#but every time I see clips or anything of that scene I start to feel panicky

[thisisbeefjerky]

FUCK MAN. This is spoilers for x files fight the future if you don’t wanna see that, but I’m right in the middle of it and I’m freaking out and I need to rant about this

Ok so don’t get me wrong, I knew about the almost kiss in Fight the Future. Hell I’ve seen the clip of the outtake, the actual kiss (give it up for the 2 hottest people on the planet deciding to gift us with that take), but Nobody prepared me for what happens in the actual scene

First of all the dialogue before it, where he’s chasing her down begging her not to leave because he can’t do this without her, and it’s desperate but it’s not dramatic, it’s just true. He can’t he doesn’t want to do this without her because they complete each other. Every time she’s gone he’s just untethered, and he admits this to her but he can’t tell her why, he can’t bring himself to tell her that he loves her

AND THEN It’s only when she initiates an intimate act of the hug that he feels safe enough to take the next step, because he’s terrified, I just know his heart is pounding leading up to that move, he is just lost in her and you can Tell, and it Hurts to watch because you can tell they’re feeling so strongly

And Scully just seems like she’s completely awash in emotion, I can’t credit enough dd and ga’s performances in this because Gosh the complexity of emotion in her face, there’s the doubt, there’s the grief at potentially losing him, and the guilt of it possibly being by her own hand, there’s the fear of staying behind and holding him back, there’s the fear of being too close and not being good for him.

I mean she has the Gall to suggest that she’s never done anything to help Mulder since they met, she seems to really believe it too or she wouldn’t have made the choice to resign in the first place, and it seems like the reason she starts crying at all is the idea, made explicit and impossible to dismiss, that he wants her and needs her, and when she has that confirmed she just melts into him, and like. ow.

But what kills me the most about this scene that’s different from the outtake clip is his reaction to her jerking away. Because she gasps in pain and surprise and swerves her face away from him, and he has no idea why, and all he can think is Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I’ve ruined everything.

I mean you can see it, his face just falls, his eyes close, his head tilts back and he’s visibly berating himself internally, he just whispers “I’m sorry.” With a voice more filled with sorrow than you’ve ever heard out of a man who’s almost been kissed and is holding the love of his life in his arms. He’s so scared to have ruined everything they’ve built.

And you can tell with that whispered apology that he’s thought about this. It’s not the first time by a long shot that he’s considered kissing her. In his mind he’s made a mistake, a slip up. He finally lets himself go enough to try, and she seems to reject him at the last moment, and all he can think is that it must be his fault. She must not want him that way. He apologizes before he even knows what’s going on because he’s ready to respect her wishes at the drop of a hat.

Then Scully turns to him, wanting to explain right away “it’s not you, I got hurt” and he responds perfectly adequately. With compassion, comforting her immediately with his words and his hands. But while he does this his mind is visibly completely detached. He’s gone from anticipatory terror to crushing fear and disappointment to relief and nervousness in the space of about four seconds, and he’s just standing there still trying to process what just happened, holding on to her physically for a source of stability.

And he doesn’t even get the chance to regain his footing, because before he knows it she’s losing consciousness and telling him in exact medical terms exactly what’s wrong because she’s a queen and a badass and a genius and I’m so sorry this is happening to you girl

And then of course she almost dies and he gets shot in the face so….. yeah

Basically! All this to say I’m completely normal about them and about this and nothing at all of note happens in these scenes

[isak-dot-gov]

Hi! Can you do a fix like the one you did ‘lie to girls’ but instead can the song be ‘taste’ and can it be Nika Mühl x reader

Taste

Pairing: Nika Mühl x Singer!Reader

Word count: 1609

My Masterlist :)

.....................................

Nika sat on the couch, scrolling through social media when a notification popped up.

Taste, the latest single by Y/N, out now! 

The excitement of seeing her girlfriend's new song sent a thrill through her. Without hesitation, she clicked the link to the music video and settled in, eager to support you, as she always did. You had been working so hard on this project, and Nika had always been your biggest fan.

The song started off beautifully, the guitar accompanied by your smooth, honeyed voice. Nika felt a rush of pride as she watched you in the music video, the screen showcasing your talent, beauty, and charisma. But as the video progressed, her stomach tightened.

There was a scene where you're with another girl, and Nika told herself it was just acting. But then—there it was.

A kiss. 

Not just a peck either, but a lingering, passionate kiss filled with the chemistry that made it look way too real. Nika froze, her chest tightening painfully. A wave of jealousy crashed over her, threatening to drown her in a mix of hurt and confusion. She wasn’t prepared for that. 

Why hadn’t you told her about this? Why hadn’t you warned her? Now it was all over the internet, and Nika couldn’t escape it—people were already sharing clips of the kiss, tagging her in posts, fans speculating about her reaction. She slammed her laptop shut, her heart pounding. A flood of emotions—anger, hurt, jealousy—surged through her. 

She couldn't handle it.

Instead of talking to you, she withdrew. Over the next few days, Nika became more and more distant, avoiding your texts and dodging your calls, which was unlike her. Normally, she’d be texting nonstop or waiting for you after your studio sessions. But now, every time she thought about the video, about that scene, her stomach turned.

You, of course, noticed immediately. Your calls with her had grown shorter, and Nika barely responded to your messages. After days of silence, you couldn’t take it anymore. You had to know what was going on.

Later that week, you showed up at Nika’s apartment, determined to get to the bottom of this. She knocked on the door and, after a long pause, Nika finally opened it. Her face was a mixture of surprise and discomfort. 

"Nika, what's going on?" you asked, stepping inside, your eyes filled with concern. "You've been avoiding me for days. Did I do something?"

Nika bit her lip, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. She avoided your gaze, her heart racing. This wasn’t how she imagined confronting her feelings. "I’m fine," she muttered, but you could see right through her.

"No, you’re not," you pressed, stepping closer. "Talk to me. Please."

Nika’s jaw tightened, her eyes finally locking with yours. The hurt was palpable. "Why didn’t you tell me?" she blurted out, voice low but sharp.

You frowned. "Tell you what?"

"The video. That scene," Nika said bitterly. "The kiss. You didn’t think I deserved a heads-up? I had to find out with the rest of the world, and now it’s everywhere. People keep tagging me in clips, like I’m supposed to be okay with watching my girlfriend kiss someone else like that."

Your face softened as understanding dawned on her. "Oh, Nika…" you stepped closer, reaching for her, but Nika flinched, pulling back. That hurt you way more than you expected. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t even think—"

"Exactly," Nika interrupted, her voice shaking with frustration. "You didn’t think about how I’d feel, watching that. You should’ve told me. At least give me a warning."

Your heart sank. "I should have. You’re right, I should’ve told you. But it was just acting. It didn’t mean anything."

"It doesn’t matter," Nika said quietly. "Seeing it, not being prepared for it… it made me feel like you didn’t care how I’d react. Like you didn’t care about how it would make me feel."

You stepped forward, gently placing a hand on Nika’s arm. "I do care, Nika. I care so much. I was just caught up in the project, and I didn’t think. But you mean everything to me. I should’ve talked to you about it first. I’m so sorry, baby."

Nika finally looked at you, eyes softening a little. "It’s hard watching other people think they know more about us than we do. And then seeing you with someone else, even if it’s just acting… it hurts."

You nodded, guilt weighing heavy on her chest. "I promise, from now on, I’ll make sure you know about things like that. I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m leaving you in the dark again."

Nika sighed, finally letting some of the tension go. "Okay. But just… next time, talk to me, alright? I can handle it better if I know."

You smiled softly, stepping closer to her. "I promise."

Nika, after a beat, allowed herself to relax into your arms, the warmth between the two of you replacing the jealousy that had gripped her for days. "I missed you, bebo," Nika whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I missed you too," you murmured, receiving a kiss to your forehead. "And for the record, you're the only one I want to kiss like that."

Nika laughed softly, the sound bringing a sense of relief. "Good. Because that scene was way too convincing."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss her gently. "I’ll save all the convincing for you."

The two of you stayed wrapped up in each other for a while, the tension slowly easing away. Nika could feel her heart rate steadying, the warmth of your body against hers feeling like home. But beneath that warmth lingered a hint of residual hurt. 

"Nika," you said softly, breaking the silence, "I want you to know that I’ll do anything to make this right. You mean so much to me."

Nika nodded but hesitated, her brows furrowing slightly. "I appreciate that, but… what if it happens again? What if there’s another project where I’m not prepared for something like this? I don’t want to keep feeling like this."

Your expression shifted to one of determination. "I get it. And I promise to always give you a heads-up from now on. I’ll even let you be involved in the process if you want. I never want you to feel that way again."

Nika’s heart warmed at the sincerity in your voice. "Really? You’d let me be involved?"

"Of course," you replied earnestly. "You’re not just my girlfriend; you’re my partner in everything. I want you by my side, not just in the good times but through all of it."

Tears prickled at the corners of Nika’s eyes. The jealousy still lingered in her mind, but your words brought a sense of hope. "That means a lot to me."

You took a step back, looking deep into Nika's eyes, searching for any remnants of doubt. "How about we make a deal? For every project I do, I’ll run the concept by you first. I want you to be as involved as you feel comfortable. What do you think?"

Nika considered it, feeling a smile tugging at her lips. "I’d like that. I want to be there for you and support you, but I also need to feel like I’m part of your world, not just an afterthought."

"You are my world, Nika," you said earnestly, cupping Nika's face with her hands. "You always have been."

Nika leaned into your touch, feeling a sense of calm wash over her. "Okay, let’s do it. Let’s face everything together."

"Together," you repeated, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on Nika’s lips. It was gentle at first, but then it deepened, a promise wrapped in affection. The kiss ignited something inside Nika—a reassurance that your love for each other was strong enough to withstand any challenge.

You pulled away, your foreheads resting against each other, and Nika finally allowed herself to breathe a little easier. "I still can’t believe you kissed someone else on-screen," she said teasingly, a smirk playing on her lips.

You chuckled, rolling her eyes. "Trust me, it wasn’t as fun as it looked. You know I only want you."

"Good," Nika said, feigning seriousness. "Because I don’t plan on sharing you."

You laughed, the sound lighting up the room. "Agreed. Now, let’s figure out what we want for dinner. I owe you a date after all this."

As you began to make plans, the tension faded, replaced by laughter and warmth. Nika felt grateful that she could talk about her feelings openly, and it reminded her that love was more than just passion—it was about communication, understanding, and partnership. 

The doorbell rang, interrupting their lighthearted moment. You went to answer it, revealing a delivery person with a bouquet of flowers. The card attached read: "I’m sorry, baby. Love, Y/N." Nika couldn’t help but smile, feeling a surge of affection for her girlfriend

"You didn’t have to do this," Nika said, her voice softening as you brought the flowers over.

You shrugged, a playful smile on your lips. "I wanted to make things right. Plus, I thought we could use some colour in here." 

Nika grinned, feeling her heart swell with love. "You really know how to charm me."

You beamed, leaning in to steal another kiss. "And I plan to keep charming you for a long time."

With your hearts lighter and a renewed sense of connection, you settled in for a cosy night filled with laughter, music, and the sweet taste of love. You both knew that while challenges might come, together, You could face anything.

....................................................

Isak speaks: Ok so I really wanted to write one about the music video, which I'm still obsessed with (it should've been me kissing Jenna Ortega but anywho) and I feel like the person who requested this was more so referring to the actual song's lyrics so I will be writing an alternative version for that one :)

[technicallyaminecraftsimp]

Reblogging yhis because it’s only been a day and I want to watch it again. All the ppl making fanart on here and ig are sooooo valid I can’t stop thinking about this movie

Finally watched Inside Out 2 and honestly I get it guys that was pretty good

[airborneice]

sooo I think this ended up being my tribute art to hilda the series? almost a whole year after the show ended but oh well 🤷‍♀️

if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to ramble about how much the show means to me for a bit -

Soooo I really really love this show. It is so delightful in every way, from the heartwarming and funny writing to the insanely beautiful visuals. You can tell that every aspect of this show was made with so much love and care and it truly has a type of charm to it that I’ve never seen in anything else. I’m really glad it exists and got the run that it did.

While I was drawing this I kept thinking back to a recent quote from Luke Pearson about how iconic to the series that little red cabin in the wilderness is, even though it was only there for a couple of episodes/comics - pretty much everything that happened in the show is because the story moved on from there and Hilda found new settings and characters and her world got so much bigger, but at the end of the day, that place is where it all started.

When I was re-watching season 1 clips to get art references it took me right back to 2018 when the show first aired. I remember often putting on the season 1 soundtrack while I was scanning animations under the rostrum when I was at uni late and re-watching the episodes when I was feeling down and needed a bit of cosyness. I was Going Through It in late 2018 for a number of reasons and this quickly became my comfort show, and that’s probably a part of why I still love it years later - things are way better but it’s just lodged there in my heart now.

And uh…not to get all cliché but…this show really did help point me towards where I am now. While I was at uni I’d study clips of it from time to time to see how the animators achieved what they did and I learned some useful stuff here and there. like..someone’s animation breakdown video on Hilda is what introduced me to the concept of arcs (I was on an animation course so I should’ve known abt arcs already but oh well. better late than never 🫠) and a ton of animation stuff made more sense to me after that. I can look at some of my very old animations and pin-point a principle or a little cheat that I learned from studying Hilda. On top of that, at my uni we focused on hand-drawn animation (on paper first and then. photoshop of all things 😑) so that was the whole scope of my animation knowledge, and I was really fascinated by how 2D rig shows like Hilda even worked.

In the end I got so curious that I took a toonboom course after I graduated and started figuring it out for myself. I didn’t really know what to do with myself in the immediate post-graduation job search hell, but I wanted to learn more skills and Hilda looked like the type of show I wanted to be on more than anything, so I made a point of learning the stuff that might get me there. And learning rig anim was extra fun bc it helped me understand how this show was made and appreciate it even more :) It truly lit up an enthusiasm in me for all the technical behind-the-scenes stuff in cartoons that still keeps me motivated to this day. anddd long story short I’m a 2D rig animator now so I guess it worked out! ngl I think it’s very funny that I stanned Hilda so hard it got me a job on a disney show. how does that even happen. (and I’ve even had the honour of working with some of the people who made Hilda so in a way it feels like it’s all come full-circle now :) )

And obviously, it’s been really fun being in the fandom with everyone and being insane together. It’s wild that it’s been 6 years of that. I’m glad for the cool people I met and all those fun times. I’m really glad I got to be a part of that.

Soo yeah!! lovely show. thank you

[rhiannonsknife]

oh i am OBSESSED with that detective!r and rhiannon fic... if you don't mind i have Thoughts about it

it's a little different from what you proposed but detective!r who doesn't know rhiannon but rhiannon knows you... she always comes back to the scene of the crime and lately she's been noticing this pesky little detective sticking your nose where you don't belong

so, she does some research. and by god, she's obsessed with you

she's stopped killing people for her own personal reasons - she's completely consumed with killing to see your reaction, the way you curse out the killer under your breath every time you see a new body

when she starts writing your name in blood at the scene, you know that you're in far too deep to go back

to make it even better, you've tried interrogating her. she was one of your most pleasant witnesses and she even offered to take you out to get coffee. the whole time you were there with her, she was so sweet and so kind, offering to pay for both of your orders. she couldn't have anything to do with it; she was just an innocent girl who was caught in the crosshairs of this gruesome serial killer. right? right?

need her so effing bad UGHHH -🪐

— warnings: canon typical violence/dark content. obsessive!rhiannon & possessive!rhiannon. gn!reader. some suggestive content. didn’t beta read (as always).

— a/n: this ask had me thinking omfg.

rhiannon who gets obsessed with you the moment she first sees you.

it all starts the moment she first sees you at the scene of her latest kill. she tends to linger, to watch from afar to see how the investigation is coming along. it’s not like people tend to pay attention to rhiannon’s presence anyway, so she’s comfortable to stay and see what’ll happen. you’re different from the other detectives, she instantly senses that. and, oh, how she hates it -at first. you’re clearly underestimated by your colleagues, despite the fact that you’re much better and smarter than all of them combined. you catch details others are unaware of until you point them out with an intensity rhiannon hadn’t expected. for the first time ever, she feels a thrill from something other than killing.

that night, she spends hours researching all that she can find out about you.

sprawled out on her couch, rhiannon spends hours combing through your social media, any public records, and every small mention of your life she can find online. by the end of it, she knows your favorite coffee shop, the route you take to work, and even the way you laugh, thanks to an obscure interview clip she found buried online. she imagines what it would be like to meet you in a “normal” setting. just two strangers talking over coffee. she imagines all sorts of scenarios, picturing countless ways of how she could get you to notice her. but that’s not enough. she needs more.

rhiannon who starts killing for you.

before she 'met' you, she'd been killing for her own satisfaction the most of all: murdering people who wronged her, people who continue to underestimate her, who pretend like she's not there at all 90% of the time. that is until she meets you. once she has gathered enough information about you and has learned that you are the one who's taking over the investigation of her murder case, she makes it her mission for you to see her. she's consumed by the idea of murdering for you.

obviously, you can't figure out that it's her. but she can still very much get your attention:

when you start to find your name scrawled in blood at multiple crime scenes, your stomach twists. you don’t know if it’s taunting or a bizarre kind of flirtation, but you can’t shake the feeling that this killer has an extremely personal fixation on you. rhiannon finds a sick satisfaction in knowing that she’s the only one who truly understands you. and that soon, you’ll understand her, too.

rhiannon, whose obsession only gets worse.

she starts following you around, whether it's by walking after you at a safe distance or by driving her dad's truck. only being in your presence thrills her. she can't think of anything that's not the next kill and what she can leave behind for you at the crime scene this time. after a while, you start to receive anonymous letters at your home. they’re handwritten, sweet, and yet filled with hints that leave a chill down your spine: each one contains personal details only someone very close (or very obsessed) would know. you start to dread going home alone each night, wondering if the killer is watching even then.

and, still, you're determined to catch this killer.

it's almost like you're just as obsessed with solving this case: you work relentlessly and stay in for much longer than anyone would ever know, sometimes running on no sleep at all just to try and connect the dots that are scattered all across your hometown in from of bloody crime scenes. once, while working late, you glance up from your desk to find somebody outside the station, watching through the window. it's just a silhouette that waves and, before you can react, turns and disappears into the shadows.

she makes watching you from afar a habit she can't seem to shake off:

hidden in plain sight, she watches you work a scene, observing your expressions as you piece together clues she’s laid just for you. the way you curse under your breath or tense at a particularly dark detail excites her; it’s like she’s guiding you through a personal maze, she’s drawing you closer with every carefully crafted move.

rhiannon, who even goes as far as to leave gifts for you right at your doorstep.

they’re seemingly innocent items: flowers, trinkets, chocolates...always with notes like “you looked tired today” or “thought you’d like this.” but you know better. there’s nothing innocent about these gestures; they’re reminders that she’s closer than you think. in one of her letters, she writes: “every kill is for you.” the revelation is twisted, sick even, but the obsessive way she describes her admiration for you leaves you feeling trapped in her gaze. you start to wonder if this chase will end only when she’s taken everything from you. or if you’ll end up her final victim.

at this rate, she catches feelings for you before she even knows what's happening to her:

she follows you on a night out, intrigued by how you relax away from work. when you laugh with friends, she feels a strange jealousy toward anyone who’s close to you. to rhiannon, this outing feels like an unofficial date, watching you from a corner as if she’s already a part of your life. later, she imagines herself sitting beside you, whispering her secrets in your ear, knowing she could charm you if given the chance.

rhiannon, whose obsession which was originally supposed to be a cat-and-mouse game that she was in control over, turns into a sense of possessiveness.

alone in her room, she whispers your name just to hear the sound of it aloud. she fantasizes about how you’d react if you knew she’d been studying you so closely if you knew that every kill from here on out was a twisted attempt to draw you closer. rhiannon, who somehow steals something from you, whether it is by sneaking into your home whilst you're out or by reaching into your purse in passing. either way, she uses it, later that same night, when she's home alone and dares to touch herself to the thought of you. she finds herself almost longing for you to figure it out, to see her completely. she’s begun to view each kill as a love letter, a message only you can fully understand, and in some dark corner of her mind, she starts to believe you might actually feel the same way.

but even that is not enough for her. she wants you to know her. to look at her, without the slightest clue who's really in front of you.

so, rhiannon plays the role of the clueless witness: after a particularly grisly scene, she shows up at the station, pretending to have seen something, and strikes up a surprisingly casual conversation with you. she even convinces you to take a break for coffee: she offers to buy, her voice light and friendly, as if she’s not the very person keeping you up at night.

rhiannon, who starts accidentally running into you.

she begins appearing in unexpected places: your favorite bookstore, the cafe near your precinct, and even outside the gym. she plays it off like coincidence, but you can’t shake the feeling she’s watching you. every “chance” encounter leaves you more on edge, especially as her excuses get flimsier, her curiosity too intense for a stranger. her gaze lingers just a bit too long, and she throws out casual details she should never know about you. but then again, there's no way this innocent woman could ever be responsible for all these gruesome crimes, right...?

you brush off these suspicions, not really believing that rhiannon could be capable of these murders.

and still, during another coffee date (which become a habit between the two of you) she drops a casual line, mentioning a detail about your personal life you never told her: maybe the nickname your family used or an obscure detail about your childhood. when you press her about it, she insists that she read it somewhere or “just remembered” from one of your conversations. but her gaze lingers, enjoying how much she’s unsettling you.

rhiannon, who starts acting possessive over you without really noticing it herself.

out in public, she lets her fingers brush against yours. she’ll throw an arm around you casually, especially when she notices other people noticing. to rhiannon, it’s a game of establishing her claim, marking her territory.

after some time, she finally invites you to her place, claiming she wants to “return the favor” of all your coffee dates.

when you arrive, the atmosphere is too perfect, too staged, with dim lighting and chillingly specific music playing softly. every word she says feels more like a veiled confession, every look a taunt as she watches you grapple with the tension between attraction and horror. it’s not until you see a framed newspaper clipping of one of her murders in the hall that you realize she wanted you here for more than a simple dinner...

[no-nameno-face]

Taken Care Of Audio (read story first)

TAKEN CARE OF (WITH AUDIO)

Pairing: Reader x Ellie Williams

Summary: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, minors do not interact. You will be blocked. Ellies had a long, hard day on patrol, and after stitching her up she requests some TLC. 

Warnings: Smut heavy, sub!reader, dom!ellie, face riding (E!receiving), oral (E!receiving), masturbation (R!), cum eating (kinda)? Praise kink, minor blood kink, pain kink, stitches, boob play (E!receiving), first time smut writing, did not proof read (but probably should have...)

Author's Notes: Soooo I've never written smut before, lmfao. I made the audio first, for my thirsty Ellie girls on tiktok but this audio got a bit… out of hand (wayyy too graphic) so I didn't want to post it on there. I had a whole scenario in mind with the audio so I figured I might as well write it down and share it here. I am also very obsessed with Ellie receiving so I subconsciously brought that to life while editing the audio. I know it's not great, but it was very fun to make and write soo.. Please be nice to me, I'm sensitive. Lol. (I put in the story when the audio clip applies, the story starts with context) I’d like to improve my writing cause this was a good time so any advice would be appreciated!!

I hear the door downstairs creak open and shut, a bit louder than normal. I can track the footsteps marching to the stairs and I listen with a small smile as the thuds make their way up. I hear soft profanities getting closer. Ellie is home. 

Sitting on our bed I turn my head right in time to see the door open, grinning at her as she walks in. She has that crease in her brow that I recognize as her tell-tell sign that she had a shit day. She shoots me a sly glance before looking away to take her flannel off leaving her in a white tank, dirty and disheveled she pulls it over her head. 

My eyes trace down her back, scarred and bruised. Muscular, and toned. Heart flutters, and a familiar heat builds. It's crazy how after all these years just seeing her still triggers these primal feelings. She just does something to me. She always has. My eyes stop wondering when I see a deep fresh cut following the curve of her hip. 

“Shit els? What happened” I get up and pace towards her keeping my eyes on the wound. 

She bends over pulling her shoes off, losing her balance a bit and mumbling a frustrated “fuck” under her breath. Now behind her, I prod at the gash and she swears again. I can feel her flinch. 

“I'll go get the stitches, sit down.” I say pulling her to the bed. She hits the bed with a thud and leans her elbows onto her knees.Shaking her head “it's not that bad babe, im fine.” She looks up at me and gives a half-hearted smile.

“I know you're fine,” I say, giving her a gentle look “I just don't want it to get infected, okay?” 

“Anything you say doc” she says with a smirk before turning to address the cut herself. She touches it lightly and winces when her fingers make contact. I head to the bathroom across the hall from our room and grab the small white kit from the medicine cabinet, and make my way back to our room. She's still sitting at the end of the bed, now rolling her neck side to side. 

I plop on the bed behind her, “okay, are you gonna tell me what happened now?” trying to distract her as I begin stitching the gash closed. Her back flexes and I hear her sharp intake of breath. Heart flutters. 

“Fucking stalkers. I hate those things” she says, shaking her head and looking up to the ceiling. “I was on patrol,”

“With Jesse right?”

“Don't remind me,” she says with a scoff that is cut off by another huff as I add a new stitch. Damn. Every breath in sync with the sutures releases a morbid butterfly into the pit of my stomach.  “Yeah, I was on patrol with jesse. We were checking out that one restaurant by the lodge, and I found an entrance to the attic. That place has been cleared out for like forever, so I went up on my own and got jumped by a stalker.” she shrugged her shoulders. “Fucking thing nailed me into an old piece of plywood. Piece of shit.” I tie her last stitch off, and give her a gentle pat to tell her she was finished. I got up and made my way to the bathroom to put the kit back.

I turned in the doorway on my way out, “Maybe you should’ve been more careful.” She swings her head at me with squinted eyes. I shrug and turn, heading to the bathroom “just saying!” 

“Fuck off” she calls back, I lightly laugh.

Back in the bedroom, she's lying on her stomach, head resting on her hands. “And then of course Jesse had to give me a fucking lecture about not going anywhere on my own, team communication! All that bullshit.” She turns onto her side propping herself up with one arm, “I’m just so fucking over it.” she looked absolutely exasperated. Oh how I love her dramatics. I sit facing her and her free hand falls to my hip. She looks at her hand, then up to me. Those green eyes, familiar and warm. Home. I smile at her. 

“That sucks. I'm sorry. I mean Jesse should know by now, there's no getting through that thick skull of yours. What's a lecture gonna do?” I smirk at her.

“Ouch.” she sneers at me, one brow up. She lets out a quiet laugh, and looks back down to her hand on my waist. “Thanks for stitching me up babe.”

“You know I don't mind.” I say casually. She smiles, an inside joke painting a picture on the walls of her thoughts. 

“So weird that you're into that.” she chuckles

“I'm not into that.. I just..” her eyes darted to mine. My heart pounded in my ears. She's right, but it was just so blunt. “There's just something about a strong woman who needs my help.” I say fawning innocent eyes, partially joking, but subconsciously egging her on. She sees right through me.  

She raises her eyebrows, taking her hand from my hip and pushing herself up so she's sitting opposite of me. She smiles, “so stupid.” her eyes drift down to my lips, then back to me. I feel red flush my cheeks. Her gaze darkens slightly, noticing. She tilts her head looking at me. “I mean it's okay that you are, i'm not kink shaming” Her hand meets my thigh, electric, and she gives me a sideways smile. I gape at her, trying to make light of the tension building between us.

“So you like taking care of strong women? Yeah?” she says quietly with a smile in her voice as her eyes trace down my body to her hand. Her thumb started circling the sensitive skin of my inner thigh. “Funny, you're normally the one that begs to be'' she looks up at me teasingly “taken care of.” Fuck. I feel heat pool in my belly. My knees squeeze together by their own volition. She feels it and her teasing gaze turns to something else as her eyes shift to them. She bites her lip subtly. This woman. 

Her hand moves to the button of her pants, “well i did have a hard day,” she undoes it and glances at me with an evil smile. “And since you enjoy taking care of strong women” she pulled on her zipper. “Mind doing me a favor?”

Jesus Christ.

“What do you have in mind?” I say, wide eyed. I try to sound cool but my voice comes out hungry. Starved. I watch the switch flip in Ellie's eyes at my words. 

“Take your shirt off.” she demanded with raised brows, and before I could think I was pulling her baggy shirt I was lounging in over my head. I'm left sitting there topless, with nothing but my black underwear on. She rolled famished eyes over my bare skin for what seemed like an eternity. Her eyes settled back on mine. I fidgeted my hands in my lap, feeling suddenly too vulnerable. She leans in slowly without breaking eye contact and my breath catches. Inches from me she whispers “Take off my pants.” 

Immediately I am in her service, at her beck and call. She knows all she has to do is ask. I'll do anything for her. She leans back onto her hands and lifts her hips slightly as I peel her jeans down the soft, yet lean, curves of her hips. Down her thighs, over her knees, and then calves, my eyes tracing every line of her legs. I toss them on the floor, and look back up to her awaiting further instruction. Her eyes are smiling with a dark inflection. 

“Lay down.” I looked at her confused, thinking I was the one taking care of her. Her tone was not a question however, so I obliged. I centered myself on the bed and pulled the nearest pillow under my head, keeping my eyes on her as she stood up and took her white boxers off. My breath caught in my throat at the sight of her. Pretty, untamed. My knees squeeze, I don't try to hide it. She looks at them, and scans back up to my eyes. She stares into me as she walks around the bed to my side. I bite at my nail anxiously. 

“I want you to take care of me, make me feel good m’kay? Can you do that for me?” she asks with a small smile. I nod.

She looks over me once again (START OF AUDIO) “fuck, you look so pretty.” She climbs onto the bed, looking at me like prey to a predator. “Be a good girl for me” she whispers, as she swings one of her legs over my head. Shit, I get it now. Her pussy meets my lips and she lets out a soft “fuck” at my eager mouth. My arms wrap around her thighs, hands gripping soft flesh. She starts to move, pleasuring herself on my tongue. She moans softly, “needed this” she says desperately as her eyes drift close and her head drifts to the ceiling. Her taste envelopes me, her wetness growing by the second with the addition of my saliva wetting her folds. 

“Okay,” she moans, picking up her pace, grinding against my face. She looks down at me, before her eyes dart shut “There!”  I feel her body pulse at the peak of her thrusts and I know she's found her spot. Her bud flicking roughly over my tongue. “Oh shit.. There. There we go” she continues at her pace for a moment. Her pulsing getting stronger. Her eyes snap open and peer at me “Jesus, you feel so good.” she says as her head rolls back and her eyes closed again. She continues her rhythm as I pull my arm from under her leg and skim my hand up her body “okay” she says lost in the sensation. My palm cups her right breast and I squeeze impatiently, then rub a loving thumb over her nipple, circling it. “Damn… yeah” she sighs then her hand meets mine and squeezes the sensitive flesh with me “Baby just like that.” she bites her lip with a whispered “fuck” as she rides my face. 

Her moans and the graphic sound of her wetness fill the room. I reach my other hand down into my underwear and begin circling my own clit firmly, unable to avoid the tension building within my own body. “Fuck me.” she whines into the air, before looking down to me with adoring eyes, “that's my good girl.” her eyes tighten, “lets go” she whispers as she begins to grind harder and faster into my mouth. “Come on.” My hand on my core meets her pace. “Good. There. Okay. There we go” I love how she talks mindlessly when we fuck. Her voice is enough to bring me closer to my own apex. I begin moaning beneath her, unable to contain my own pleasure. She looks down at me “shhhh shh shh shh” she hushes as she pulls my hand from my aching clit before I can reach my undoing. I whimper in disappointment as she pulls my arm from beneath her leg and takes my other one from her chest before pinning them above my head in her strong hands, deepening her weight into my face. “Shut up” she corrects. 

Her rhythm continues and I can tell the new pressure she's added is building her quickly. “God damn.” she says as her eyes squeeze shut. “Okay” That same wrinkle between her eyes deepens again, this time out of pleasure. She rides harder pushing the back of my head further into the pillow. Her moans grow louder, more animalistic. her hands on my wrists tighten to the point that I am sure that there will be a mark. “Holy fuck” she gasps. She pushes hard against me and I can feel the pulse intensify, her sounds grow and grow until suddenly her hands let go of my wrists and bury deep into my hair, pushing me even further into her just at the right time when her head falls back in quiet breathy moans, she rides out her high on my mouth. Her legs shaking and clit pounding as I suck against it,  encouraging her. Tasting her. Worshiping her. She lets out a whimpering breath at the end of her climax and looks down at me beneath her. “Oh my god babe.” She slowly lifts off of my face and I see her flinch slightly at the air touching her sensitivity. She takes a breath before looking at me with a lazy smile.

 “All right. Your turn.”

[ww2yaoi]

Unfortunately, I don’t have anything official to post for @webgottweek because I’ve been sick (and unprepared), but here’s a scene from my still yet untitled webgott wip for the day 6 prompt: haircut. Enjoy!

Joe makes good on his offer to cut David’s hair a few days later. They take their leave after dinner while most of the guys are downstairs playing cards. Joe drags David’s desk chair from their room into the bathroom and sets it up in front of the sink. He lays out his comb and scissors as David watches from the doorway with his arms crossed, not entirely thrilled to be parting with his mop. He only agreed because Joe seemed so adamant about doing something nice for him, and the last thing David wants is to deny him the chance to feel useful, especially now that the war is over and most of the company is stuck in limbo.

“Not too short, okay?” David says as Joe pushes him down into the chair.

“Jesus Christ, Web,” Joe says, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “All the officers trust me with their hair, why can’t you?”

“Yeah, right, like you’d give Captain Speirs a bad haircut,” David says as Joe wraps a towel around his neck. “You know I won’t be able to do anything about it.”

“Would you shut up? I’m not going to give you a bad haircut. I wouldn’t risk my reputation like that.” Joe takes a drag of his cigarette then ashes it in a tray on the back of the toilet. “Now lean back.”

David huffs, but does as he’s told, tipping his head back into the sink. Joe runs the lukewarm water, drenches David’s head, then lathers his hair with soap. Admittedly, it feels good. The last time David washed his hair was over a week ago, seeing as their billet has limited showers and insufficient hot water to facilitate so many men bathing daily. Usually, David just jumps in the lake and lets it wash away the sweat and grime from drills and training exercises. He’ll probably never be as dirty as he was in Normandy or Holland ever again, and he thanks God for that.

Joe massages his fingers into David’s scalp and David nearly groans. Joe must see the contentment on David’s face because he smirks.

“Feels good, right?”

“Yes,” David says flatly.

Joe runs his fingers through David’s hair from root to tip, then rinses out the soap. The act is oddly intimate, Joe hovering over him, touching his head and maneuvering it from side to side, using his hands so deftly. David is completely at his mercy. He wonders if Joe washes the hair of every man that asks him for a trim, if the officers get to see Joe like this, get to feel his fingers on their scalps. David suddenly feels jealous, possessive, but he knows the feeling makes no sense, that Joe is just doing a job for extra pocket money.

Joe uses a spare towel to ring most of the water out of David’s hair, then beckons him to stand up. He moves the chair away from the sink so he has enough room to walk around it, then gets David to sit back down again. He proceeds to comb David’s hair, gently working out the knots and parting it where the strands naturally fall.

“Not too short,” David reminds Joe as he grabs his scissors.

“Don’t be a baby,” Joe says. “I’m only taking an inch off.”

David listens to the snip, snip, snip of the scissors as Joe begins cutting his hair, starting at the back, and the sound is unexpectedly relaxing, almost enough to raise goosebumps on his arms. He watches as the trimmings fall to the floor like dark feathers, interrupting the white tiles below. Joe alternates between combing his hair, measuring the sections with his fingers, and trimming them down. He works quickly and quietly, gently ushering David’s head back and forth and to the side wherever he needs it to go.

“Where did you learn how to do this?” David asks.

“My dad was a barber,” Joe explains as he moves around the chair to face David and work on the front ends of his hair. “I used to help him at the shop on weekends, sweeping up clippings, answering the phone, cleaning windows, that sort of thing. I would watch him and learned that way until eventually he let me practice on him, with mixed results.”

Joe smiles, seemingly at the memory. David likes listening to Joe talk about his family. His voice has a softer quality to it when he does it. David probably sounds the opposite when discussing his parents or his siblings. Usually when he speaks of them, he’s pissed off about something they said or did.

“Then when I dropped out of school as a teenager I would do odd jobs, including cutting hair,” Joe continues. “I got pretty good at it.”

“Wait, you dropped out of school?” David asks.

He tries not to sound too dismayed, but his face must betray him. Joe gives him a skeptical look.

“Does that offend your very being, Harvard?”

“No,” David insists. “I’m just shocked, is all. You’re so—”

The word ‘smart’ dries up in David’s mouth. Joe is looking right at him as he measures the front pieces of his hair to ensure the length is even. His eyebrows are raised.

“I just didn’t expect it,” David says.

“Yeah, well, there were a lot of mouths to feed in my house growing up,” Joe says. “I would’ve rathered my sisters stay in school than me.” Joe makes a few more cuts around David’s head. “What does your dad do?”

“Uh, he’s a businessman,” David says.

“Yeah? That’s vague. What kind of businessman?”

“I don’t know.” David tries to stifle the resentment in his voice. “He’s the vice president of a trade company. It’s one of those jobs where half of his time is spent going out to lunch.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal,” Joe says, setting down his scissors.

“It’s a nothing kind of job,” David admits. “At least cutting hair you’re doing something. Dealing with a bunch of sales projections and ass-kissers all day doesn’t do anyone any good, unless you’re some self-satisfied prick in a suit.”

Joe snickers. “Jesus, Web. What are you, a Stalinist?”

“No, I just think there are better things to do with your life.”

Joe grabs a towel and runs it over David’s hair to finish drying it. “So what do you want to do with your life? If we ever get out of here?”

“I don’t know,” David says. “Write.”

“Yeah? Sounds nice.”

Joe tosses the towel aside and grabs a bottle of something off the back of the toilet.

“What is that?” David asks.

“Hair oil,” Joe says.

“You’ve been carting hair oil around war-torn Europe?”

Joe smirks. “Only the best for my customers.”

He unscrews the cap, dabs some into the center of his palm, sets the bottle aside, then warms the oil up in his hands. It smells strong and musky, and David is reminded of the other night, of the oil that coated his cock and Joe’s fingers and his thighs. They have yet to fuck like that again. Their days have been so filled with training and drills that they’re both too exhausted by night’s end to do anything but fall asleep in the same bed.

At the same time, David thinks there must be some other reason. It must be because when they fucked on David’s birthday, it was his first time with a man. Admitting that must have put Joe off, made him believe he’ll turn out to be some lovelorn kid who will just grow attached. Or maybe, Joe is waiting for him to make the next move. Maybe Joe thinks he’s too chickenshit to do it.

Joe stoops down to eye level and passes his hands through David’s new haircut, adjusting a strand here and a strand there. David just stares at Joe as he focuses intently on his styling, combing David’s curls back with his fingers, following the waves as they naturally form. He brushes a stray hair behind David’s ear then smiles.

“Can I see it?” David asks.

“Not yet.” Joe reaches out and runs his thumb along David’s jaw. “Do you want me to shave you? You’re looking pretty stubbly.”

“I shaved this morning,” David says.

“Come on, Web. You’re the kind of guy that gets five o’clock shadow at noon,” Joe says. “Your haircut won’t look as good if I don’t shave you.”

“I can handle you with scissors around my head but I don’t know how I feel about you wielding a razor near my throat,” David deadpans.

“Oh, please. I’m a professional.” Joe straightens. “Let me get my shaving kit.”

He opens the bathroom door and slips out into the hallway. David is tempted to look at himself in the mirror while Joe is gone but unfortunately agrees that the end product will look better if he shaves. Joe returns a minute later anyway. He unrolls his kit on the toilet lid, takes the shaving brush, soaps it up and lathers the lower half of David’s face. Joe is even closer now than he was when he was cutting David’s hair, and he’s looking at him, really looking at him.

“You’re getting tan,” Joe says as he reaches for his razor.

“I like the sun,” David replies.

“Why the hell do you live on the upper East Coast then?”

David shrugs. “Victim of circumstance.”

Joe chuckles. He wipes down the blade of the straight razor with a towel.

“I’ve always wanted to move somewhere warm,” David confesses. “Like Florida or California.”

Joe’s eyes flicker at that. The change in his expression is nearly imperceptible, but something like curiosity, or maybe even recognition, passes over his face. It fades in an instant, then Joe is hovering the razor above David’s cheekbone.

“Okay, don’t move, unless you want me to cut you.”

David sits as still as possible as Joe glides the razor over his cheeks and down the immediate curve of his neck, pulling his skin taut with his thumb, then wiping the soap and stubble off the blade with the towel. If David was at Joe’s mercy before, he’s completely vulnerable now. Their conversation gets put on hold as Joe works the razor over David’s skin. His hands are very steady, which is at least reassuring. As far as David can tell, Joe has always had steady hands, along with an obedient trigger finger. At least, obedient to himself. He’s a much better shot than David ever was, and David can understand why. He’s precise.

Joe finishes shaving David with one last swipe over the ball of his jaw, and David feels like he can breathe full and deep again. Joe goes to the sink to wet the towel, then returns to wipe the remaining soap from David’s cheeks.

“Wait,” Joe says. He removes the other towel from David’s shoulders and fixes his hair one more time. “Okay, you can look now.”

David gets up from the chair and turns to face the mirror. His reflection greets him like a stranger he once saw on the street but swears he’s met before in a dream. He recognizes himself, obviously, but he looks more youthful, yet without being young somehow. He’s molted his old skin, the skin that became mottled and toughened by the war, and settled into a new one. He has colour in his cheeks for once, which look impossibly smooth, and his hair is maybe the most well-groomed he’s ever seen it, at least since the war started. Shorter, yes, but shiny and expertly coiffed into a wave off his forehead. David stares at himself. He feels clean, fresh, but most of all, he feels meticulously cared for.

“Well, do you like it?” Joe asks.

“Yeah, Joe, I do,” David says, turning to him and smiling. “I really like it. Thank you.”

Joe returns his grin and winks. “I knew you would, you nonbeliever,” he says. “You look like Carey fucking Grant.”

David laughs. “Do I?”

“Well, not really, but your hair does.” Joe looks down at all the clippings on the floor. “I need to find a broom.”

“I think there’s a broom closet in the hallway,” David says. “I’ll go check.”

He slips out of the bathroom and walks down to the end of the hall, opening a thin door beside the stairs. Thankfully, there’s a broom and dustpan inside, propped up against the wall. David grabs them both just as footsteps echo up the stairwell. Luz appears at the top, an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth.

“Ayy, Web. Looking spiffy,” he says. “What is this, the fucking Ritz?”

“Joe cut my hair,” David explains, fighting back a smile.

“Yeah, I can see that. Lookin’ good, kid.” Luz claps him on the shoulder. “I’ll have to get him to do me next.”

Luz disappears into his room a few doors over and David returns to the bathroom. Joe is sitting on the toilet lid and smoking the cigarette he ashed earlier. They clean up, collecting the clippings from the floor and throwing them in the dustbin. Joe gathers his tools and his shaving kit and they head back to their room, David carrying the chair.

David returns it to his desk then flops down on the bed, suddenly feeling very tired. He’s afraid to ruin his hair, but his head is too heavy to keep off the pillow. He closes his eyes and a few minutes later, he feels the mattress sink as Joe lies down beside him.

David cracks open an eye and sees that Joe is facing his direction, his head resting on the adjacent pillow, just looking at him in the lamplight.

“Inspecting your handiwork?” David asks.

Joe nods. “A little bit.”

“I feel like we should be going out somewhere,” David muses. “To a jazz club or something.”

“You like jazz clubs?”

“Not particularly. I just feel like it’s a waste. If I fall asleep I’m going to mess up my hair, and I’ll have to shave again in the morning.”

“Don’t be vain, Web,” Joe says.

“It’s not vanity. I want people to see your work.”

Joe laughs through his nose. “Well, I see it.”

“You and Luz.”

“Luz?”

“He saw me in the hallway. He said I looked spiffy.”

“And that ain’t enough for you?”

“Shut up.”

A beat passes, then Joe reaches out and strokes David’s cheek, his thumb tracing the smooth, clean-shaven line of his jaw back and forth, back and forth.

“My sisters would be obsessed with you.”

David smirks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, they would want to have your babies,” Joe says. “Except that you’re a goy.”

“Ugh.” David makes a face. “I don’t want to think about your sisters that way.”

Joe laughs and the sound cuts through the quiet. David ignores him, too disturbed by the concept. He nuzzles further into Joe’s warm palm, feeling himself being pulled towards sleep. He wants to kiss Joe, but he doubts he has the energy to start anything right now. Instead, he shuts his eyes, his body growing heavier and heavier. Joe’s hand migrates to his hair, fixing it even as he verges on unconsciousness. He brushes a loose strand from David’s forehead, smoothes his sideburns down with his fingertips. David is nearly asleep when he hears it.

“Gut aussehend,” Joe mutters. “If only they knew, Web. If only they knew.”

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 18

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Walking after having my ride request rejected four times was a humiliation I didn’t expect to face at this point in my life. With every step, the cold wind seemed to mock me, cutting my face as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my hoodie, trying to ignore the irritating feeling that things couldn’t get any worse.

Of course, that was a lie.

Thanks to the scene she made outside the studio yesterday, I was more screwed than ever. Barely awake this morning, I’d already lost count of the calls from Gerard, all laced with the same desperate tone. And as if that wasn’t enough, my name was popping up on corners of the internet I didn’t even know existed, tied to the most absurd stories.

"Bad Omens' vocalist freaks out after seeing ex with a new girlfriend." That was the most creative headline so far. It didn’t matter how hard I tried to stay out of anything that could draw attention to me on social media; it was unbearable living with every step of mine under scrutiny—through a photo, a video, or some wildly out-of-context clip. I had to think about everything: what to wear, how to talk, even how people might interpret my lip movements.

Every tiny detail was blown out of proportion.

And there was no escaping it when I was stuck next to a walking magnet for trouble. She knew exactly how much I hated feeling exposed. And, of course, she made a point of provoking me on purpose.

I adjusted the hood of my hoodie, pulling it further down. That’s when I heard it: female voices behind me. They were far off, but there was a tone of excitement that made me freeze for a second. Taking a deep breath, I tried to look casual and quickened my pace. Maybe it was paranoia, but something about their laughter felt like it was following me.

The voices grew louder. I glanced over my shoulder, and there they were—two girls whispering and looking at me like they’d just won the lottery. Panic rose like a wave. I walked faster, trying to stay calm, but my hands were already clammy inside my pockets.

I don’t know why I thought I could get away. Maybe it was stupid optimism or sheer denial. They started running, and before I knew it, one of them was at my side, gripping my arm tightly enough to make me stop.

“Noah!” she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as if she’d just stumbled upon a unicorn. “We spent all morning waiting for you to walk by! Finally, we got to see you!”

“Wow!” I said, looking up slightly, something about her statement rubbing me the wrong way. “Thanks for the attention, ladies, but I really need to go now.”

“You’re upset about what happened yesterday, aren’t you? If you knew how mad we are at that—”

“Look, I’m really in a hurry,” I cut her off, my tone firmer as I pulled away from her grip.

“Noah, we’re only thinking about your well-being, and it’s clear that it doesn’t involve staying around her! It’s not like Scarlet is a good choice. Maybe it’s better for you to be alone for a while!”

“Exactly!” the other one chimed in. “We’re doing everything we can to make sure she pays for tormenting you, don’t worry! But we also want you to stay away from people like her, and I think it’d be a great idea to kick her out of the band, for example.”

“I agree!” the annoying one continued. “Who knows, maybe then you’ll sing Just Pretend again—it’s my favorite song, and I think it’s unfair you don’t sing it anymore because of her!”

They spoke as if I were a doll on a shelf, with no control over my own actions or feelings. I couldn’t even choose who to date without them turning it into hell from the very start of my relationship. They’d been stalking the person I’ve loved for nine years, blowing every minor mistake out of proportion and turning it into a risk for me.

I couldn’t even choose the damn song I wanted to sing.

Forcing a smile, I tried not to look as uncomfortable as I felt. “I’m genuinely concerned about how little you have to do. This is the last time I’ll warn you to stop meddling in my personal life. And I stopped singing that song because I wanted to!”

“Okay, okay!” one of them raised her hands as if surrendering. “But before you go, could you take a picture with us?”

“Oh, please, just one photo! It’ll be quick, I promise!”

“I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures today, sorry.”

She already had her phone in hand before I could even finish answering. The other girl joined her, giddy, saying something about posting it online. The discomfort slowly wrapped itself into a sharp pain stabbing through my chest, tightening like a thin rope around me.

All I wanted was to disappear.

“I just said I’m not feeling comfortable taking pictures! WHAT THE HELL!” I exploded, and they froze, phones in hand.

Each step felt heavier than the last. It was as if the air around me had turned denser, suffocating. My chest began to tighten, and the familiar sensation of anxiety crept to the surface, slow and cruel. At first, I tried to ignore it. I took a deep breath, adjusted my hood, fiddled with my pockets—anything to distract my mind. But nothing seemed to work. My heart beat like an off-rhythm drum, and I could feel a thin layer of sweat accumulating on my forehead, despite the biting cold.

The streets around me blurred, dissolving into unrecognizable smudges. The voices of pedestrians melded together, turning into an unbearable background noise. I tried convincing myself it was all in my head, that I just needed to reach my destination, and everything would be fine.

But the record label building seemed further and further away, even though I knew it was just a few blocks ahead. My lungs started to burn, unable to take in enough air. My hands trembled inside my pockets, and I caught myself wishing I’d accepted the girls’ help, even though I knew how absurd that was.

When I finally saw the entrance to the building, a fleeting wave of relief washed over me, only to be replaced by a nauseating sensation. My legs felt like they were giving out with each step, and sweat now trickled down the back of my neck.

I stumbled into the lobby, barely recognizing the faces around me. Gerard was there, likely waiting for me, but his expression shifted the moment he saw me.

“Noah, are you okay?” he asked, but his voice sounded distant, like he was speaking underwater.

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, I felt my body weaken. The world around me began to spin, and my vision darkened at the edges. Before I could comprehend what was happening, my legs gave out completely, and everything went black.

“Don’t think this pathetic scene, pretending you’re having some sort of breakdown, is going to save you from our conversation!”

Opening my eyes felt like waking up in hell. My head throbbed as if a drum was being pounded inside it, and the first thing I saw was Gerard’s furious face, so close it looked like he was about to explode. All he needed was to start breathing fire.

I was lying on the couch in his office, but I had no idea how I’d gotten there. All I remembered was the moment the world darkened and collapsed around me.

“I think I had a panic attack,” I muttered, pressing the bridge of my nose as a groan escaped my lips.

“Don’t start with your nonsense now!” Gerard snapped, stepping back and pacing like a caged lion. “Not with a tour about to kick off!”

Watching his frantic pacing only made me dizzier. I closed my eyes again, trying to quiet the incessant buzzing in my head.

“If you’re overwhelmed and think you can’t handle it, then shove some sedatives down your throat!” he continued, his voice dripping with contempt.

“I don’t even take medicine for a headache,” I shot back in a low tone. “You know how I feel about that.”

“Then stop with the theatrics, Noah!” he barked, his voice sharp. “Hold your ground as the frontman and quit acting like a fragile crystal. I can’t stand weak people.”

His words hit like stones being thrown at me. Even so, they still felt distant, like I was hearing them through water. My flesh trembled, a light but uncontrollable vibration.

“You screwed everything up!” he suddenly accused.

“What are you talking about?” I opened my eyes slowly, trying to refocus, and stared at him in confusion as I sat up on the couch.

“The thing I wanted most right now was a way to get rid of her!” he exclaimed, tilting his head as if explaining to an idiot. “And you thought it was a great idea to tie her even closer to the band?”

Gerard crossed his arms, leaning against the table. His expression was hard, brows furrowed, and a lone strand of hair fell over his perfectly aligned face, despite the visible exhaustion. He was young, but his fatigue seemed to age him.

“I don’t just want her off the singles, Noah. I don’t want her anywhere!”

I leaned back on the couch, resting my arms on my thighs as I stared at him. A low chuckle escaped my lips, slowly growing.

“Who said we’re on the same page, sweetheart?” I quipped, tilting my head. “Whatever you do with the band’s administration doesn’t concern me, but she stays.”

Gerard narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenched. "As if you'd gain anything from this. She clearly doesn't want to be around you and does everything to ruin what the band achieves. You're an idiot, Noah. You're willing to destroy everything just to stay glued to that stupid girl?"

"ENOUGH!" I interrupted, my voice booming like thunder. "My motives for this are none of your business. You asked for the singles in exchange for reducing the contract, and I held up my end. Now, you're going to hold up yours."

He stayed silent for a moment, studying me like a predator sizing up its prey. Then he rubbed his jaw, thoughtful.

"I could hold up my end," he began, his tone calmer but dripping with sarcasm. "If you hadn't blindsided me with this move and plastered the band's name across every media outlet since yesterday thanks to your idea. You only did this so you two could ditch the label and sing happily ever after."

He leaned closer, his face filled with contempt. "You betrayed me, Noah. At no point did I agree to keep her in this circus, which is why I brought suggestions for replacements!"

"But you know that without her, I can't function." I crossed my arms, meeting his gaze head-on. "You tolerate everything she does because you know having two is better than none."

"Without her, I can't function..." Gerard repeated mockingly, his voice rising in exaggerated mimicry. He let out a harsh laugh. "Then keep functioning together, because you're still going to finish producing the rest of the album."

"That's not what we agreed on!" My voice came out louder than I intended, full of frustration. "We agreed I'd deliver the singles, and you'd turn that into a short album to close out the band's obligations with the label!"

Negotiating with Gerard was like trying to make a pact with someone trapped in a spiral of mental decay. His deals were as unstable as his patience, always tainted by his tyrannical whims.

"Of course, you're scrambling now, aren't you?" He moved closer, his voice dripping with sarcasm. When he stopped in front of me, he leaned forward, invading my personal space. "You picked a fight with your biggest source of creativity. You're an incompetent mess who hasn't managed to put together a decent chorus in months, and now you're going to be forced to deliver the whole album just to prove you're still worth something!"

The laugh that followed was so sharp it felt like it reverberated directly in my nerves. He pulled back again, leaning against the edge of the table, looking smugly satisfied with the sting of his words.

"Guess what, darling?" Gerard spread his arms theatrically, as if celebrating a victory. "I've flipped the script again. Now you'll have to figure out how to make her work for you. And when she finds out you're using her..."

He paused dramatically, sighing as though genuinely regretful, but his tone betrayed the venom in his words.

"It'll just be another disappointment for her collection, won't it?"

His words were a direct punch to the gut, but I kept my expression neutral. Even though it burned, I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the pain on my face. His game was clear: manipulate, pressure, and win through exhaustion.

But I wasn't ready to give in.

Not yet.

"Alright, alright." I raised my hands in surrender as I stood up from the couch and walked toward him. My tone was laced with irony, but my gaze remained locked on his, unwavering. "But if we're going to work together, it's only fair for you to spill your little secrets, don't you think? I've always been curious about where this almost pathological grudge you have against her comes from."

I stopped a few steps away, tilting my head slightly as I watched his every reaction.

"She used to be your golden ticket, remember? That unmistakable voice, the star who made you take a chance on the band. And now? How did she go from all that to being sabotaged by you at every turn?"

Gerard's scowl remained, but something in his eyes tightened, and I pressed on, more relentless.

"Or do you really think I bought her story about not wanting to check into rehab? Because, let's face it, if she got better, what excuse would you use to keep tearing her down? It's convenient for you that she stays broken, isn't it?"

He stood still for a moment, his lips pressed into a thin, tense line. Then, without warning, he exploded. "Get out of my office!" His tone was a growl, every word spat out with restrained fury. "And don't come back here until you have something ready to hand over."

His rigid posture seemed on the verge of collapsing onto me, but I stood my ground. He took a step closer, pointing an accusatory finger at me.

"All these theories of yours mean nothing because, in the end, after everything goes through the funnel, it always comes back to you. You ruin her life because all you care about is yourself. So I suggest you figure out your place once and for all and stop messing with me."

I swallowed hard but bit back the retort threatening to escape. Now that I'd managed to rile him up as much as he'd annoyed me, I decided it was time to leave.

After a surreal chase with a duo of fans and an unbearable conversation with Gerard, which nearly sent my breakfast the wrong way, it seemed impossible for my day to get worse. But of course, underestimating the universe is always a mistake.

I greeted the guys at the studio, trying to keep my mood minimally stable. We were in a space that had belonged to a friend and was perfect for the idea we had for VAN recording. Nothing grandiose, just something intimate, focused on the collaboration we had chosen. I had arranged everything over the phone with the vocalist of a band, an old friend. I sent her the script, and she, always understanding, got it right away. Easy, simple... or so it should have been.

“Where’s the girl?” I asked Matt, who had his headphones on, fiddling with something in the sound system.

The room was partially dark, lit only by the setup lights as the crew finished preparing the scene. Matt, as always, didn’t bother to take off his headphones or pay attention to what I was saying. He just gestured toward the back of the studio. I took a deep breath, ignoring his rudeness, and moved on, determined to ensure everything was in order.

In the back, some makeshift rooms served as dressing rooms and storage for production clutter. As soon as I turned down the hallway, a familiar, nearly unmistakable smell made my stomach churn.

“Hey, just checking if everything’s ready?” I asked, trying to sound calm, my hands stuffed in my pockets to hide my nervousness.

I was about to follow up with another question when the chair in front of me swiveled around. And there she was.

Her dark, enormous eyes stared at me, gleaming with that devilish touch she used every time she wanted to get under my skin. She was flawless: perfect makeup, carefully chosen clothes, a wide smile forming a treacherous dimple in her cheek.

“Hi, Noah,” she said, winking at me as if we were having a casual meeting and not on the brink of catastrophe.

No. No. No. No. No.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?” I exploded, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m here to shoot the music video for my song,” she replied calmly, blowing on her nails as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Can you believe I stayed up all night at the studio to finish the recorded parts? But it’s fine, nothing I can’t handle.”

“And what did you do with the collaboration?” My voice was tense as I looked around, searching for any sign of my friend. I didn’t trust her. I never would. “Where’s the girl?”

“Oh, she’s definitely in a better place, darling.” She smiled that venomous smile, blowing a kiss into the air. “Didn’t you say I’m now obligated to stay and put up with you? Well, it’s only fair that you put up with me too, you bastard.”

My head throbbed. The thought of enduring her was torture enough, but now she was here, smiling with that victorious air as if she’d just won a war I didn’t even know was happening.

“Listen here, do you think this is a joke?” I asked, crossing my arms and forcing a firmer tone. “Have you checked your phone today to see what your stunt yesterday led to? Do you want another scandal tied to your name when people find out you go around kidnapping band vocalists?”

“I don’t think it’s a joke, darling.” She stood up from the chair, strutting across the room like she owned the place. “And technically, it wasn’t me who kidnapped her—it was Folio.”

I’d deal with him later.

“Oh, relax, Noah. I’m the star here. You just need to stay in your lane and let me shine.”

It was impossible. She was impossible. And the worst part? She knew exactly what she was doing.

On set, everyone was ready. The lighting was adjusted, cameras were positioned, and the script was in hand. I forced myself to ignore her provocative gaze while the technicians made the final adjustments.

“We’ll start with the chorus scene,” I said, trying to maintain a professional tone. “Remember, it’s supposed to be a bit emotional. You need to look vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable?” She let out a short laugh, fixing her hair. “Then I’ll just imitate you.”

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath as I heard the guys laugh quietly. She loved testing me, and I couldn’t give her the satisfaction of losing control.

The music began to play, and her voice filled the studio, as it always did. It was infuriating how she could be so good, so naturally magnetic. Everyone in the studio seemed captivated, especially the lighting technician, who leaned into his mic to say something during the pauses.

“Great job, it’s amazing,” he said, smiling in a way that made me uncomfortable.

“Thanks!” she replied with a soft laugh, placing a hand on his shoulder for a second longer than necessary.

My jaw clenched. She’s just being polite, I thought. But my mind insisted on turning that gesture into something bigger.

“Let’s keep going. I’m sure there’ll be time for flirting once we’re done.” I turned to the director of photography. “Next scene. Lights in position three. And you,” I pointed at her, “remember, this is a music video, not a theater performance.”

“As you wish, darling.” She winked, returning to her mark on the floor.

As the shoot progressed, I found myself watching her every move, every laugh she shared with the others, every touch that seemed casual but felt like a direct provocation to me. It was unbearable.

I wanted to kill myself.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ; @just-randomm-stuff

[whateverisbeautiful]

♥️Reveling in Richonne - TOWL

#43: The Good Life (1.05)

gif cred: @nerd4music

The vibes of this whole sequence are so good. The good life truly. 🤩And Say Yes has always been a comfort ep for me, so I love that this montage has such Say Yes energy and parallels. If ever I need a pick-me-up this tranquil series of clips from Richonne's road-trip home will lift my spirits every time. I love the way this montage depicts that in finding each other again, Richonne refound the best, most at peace parts of themselves 😌...

So after that teaser with Father Gabriel, we get our babies back on screen. And it hit me that Episode 5 is the first time there are even scenes that don't feature Rick and Michonne. In episodes 1-4 of TOWL, Rick, Michonne, or both are on screen in every single scene apart from that one episode 2 teaser. Which I was very much in support of this as a long-time card-carrying member of the Give-Richonne-More-Screentime ministry. 😊

After how excellent the plot, pacing, and dialogue were in episode 4, I will say that ep 5 & 6 are a bit clunkier in those areas to me. But one thing is for sure, the Richonne content in ep 5 & 6 is still solid gold.

While these last two eps are ranked lower than episodes 1-4 for me, the good moments in these last two episodes aren't just good, they're great and include some genuinely Top 10 worthy Richonne scenes. So we definitely have to break it all down.😇👌🏽

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

The montage starts with that yellow truck turning the corner and then they just get right into the good vibes and romance as we see Richonne calmly driving.

I love that they use 'The Good Life' by Tony Bennett to set the mood. Rick and Michonne both just look so relaxed and happy and it’s super refreshing to see. 🥰

gif cred: @msanonships

After everything they’d gone through thus far it was so nice to arrive at a point where Rick and Michonne are back in sync and as connected as ever.

I love the way Rick seems so content and peaceful with his hand out the window. Michonne has that man feeling on top of the world again. 😋 And then it’s so sweet the way he looks over at Michonne and the way she smiles back at him while driving. All is well with their soul and mine. 😌

Then we get one of my favorite Richonne actions ever when Rick takes her hand and kisses it. 🥹 It’s perfect.

I love the lingering depth of this hand kiss and that it’s such an illustration of how much Rick loves and cherishes Michonne. It was another soul kiss. And you can just tell how much peace Michonne brings Rick. She’s like his medicine. The cure to his anxiety and to his life. 👌🏽

gif cred: @msanonships

Something I so appreciate about Richonne is how every moment like this feels like such an organic outpouring of love in their hearts. And it feels like it’s the exact thing they both needed. Like Rick is offering Michonne so much love with this hand kiss but you can tell it’s also for him too, because she brings him so much peace and happiness and calms any anxiety he might have about really being able to break away from the CRM this time and go home.

This might be the furthest Rick has got in terms of actually breaking free from the CRM and heading home. I know he knows it has everything to do with Michonne that they’re making it this far and actually going to get home this time because they can do anything together.

I appreciate how this hand kiss is just one of the many ways Rick’s romantic heart so naturally wants to show his love and that Michonne is so receptive to it. Like the way she looks at him while he kisses her hand. They really know how to make the love they have for each other leap off the screen. And I know she knows that her Rick is fully back by him doing this.

The song lyrics that play say “don’t try to fake romance” and truly this is just giving authentic romance. Richonne's hand kisses in Say Yes were always so incredibly sweet to me so I love that we have another precious one to add to the list.

I also love that now that Rick isn’t trying to shut Michonne out, he’s immediately back to loving on her every second. This is how Rick loves.

I appreciate that Rick and Michonne immediately started living out that sentiment to love on each other as hard as they can while they can. Loving on each other is what they're both so good at doing. And the way they love is beautiful. 🥹

gif cred: @coalfires

So then they pull up and find all those ramen packs because the universe loves them some Richonnne. And y’all, I adore that they are matching again. 😊 It’s another signature Richonne thing. And it's great how they aren’t just matching in the same general color - no they're basically both wearing the exact Pantone shade, honey. The best. 😋

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And Rick and Michonne are just at their all-time adorable when the noodles fall out of the trunk and they excitedly laugh and pick them up. Michonne looks like such a cutie when she holds up a pack and amusedly addresses their punny name “Tasteful Noods.”

gif cred: @perryabbott

And Rick looks like such a cutie laughing and just seeming happy to be there. I love that they always bring out such a smiley playful side of each other. 😊

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Another thing I love about TOWL whenever I think about it is how Rick and Michonne's journey of refinding each other was never rooted in questioning if they're still compatible as a couple. After nearly a decade spent apart, some characters who aren't soulmates could have easily changed too much and been unable to rekindle this type of comfortable passionate chemistry so quickly.

But while Richonne had to navigate the way their circumstances had impacted and altered them, they still always operated like they knew the other was their person and the love of their life. And now that they've risen from their ep 4 timeout stronger, they're so effortlessly back to being best friends & lovers.

That's part of why I love how passionately Richonne kisses in their episode 2 reunion scene because they didn't have to hesitate, wait, or wonder how the other felt about them after all these years. Without even needing to verbally confirm it, they immediately knew the love, chemistry, and connection they have was alive and as strong as ever.

But back to this heavenly episode 5 montage - We get a sweet moment of the two having dinner together and I’m just smiling from ear to ear yet again. 😁

I love how this montage moment really highlights how far Rick and Michonne have come in their journey since that season 4 moment beside a fire.

Also, in the TWD series finale when Rick and Michonne were both writing letters alone by a fire, I remember just feeling like I cannot wait for them to be side by side again and it was lovely to see that time finally come. 🙌🏽

During this dinner in front of the mural, they’re both looking out at something but I can never tell what exactly. And then Rick puts his arm around Michonne and I love that he looks over at her first, watching her taking in whatever they’re seeing like maybe another mural/painting or something idk. Either way, Michonne is clearly the true view to Rick. 🥰

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

And then Michonne turns to him with the sweetest smile as they share a kiss and I just love how warm this whole moment is. It's great how they take a moment to just smile at each other before having yet another kiss infused with passion. And the way they get lost in this kiss - equally addicted to each other. 😊 They’re so blissfully in their Richonne bubble and it’s great to see. 

gif cred: @lousolversons

As they drive along the scenic road they also come across a vending machine and I love how their movement is so synchronized as they look from the vending machine to a walker with a sword stuck in its neck. See how the universe always wants to provide the things Richonne needs? 😋

Also, what this episode really hammered home is that Richonne communicates with words pretty much for fun, because they’re entirely capable of having whole conversations by just looking at each other.

And in this moment they both immediately get the same idea at the same exact time to use the blade in that walker to hack through the vines covering the vending machine. And they’re so cute and determined as they go to take care of it.

Clearing out the vending machine was clearly a success as they cut to Richonne back in the car while Rick chugs a soda. And even the soda moment shows that he’s really released a lot of the stress he was carrying in the first four episodes and just seems so at home. And of course he seems at home because his home is right next to him looking beautiful while driving. 👌🏽

gif cred: @andy-clutterbuck

Also, you always know you’re truly comfortable with someone when even just sitting in silence together brings you peace and I felt that from them in these car clips.

Then this heavenly montage wants to make me teary by having Rick take out the phone with the image of Carl and just take a moment to appreciate it. Again, Rick loves his son so much. 🥲 I'll forever be moved by the love this father has for his boy.

It's heartwarming that Rick gets so much comfort from these images of his family. And it really is one of the greatest things Michonne’s ever done for him by giving him this drawing that brought his son's face back to him.

gif cred: @taiturner

I love that Michonne looks over at him and gets to again see how meaningful having this piece of Carl is for Rick. The way she looks from the phone to him, both those Grimes boys forever have her heart. 🥹

(And she knows soon Rick will get to meet the third Grimes boy, RJ. 🥲)

I think about the OG Richonne episode Clear when Michonne was behind the wheel as Rick sat silently beside her with a hand out the window. Now, years later they do the same, no longer strangers but soulmates.

The biggest difference between the two moments is Carl is right there with them in the back of the car in Clear, and now in TOWL he's with them through a phone portrait. 🥺

Carl would be so proud of Rick and Michonne for finding their way back to each other and finally going home together. 🥲

Also just looking at Rick and Michonne in this car heading home, y’all, we really made it. 😭 All those years without them and we really made it to a point where Rick and Michonne are back on a road trip home together and at peace. And so I just adore this whole opening sequence for perfectly painting the picture of their travels home and how in love they are at every turn.

gif cred: @ricksmarlene

Rick and Michonne looked so refreshed with vacation vibes as they finally got to just enjoy each other without the threat of the CRM nearby. Beyond here for it. 😇

Then, as they drive they come across a souvenir shop...and it’s there we get another one of my absolute favorite TOWL scenes. 👌🏽😌

[sokacoke]

Compiling some questions and information regarding indigo park from unique geese's live streams.

Some clips might not be long enough for the full answer due to YouTube only being 60 seconds so just keep that in mind.

A bit of the older ones could contain stuff that aren't up to date that I forgot to remove because I was making this in my notes for like 3-5 weeks so lets uh. ignore those!! (ill delete them later maybe)

IF I SCREAM THE STREAM ENDS

'I think comparing Issac to fucking Willam afton is such a sad comparison'

Credits to @lunozapp for the clip

INDIGO Q&A 

“Will there be any boss fights?”

‘That’s a hard thing to say. I’m gonna say no.’

“How old are Rambley and his friends?”

'They’re all over 18. Probably around there early 20s at oldest.  They’re younger but I don’t really have set ages for them.'

“Would Indigo park be rated M?”

'I would argue indigo park chapter 1 could get away as teen but I’d like to rate it up as a M by chapter 2.'

“Is chapter 2 going to take place under the park?”

'No. There might be parts under but chapter 2 won’t.'

“Rambley has been left alone since the park closed. Has he practically sat alone for that long?”

'In all technicality, he was sitting there alone and abandoned for many years. He’s not fully aware of what’s going on, but he is you know?” 

“Do you have any plans for future chapters?”

'The entire greater story has been set in stone for months and we don’t have any plans to change it.'

'There’s stuff in chapter 1 that people won’t realize are important to the plot until chapter 5.'

“Is mollie macaw an antagonist?”

'Depends what you’re saying when you say mollie macaw. Antagonist is a strong word.'

LAUNCH STREAM

“Is the raccoon evil?”

'No. You guys just buckle up. you’ll see.'

REACTING TO YOUTUBERS 

“Did you expect for Rambley to be popular with the furries?”

‘I made a joke that it would be popular within it but nothing in the game was designed to be furry. It was just like “hey we need parody’s of Mickey Mouse and Disney characters” ending up creating characters I really liked.'

“Do you know that there’s already NFSW art of Rambley?”

'It’s the internet sorry. If you make NFSW stuff I just ask you don’t send it to me or inject it to the rest of the community. Keep it separate, these are like my children.'

“How many versions of the railroad did u go through?”

'It took quite a while. We would get to a point where we kind of liked it and then be like “oh I don’t really like this it doesn’t flow really well.” I think the great thing going into chapter 2 we have a better understanding of what we want the game to look. Chapter 2s going to be mainly a lot of the rides. It was kind a deal where I wanted you to feel claustrophobic but it was hard to deal with those open environments. I’m not gonna announce anything crazy but chapter 2 will start in the queue and lobby for oceanic oddesy'

“How many chapters will there be?”

'The game plan is five.'

“Is this the last time we will see Mollie? Her death screen mentions she can copy voices but that wasn’t shown. Will be shown again to do that mechanic?”

'The voices were less of a mechanic and more of showing going on when she’s talking throughout the game. All the dialogue is something she’s heard during game,behind the scenes of the park or something that a guest has said.'

“Is Rambley the bad guy?”

'What part of the game made you think Rambleys the bad guy? No.'

“I trust Rambley with my life. If he betrays us I’ve already forgiven him.”

'Yeah, you don’t need to worry about that.'

“Whys the main character so jacked?”

'It’s just the character model I had I was using. We might change it.'

Critter cuff

'I was big against the idea of having one mechanic. They saw poppy playtime and instantly thought “every mascot horror needs a mechanic.” The critter cuffs important but I also want different fun mechanics that can be worked into it.'

“Do you plan to add more characters?”

'There will be more characters added into chapter 2. There may some returning characters. Obviously Rambley will be the focus of every chapter he’s ur buddy through ur journey. We do have a new set of characters.'

“Will there be another credits song in chapter 2?”

'We don’t want to start planning stuff until we know for sure how much money is there budget wise.'

“Where’s the cat?”

'There originally was just a regular ass cat that was in the and was in the game for quite a while. The model we had didn’t look like it fit the world and the animation looked stiff. Maybe we bring it back.'

“What were the stealth things in the files for?”

'Originally there was a section where Lloyd would follow you and you’d hide. I definitely want to do some stealth stuff where you have to hide under stuff I think that’d be a lot of fun.'

“Will Mollie return?”

'Do you think Mollie will return?'

“Is Rambley sentient?”

'He’s fully aware of everything around him but he’s programmed to behave a certain way. The best comparison would be GLaDOS or Wheatley from portal. Programmed to act a certain way, but also aware and able to see stuff around them and react.'

“How long will chapter 2 be?”

'We’re aiming chapter 2 to be just a little bit longer then chapter 1. We want each chapter to be a bit longer than before. I’d say for chapter 2, two and a half

'The only character that won’t have much influence is clearly Mollie.'

“What about Lloyd?”

'Lloyd’s cool and Lloyd will be important. That is all I can say.'

“Will there be other AI companions?”

'No. It’s just Rambley the main mascot.'

“Is there a possibility of a major overhaul of chapter 1?”

'There’s room to improve it a bit. In the future, I can see us doing a full on remaster of chapter 1.'

“Never make Rambley a creep I will not forgive you for it”

'You got it.'

“What’s the estimated gap between the chapters?”

'Year to Year and a half, maybe two. Chapter 2 is definitely 2025.'

“Don’t be fooled?”

'There was a lot more potential do something with that. If we had more budget then it would be really cool where you’re running through the pipes and you have to listen for Rambleys voice through the pipes and sometimes it would be mollies voice. It would be Rambley guiding you and then you hear Mollie trying to sound like Rambley.'

“It hurts Lloyd”

'That’s the funny thing. I don’t wanna get TOO deep into it but this was kinda just random text. I’ve seen 5 or 6 different interpretations of what people think it says.'

'Without spoiling anything I do think multiple ending’s for the final chapter would be kinda cool.'

REACTING TO MATPAT

“A lot of sexual tension between these guys”

'Shout out to the furries because I’ve seen every combination of characters being shipped and it wasn’t until today that a single female character was involved that all. Not mollie not Nonbinary with Salem it was literally just the 3 men'

“Does Rambley canonically sing Rambley review?”

'Yes he actually does. It’s in between chapter whenever ur going into chapter 2. The player could turn around and find a way out now but he actively wants to keep going with Rambley.'

TALKING ABOUT INDIGO PARK,FNF AND MORE

“The voice and creator of indigo park”

'I don’t voice anyone expect for Jackson and another character that no ones found yet.'

“Are you ever going to get a console support?”

'So we will eventually but to be honest with you I don’t want to do that until we have like chapter 3 out. At earliest if chapter 2 becomes massive then maybe as a bundle, but I don’t know.'

“Is chapter 2 free?”

'No it won’t be.'

FUNKAST THEN FNAF

'Other then a few minor tweaks we have the first few minutes of Rambleys dialogue at the beginning of chapter 2 written out.'

'I don’t think we’ll ever do a fox character. We were brainstorming some of the characters in chapter 2 and thought “oh maybe a fox would be cool” but we were looking at the role that this character would have to play if they were a fox and thought “at some point we’re just making knock off foxy from fnaf”'

“What the species”

'I cant disclose that sorry chief. There are other animal based cartoon characters in chapter 2 if that satisfies you. Furries rejoice I guess? I feel like it’d be harder to do a human villain.'

“How hard is it to make an idea of a character?”

'All of the characters we make need a purpose. It’s layers of talking through stuff and ideas to get stuff we like. The designs for them aren’t done but the idea for them is there and i am in love with them.'

“So the character design isn’t finished but have you made actual development of the game?”

'No. We’re working on chapter 1 right now. Again we’re looking at a year and a half or two years until chapter 2 cuz I’m not gonna rush it or my team. We’ll have little animations stuff and between yeah we’re not gonna do anything with that.

“Update is bug fixes, trying to get controller support working,revamping some of the environments and I’m bringing on a new modeler for some of the monster designs. Not confirming but i think Finley is going to get a full on redesign for chapter 2.”

“What chapter are you most excited for?”

'To be honest with you, i think chapter 3 is where we’re going to start doing the crazy shit possible and then chapter 4 is planned to be the most bad ass chapter i could ever think of. The story gets moving chapter 4.'

NEW FNAF GAME + INDIGO PARK NEWS

'It turned out that jakeneutron who’s my head animator, was going to Disney at the same time I’m at Orlando. We met up and we took so many pictures for reference. We went to universal studios and it was my first time we ever went to universal so I took so many pictures'

“Refs for what?”

'For indigo park bro. Dude I needed anything theme park and I got so many ideas for the future of indigo and stuff.'

“Salem news or I’m not here”

'Do I wanna put out Salem news..Salem is important 👍'

'I’ve kind of teased it a bit but we are working on some minor chapter 1 before chapter 2 just so there’s a bit of a quality jump so it’s a little bit more in the realm of where we want it to be.'

'We are working on some environmental updates. Working on some new assets to put into chapter 1. Which should make stuff feel cooler in my opinion? '

'To accompany that one thing we didn’t have a lot of is that environmental music in regards to what they would have in a real theme park. Like if ur waiting in a queue in a theme park there’s a lot of music and stuff that they play that is custom to that. Let’s say you were waiting for Rambleys railroads, what would that sound like? So maybe a little bit of new music?'

New potential song in clip link

FINISHING INTO THE PIT & NEW INDIGO PARK PLUSH LAUNCH PARTY

“Character hints?”

'I think you will be soft introduced or at least see the character designs before chapter 2s out. Right now at this point of development there are four new characters planned.'

“Is there gonna have a obby theme?”

‘Probably not really. I’ve talked about a little about a mechanic that we started to workshop and figuring out how it’ll work in the lore and gameplay elements but I probably won’t talk about it again.'

“Will there be a haunted house ride or a dark ride?”

'I want to do a haunted mansion parody hopefully chapter 4 or 5. Not in chapter 2 it wouldn’t fit.'

“Space mountain?”

'I have ideas for a space mountain and I can’t tell you what chapter that one will be in.'

'It’s funny cuz I’m reworking all of the chapter 1 environments and I’ve been thinking about it. There’s a fair enough of stuff that theorists haven’t caught onto yet that I hope will be super obvious in the future. I’m super excited to see what people do with chapter 2.'

HORROR GAME NIGHT & TALKING INDIGO PARK

“Will you be selling art prints maybe with posters?”

'We might do posters. There’s some new poster art coming for chapter 2 and I’m gonna leak, the (chap 1) update.'

“Now will they all have villain roles?”

'I dunno. I’ve already told you guys about some of them actually you guys just haven’t figured it out yet'

Talking about the 4 new characters

'I will say the chapter 1 update will have new secrets for you to find and some of it will help you figure out stuff in chapter 2. We are cooking is all I can say.'

“Whats ur favorite out of the 4 originals we know about since u said 4 new characters”

'Yeah let me just reveal one of the characters. No. You guys won’t- actually? You guys will know about some of the characters WAY before chapter 2 comes out.'

BACK FROM PAX! - WATCHING JACKSEPTICEYE PLAY INDIGO PARK & CATCHING UP ON FNF MODS

'there’s a little bit of the new queue! A little bit of a step up. I mean hot take but. Looks a lot better I think.'

Queue in clip

'We’re still working on it but this is what Mollies landing pad looks like now. This feels more themed.'

New mollies landing pad in clip

“Can you make an update trailer for the indigo park update so people know it exists?”

'Yea we will. We’ll change it.'

Extra notes worth mentioning:

it’s been said that there will be a meme ending for chapter 3 though I’m not able to find the clip at the moment so if anyone somehow has it u should tots send it my way

When he's talking about the 'Other character he voices that no ones found yet' it might be possible he’s yapping about the reverse Llyods Limos line Context:

Video is from forgottenstudios1987 on YT

The cat been brought back!

Another part of the new rambleys railroad queue song.

More of the New Rambleys Railroad Third link is just a very subtle railroads gift shop but it counts i think

Other landing pad clip

FEEL FREE TO ADD ANY OTHER CLIPS I MIGHTVE MISSED!

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 25: Balloons

Not a super painful one this time! Wahoo! Still spooky though, I feel anyway

Word count: 1034

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It's dark in the arcade. All the machines are shut off. Save for one, that is. 

It mocks you with its bright glowing screen, taunting you and your attempts to shut everything down for the night.

Beckoning you towards it with its cheery music and gameplay noises.

You let out a groan of frustration as you trudge towards the machine. This was the fourth night this week this had happened. 

You fix the machines, you turn off the machines. This one likes to stay on, you turn it off again, you go home and question your decision to become an arcade mechanic at Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizza Plex, rinse and repeat. 

Usually, this was a once every other week occurrence, the machine staying on part, that is. But for something reason, it had become a problem recently and this week said problem had come to a head. 

You come to a stop and glare down at the screen.

Balloon World. 

You'd never played, you didn't tend to play on any of the machines you worked on. Didn't have the time or the desire really. You cared for them, don't be mistaken. You made sure to treat each and every game that was in the arcade with upmost care. Always making sure to keep them clean, functioning, and well, yeah mainly those two things. 

You sigh, watching the little character fly across the scene in a game play clip, "This again, bud? Can't I have one night of peace?"

No answer, of course. 

You check the time, 11:15 PM. You clock out in fifteen minutes. 

Screw it.

"Fine. One round couldn't hurt."

You press the buttons to skip the 'insert coin' screen and start the game. 

Your little character begins to fly across the screen, objects coming up to obstruct your path. Okay, it's one of those dodging games, pretty normal. 

After a few minutes, you lose. You didn't expect to get very far anyway. Shrugging, you turn away from the screen only to hear the game restart music playing. Confused, you turn around and see that the game's started again. Weird, you didn't press anything to start another round. 

But, you see an opportunity to redeem yourself, so you take it. You get back to playing, zoning in this time now that you understand the mechanics. 

While you play, you take note of the game's imagery. It doesn't really make much sense to you. It's called balloon world, but it's a forest setting. The only balloons are the ones keeping the player character afloat, really. Sure there's the circus tent and such in the beginning, but the choice of environmental objects is odd.

The sun in the background looks familiar somehow. Kind of like the bot that runs the Daycare? You're not too sure. 

Shoot. Another loss. This time you decide you're done. You clock out in five minutes anyway. 

Turning, you're yet again surprised to hear the game booting up once more. You whip back around, and see that this time, the character's not moving forward/progressing like last time. It's stock still. Waiting.

You're much more hesitant this time. Something's going on, and you can't figure out what. Was someone pranking you? Could anyone even hack into these machines? They had to be ancient, they're parts were ancient anyway. 

Your hand hovers over the controls, you're about to grab the joystick when-

The sun is staring at you. 

Not just out into the screen. It's looking. Directly. At. You.

And it's still smiling.

You gasp. Scrambling backwards as the machine suddenly starts to spark and shake. The screen goes dark. 

In a panic, you trip backwards and land hard, your head hitting the hard concrete underneath the cheap carpet. You black out. 

There's a dull throbbing headache all across your skull when you come to, vison fuzzy. You sit up slightly, finding yourself in a mostly dark room save for a... soft, orange glow?

Groaning, you grip your head in one hand and check the time with the other. 11:57 PM. Shit. You'll be lucky to make it before the doors lock, and have to go beg the nightguard to let you out. 

Your eyes become aware of a quiet buzzing, surrounding the air all around you. And, warmth. You feel incredibly warm. Not in a bad way. Sort of like, a cozy blanket. You suddenly have an urge to find where the glow is coming from. You look up. 

Staring down at you is, something, that resembles the sun. It's face is darkened but it's backlit by bright light. Like, an eclipse. 

Your gaze travels down, to where, two sets, of arms lie, folded neatly in the creature's lap. It's sitting on it's knees in front of you. You have no idea for how long. 

The outfit it's wearing is definitely reminiscent of the Daycare Attendant's, you're certain of it. Your eyes move back up again. 

You blink, eyes wide in confusion and fear. 

"Hi?" The word slips out unintentionally. 

It seems surprised at this, eyes widening with its otherwise blank stare. Then, it smiles. A genuine, warm, smile.

The voice that comes out of it's open mouth is incomprehensible to you at first. Nothing but static and glitchy noises. It closes its mouth, brings a hand up and coughs, then tries again.

Much smoother, and deeper this time, "Hi."

You gulp. You don't know what to say, you open your mouth and your head starts to hurt.

"Are you hurt?" It asks, concern evident. 

You nod, "A little, yeah-Woah!"

You're picked up by the creature. It's a very weird sensation. Its entire body is buzzing, but that warmth surround you further and it's, sort of comforting? But this entire thing just feels, off, to you. You're uneasy, to say the least. 

After situating you in its arms, pretty much being cradled so it's still able to look down at your face, one hand goes up to the side of your head, gently petting. It actually kind of feels nice against the pain. 

"Don't worry. Everything's going to be okay."

Based on every other feeling that's welling up inside you, screaming at you to get away, you're not too sure of that.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Another treat from the drafts for you all:

Here's the link to my other promptobers, thank you for reading!!

[bingusbongu]

Dr Flug x Fem reader who is the head of the department of black arts and witchcraft? Like him having a crush on her, it would be kind of ironic him being the head of the department of science and technology

A/N: oooo another Flug request! I love writing for this silly little nerd guy!!! One of my favorite comfort characters<33 fyi: had a hard time writing this, especially with his crushing stage so i just did alittle for it, i hope this works!!! ty sm for requesting!!!! I hope you enjoy~! {May edit later, im tired rn}

Dr. Flug × Fem. Witch Reader!

•i feel like this man would be a huge skeptic towards magic. I mean, sure his boss is a demon and all, but he believes more in scientific reasoning then he actually does Magic. He thinks that there is a reasoning behind everything. being the head of the scientific technology department, he tried his best to study magic, but found ut a huge waste of his time, and ended up going back to his on projects

• when he first met you, it was on one his missions with the gang, and it was not going well for them. The hero they were after easily out maneuvered their plans, and had them dangerouslh close to defeat

• Flug was a mess, panicked and unsure what to do. If he got caught by a hero, Blackhat would sure as hell just leave him there and not care to come and retreave him. Let alone, he didnt want to get punished anymore then he hast to endure

• Flug thought they were goners, before, lo and behold, before the hero could take them into custody, you appeared. Quickly catching the hero off gaurd with a blast of magic to his side

• of course, the hero ended up taunting you, and launched himself at you, only for you to easily knock him out of thd sky and to the concrete with the wave of your hand

• as you and the hero quarled, Flug couldnt help but watch. He would had been planning to get out, but he was observing the battle. How you easily threw the hero around liks a toy. The hero didnt even manage to hit you a single time and you already had him to the ground.

• you had freed the trio before they could be taken from authorities. Easily clipping the lock off. The two of you locked eyes for a moment, but before Flug could say thank you, you were gone.

• Flug was quite appalled, his curiosity peaked, as he abd his team fled from the scene. Though, he wasnt able to get you out of his head. He had never seen or heard anything about a villain who easily threw around Heros without even touching them, and Flug knew everthing about every Villain in the town.

• When he got back to his lab, he automatically started to look up things about you, desprately searching up something to ease his curiosity and get you out of his head

• there wasnt to much about you that he could find. He had figured out you were a 'in and out' villain, hardly giving people enough time to look at you before you disappeared into a puff of smoke.

• reading into some reports about you, of people writing nonsense about a powerful villain that wasn't Blackhat, and ranting in painful grammar about a 'witch villain'

• this made Flug laugh, obviously not believing it one bit. Rolling his eyes he got off his computer and went back to work.

• though, he still couldnt get you out of his head. Thinking back to the way how easily you handled that hero, and didnt even lay a finger on him. Now that Flug thought about it, he didnt even see you get close to him at all. Which made the doctor ponder about you even more

• it started driving him insane

• Flug, for the next few times had a hard time focusing on his projects, caught in his mind about what you were. It ended up getting him into trouble, why couldnt you just leave him alone? He had so many questions, but no you to answer them

• finally came his once a month trip of errands he ran for the crew. Heading out to collect food, or certain parts he could use to work on his projects. He never liked these days, but he endured it never the less

• just as he was walking by, looking for supplies, he bumped into you on accident. He frantically apologized, but once he noticed it was you, he froze in his tracks. Looking up at you, as you looked down at him and reasured him that it was okay

• all of a sudden, all his questions flooded his mind. He sure didnt expect to find you here of all places! What were you doing here? Were you here on some sort of mission? What did you even need here?

• His thoughts got interrupted as you finally voiced that you recognized him, sending Flug into a blushing frenzy as he tried to play it off, muttering a thank you to you as he cleared his throat

• though, when you commented that you knew who he was, it caught him off guard. You knew who he was? No one really ever recognized him other than the bag wearing villain. Being a scientist didnt really give him many looks of pride.

• he was geniunly suprised when you told him his name, and that yoi recognized him from tv adds and some of his work. He didnt know how to feel, but when you complemented him, he nearly collapsed into jelly. No one really ever complemented him, let alone someone as pretty as you! It made his face flush under his bag as he attempted to calm himself

• Though, when you introduced yourself, he must had made a face when you mentioned magic to him. Cause you quickly responded to demonstrate your magic to him.

• turning your gaze to the nearest tin can, without even touching it you beckoned it over, making it levitate over to you.

• Flug watched curiously, eyeing the tin can as if trying to find the strong attached to it to find an explanation. As it levitated for a moment, you flicked your hand, only for the can to fly past Flugs head and hit the worker nearby in the back of his head at full force

• Flug was now a little less of a skeptic

• after that, you and Flug chatted for awhile, happily demonstrating some more of your magic for him, who he would watch closely and eagerly, trying to study it every time. You found it quite funny the way his eyes widened in curiosity

• you two ended up spending the rest of the day together, you helping him with finding his supplies, which he was greatful for. Usually it took him until nightfall to get everything done, but with your help he was able to get back to the manor by noon

• not only that, but he learned alot about you, and how you were also the head of your specialties. That stunned Flug, that you were a head of magic, and he happened to be the head of sciece and technology! No wonder the two of you ended up getting along quite well

• Flug expected his thoughts of you to decrease now that he had answers, but they ended up worsening. Now finding himself wanting to spend more time with you, and for you to show him more of your magic

• Now, the two of you ended up meeting eachother every month on Flugs outing days, so you guys could chat together and spend time with one another. You helping him and showing him your magic, and him happily showing you some of his project ideas.

• Over time, he found himself wanting to spend more and more time with you, getting excited when the day would come to meet up with you! But he still craved more contact with you

• He ended up giving you the adress to the mansion, so you could come over and visit, which you happily took the opportunity

• your visits became more frequent, which Flug was always delighted to see you!

• you would chat with him as he worked on his machines, or let Flug study some more of your magic. And boy, Flug certainly enjoyed the company. More say your company, he goy so happy when you visited him. Even if it was for a few minutes, he always was glad you decided to drop in, no matter how busy you were

• He loved your visits, it made him all giddy and happy, which he hadnt felt in a long time until you came into the picture. He didnt like the way you made his body warm at first, ungil he spent more time with you, he ended up waiting every day in hopes that you would come visit him

• one day, when you made his favorite flowers appear for him out of thin air, he nearly passed out

• he definitely found a way to preserve those flowers forever

• you started to make him feel weird, especially when you came in abd smiled at him, saying your common hello just made his heart lurch out for you. Getting all flustered when you complimented his work, or stood close to him, or even feeling the slightest bit of touch from you would send him to the ground

• he loved watching the way you preform your magic for him. Sometimes, he ended up watching you instead of the trick you were showing him. And when you commented about it he got all shy and babbled an apology, while you giggled which sent him deeper into his flusterdness, you absolutely found this adorable

• you, the wonderful witch you are, ended up enchanting his heart

[charlidos]

Viggo has published two of the photos he took of Orlando (I'm sure there are plenty more. For instance that "best photo ever taken of Orlando" from getting lost in the rainforest... Will it ever be published? Fear it won't).

Elf Head is dated 1999, and in my mind this was taken very early on after Viggo arrived in NZ, October 1999. If you look at other clips and pics of Orlando in his mohawk hairdo, I don't see that long patch of hair in the neck like in this pic. It's a more extreme version here, less polished. So maybe this was an early version of the 'do.

According to what I've understood, the first scenes with Legolas didn't start shooting until after a week or so of shooting, so I think Orlando hadn't started filming anything when Viggo arrived on set (and started filming from the get go). I think they tinkered with Legolas' costume and wig for a bit at that time. For instance, I'm not sure what that collar is in the pic. Does it look like something Legolas wears in the films? In other words, I think the decision to have a mohawk might have coincided with Viggo's arrival on set. And I think this photo was taken very early on, maybe the first weeks of filming.

According to Orlando, it was Liv who suggested the style, as they'd realised that he'd need to remove most of his hair in order to facilitate putting on the Legolas' wig. But if Viggo had already arrived at this point, maybe he had something to do with it; maybe he even suggested it, and Liv thought it was a great idea.

Viggo used to be a part of the LA punk scene, via his marriage to one of its stars. I don't know to what extent he felt like a part of that scene back then, but I imagine Viggo was not only used to wild styles, hair and dress, but was perhaps rather fond of it. Finding a co-star with such an punk-ish style probably appealed to him a great deal.

Because I see a fascination in this photo. And it's not with Orlando's face, but with the hairstyle, the strange contrast of hair and pointy ears, the form of that skull and neck. Maybe he was intrigued by the contradiction of Orlando's very pretty face and the unruly, almost-ugly hair flap and strange ears.

The title "elf head" is a bit unexpected, considering the only thing even close to elvish about this portrait, is the ears. Certainly, no elf would ever have such hair, right? Unless it's a punk-elf. But maybe Viggo thought Orlando looked like a beautiful elf, no matter what hairstyle.

This photo was taken sometime in 2000, but there's no way to tell exactly when, I think. They filmed so many battles, so who knows which one. Maybe Helm's Deep, with those long, arduous weeks of night shoots, when they must have spent so much time with each other, when no one else in the main cast was even awake. There's this feeling of being in the dark in this photo, or in a twilight of sorts.

Again, there's a sense of fascination here; with the beauty of Legolas the elf, and the transformation from Orlando, the young, pretty, energetic, sweet young man to Legolas, old, wise, calm and focused. Viggo is an artist, so I imagine he's got a sense of beauty when he sees it.

There's also a sense of intimacy, like we're intruding, like we are in Orlando's mirror. Considering they shared a make-up trailer all that time, sitting beside each other, getting ready, not only for battle but for everything, it must have seemed, at times, quite intimate. Orlando studying Viggo, fascinated. And obviously, Viggo studied Orlando back, also fascinated.

I wonder if the photo was spontaneous or staged; did Viggo just catch Orlando putting in Legolas' eyes, like Orlando did every day, or did Viggo decide this was a shot he wanted and asked Orlando to pose?

I can read the added text two ways: full awe and respect, like Orlando really is transforming into Legolas, a fearsome warrior to be reckoned with. Or like it's slightly teasing: to point out the irony of this fey, lithe creature being able to fight orchs. Kind of like you'd pretend to scared of a little kid, acting like a scary monster.

After a discussion with @vamp-ress, I realised something else: these two pics have one particular thing in common, namely that they catch that twilight moment between reality and fiction. That moment when O is still O, but is about to become Legolas (or the other way around). That moment when he's neither completely O, nor completely Legolas. A transitional moment of blur between the two worlds. I imagine this is what caught Viggo's eye, that transformation.

Now, Viggo please show us the rest of your Orlando stash, I know you've got plenty!

And I'm sure Orlando does too..

[strangersatellites]

AU where steve and robin own a bookstore+coffeehouse and it becomes their pride and joy.

steve knows everything about every book and loves to give customers recommendations. robin has taken to being a barista like she was born to do it. dreaming up new flavors of cold foam when she sleeps.

it’s in the fall that they get a new neighbor in the form of a record store.

robin is so excited she can hardly contain herself, has it’s grand opening added to the shop calendar as soon as she hears.

when the big day finally rolls around the music is loud, the line is long, and the complimentary drinks are flowing. by the time steve and robin make it over, they don’t get the chance to meet the owners because everything is just so busy.

they retreat back to the bookstore and try to accommodate their own guests and regulars despite the thumping bass from next door. steve gives them some slack, opening day parties are always a big ordeal.

but the loud music doesn’t stop the next day.

or the next day. or the next.

by the end of the second week, steve is watching himself turn into a crotchety old man in real time. he’s had enough of trying to pick a coffeehouse playlist that will hopefully drown out the noise from the record store. it never does.

he marches over as soon as it starts up one day, fully intent on making a scene if he has to when he spots a tall, lanky guy behind the counter. pretty. add pretty in there too.

he’s got his hair pulled back in a clip and a t-shirt for a band steve doesn’t recognize pulled across his broad shoulders.

the guy throws a hand up and waves at steve where he’s frozen in the door. says “hey man welcome in. let me know if i can help you with anything!”

he’s momentarily stunned until the next song picks back up and he can physically feel the floor vibrate under his feet.

he stomps up the counter and slaps his palms against it. jolts the guy to attention with wide, worried eyes.

“dude. could your music be any louder? you know you’re next door to a bookstore right? you know. the quiet place where people go to relax and read?” he gestures with a flurry of his hands.

pretty boy actually looks embarrassed for a second before he reaches over to a screen and decreases the volume.

he wears a sheepish smile when he crosses his arms over his chest.

“sorry dude. my co-owner chrissy had a pretty bad accident a few years back and lost a good bit of her hearing. i keep it up pretty loud so she can hear it. i’ll bring it down some though. sorry it’s been bothering you.”

and oh. steve was not expecting him to have an excuse. especially not a good one.

now he feels bad.

“it’s really okay. i’m sorry i came in a little dramatic. my co-owner robin and i have just worked really hard the past few years to curate our space and i guess i just got thrown off.” he shrugs. “it’s cool though. this is your store as much as the next one is mine, so.”

the guy smiles big and bright and man he really is pretty. steve’s eyes flit down to a name tag that reads “eddie.”

“maybe just bring the noise down a smidge though?” he smiles when he says it so eddie knows he isn’t mad.

he nods and steve hears a clatter come from the back. eddie laughs and hangs his head. “i should probably go check on her. she hid in the back when she saw you on the sidewalk so i couldn’t chicken out of talking to you.”

steve’s jaw drops at the implication and he has to take a second to reorganize his thoughts.

“i- what?”

eddie brings a hand up to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture and his cheeks flush the faintest pink.

“i may or may not have been unable to shut up about the pretty boy next door since our grand opening party.”

steve laughs this time, loud and happy.

“i didn’t even see you!”

“oh well i saw you. chris has been on my case to walk over for days so when she saw her opportunity today she took it.”

steve’s head tilts to the side and he has a playful smile on his face when he says “weren’t you supposed to be checking on her?”

eddie spins around so fast he nearly sends a cup of pens clattering to the ground.”

“shit! i-“

“don’t hurt yourself, rockstar. i’ll see you around eddie.”

eddie’s head swings back around and his face is scrunched up in confusion until steve points at his name tag.

“ah. right. well, i’ll see you around too…”

“steve.”

this time when steve walks through the door it’s quiet enough he can hear the bell jingle above it.

au august day 12: book store

[blkkizzat]

Hi you’re such an amazing writer and great smut writer!! I was wondering if u had any tips on writing smut cus I wanna start writing it too! Do u have tips on dialogue/action/pacing and being descriptive 😭 it’s harder than it looks!! Ps your suguru bumpy car ride is one of my fave fics!! And I’m excited for sadako!geto 😘😘

hey nonny, pookie tysm ur too sweet! im so glad you enjoy my perversions enough to ask me for advice kcjhdscjkhsdb 😩🩷🙏🏽✨

also sure idk if these will be helpful but these are things that help me:

smut:

i think the cardinal rule of smut writing is if it doesn't make you horny, re-write it until it does. lol.

i am a very visual person so i like to close my eyes and imagine the scene before i write it. not just going through the motions either. if this is me, reader, what am i thinking, feeling (both physically and emotionally).

5 senses (touch, taste, smell, sound, sight) should be covered. not every action needs all 5 but if you are describing something you should at least be hitting two of these. " tears falling, you cry out as he enters you slowly" is fine but "blinking away tears you hiss from the overwhelming stretch of his girth entering you, even slowly, proves to be too much" is better.

sometimes i need a boost and if you partake then a few puffs from a weed pen or a glass of wine (im partial to bubbly) will put you in the MOOD lmfao.

*note i dont think you need to have experienced something to write about it, sex included for any virgins however in lieu of that, with anything you don't have experience in, you need to do research to make it believable.

dialogue:

use dialogue to tell us/reiterate who the character is. you can tell us the character is nervous but then its highlighted by the stuttering, rambling, etc of their spoken words.

break up long dialogue with descriptions. this is also a pacing tip. also can insert memories, i will have readers have a whole dialogue and in the middle their will be a relevant memory to give context and insight to the character and their motivations.

using subtext to explain character feelings, you dont have to be so explicit with dialogue all the time. instead of a character saying "im so fucking mad at you right now," use "alright" your voice is clipped, flipping your hair over your shoulder you go back to your task at hand, not even sparing them another glance.

i rarely use explicit dialogue tags now like "said, spoke, cried, yell" i will still use them but ill weave into the description that follows. ex instead of "please stay!" you cried—i would write—"please stay!" your lip quivers as tears gathered on your lashes.

action:

the last subtext tip also helps with action too, alot of times its what we see that really enriches the dialogue so "show" dont "tell".

this is also a pacing tip but during high action/intense scenes using shorter sentences helps express the urgency. although it all depends as long sentences/paragraphs too can help build tension, slowing down descriptions/actions during the climax (lol non sexual) of a scene builds anxiety/thrill.

explaining emotional reactions of heart racing, sweaty palms, etc, is just as important as physical reactions (even tho these are physiological actions they still are emotion driven).

pacing:

besides the pacing tips above in the other sections i think the biggest pacing issue i think people have is adding in details, actions, etc that don't inform your story. everything action/thought you take time to elaborate on that your character does, should be relevant to their motivations, story or characterizations. if it doesnt apply to one of those then cut it out. (note: sometimes it does apply and needs to be cut out and moved another section if its making a scene go on to long)

edit your stories, i know some people post and go and thats fine. everyone has different goals. some just want to get out thoughts and go. however, pacing can be hard to effectively capture on the first go so you will need to reread at least once to ensure your fic is properly paced.

editing leads into eliminating redundancy. often i will write something where i expressed an emotion/feeling then did it again a paragraph or two down the line just in a different way. unless that feeling is evolving, its redundant. redundant doesnt mean the feeling isnt applicable in both places, it means ive already established this feeling/state of mind in my story and it isnt needed both places. this can be one of the hardest things to identify or even fix. however i think my fics are 100x better when i do.

descriptive:

i think people fall into one of these buckets, 1) having the inclination of being overly wordy descriptive or 2)not being descriptive enough. i am the former, so my issuing is editing is pulling back and giving emphasis on somethings but not others. if you arent descriptive enough you will have to decide where in your story its important to give emphasis.

use metaphors that make sense to the person speaking or narration style. you wouldnt use overly flowery language for example if you were writing how sukuna is feeling about something lol.

hope these tips were helpful!

[marshmellowrio]

Flight of the Night | Chapter 4

A/N: A bigger one, this scene goes on forever, ughh. This hasn't been proofread, like every other chapter I have posted (oops?).

Word count: 3.5K

I watch as Feyre addresses Azriel, “How did you meet?” Azriel turns to look at Cassian, I follow his gaze. Cassian is a way better storyteller than Azriel, that’s fact.

“We all hated each other at first.” A grin ghosts over his lips as he starts, his eyes flickering between the four of us, Illyrians. “We are bastards, you know. Az and I. The Illyrians… We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North, and do not like outsiders. Especially High Fae who try to tell them what to do. But they’re just as obsessed with lineage, and have their own princes and lords among them.” He holds my gaze before continuing, pointing a thumb in Azriel’s direction. “Az, was the bastard of one of the local lords. And if you think the bastard son of a lord is hated, then you can’t imagine how hated the bastard is of a war-camp laundress and a warrior she couldn’t or wouldn’t remember.” I see the casual shrug of his shoulders for what it is, a way to dampen the vicious, ancient anger raging through his veins at the thought of his mother. “Az’s father sent him to our camp for training once he and his charming wife realized he was a shadowsinger.”

“Like the daemati,” Rhys says to Feyre, “shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things other can’t.”

Something I have been wary of for centuries. Being secretive around Azriel was a feat not easily accomplished.

Cassian continues, “The camp lord practically shit himself with excitement the day Az was dumped in our camp. But me… once my mother weaned me and I was able to walk, they flew me to a distant camp, and chucked me into the mud to see if I would live or die.”

“They would have been smarter throwing you off a cliff,” Mor snorts.

“Oh, definitely,” Cassian says, his grin sharpening. “Especially because when I was old and strong enough to go back to the camp I’d been born in, I learned those pricks worked my mother until she died.”

A silence falls, simmering anger hanging like a cloud in the air.

“The Illyrians,” Rhys cuts in smoothly, “are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.”

Azriel’s vacant eyes lock on mine, my face schooled in a stone-cold expression.

“They’re barbarians,” Amren says and neither of the males object.

I keep silent as Mor nods. “They cripple their females so they can keep them for breeding more flawless warriors.”

Rhys cringes. “My mother was low-born, and worked as a seamstress in one of their many mountain war-camps. When females come of age in the camps—when they have their first bleeding—their wings are… clipped. Just a small incision in the right place, left to improperly heal, can cripple you forever.” I tell myself to keep breathing, keeping the memories at bay and listen to the story. A story I’ve heard countless times, but never becomes easier. “And my mother—she was gentle and wild and loved to fly. So she did everything in her power to keep herself from maturing. She starved herself, gathered illegal herbs—anything to halt the natural course of her body. She turned eighteen and hadn’t yet bled, to the mortification of her parents. But her bleeding finally arrived and all it took was for her to be in the wrong place, at the wrong time, before a male scented it on her and told the camp’s lord. She tried to flee—took right to the skies. But she was young, and the warriors were faster, and they dragged her back. They were about to tie her to the posts in the center of camp when my father winnowed in for a meeting with the camp’s lord about readying for the War. He saw my mother trashing and fighting like a wildcat, and… The mating bond between them clicked into place. One look at her, and he knew what she was. He misted the guards holding her.”

“Misted?” Confusion laces her voice. As Cassian chuckles sharply.

Rhys floats a lemon wedge into the air and flicks his finger, turning it into citrus-scented mist. I lean forward to catch the look on Feyre’s face, she takes misting entire beings better than I did the first time. She hasn’t seen him do it yet, but the insinuation of it, was enough to make me still when I realised the extent of Rhys’s powers.

“Through the blood-rain,” Rhys goes on, “my mother looked at him. And the bond fell into place for her. My father took her back to the Night Court that evening and made her his bride. She loved her people, and missed them, but never forgot what they had tried to do to her—what they did to the females among them. She tried for decades to get my father to ban it, but the War was coming, and he wouldn’t risk isolating the Illyrians when he needed them to lead his armies. And to die for him.”

“A real prize, your father,” Mor grumbles. I cast my head down, he never did me wrong. But his methods could be…harsh.

“At least he liked you,” Rhys counters. “my father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other.” I grimace, I sometimes wonder how often a mating bond is set between two beings while they’re not right for each other. “My father was cold and calculating, and could be vicious, as he had been trained to be since birth. My mother was soft and fiery and beloved by everyone she met. She hated him after a time—but never stopped being grateful that he had saved her wings, that he allowed her to fly whenever and wherever she wished. And when I was born, and could summon the Illyrian wings as I pleased… She wanted me to know her people’s culture.”

“She wanted to keep you out of your father’s claws,” Mor says, swirling her wine. Azriel finally looks away from me and I let loose a breath, his memories finally clearing. I have no doubt I was involved in that memory from the way he had stared for the past few minutes.

“That, too,” Rhys adds drily. “When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war-camps. To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained. And like all Illyrian mothers, she shoved me toward the sparring ring on the first day, and walked away without looking back.”

“She abandoned you?” I understand Feyre’s deduction but it still has me narrowing my eyes.

“No—never,” Rhys says, with as much ferocity as I felt for his mother’s memory. “She was staying at the camp as well. But it is considered an embarrassment for a mother to coddle her son when he goes to train.”

Cassian laughs, catching the look on Feyre’s face. “Backward, like he said.”

“I was scared out of my mind,” Rhys admits. “I’d been learning to wield my powers, but Illyrian magic was a mere fraction of it. And it’s rare amongst them—usually possessed only by the most powerful, pure-bred warriors.” His eyes flit to me and I give him a lopsided grin. “I tried to use a Siphon during those years. And shattered about a dozen before I realized it wasn’t compatible—the stones couldn’t hold it. My power flows and is honed in other ways.”

“So difficult, being such a powerful High Lord,” Mor teases.

Rhys rolls his eyes. “The camp-lord banned me from using my magic for all our sakes. But I had no idea how to fight when I set foot into that training ring that day. The other boys in my age group knew it, too. Especially one in particular, who took a look at me, and beat me into a bloody mess.”

“You were so clean,” Cassian says, shaking his head. “The pretty half-breed son of the High Lord—how fancy you were in your new training clothes.” I snort, I can totally imagine young Cassian thinking like that.

“Cassian,” Azriel’s dark voice cuts in, “resorted to getting new clothes over the years by challenging other boys to fights, with the prize being the clothes off their backs.” The flatness in his voice revealed how much he cared for the Illyrian ways.

Cassian chuckles, he had a completely different experience, just as horrifying, but different. “I’d beaten every other boy in our age group twice over already, but then Rhys arrived, in his clean clothes, and he smelled… different. Like a true opponent. So I attacked. We both got three lashings apiece for the fight.”

From my side of the table, I see Feyre flinch.

“They do worse, girl,” Amren cuts in, “in those camps. Three lashings is practically an encouragement to fight again. When they do something truly bad, bones are broken. Repeatedly. Over weeks.”

“Your mother willingly sent you into that?” Feyre asks with a soft voice. She has a lot to learn about Illyrians and their customs, I think to myself.

“My mother didn’t want me to rely on my power,” Rhys says. “She knew from the moment she conceived me that I’d be hunted my entire life. Where one strength failed, she wanted others to save me. My education was another weapon—which was why she went with me; to tutor me after lessons were done for the day. And when she took me home that first night to our new house at the edge of the camp, she made me read by the window. It was there that I saw Cassian trudging through the mud—toward the few ramshackle tents outside of the camp. I asked her where he was going, and she told me that bastards are given nothing: they find their own shelter, own food. If they survive and get picked to be in a war-band, they’ll be bottom-ranking forever, but receive their own tents and supplies. But until then, he’d stay in the cold.”

“Those mountains,” Azriel adds, his hard gaze locking on mine again, “offer some of the harshest conditions you can imagine.” I know he still feels guilty about what happened to me, but I only duck my head not being able to bear his loaded gaze.

“After my lessons,” Rhys ignores the exchanged looks, “my mother cleaned my lashings, and as she did, I realized for the first time what it was to be warm, and safe, and cared for. And it didn’t sit well.”

“Apparently not,” Cassian takes over. “Because in the dead of night, that little prick woke me up in my piss-poor tent and told me to keep my mouth shut and come with him. And maybe the cold made me stupid, but I did. His mother was livid. But I’ll never forget the look on her beautiful face when she saw me and said, ‘There is a bathtub with hot running water. Get in it or you can go back into the cold.’ Being a smart lad, I obeyed. When I got out, she had clean nightclothes and ordered me into bed.” She had done some good for all of us. “I’d spent my life sleeping on the ground—and when I balked, she said she understood because she had felt the same once, and that it would feel as if I was being swallowed up, but the bed was mine for as long as I wanted it.”

“And you were friends after that?”

“No—Cauldron no,” Rhys says. “We hated each other, and only behaved because if one of us got into trouble or provoked the other, then neither of us ate that night. My mother started tutoring Cassian, but it wasn’t until Azriel arrived a year later that we decided to be allies.”

Cassian’s grin stretches as he reaches around Amren to clap Azriel on his shoulder. A sigh falls from the shadowsinger’s lips and I smile fondly at the two of them. “A new bastard in the camp—and an untrained shadowsinger to boot. Not to mention he couldn’t even fly thanks to—”

I clear my throat interrupting him as Mor lazily cuts in, “Stay on track, Cassian.” He looks at the both of us, the apologize clear in his eyes, but he shrugged feigning indifference to Feyre. Mor kept her eyes on Cass as I shifted mine to Azriel, noting the tense shoulders and faraway look in his eyes.

“Rhys and I made his life a living hell, shadowsinger or no. But Rhys’s mother had known Az’s mother, and took him in. As we grew older, and the other males around us did, too, we realized everyone else hated us enough that we had better odds of survival sticking together.” Cassian finishes their story and I turn to Feyre.

“Do you have any gifts? Like—them?” She jerks her chin to Azriel and Rhys.

“A volatile temper doesn’t count,” Mor says and I grin at her, sometimes I wonder if we spent too much time together. Or if it’s Cassian that’s so predictable.

“No. I don’t—not beyond a heaping pile of the killing power. Bastard-born nobody, through and through.” I lean forward at the same time as Rhys, but Cassian continues, “Even so, the other males knew that we were different. And not because we were two bastards and a half-breed. We were stronger, faster—like the Cauldron knew we’d been set apart and wanted us to find each other. Rhys’s mother saw it, too. Especially as we reached the age of maturity, and all we wanted to do was fuck and fight.” I roll my eyes at that.

“Males are horrible creatures, aren’t they?” Amren says.

“Repulsive,” Mor clicks her tongue and I laugh softly.

Cassian only shrugs. “Rhys’s power grew every day—and everyone, even the camp-lords, knew he could mist everyone if he felt like it. And the two of us… we weren’t far behind.” He taps his Siphon with a finger. “A bastard Illyrian had never received one of these. Ever. For Az and me to both be appointed them, albeit begrudgingly, had every warrior in every camp across those mountains sizing us up. Only pure-blood pricks get Siphons—born and bred for the killing power. It still keeps them up at night, puzzling over where the hell we got it from.”

I feel Feyre’s eyes slide to me, probably remembering I am pure-blooded Illyrian. Cassian notes her gazing as well and confirms her suspicions. “ This fucking priss of a lady, as Rhys said, is the only pure-blooded Illyrian out of the four of us.”

“Shouldn’t you let her tell her own story?” I raise an eyebrow at Azriel’s low voice intercepting.

“If you are wondering,” I turn to Feyre properly. “I am not one of those, born and bred for that killing power.”

“You were bred for it.” Cassian intercepts, pointing out the fault in my statement.

I hum lowly, “While that may be true, sadly, for my parents anyway, I was born female. Not the son they wanted. My father is a camp-lord,” I see Feyre mentally note the present tense. “Although I was bred to kill, he wouldn’t allow me to train. He’s very traditional in that sense.”

Feyre’s gaze moves to my wings, trying to see if I bear any clipping marks, not that she’d know what to look for. Her scrutiny makes me tuck them tighter against me, straining the muscles as usual. “I haven’t been clipped.” Her gaze snaps up again to meet mine, my face void of emotion. ‘Rhys’s mother helped me in that matter, got me the illegal herbs she used herself when she was younger, stalling my cylcle. She helped me, along with these three, get away when my first bleeding came.”

“You got away.” It’s not a question. I frown, it doesn’t feel like that.

Cassian says, “Oh, she got away, alright.” Amren shoves his broad shoulder and I’m thankful for her respect for me.

“Something like that.” I respond to Feyre. Rhys and Azriel flinch in unison, I might’ve never actually talked about it, but they know.

Feyre furrows her brows, not able to hide her curiosity as to what went down all those years ago.

I don’t answer her questioning gaze, opting to stare at Rhys instead, I do not want to get into that with her on her first day with us. No matter how open Cassian is with her.

Azriel breaks the silence, taking over another part of the story. “Over a decade later, the War came. And Rhys’s father visited our camp to see how his son had fared after twenty years.”

“My father,” Rhys says, swirling his wine, “saw that his son had not only started to rival him for power, but had allied himself with perhaps the two deadliest Illyrians in history. He got it into his head that if we were given a legion in the War, we might very well turn it against him when we returned.”

Cassian snickers. “So the prick separated us. He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed, and threw me into a different legion to be a common foot soldier, even when my power outranked any of the war-leaders. Az, he kept for himself as his personal shadowsinger—mostly for spying and his dirty work. Turns out he already had Lyss in his tight quarters so she didn’t pose a threat to him. We only saw each other on battlefields for the seven years the War raged. They’d send around casualty lists among the Illyrians, and I read each one, wondering if I’d see their names on it. But then Rhys was captured—”

“That is a story for another time,” Rhys says sharply, making me lift my brows. We all had our boundaries in sharing past memories. Cass might be the most open one but that doesn’t mean he’ll tell her everything, there are some things even he wouldn’t tell her upon first meeting. “Once I became High Lord, I appointed these five to my Inner Circle, and told the rest of my father’s old court that if they had a problem with my friends, they could leave. They all did. Turns out, having a half-breed High Lord was made worse by his appointment of three females and two Illyrian bastards.”

“What—what happened to them , then?”

Rhys shrugs. “The nobility of the Night Court fall into three categories: those who hated me enough that when Amarantha took over, they joined her court and later found themselves dead; those who hated me enough to try to overthrow me and faced the consequences; and those who hated me, but not enough to be stupid and have since tolerated a half-breed’s rule, especially when it so rarely interferes with their miserable lives.”

“Are they—are they the ones who live beneath the mountain?” Feyre asks.

“In the Hewn City, yes. I gave it to them, for not being fools. They’re happy to stay there, rarely leaving, ruling themselves and being as wicked as they please, for all eternity.”

“The Court of Nightmares,” Mor says as all are faces grow tight, thinking about that horrid place.

“Ans what is this court?” Feyre gestures to all of us, and the darkness clears.

It was Cassian, who answers with bright eyes, “The Court of Dreams.”

Feyre contemplates for a moment. “And you?” She says, and I know it’s directed to us females.

Amren merely says, “Rhys offered to make me his Second. No one had ever asked me before, so I said yes, to see what it might be like. I found I enjoyed it.” Always a person of little words.

Mor leans back in her seat and I focus on her. “I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor says, twisting a curl around a finger. “So I got out.” I almost scoff at the simplicity of that statement. Her escape from the Hewn City was as simple as mine from the Illyrian camp.

I take a breath, “My father was camp-lord when those three were in the camp. Cassian was a nuisance, he followed me around everywhere to annoy my father. Even as a five-year-old he knew how to get on someone’s nerves.”

Cassian’s grin only reveals truth as he takes over. “And when Rhys and Az came to the camp, they joined in.” I purse my lips at his statement. “But she had fire, handed our asses to us, multiple times. Her father might’ve not let her train, that didn’t mean she didn’t find a way to do so anyway. Slowly, the annoyance turned into acceptance that we weren’t going to leave her alone as long as it meant pissing off her father.”

“He still seethes whenever we join her in the camp.” Rhys adds.

I smirk, “He still seethes because I outrank him now.” I hold Feyre’s gaze and see she knows there’s more to the story than what we’re telling, so I give her another crumble. “I am Cassian’s Second, Colonel of the Illyrian armies.”

A/N: Let me know what you thought! Maybe any theories on how this story is going to progress? Obviously this is a romance fanfic (I'm sorry if you didn't realise that already), but I wanted to give my character some depth and not just have her exist because of her love interest. Do keep in mind this is a slow-slow-burn. It will be some time before we will be happy go lucky, not to say that there won't be any tension. Because there will be, a lot of it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please leave a comment saying so!

Taglist: @inloveallthetime @mybestfriendmademe