramble a lot.

- It's very charming.

- It doesn't make you 'uncool', as you phrased it.

- It makes for some truly fascinating and enjoyable interactions.

- Besides.

- We're hardly cool either.

- Ah...

- No, we really aren't.

- I've never been popular.

- Not even as a mere toddler, and the standards for that are incredibly low!

- I had to be a special kind of unlikable to be an unpopular baby.

- I don't... like people, to put it simply.

- In turn, people don't like me.

- They would try to praise my work.

- Say I was beyond my time.

- That I would change the future.

- Ah.

- But I do so hate shallow praise.

- To them, my resistance and distancing made me a selfish, rude little brat with a big ego, who thought he was above their compliments.

- What a stupid notion.

- ...

- I'd like to move on.

-------------------------------------------------

- Why does he keep talking like he's an edgy OC with a tragic backstory? The way he talks about himself... Sheesh! Lighten the tone, buddy! Next he's gonna come out and say he's secretly a demon prince who's never felt love or something.

- I find your incompetence incredibly annoying, my thick-screened friend. I am allowed to say this to him, as I am the one who edits these replies for posting, and this moron never reads them back.

- He doesn't even know I leave these little comments.

- That would be amazing!! Maybe then I'll finally understand the lyrics to Sunshine Rainbow White Pony! I have no idea what the words mean, but dang, are they catchy!!

- I understand you don't wanna talk about some things. And that's okay! We're not gonna force you. But you can always talk to us if you need to! Sometimes it helps just to get it off your chest! Even if that doesn't solve anything, it can just be relieving, you know?

- OHHH I get why 1818 talks about his human life now! It's a weight on his... um? Chest? Screen? Wires? RAM? What is the weight on, anyway? Do robots have shoulders?

- Oh, nearly like Ryan! Our host! And technically us! That reminds me, he really needs a haircut. I hope I'm not fronting for it! It feels like my wires are being yanked out!

- ... actually, that sounds kinda

- No. No. Blocked. No one on this app is free of sin. I'm stopping that sentence immediately. You're welcome.

- I hope you're okay! And I hope today, whichever day it is when this is posted, goes better for you! ['w'] <o> :D I made us!! But cheaper looking! Walmart versions of us!

[screampied]

hello my sweet pumpkin pie, cutie pookie.

so happy you enjoy our long chats because i really like talking and talking with you, and it’s just a perfect blend for disaster.

i don’t play games, because if i download anything other than the sims on my computer, poor old sport is going to burst on my face. but!! i did watched my favorite streamer playing it, and other games, including the others from RE. i’m not one for actually playing, i’m more of a watcher. that said, i’m contemplating downloading on my tablet love and deep space because.. well, no need to explain, sylus is just there, just look at him.

ok, so yes you did, and i’m thinking if you follow me before october 1st i’m just going to have to send a non-anonymous ask with “busted” and DO NOT POST THAT PLEASE I HAVE A REPUTATION CHEIDHDKDNKS

omg yes, the mask stays on. you know another one i think is super sexy? jason. ugh, i’m always a slut for hockey players, but killer buffy guy with a nhl mask? oh yeah, me like that. i think once more toji could take that spot, idk man he just fixes the masked killer vibe so much, so sexy.

i have so many ideas for halloween, it’s not even funny, and i can’t start writing it for the life of me. but that’s okay, i’ll just say i got food poisoning and my brain is melting, people will feel sad for me and will let the poor writing slide.

talking about ideas, last night i had an idea for sukuna rider, and i kinda want to show myself earlier just so i can post it and gush about it with you. like imagine something along the lines of being his prize for winning a race… imma just let that there, and the car’s backseat, of course.

i always prefer books over movies, but it’s been a long time, i read most of the books (i think only the two first) in middle school, but the movies i keep rewatching every year. my favorite is the second because, well, finnick. self explanatory.

LEGALLY BLONDE!!! you have such a good taste. can you believe i’ve never watched it until three years ago? it was an instant regret to have never seen it before, fucks sake. my poor girly and academic self was devastated, but that was on me, i’m very cautious with seeing new movies, i like to keep rewatching the same.

and your music taste!!! perfection as well. i was much more into indie before, and my favorite famous singer was only one, mrs lana del rey, that was in middle school and only me and another girl in school knew her, it was like discovering water in a desert. now i’m growing found of sabrina. the thing is i relate so much to the being fucking horny all the time, having a thing for older guys and accepting i’m a flawed human being. well, i think it fixes it.

i’m not really a fan of anything else. i mean, i like grrm as my favorite author, and i used to spend my free time on twitter swearing at him all the time (affectionately. sometimes).

ok, questions of today will be what’s your favorite food from your country (which is lovely by the way, if it wasn’t for my enormous fears of tsunami, i would be going. oh, yeah, and the money.) and a country you would like to visit and one you wouldn’t at all.

nut anon

NUTTY NUT ANON 👹🫵 my bad b i meant to reply yesterday but i was soooo fucking tired. i got like twelve hours of sleep after work and IMSO ENGERGIZED

of course, eye feel like we both match each other’s energy’s so well 🫂. just two sillies chatting together heh. real, i play sims too. i used to be so addicted actually until it stopped working on my FUCKING PC. like wdym no storage what.

WHAT STREAMERS DO U WATCH TELL ME. same, i watch people play and play it for myself sometimes bc why not yk. DOWNLOADDD LADS RN u won’t regret it. i’ve been playing since august and i loveeeee it. it’s a new banner soon eheh. and right, sylus is so 🤭🤭. the only bad thing is that love and deepspace takes up SO much storage. like im not evenjoking its ridiculous ✋🏽✋🏽 but its worth it bc sexy men haha

LMAO “BUSTED” pls that’d be so funny 🌞 let me see if i can find out just who you are heheh

stop jason is so sexy goodbye. yeah he’s kinda smelly under all that gunk but yoh……. DO U SEE HOW BIG HE IS, SHIT. idk mask killers are just >>>>> i love friday the 13th, jason takes manhattan will always be my favvvvv ughhh. A NHL MASK I WOULD SCREAAAAAM. real toji def gives me psycho killer vibes yum

ILOOVEEEE LEGALLY BLOND. omg nutty i actually had an idea about making a fic about it. it would be about satoru and i thought about calling it “legally platinum blonde” get it bc his hair it white 🤒✋🏽. LMAOO ITS SO STUPID. it was supposed to be a crack smut fic, maybe an au where satoru’s a virgin and he loses a bet with suguru that he can take reader out but he eventually falls in love. WHATDO YOU THINK. but omg ty 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ i love cheesy romcom movies, me n legally blonde, mean girls, and clueless are like this 🤞🏽🤞🏽. ur real, i rewatch so many movies myself

YAAAAH i also like rock, glam rock specially like queen. i used to have the biggest queen phase in quarantine. i pretty much like any genre besides country, i just …. no. don’t get me wrong tho, the only country song i can stand is before he cheats by carrie underwood NOW IVE NEVER BEEN CHEATED ON BUT ILL SCREAM THAT SONG BAR FOR BAR UNTIL MY THROAT HURTS omg sorry idk what came over me ehm 🙆‍♀️💓🎀. ooh i love lana, favorite album? i still remember when summertime sadness/video games came out, my entire life changed

sabrina >>>> YES. her new album is a cultural reset like UGHHHHH. literally no skips (i haven’t even finished it haha) i’ve only listened to bed chem, espresso, juno, don’t smile, taste and please please please but ohmmyyygod i love the retro 80s vibe she’s giving. you r so right ab older men and constantly being horny, i fear we’re the same person

my favorite food from my country !!!!!!!! probably pepperpot or our bajan fried fish. SO GOOD. hehe thank yew, and yeah 💔💔💔💔 i live like right next door to the fawking sea so we have to deal with hurricanes n tsunamis but thankful we haven’t had tsunamis for like decades. the last hurricane we had was in july, hurricane beryl but thankfully me n my family was on vacation during that time 🧎‍♀️a country i wanna visit issssss brazil !!!!! or the bahamas. one i don’t wanna visit, i don’t think i have one. i wanna visit everywhere in the caribbean one day 🙆‍♀️

[thenebulochaoticwriter]

Prologue: Doe

“Hm..” Bea leans back in her chair, humming into the mic in thought. Her attempt at snatching Lys’ attention and getting him to ask her what she was thinking about had failed quickly and quietly. As soon as it did, she decided to just come out with her thoughts. “So, arson.”

“My favorite hobby.” The blonde says to her, chuckling a bit at her sudden and dark subject choice.

“You’re really not gonna ask?”

“I hate attention-seekers.” He says, flicking his tongue out in a teasing manner.

“It’s not for attent– okay, so, yeah, it is. But–” Bea holds up her hand to stop her companion’s victorious laughter. “--it’s for suspense. I had all of this planned out and you’re totally not helping right now.”

“Why not just say it? I don’t get the need for suspense.” Lys shrugs, spinning around in his chair. He never liked suspense. Something about a scary birthday party he’d experienced as a kid. Not that that’s important.

“You either play into my suspense or I take the rest of your coffee.” Bea threatens, revealing his coffee mug- which Lys swears he had on his side of the desk just moments before.

“You can’t do that.” Lys says, although Bea’s smug laugh says “I can and I will”.

“Dude. You don’t even like black coffee.”

Despite Lys’ protests, Bea pours the bitter coffee from his mug into a spare paper cup. She takes a sip and coughs. “Jeez. I can’t believe old people like this.” She pulls the inside of her elbow to her throat and pushes the mug back to Lys. “Oh my god. If I die from this I’m telling your wife it was your fault. And I’ll give my inheritance to her so she can pay for the divorce.”

“I’m not that old. Donna is older than me. Are you calling her old?” Lys scoffs, scooping his mug back into his hands.

“She’s only 35.” Bea shrugs.

“I’m only 32!”

“Exactly.” Bea raises her cup to her mouth and mutters. “Old ass.” Before coughing again after drinking the coffee she forgot was bitter.

“You drank my coffee. Why are you mentioning arson?” Lys rolls his eyes, lifting up his foot to rest on his knee.

“Uh, Doe.” Bea continues coughing. “Miss Doe. The designer.”

“You mean Moira?” Lys asks. Bea nods, clearing her throat before pulling the microphone closer to her.

“Okay, listen up, small-town people.” She reaches down, turning her microphone up. “We all love Moira, so I’m giving you the juice she spilled with me about her next line.”

“You hate Moira.” Lys calls out, although he’s thoroughly ignored as Bea continues talking.

“The reason why I bring up arson is because Doe is making a line based off of that. Or more specifically, the arson of, uh, Mournsville.” Bea explains.

“Like, a real life arson?” Lys cringes, pulling up his mug to his lips uncomfortably. “She’s covered some freaky topics, but isn’t that kinda disrespectful?”

“That’s what I was thinking at first, too.” Bea nodded, sitting up. “Can we get some air in here, Donna?” She asks, pulling her hair into a ponytail. After puffing it up a bit, she notices a red dot blinking on the system. “Shut up, Lys, we’ve got a caller.”

“I’m not saying anyth–”

“--Caller you’re live on Lys & Bea’s Show. What’re ya callin’ for?” Bea asks, tapping her fingers on the desk impatiently.

“It’s a movie.” The caller says.

“Nice to meet you, too, Anon.” Bea rolls her eyes.

“What’d you say, caller?” Lys leans in to the speaker as the anonymous caller repeats what she said.

“Mournsville is a movie. It’s not a real place.” She explains and Bea groans.

“Oh, my god, Bea.” Lys exhales. “You can’t live without giving me a heart attack can you? You’re callin’ me old but you want me to die of a heart attack, right?”

Bea chuckles, “You suck, anon.”

“I know.” The anonymous caller hangs up abruptly, as if running away from the fit that Bea might’ve thrown if she’d bothered staying on the call.

“Anyway.” Bea huffs. “No, it’s not a real town. Yes, I wanted to give you a heart attack.” She sighs, “Boooo, I was hoping on keeping you on that string a bit longer.”

“Okay, well, while we’re on the topic..”

“Of you dying?”

Lys scoffs. “Of the movie, you- you need therapy.”

“The movie, uh, Mournsville, was made by, uh…” Bea snaps her fingers, smacking her teeth as she struggles to remember who made the movie. “..the same sucker who made that ‘Wonderlust’ movie.”

“That sounds like those movies made by pedos.” Lys grumbles and Bea laughs out loud. “Like, ‘Oh, I’m sixteen and I want to learn more about my body so I should ask my dad’s work friend, my teacher, and that one homeless man to help me figure it out!’- while the actress is, like, twelve.”

“Are you calling someone out specifically?” Bea snickers, almost lifting the paper mug back up to drink out of again. “Donna can I also get a drink? Preferably not poisonous tar.”

“Tar is already poisonous..” Lys murmurs, only receiving a mouthed “I didn’t ask” from his younger companion. “And yes, I’m thinking of a specific movie when I say that.”

The red light flickers back on and Lys takes the opportunity to answer the call while B is reaching for the cup that Donna is handing her. “Caller you’re live on Lys and Bea’s Show–”

“Hey, that’s my job!” Bea hissed, swiping his hand away as he chuckles smugly.

“It’s Victor Callirrhoe.”

“Shut up, Anon, I didn’t ask.” Bea huffed, and Lys kicks her shin.

“Victor Callirrhoe. Is that the movie director of ‘Mournville’ and ‘Wonderlust’, caller?” Lys asks.

“Uh huh. Mournville is set in an anonymous and somewhat recent timeline. It’s about a girl who presumably dies and ends up in a small, isolated town called Mournsville. Spoiler alert- it ends with an old woman who I think is named “Cynthia” burning down the city due to its “corrupt” and “immoral” ways.” The caller explains. While Bea is sulking in her chair Lys is listening and nodded, as if the caller could see him.

“Thank you for that, caller, I think I’ll watch that tonight.” Lys states, “Donna, could you look into that, please?” He calls to his wife.

“You still suck, Anon.” Bea rolled her eyes.

“Mwa.” The anonymous caller makes a sarcastic kiss sound and hangs up.

“So, am I wrong or did Moira do a line based on Wonderlust? Because I’ve seen that movie.” Lys asked.

“Yeah. That’s why I think that, uh.. Doe and Vic are sorta in kahoots.” Bea looks at the dimmed mini light that she expected to turn red again. “Don’t say anything, Anon.”

“Moira designed the costumes for Victor’s movies.” Donna called quietly, and Lys nods.

“Oh, really?” Lys turns to the microphone. “So, according to my gorgeous wife’s research, Moira actually designed the costumes for Vic’s movies.” He turns his head back to her, “All of his movies?” He asks, and she nods.

“That’s pretty interesting, actually.” Lys comments, pulling a hand up to his chin and thought. “Thinking about it, their tastes, whether in fashion or film-making have all been pretty similar. Like, what did Moira say her favorite movie was that one time?”

“Uh, Tim? By Vincent B.” Donna replied from the back.

“She likes a movie called ‘Tim’?” Bea chuckles, “And makes the kind of clothes you’d see in freakin’.. some Wonderland type stuff?”

“Can you get me the summary of the movie ‘Tim’ for me La’Donna?” Lys asks.

After a brief search, Donna speaks, “I can’t really, uh.. Find anything on it, actually, but there is a small article here if you want to read that instead.” She offered.

“Yeah, can you print it out?” Lys asks, brushing off Bea’s weirded out expression.

In only a few minutes, Donna came over and handed Lys the paper, nodding at his quiet thank you as he began skimming the paper over. “Okay, so.. This is.. Moira’s favorite?”

“What? What’s it say?” Bea asked, trying to peak over her companion’s shoulder, despite him swatting her back while he read.

“It says…” Lys does one final once over before finally reading it out loud.

“Okay, it says ‘I’m not sure what happened to this movie, but I wanted to write about it to see if anyone actually remembers this. So, the movie “Tim” is about a kid- believe it or not, named ‘Tim’, who identifies himself with his favorite actor, who’s first name is also ‘Tim’. It’s cool to idolize people and whatever, but considering that this particular actor stars in disturbing horror movies, one would think that this kid shouldn’t have access to this stuff, right? Well, due to the things he grew up watching, he imagines doing horrible things to his aunt, dog, and imaginary wife. Mind you, this is a KID. All of these horrible thoughts are based off of what the actor does in the films that he’s watched, In the end, the only thing he accomplishes that his actor did is kill himself. And it just ends like that. Anyway, it was likely taken down because of it being so unnecessarily gruesome and scary for kids…”

It was silent for a moment before Bea coughs suddenly. She accidently picked up the cup of bitter coffee rather than her water. “So, there’s no way that this is.. Like, Moira’s favorite movie, right?” Bea spoke through her coughing.

“I don’t think so- I mean.. But she is making an outfit based on the arson of a- of a damn movie. Like..” Lys pauses in thought. “...okay, so hypothetically, if she was into that stuff. What are your thoughts?”

Bea sucks in a deep breath before sighing as she thought. “I mean, who cares, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s, like, creepy as hell according to this, uh..” Bea waves her hand, unable to think of her next words. “..this dude on the internet.”

“And that’s ignoring the fact that no one can even find this damn movie anymore.” Lys added.

“Right. But Doe’s already, like.. Weird.” Bea shrugged.

“No offense, Moira.”

“Much offense.” Bea corrected Lys and continued. “So, what do we care about this weird movie she likes? I care about my previous subject before you interrupted me. Doofus.”

Lys rolled his eyes. “Kids.”

“So, like I was saying before, why make clothes based off of a movie you already designed clothes for? And how do you make clothes based off of arson, right? Is she gonna set herself on fire?” As Bea asks that, Lys rolls his eyes. “I’d honestly pay to see that- but find out two weeks from now during the debut of Victor Callirrhoe’s fifth and final addition to his pentalogy movie series!” Bea cheers in faux excitement.

“Two weeks from now?” Lys asks. “So Victor’s promoting his fifth movie and Moira is showing off costumes based on his previous movie? The fourth one?”

“Yup. So they’re obviously in deeper contact than just a fashion designer and a director/writer, right? Right??” Bea asks.

“Maybe.” Lys shrugs. “Oh my god, but look at the tiiiime.” He chuckles, standing up.

“Don’t get up, we’re not done here!” Bea stands up, too. “Five more minutes!”

“Unlike you, Bea, I have a secondary job. And I need to get to it soon.” Lys claims, his voice fading as he walks away.

“You should’ve just gone with the suspense! Then we could’ve discussed mo…”

After a moment of silence on the radio, quick footsteps sound as someone walks over to the microphone. “I’m sorry for the unprofessionalism, listeners, but we’ve run out of time for today.” A sweet voice, presumably Donna’s, says. “Have a nice morning, everyone!” She says, before ending the channel.

~*~

As her radio goes to static, Moira frowns, poking the pickled beets on her plate with her fork. “Aw.” She huffs, turning the knobs on her radio before ultimately turning it off after finding nothing interesting to listen to.

“Now my food tastes worse.” She sighs, looking down to her fluffy dog that easily took up the full corner of her kitchen. “Hey, Jesterrrr.” She hums, the large Komondor immediately getting up and trotting over as she held out a fork of her food.

“You want some watercress? It’s healthyyyy.” She offers, bouncing the fork up and down, before pulling away. “I’m kidding. Dogs aren’t supposed to eat this. You can have a snack, though.” Moira says, plucking a small, bone-shaped treat out of a glass bowl on her table and tossing it towards Jester, which he easily caught in his much larger mouth.

“Free snack for being cute.” Moira says, before holding her breath and scooping the rest of the food in her mouth in two big forkfuls. She quickly swallows it and stands up. “Oh, the price of a healthy body.” She sighs dramatically, before downing some water. She puts the glass cup and plate in the sink and heads upstairs to her bedroom.

Jester followed behind her, trotting after her as she went up the stairs to her bedroom, but somehow he’s always surprised when she closes the door on him as she enters the bathroom. “I’ll be out there in a moment, Jester!” She called.

For the next ten minutes Jester passed the time by rolling all over the floor, which Moira would definitely scold him for later due to his hair getting all over the place. Not as soon as she gets out, though, because he’ll be on his back, waiting for her to notice just how cute and innocent he is before noticing the hair all over her rug.

Moira opened the door, immediately smiling and kneeling down to her dog. “Hey, therrrrrre.” She stretched out her words happily, scratching his stomach before standing up and walking to her bedroom.

As she looked behind her to Jester, she noticed the hair left on the rug and gasped. As soon as she did, Jester scurried down the stairs. “You fiend!” She yelled back dramatically, walking into her room and closing the door behind her.

In mere seconds, Jester came back and scratched at the door. “You’d better not mess up my paint!” She hissed, “Those flowers didn’t paint themseeelves.”

Jester barked once, instead of scratching, pushing up against the door. “Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t have gotten fur all over my rug!” She huffed. “If you get the broom and clean it up I’ll probably let you in.” Moira claimed, shrugging.

Jester made what she could only translate as a groan as he slumped down against the door. Moira rolled her eyes before turning to look through her clothes. She pulled out a particular fluffy red dress. It was made for winter, which unfortunately was not around at the moment. “Oh, winter. If you were a handsome man I’d make you stay all year round.” She hummed, chuckling to herself.

“Alas, I can’t wear this in this weather. Or anything fluffy, matter of fact.” Moira groaned. “Hey, Jester. Should I sweat to death in this or should I go out and get more fabric to make a similar dress that I can wear in the summer?”

Another groan from her furry companion made Moira shrug. “I dunno. I think dying in something fabulous is worth it. I’ll make sure to put in my will that you get all of my bones, too.” She joked, putting the fluffy dress back.

She wasn’t ready in the slightest to go out. If she said that her hair was usually neat, she’d be lying. They’re dreads, so the only way to really neaten them up would be to do them all over again, but why do that when you can just make clothes?

Moira skimmed through the rest of her clothes, finding a simple red tube top dress. Seeing this plain, base-like dress made her hum, and she picked it out. “I guess I could maaake something, real quick.”

Realistically, she couldn’t, but it didn’t do any harm to go out a bit later than usual. Moira relocated from her bedroom to her office, once again leaving Jester outside of the room, much to his displeasure.

“God, I don’t have anything pre-made!” She huffed, going through every drawer, hanger, and trash bin in the room. Instead of anything inherently useful, she found a couple boxes of dryer sheets. “Of course I’d leave something like this here..” Moira chuckled, pulling a couple sheets out of the box.

She lifted it up to the dress, which she’d put on a mannequin. “I’m obviously not gonna wear this, buuuut..” Moira smiled, lifting a hand to her mouth in thought. “That’d be so ironic for Cynthia..” She laughed. “I know damn well Vic’s gonna be mad about it, too.”

As Moira came to that conclusion, she proceeded to staple almost the entirety of the two boxes of dryer sheets to the upper rim of the dress. If you looked at it a certain way, she was pretty sure that no one would even notice what it was made of. Of course, this is considering that they weren’t close enough to touch or smell it.

“Then again, the smell is part of the joke..” Moira hummed to herself. The dress was nowhere near done and she’d most likely have to scrap this and start over if she wanted to actually do something with this idea.

“Well, regardless..” Moira sighs, tossing the empty box into the nearby bin and exiting the room. “Well, now I have to go buy more laundry sheets.” She said to Jester as she walked into her bedroom and closed the door on him for the fourth time that morning.

In the end, she settled for just a simple red and white polka-dot dress and matching ribbon to tie her hair with. In addition to white strapped heels, her outfit was topped off with a large white ribbon tied around her waist to make a giant bow in the back. In all honesty this is probably the most normal outfit she has- bow included.

“Okay, Jester, I know you’ve been waiting foreeeever.” Moira hums, picking up her bag and the notorious jeweled leash that Jester hates so much. She won it in a dog competition she and Jester competed in, but Jester still hates it to this day. Moira can’t tell if it’s because he can’t eat the jewels, he doesn’t like the jewels, or because he just hates all leashes in general.

As soon as Moira opens the door, Jester immediately gets up to his feet, but barks at the sight of the leash. He attempts to turn, likely to go run and hide under the couch (which Moira is still surprised he can fit under at his size), but she was thankfully able to grab him and hold him still. Thankfully, he’s trained well enough to know that if she actually grabs him then any game he might be trying to play is over. If not, he would most certainly be able to drag her around the floor due to his sheer size alone.

“No- noooooo, I have to put the leash on you just in case we..” Moira grunts, attempting to restrain his back leg with her leg. “..run into..CupKake, cuz.. You like running after giant cupcake mascots. Even when I tell you not to.” She exhales, finally getting the leash attached to the collar.

“If you’re good I’ll let you sit on the couch tonight. But right now we have to run some errands and..” Moira pauses, double-checking her purse before leading Jester downstairs and through the front door. “We have to burn off the 30 calories you gained from that treat! Whoo!” She says in faux excitement, although Jester seemed hyped either way.