#don't remember if i've posted this before

[sirithesillies]

hello people i was given cocon and im so bored so take way too much info about me (more than you will ever need):

obligatory this is a hella long post below :) :

i have multiple names, and therefore multiple middle names !!! notable ones are Luci (Lucifer or Lucious, whichever idc) && Nex :)

rn? 15 bodily

July 31st :D :D

^ that makes meeee a leo >:)

i like reds, greens, n purples

2 or 7 :D

YEAH !!! i have a bearded dragon named buddy, and i also share three dogs (sasha, sheeba, and albus.)

i was born in indiana? i think? but we moved so often iderk. lived in britain for a while but don't think i was born there?

a measly 5'3 :(

uhm.. american women's 8 1/2? i think?

13, 14 if you count roller blades and 1 maybe 2 if you count the ones i actually wear

uhm i was. sleeping.. in my dream.. it was a dream about me trying to fall asleep and it was really comforting though so win-win

i was told i took to crochet really quickly? i work for all of the skills i have, much to my dismay.

i have amazing vibe detectors to the point people use me as a problematic-partner-bloodhound. this works for all people MINUS the ones that are around me✌️

my music taste is super finicky !!! i've posted about it before but lowk i dont rlly have a favorite

v for vendetta at the moment...

i have a variety of mental illnesses so someone who can match my freak frsies.. i need a lot of attention and give it in return so i just need someone whos chill parallel playing like 20/6 or wtv..

i like the idea of kids and i'm good with them in short bursts of time, but i would be a HORRIBLE parent, so probably not unless i fix that :)

im not sure lowkey, haven't thought much about it. i would rather it just be personal honestly

im a polytheistic kemetic and hellenistic pagan, which means i work with both egyptian and greek deities :) i worship Sekhmet, Ra, Bastet, Apollo, Hera, and Poseidon :) I... do a lot honestly :sob:

doctors fear me, nurses love me, and i know medical staff by name. surprisingly that's gone down a lot this last year or two but i also have chronic breathing issues so i go to the hospital fairly often

yeah :sob:

not that i remember at least

baths for special occasions ONLY, showers above all else otherwise

theyre green and white with christmas puppies on them :D

i've had a work of mine go #1 on the charts on webtoon if that counts :sob: i also ran a decently big editing account in like 2020-2021 on tiktok

i'd love to be as well-known as a celebrity, but lowkey i know i'd hate actual fame, and i'd get so overwhelmed being famous. i'd need to be someone with an avatar or mascot in front of me so i could still live a semi-normal life

discussed above in my "favorite song" question, but i like a bunch !!! metal, rock, pop, hiphop, rnb, emo/scenecore songs, etc. etc. etc.

no and i DO NOT WANT TO !!! you will never catch me naked anywhere near a lake, let alone in one.

8 of varying sizes.. im also counting very specific stuffed animals but not all of them, since i use some of them as pillows

on my side curled up...

we live in a two story house with one main story and a basement. main floor has two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and living room combo, while the basement has one bedroom (mine!!), one bathroom, a free space, and our laundry room n pantry :)

i dont. actually eat breakfast.. uhm i like Krave brand cereal with strawberries and i like bagels either with normal cream cheese n strawberries, or fried with ham and an egg

yes i have

yes and i SUCK at it

out of all words? тоска. it sounds like "toska" and is some immeasurable yearning from the bottom of one's heart. smth smth i like words for their meanings because reducing one to its sound is superficial or smth. fr tho for a word i think sounds nice, try "eloquence"

cunt... stickin to the classics here. fuck and shit are ALSO high up here.

a very, very, very horrible 14 and a half days. it sucks. don't do it.

yeah :sob: i have scars all over if you care to look tbh, most of them have luckily just faded

not to my knowledge?

i don't like lying, nor do i make a point to practice. i don't think i am? i tend to panic and give shitty stories when i lie. so.. nah, don't think i am

for all people minus those who matter to me. lord.. show me a picture of a person and i can clock little things about them, but if someone obviously is being horrible to me? nahhhhhh theyre such a nice person they would neverrr...

nope!! can't fake accents very well. i mean.. i can kinda do a southern one ig?

i can speak with an american accent, but i speak pretty naturally with a brit one. one of my largest flaws..

i think slavic and arabic accents are gorgeous..

uhmmm my mbti is INFP-T, and im. sorta just.. me on here... idk how to describe my personality :sob:

i HATE wearing expensive clothes. most expensive article of clothing i own? a carhart jacket that's older than i am

yeppers :)

innie..

ambidextrous :) i use my left primarily to write and my right for almost everything else

no, but i don't like them on me and am terrified of black widows.

I like banana pudding? im not picky at ALL honestly

i like so many... the basic bitch answers of i like most mexican and chinese dishes, but i also like viet and indian foods... uhm im again not picky

im a mess :sob:

"woof..." "oh gosh" or "HELP???" are frequents

idk lowkey i use a lotta words a lot. yapper core...

15-20 minutes from the time i wake up to the time i'm out the door

diagnosed narcissist goes crazy

i just.. let lollies melt on my tongue... no sucking or biting required.. no conscious effort... just leavin it there

uhm i talk outloud to think but also this is biased of multiple consciousnesses in one so it's sometimes hard for me to pin if im.. just.. monologuing purposefully for a headmate or if im just thinking to myself.

i hum, but not sing :)

i think so, but who m i to say

terrified of death, horrified of being forgotten, and i despise being alone..

god no i hate gossip

no clue honestly..

medium

all 50 states AND all european countries

ela and art

ambivert :)

no but i used to live on an island near the mariana trench and it woulda been so fuckin cool to say i scuba dived near the mariana trench..

uhm various people and touchy subjects ig? im not very easily made nervous

YES and i will NOT be taking slander for it

uhm it depends? sometimes i do, sometimes it isnt worth it to, and other times i don't

yeah

no

kinda? hard to say but uhm uhm uhm

goose lore...

.....gooose lore........

a kid named Jack that i will not be getting into for aforementioned lore reasons

rn i only have my one ear piercing, but i used to have my tongue and cheeks pierced too. i wanna get my septum done and my lips (angel fangs or snakebites) when m older

yes if i try hard enough..

anywhere from 60-100 wpm depending on what im typing and if i know what i want to say. but i also fuck up a lot, so.

not very fast..

natural blond rn but i wanna dye it lowkey

blue-green, but ideally brown :)

used to be allergic to red food coloring, but now im just allergic to tylenol... lame..

yeah !! i use digital websites to :)

my father is in the military and works a variety of handymen jobs, and my mother is a hairdresser

ehhh the people around my age that i know are hit or miss, but im not getting any younger and i sure as hell don't wanna be older so

sm stuff :sob: im hard to make mad-mad but there are a few things that make me annoyed. it takes a LOT of time and effort though so yk.

im decently happy with it- there's a slight disconnect from it but overall i think my names are nice :)

Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

i really honestly don't care... i dont think much would change with it, right??

i like to think im nice enough, and im smart enough at stuff to say it blankly. im good at my art stuff and im fine enough to take care of myself for the most part :)

im lowk impulsive and i have major trust and abandonment issues :sob:

"August" i stole from auguste toulmouche, sirius is a constellation i relate to (and a certain character that i also liked), and keres was a name that i just. came with. i started using it again recently :)

im not sure, but im directly related to alexander graham belle. like, the guy who made the telephone. family's wiped from all records due to divorces n the like, but yeah :)

im lucky enough that a lot of them are faded, but i have scars pretty much everywhere if you care enough to look for em tbh

my sheers are grey and my blankets are mismatched.. but my comforter is black and so are my two pillow-pillows

My room walls are green and my floor is a brown carpet :)

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[niningtori]

clementine | preview

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your explosive breakup and wordless, thorough disappearance from beomgyu's life, he's surprised to see that you've moved back to his town. when he happens to meet you again, beomgyu wants to apologize, maybe make amends for his unforgivable behavior, but he's devastated to find out that you've erased every memory of him. you don't want to remember him—or the love you once held onto so desperately—anymore. he knows that to be the case, so why is it so hard for him to feel the same way?

genre: angst, romance, potentially second chance, asshole!beomgyu to groveling! beomgyu (who saw this one coming...), inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind tho i've never seen it and only know major plot points through cultural osmosis

warnings: angst, previous toxic relationship

word count: tbd

release date: really far in the future probably

notes: i received a request for this a while ago and i said i'd think about it then received an ask a couple of weeks ago saying another author was working on something based on the same movie. again, i've never seen the movie and i haven't read the author's work (or any new fanfiction rlly in the past few months cuz i haven't been in the headspace to enjoy it) so i will be making it up based off of the general concept of having memories of an ex erased. i said i'd wait to post it and i have every intention of doing so but i wrote this in a moment of inspiration and i've been posting previews so i thought i'd post this just as a teaser! it won't be out for a long time cuz i have so many wips and i don't want to be inconsiderate or invite weird, unsolicited comparisons. i just want to post previews bc i'm excited to get back into consistently writing after almost quitting 🥹

-

it’s jarring, to say the least, to see an estranged ex you used to love more than anything else in any unexpected context; but it's especially jarring for beomgyu as he watches you chatter away on your phone in the middle of the cafe he finds himself in. he catches your eye for just a second before you look away, and it's like he can't breathe. after your phone call, you smile as you type away on your screen. beomgyu gulps, because he knows that since you two made eye contact, it would be weird to just leave and pretend he didn't see you, though that's exactly what he wants to do. besides, no matter how much of a coward he is, he can't keep living with his unspoken feelings when he finally has the opportunity to express them, no matter how resolutely you might reject them. he hesitantly rises from his seat and walks over to you with unsure steps.

“hey,” he says unsteadily. you look up from your screen and give a forced smile, a far cry from the easy affection you used to give him. only him.

“uh, hey?” you reply. beomgyu worries he did the wrong thing by approaching you, especially because you seem confused that he said anything at all. you probably expected him to exit the cafe without a word, and the thought that you thought that he, who was once completely and utterly in love with you, would brush you off so easily brings a sharp pang to his chest.

“i… i know it’s been a while, but i… i want to, um, apologize for… everything.” he wants to lay down and die at his awkwardness, but he's wanted to say these words for so long, and no matter how much he’s compelled to swallow them down and safely tuck them away in the home they've carved out for themselves in his stomach, he knows this is the right thing to do. especially since you blocked him on everything before changing your number. especially since you moved away without a word after your disastrous breakup. especially since he hasn't seen you in so long, and he doesn't know if he'll ever see you again after this. your eyebrows furrow, and he braces himself for impact. but no amount of contrived mental fortitude could ever prepare him for your next words.

“... do i know you from somewhere?”

notes pt. 2: might delete this preview so be prepared for that possibility 🫰 peace and blessings :,) but please don't be mean or weird like actually

[byler-invested]

Stranger Things / Twin Peaks parallels

_____i. CONTEXT

In the previous picture posted by @ziggystardustmybeloved, the yellow flannel guy (who, like Ziggy implied, very clearly and intentionally looks like s4 Will Byers) is Bobby Briggs, a character in David Lynch's 1990 mystery TV show Twin Peaks.

However, upon searching deeper about Bobby Briggs, I learned that his arc and personality actually has very little in common with Will's. What caught my attention, though, is the fact that Bobby dated Laura Palmer.

Now, in the past, I've read some posts by @pinkeoni about how Will is heavily paralleled to Twin Peaks' Laura Palmer, and at the time I found those parallels not only plausible, very intentional but also incredibly interesting, for various reasons. I highly encourage everyone to read them.

Side note: I read those posts a long time ago and unfortunately I can now only vaguely remember them, so I'm sorry if something in the following paragraphs has already been said by someone.

_____ii. THE PARALLELS

So. In Twin Peaks, there is a love triangle involving Laura Palmer, the above-mentioned Bobby Briggs, and a third male character, James Hurley. After researching this love triangle, here's my summary and interpretation of some parallels I'd read about before and others I identified now:

Will Byers = Laura Palmer:

Abused & traumatized 'final girl'-type love interest full of secrets who dies/vanishes in mysterious circumstances.

They're officially dating the 'bad boy' type (Chance/ Bobby) but their heart truly belongs to another secret hopeless romantic lover (Mike/ James).

Mike Wheeler = James Hurley:

Brooding ("emo"), hopeless romantic, dreamer, sensitive, protective, "knight in shining armour", Romeo-type male lover who aspires to be a hero, however his arc is usually doomed and tragic.

Deeply cherishes, loves & cares for the feminine love interest (Will/ Laura), doing everything in their power for their well-being.

I have to add that James Hurley also curiously & very heavily parallels Eddie Munson for some reason; very interesting considering that Eddie is Mike's role model. If someone's interested about this aspect, I can add a lot more info about it.

Chance = Bobby Briggs:

Reckless bad boy jock-type who acts tough but is secretly very sensitive & emotional inside, however he expresses those emotions through anger, hostility, mocking and violence. Wants to be respected and feared, but is also desperate for approval.

He's in an 'official'/public/consummated relationship with the feminine love interest (Will/ Laura), but their relationship is rocky and toxic.

Has an open rivalry with the hopeless romantic lover (Mike/ James) and frequently mocks him for being emotional, sensitive & broody.

Bobby is also involved in crime, specifically drug dealing, though he’s not as tough or ruthless as he pretends to be and when confronted with real danger and violence, he panics.

_____iii. WHAT WOULD EVEN BE THE PURPOSE OF ALL THIS?

My long-standing theory has been that in ST5, Chance will actually parallel Lonnie and fulfill the role of a bad/toxic influence over Will, not knowing how to properly love him and ultimately taking advantage of him in some way (my guess: something to do with sex or drugs, not unlike our very dark theories about Lonnie).

I think it's no coincidence that Chance is older than Will— some say this disproves their 'entanglement', I say the unhealthy age gap is, sadly, exactly the point. To, in a way, 'mirror' Will's trauma with his horrible father figure, a situation most commonly and crudely known as 'daddy issues'.

This is one of the ways Will is going to fall deeper into unhealthy coping mechanisms and try to push Mike away, because he doesn't believe he deserves true happiness or healthy love.

_____iv. CONCLUSION

In short, I am becoming increasingly convinced something akin to this will actually happen and it franky seems that the hints have been piling up more and more.

I'm 100% aware many people don't subscribe to this Chance-Will-Mike love triangle or believe it can happen, and it's totally OK to disagree! As always, these are just theories and they may ultimately turn out to be true, or not at all. Just happy to share my ideas!

Let me know what you think! 🧠💡🙏

In the meantime, if you want to check out my other posts speculating about Chance's possible s5 role (and why I'm becoming increasingly suspicious lol), here they are:

______________

Tagging some names I know in the ST analysis community (you can tag more) in case you're interested: @greenfiend, @strange-anni, @threemanoperation, @pinkeoni, @conflictofthemind, @erikiara80, @reo-bylerwagon, @bylerlipglances

Something ive really noticed about will is that he's always super buttoned up and is wearing so many layers.

At the start of season 4 he's wearing short sleeves because duh it's California.

But after their fight in Rinkomania (where he is more covered up when first meeting Mike probably because he was apprehensive about seeing him for the first time in so long with so little communication) he's wearing a flannel over a longsleeve shirt?!?!?! In the middle of the californian desert?!?!?!

Even Mike has taken of his blue/green jumper. But even after shovelling a hole under the sun Will is still wearing a ridiculous amount of layers.

Now listen I get it, anything for the fit but I think it's interesting that in the scene above Mike's being vulnerable with Will and he's taken his jumper off. Will after their fight stays covered up representing him literally hiding himself from the world and being closeted which is not allowing him to be emotionally vulnerable in the same way as he used to. He's always holding a part of himself back this season.

And in the promo pics of season 4

Bruh, he's wearing a flannel, a jumper and a jacket over it. Seriously, he's wearing a ridiculous amount of layers 8f you compare him to most other characters in the show.

I don't think this is the only thing in which he's hiding himself, another aspect is definitely his hair. The bowl cut literally covers a lot of his face yes but its also the fact that his haircut hasnt changed since he was 10. He's stuck in his development because of the trauma he's experienced.

We know that a big part of Wills arc this season is coming into his own as a man and probanly coming out to his friends and family. He needs to overcome a lot in order to move on from a super traumatic childhood and embrace himself as he is, im imagining once this happens the iconic will byers bowl cut will be replaced with something that leaves his face more open and his wardrobe will change slightly to have him wearing less layers.

Just some interesting storytelling with the clothes i noticed this season! Exciting to see how wills appearance will change during the next season to show us this change, I honestly can't imagine a will byers without his bowl cut so I'm interested what they will do :)

[pricegouge]

an increase of interest and sweet, encouraging asks and also these posts (i, ii) have led me to do the unthinkable: write a little extracurricular for haul, can you even believe it?

went in a bit of a different direction here. i've gotten a lot of asks about past victims and while i don't really wanna get too bogged down in the specifics of their time with the boys, i thought it might be fun to see how different price is from simon when he's hunting so. here's a different doll not knowing what's good for her.

cw: prostitution, coercion, kidnapping. implied murder. unedited cause i'm freaking out to be touching this again lmao. MDNI

You know something's wrong with him. Beyond the pale, beyond the knowledge you could never introduce him to your mother. That you're used to, well-versed at. It's something worse, something unsettling. something that clings to you long after he leaves, the very cells he sheds infecting, spreading.

Within and without.

You'll be like on of his soon if you're not careful - that pack of rabid dogs that follow him. It disturbs you, how easily you can see yourself among them sometimes, glinting eyes and too-sharp teeth. One more desert predator, runt of the pack and yet a par of it.

Better never to know. Better to leave it like this - small doses. Better to let him fuck you in a truck stop shower so you can scrub yourself clean after, pretend you remain unchanged by him. Ignore all the evidence suggesting otherwise, the undeniable ache and the trail of come he always leaves to trickle down your thigh.

You should know better, but it's hard to remember when his thick cock is driving up into you in one slow drag, splitting you open cruelly just to hear you cry about it.

He like them, your tears. Too much, probably, but you like the drag of his tongue on your cheek too, hot even in the tepid spray of hard water. You feel the rough scrape of his beard at your temple and wonder - is he actually infectious, or were you always predisposed? Was this something you were always capable of? Letting a customer add your services to their tab? Take you out back with their to-go bags and their travel-sized toiletries? You like to think nit, like to blame John and that strange quality of his, the way he can somehow manage to make you feel less-than and wanted for it all at once, sells you some unspoken promise of betterment if you just play along.

You sweat you know better, but you've said that before. It's how you wind up back here, always back here, his bulging bicep wrapped around your throat as he grunts in your ear.

He's pressed against your back as closely as he can be, so tight you imagine the runoff can't even slip between you. But that can't be right because he's slick against you, streams of soap finding their way down your spine through the follicles of his thick chest hair, coating your skin to let him work against you in slick, slow grinds. You can feel his belly settled against the small of your back, forcing you to arch your spine just so, let him fuck in deep to the very end of you, cock head leaking against your cervix.

He'd asked you if you were on some sort of contraceptive once, much too late for it to have mattered. You'd told yourself you wouldn't take his money again when you'd caught the look of disappointment on his face, but you'd told yourself a lot of things.

It's hard to feel shame, in the moment, at least. And maybe that's the worst part - the fact that you ache for him when he's away. Empty, hungry. But if there's something wrong with him that means there's something wrong with you, right? That means the long nights spent with your fingers stuffed in your cunt just wishing for something thicker are just as bad as this: bellied up against a dirty shower stall with a strange man's cock buried so deep inside you you're sure it'll take this time, that seed of doubt that makes you want to climb in his truck when he inevitable offers. Why settle for lot lizard when you could just be his?

Of course, he never phrases it like that, never admits he'll keep you. And maybe he won't but he'd take you Arkansas, maybe, where his plates are from. North, where he's headed tonight perhaps. Usually you see him returning form out West and you wonder… He doesn't have to keep you. You don't need to hear him say it. Cause whatever's wrong with him, it's catching.

But he doesn't ask, not when he's still panting like a bellows in your ear, rocking his hips against you aimlessly as he works you both through it. He doesn't ask when he slips free and immediately cups his callused palm against your cunt, groaning when he feels his own spend leaking onto his hand. He certainly doesn't ask when he makes you lick it clean, salt and the heavy tang of grease which Irish Springs will never fully cut through. You think maybe he'll ask when he goes to shove the money in your hand, as is his usual. But he doesn't, so you do, your own stomach acid boiling up your esophagus as you try (and fail) to keep the desperate edge out of your voice.

And John, well. You did know there was something wrong with him.

"What's is to you?" he grunts, hand snapping back out of your reach when you go to take the proffered money.

"But… you said -?"

"Know what I said. Don't worry, I'll take care of you," he soothes, a balm for the fear you hadn't even been able to voice. "Just… maybe it'll look different now?"

"How do you mean?" you hedge, and John steps closer, blots out the flickering overhead light. Behind him, the door to the shower room opens and rapidly closes, the soft pad of boots treading back down the hall confirming your would-be voyeur had wanted nothing to do with this scene.

At least your reputation remained undamaged.

"I mean. I'll keep you fed. Clothed. Keep you out of the elements. You really gonna make me pay on top of all that?"

"Oh," you wilt. "I guess not."

John's eyes crinkle when he grins at you encouragingly, that same deceptively endearing quality that had first drawn you to him all those months ago. He pulls you against himself, lets you bask in the warmth of his soft, furry chest as he continues to soothe your fears. "But don't worry, not gonna let you put yourself in a bind, hm? You still got something saved from my last visit, yeah? And if you ever need some more, we'll find you some work." He swats you on the ass before you can protest, leaning away to collect his flannel. "Now get dressed. Running behind schedule and I'm already gonna have to skip a stop in Oakley."

"That why you didn't take the time to stretch me open properly?" you ask, cheeky - testing your boundaries. You're pleasantly surprised when he just huffs a laugh, leans close to grown in your ear about how he'll never have to stretch you open again.

It's surreal following him out, ducking behind his broad frame to let him weather the stare of the would-be voyeur. John doesn't flinch so neither do you, head back to your post behind the till with the same confidence you've seen among his boys. A runt still maybe, but part of the pack now.

"Where're you off to?" John asks when he sees you slinking off in the wrong direction. You wait until the other driver disappears down the hall to unlock the register, grinning at your partner as you lift a few hundred from it.

"I know what 'some work' means," you say by way of explanation, and frown when it fails to earn any sign of chastisement.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, love," John warns instead, eyes rolling warily to the overhead security camera.

You wave him off, a loose fiver fluttering free of your fist. "Take this," you order, shoving the hills into his chest. More spill free but the ducks to collect them as you pull up the feed on the laptop behind the counter. "Retired truckers don't know much about security," you impart wisely.

"That so?" he drawls, voice rich with a humor you don't quite understand.

"Yeah, word to the wise - always have a live feed backed up to a separate, private location." to illustrate the importance of this, you cut the feed and then proceed to delete all evidence of the night's recording. It won't stop Roy, the owner, from knowing who's shift if was but it would keep John safe from all but that other driver who apparently already knew enough to keep his head down any way.

When you peel yourself away from the screen, John's eyeing you with a sort of appreciation that makes your tummy flip, a low simmer of excitement building just there, just where you feel him most when he's inside you. Infecting. Spreading. "Clever doll, you are," he praises as you step back around the counter. He hands you your loot back, now properly shuffled into a neat stack. "I'll have to remember that. Now go on out to your car and get what you need. I'll just be a minute, he says, nodding to a display of beef jerky like there's nothing of more value to him in the whole store.

It seems to take him forever deciding, but when he comes back the other trucker still hasn't left.

[whosyourmommy69]

Short Story of Falling in love with Rafe Cameron

The first time I saw him, I thought he was trouble. That was the thing everyone said that about him. He had this reckless, almost dangerous aura that surrounded him. Blonde hair , piercing eyes that never seemed to miss a thing, and a smile that could be either a warning or a promise. I should’ve known better.

But I didn’t.

It started at a party one of those endless nights where people float from room to room, doing god knows what barely remembering the faces they meet. I hadn’t expected to be noticed. Then he appeared, leaning against the table bent down, one arm casually slung over it. he leans up and his eyes caught mine for a moment. It was brief, but it felt like an eternity. He didn’t look away.

“Who’s this?” he asked sitting up wiping his nose , his voice almost playful, but there was something under it, something darker.

I smiled awkwardly, trying to stay composed. "Im trying to find my friend in this mess.

He laughed “You need some help?" Cmon just say no, just say no. "uh yea sure, She has blonde hair"

He smirked at me, "Gonna have to be more specific than that baby, You see how many girls here have blonde hair. What's she wearing"

"uh yea right um she has a blue dress on." I replied.

What started off as an innocent searched ended in us on his boat, drinking something from a bottle that looked like it costed more than my rent. One thing lead to another and before I know it I wake up in a bed. I was cold, naked, alone, and PISSED.

Since that night he started showing up everywhere. I’d catch him in the hallways at school or a tagged post on my instagram. At first it was annoying. This guy I have never met all of a sudden is every where in my life. So I did what any girl would do and I stalked him. I stalk his friends, his friends of friends, his siblings, even his parents. I followed behind him to his classes. You know I even went as far as talking the road that passes his house thinking maybe just maybe I would catch a glimpse of him.

This went on for weeks until one day he was there. I couldn't believe it. The guy who flipped my whole world upside down in just one night, sitting in his truck. I felt like the world stopped moving for a second when he looked up at me getting out the truck.

"hey stalker" he yelled from across the driveway, walking towards me.

"Not a stalker just passing through" I say calmly putting my head down.

"Mhm Im sure stalker. Where you coming from and where's your car?" he says almost like its a crime that Im walking.

"I uh don't have one, and Im coming back from work."

"let me give you a ride" he says smirking

I hesitated for a second before nodding, walking up to the truck and sliding into the passenger seat. The air between us was thick with unspoken tension, I tried to hide it the way my hands would hold onto my pants. With every second spent in his presence I tried to act normal, like this was just another casual ride. But inside, I was a nervous wreck. I mean I had given up hope of even talking to him again, let alone in his car with him alone. And yet here I was, in his car, close enough to smell the faint scent of his cologne. I looked at his hands thinking about the last time they were on me.

Rafe's attention was still on the road. He looked over with a look of something that felt like a challenge. My heart raced, the realization of what was happening settling in.

The drive felt like it took forever, but when he finally reached my street, Rafe didn’t immediately slow down. Instead, he pulled up just past my house and parked at the curb. I turned to look at him, my breath caught in my chest.

“Thanks for the ride,” I said, my voice a little more breathless than I intended.

Rafe didn’t say anything at first. His gaze lingered on me dark and intent. It made my skin prickle. The air between us thickened, like something was about to shift.

“You know,” Rafe said, his voice low, almost teasing. “I've been thinking about that night, and I know you have been to."

I blinked, unsure if I heard him right. “What?”

“Don’t act dumb, I've never seen you on my street before that night” he smirked, leaning closer, his face inches from mine now. “ and I also see the way you watch me. The way you follow me around when you think I’m not looking.” His words sent a shivers down my spine. He knew. He had known all along.

My cheeks flushed with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, Rafe was already kissing me soft at first like he was testing to see how I would act. I melted into it, my body reacting instinctively.

The kiss deepened, and I felt a warmth spread through my chest. The low hum of the engine, the rhythm of his breath against mine, it just felt so right. I had dreamed of this moment ever since that night on the boat, but now that it was happening, everything was different.

When we finally pulled away, my head was spinning. Rafe just laughed softly, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.

“You’ve been watching me for a while, haven’t you?” he whispered, his voice rough.

I nodded “I didn’t think you’d notice.”

“I know everything” Rafe murmured, his hand brushing against mine before he slowly withdrew. “I can't always make the first move stalker”

And with that, he started the engine again, pulling away from the curb. I watched him disappear down the street, my body still warm from the moment we shared. As I turned to head inside, I couldn’t help but smile.

Little did I know this was either the beginning of the greatest love Ive ever known, or the most painful heartbreak Ive ever experienced.

Author: There is going to be multiple parts!! so stay tuned hope u enjoy!!

[will80sbyers]

I'm sure I've seen a post about Superman being El and Will being Clark before (forgive me but I don't remember the first user that pointed this out now), but I was thinking about it again and it's just so freaking true, and the talk Mike and Will have in the van is also the most obvious hint towards this intended parallel, in that moment we see Mike wanting to be Lois Lane... And Lois Lane in a lot of versions of the story idealizes Superman and gets a crush on him before she knows who he really is but she also realizes that she loves Clark Kent more... we're always back to that dynamic with them with every parallel we get, El is Mike's "superhero" she's not his true love and they told us pretty explicitly with this, I don't think they're gonna reveal El and Will are the same person that got separated personally, but the parallel makes a lot of sense as to show what's happening internally with Mike, he's idealizing El and putting her on a pedestal and eventually he will understand that what he feels for Will is what real being in love is

[opossumherd]

thanks for the tag, sunshine <3

3 ships I like: ZelAme (Zelgadis x Amelia from Slayers), Zutara (Zuko x Katara from Avatar: The Last Airbender), Jelsa (Jack Frost from Rise of The Guardians x Elsa from Frozen)

Also RoMaunce guys just hear me out--

First ship ever: hmm, I guess ZelAme and they're still with me 🤔 I'm 300% sure there was something before them, but I don't remember tbh :c

Last song: Exiting by George Ogilvie

Favorite childhood book: The Neverending Story by Michael Ende

Currently watching: Dmitry Kuplinov's Mouthwashing letsplay. If this doesn't count, then I've just finished The Secret Level anthology and haven't started anything new yet

Currently reading: this post ...uuuuuh... haven't read anything fictional in a while, to tell the truth. Does Wikipedia page about time relay count?.. I have a few comics I'm reading as ongoings literally for years but I won't name them nuh-uh don't ask x))

Currently consuming: ...coffee, always coffee... never anything but coffee... currently it's coffee with milk and pine nuts

Currently craving: some luck... and a nice bucket of fried chicken flesh mmmmmmm

@coffeintheface @shortformdrip-blog @blue-iced-tea @ehhhh-119 @sundaesatmidnight @furciferangeli @h0mocorrectus

Tagged by the lovely @jalapenobee!!! Hi Bee!! <3

3 ships i like: LoidxYor from Spy x Family and just all my OC ships who have been living in my head rent free for years. Mainly AdamxOlivia (EverHart), MarigoldxSolomon (MariSol) and HollyxNate (Hate). I could talk about them for hours so if anyone has time to waste...

first ship ever: Jeroen and Mara from Het Huis Anubis (the original Dutch/Flemish version of House of Anubis). The enemies to lovers was amazing!!! And then they didn't happen!!! It's been like 18 years and I'm still bitter

last song: Only Me When I'm With You - Taylor Swift

favorite childhood book: I honestly have no idea... But my mum used to read from a Winnie The Pooh book when I was small and there was this poem in there about Piglet going on vacation and going to England and France and Africa and all... And would still be back that evening and I still know it by heart :)

currently reading: My Vampire Plus-One - Jenna Levine

currently watching: A advent calendar unboxing on youtube. I haven't really watched any shows lately (if anyone has recommendations, let me know!)

currently consuming: Tea

currently craving: Some peace and quiet!!

Tagging the following lovely people!!

@silversoulstardust @actually-the-devil @currentlyinflames @keeeegs

[theewokingdead]

Heaven Can Wait - Francisco "Catfish" Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Francisco “Catfish” Morales x f!Reader Summary: Frankie wakes up after a night of drinking to find himself in a strange woman's bed. As he grapples with his post-Colombia demons, the stranger beside him offers something unexpected: patience, understanding, and maybe even a reason to live. Word Count: 1.7k POV: 1st person (Frankie) Rating: Explicit Content: Substance abuse and addiction, loss/grief, strong language, sexual content, vomiting, happy ending (because Frankie deserves it) A/N: Inspired by Hozier’s “Work Song.”

Masterlist I stare into my nearly empty beer bottle, hoping it'll reveal answers to my mistakes, though I know it won't.

It's day three of this relentless bender. My hand shakes as I raise my drink, and I can't tell if it's the coke wearing off or the crushing weight of my reality. Tom is gone. My fiancé left. I've driven away everyone who once mattered to me. They’ve moved on. Yet here I am, caught in this destructive loop, questioning whether I want to break free or if this might be the time I don't wake up.

“You look like you could use some company.”

I blink through the haze and find a woman sliding onto the stool beside me. She’s smirking, a little amused, a little intrigued, but there’s something else behind her eyes. Recognition, maybe. Like she’s seen this type of misery before.

I scoff. My chest feels tight, like the weight of her gaze is pressing down on me. “Company doesn’t fix anything.”

“True… But it can distract,” she replies lightly, spinning the bottle in front of me.

Her offer lingers in the air like a half-remembered song, familiar yet out of reach. I glance at the bartender and wave him down. “Another for me. And one for the lady.”

The next thing I know, it's morning. There's a woman on top of me, asleep. A mixture of emotions swirls within me - an unexpected warmth mingled with uncertainty. I'm still inside her, and I can't tell if I'm more comforted or unsettled by the situation.

"Shit," I croak, my throat dry and voice raspy.

Her eyelids flutter open, revealing wide, startled eyes. "Oh… shit," she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper.

We lie there frozen as the weight of the moment sinks in.

My head pounds, my stomach churns, and the realization that I have absolutely no memory of how we got here slams into me like a truck.

"I’m going to be sick," I blurt.

"What…?"

I shove her off—gently, or at least as gently as a man about to puke can—and nearly face-plant off the bed before stumbling toward the bathroom. I barely make it before I drop to my knees and empty whatever’s left of my dignity into the toilet.

Between retches, I hear movement behind me—the rustling of sheets, then footsteps. The bathroom door opens with a creak, followed by the sound of water running. A cool washcloth is gently pressed against the back of my neck.

I flinch, surprised, but don’t push her away. The sensation is grounding, something solid in the middle of the nausea. I should be embarrassed. Hell, I am embarrassed. But she doesn’t say anything - just crouches beside me, her hand light on my back as I ride it out. Her calmness makes it a little less humiliating.

"Jesus," I mutter once I can breathe again, wiping my face with the damp cloth.

She snorts. "Not quite, but thanks."

I groan, pressing my forehead against the cold porcelain.

“You good?”

“Define good.”

She laughs softly. “Well, you're not dead, so… that's something.”

I snort weakly, flushing the toilet, washing away the evidence of my sins. When I sit back against the wall, I notice she’s slipped on a robe. At least she has the luxury of some damn decency.

She disappears for a moment, giving me time to look around the room, taking in how bare everything is. The walls are plain. The counter around the sink is mostly empty. It’s clear she’s still getting settled.

"Here," she says, returning with a towel and tossing it at me. "You might want to cover up. I mean, you’re not bad to look at, but…"

I blink, then glance down.

Right. Still naked.

Muttering a thanks, I wrap the towel around my waist. She leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a smirk.

“Congrats on winning most awkward morning-after experience ever, by the way.”

Fuck. Me. I scrub a hand down my face.

“Thanks,” I say dryly, attempting a smile but failing miserably. “I’ll get a trophy to commemorate the occasion.”

She chuckles. “Please do. I’d love to see you display that on a bookshelf.”

I can’t help but crack a smile at her teasing - there’s something infectious about it. Maybe it’s the relief of not having to face this alone, or perhaps just the sheer absurdity of our situation. “I’m Frankie, by the way.”

She tells me her name, and it's just as pretty as I had imagined it would be. A surge of frustration hits me. How could I possibly forget something so beautiful, so sweet?

I guess that’s what happens when you drown your brain in alcohol and grief.

A pause settles between us. Not quite awkward, not quite comfortable. Just…something different.

Then it hits me. A flicker. A flash.

Low lamplight. The sound of her breathing against my ear. The way she moved - slow and gentle, like she actually cared. Like it wasn’t just sex, not just another body in a long line of bad decisions.

I thought it was a dream.

Even now, head splitting open, stomach still churning, I almost convince myself it was. That I didn’t pull her into me like she was the first thing in a long time that felt real. That I didn’t whisper the words that slipped past my lips, aching and raw, confessions I didn’t dare say out loud when sober. But in the haze of that dim room, it felt easy - like she could see the parts of me I tried so hard to hide.

“Listen, about last night-” I start, but she cuts me off with a raised hand.

“Let’s just take it one awkward moment at a time, okay?”

I nod.

"I should probably get dressed," I mumble, shifting uncomfortably on my knees. The towel slips a bit, and I grab it tighter, half-dreading the moment when I'll have to stand up and face whatever judgment lingers in her eyes.

“Or,” she suggests, “you could just take a second and breathe. We’ve all got our demons, Frankie.”

I look up at her. The amusement from earlier has faded; there’s something softer now, like she knows how fragile I am beneath this façade of bravado and bad choices.

“And we all deserve a fresh start.”

"A fresh start," I echo, the words tasting bitter on my tongue. It’s a phrase I’ve clung to in moments of desperation, yet it feels hollow now, like a promise long broken.

She raises an eyebrow, the smirk returning. “You don’t sound convinced.”

I meet her gaze, trying to decipher her. “Yeah, well… fresh starts are usually just a nicer way of saying you’ve messed up so badly you need to wipe the slate clean.”

“True,” she replies. “But sometimes it’s not about wiping the slate. It’s about what you choose to write next.” She extends a hand. “And you don’t always have to write it alone.”

I hesitate. Guilt gnaws at me. I want to tell her everything, to spill out all the secrets and shame I carry like stones in my pockets. I expect her to ask me about my life, my choices - what brought me to this point of self-destruction. Bu it doesn’t come. She doesn’t prod. She doesn’t ask a thing. Not about Tom. Not about what I’ve done. Not about why I’m trying so hard to drown myself in whiskey and coke. Everyone else has, but she just waits.

Something in her eyes pulls me in, a quiet strength that feels like an anchor amid my stormy chaos. I take her hand, tentative at first, and she helps me to my feet, steadying me as the world tilts slightly. Her grip is firm, warm, and for the first time in a long time, I feel something other than shame and regret.

---

Eighteen Months Later

"Fuck, baby," I groan, my grip tightening on her hips as I thrust deeper.

She gasps, back arching, fingers clutching the sheets like they’re the only thing keeping her tethered to reality. Her body trembles around me, heat and silk drawing me in, making me lose myself in her.

"Frankie," she whimpers, breathless.

"I got you, babe," I murmur against her lips. "Always."

A few more thrusts and she’s breaking apart beneath me, and I follow, burying myself deep as I groan into her shoulder.

After, we lie tangled in sweat-damp sheets, her head resting on my chest. The room around us is warm, filled with picture frames holding memories we built together. On our bedside table sits a trophy she gave me as a small gag gift (no pun intended) my last birthday.

Suddenly, she gasps, throws the sheet around herself, and bolts for the bathroom.

I hear it - the unmistakable sound of vomiting.

Instantly, I’m up, pulling on my boxers before following her. Dropping behind her, I sweep her hair back, my hand rubbing slow circles on her back as she rides it out. It’s eerily familiar, but this time, something’s different.

"Well…" I smirk when she’s finished. "This is familiar."

She groans but leans into me. “Yeah, well, it’s a little different this time.” She wipes her mouth with a washcloth I hand her, looking both sheepish and exhausted.

I chuckle softly, tracing my fingers along her spine, the warmth of her skin radiating beneath my touch. "How so?" I ask, leaning close enough to catch the faint scent of vomit mixed with her floral shampoo.

"For one, I didn't wake up with some strange man inside me," she says with a playful smirk.

I chuckle. “As your husband,” I reply, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin, "I’d be very concerned if you had.”

“Secondly, we actually planned for this,” she says, a hint of a smile breaking through her weariness. “I mean, not the throwing up part, but you know…”

I exhale slowly, the weight of her words settling over me. Planned. This isn’t just a temporary escape from our pasts - it’s the future we chose. The future we built.

I press my forehead against hers, my hands cradling her face as a slow, contented smile spreads across my lips.

A year and a half ago, I thought my story had already ended. That I was living on borrowed time, waiting for the inevitable crash. But here, in this moment, with her? I know now…

Heaven can wait.

Because I’ve already found mine.

[mercurygray]

Advice for a Long Fic

Someone asked me recently for advice about writing a long fic, and I started making a list before realizing this was probably a post rather than a message.

I know I've said most of this before, and none of it is new advice. As with any advice, take what you think will serve you and leave what you think will not. Everyone's process is different.

-*-

Start a new folder in the place where you save your things. This is your new big project folder. You are going to save all the things here.

Decide whether you are going to write the whole thing and then post it, or post it as you go. There are benefits to both of these approaches. I am a post it as you go person, and I have friends who think this is the dumbest approach imaginable. It is whatever works for you and causes less anxiety.

I have a spreadsheet for all of my characters. While I didn't reference it too often while I was writing, the act of making the document helped solidify people in my mind a little. It was also nice to have in case you felt like doing an askbox game on a slow day.

Come up with a naming convention for the things in the big project folder. When your chapter is 'done' it should be switched to the naming convention. Mine was Darkening Sky - Working Chapter Title (for things that were still in progress) and Darkening Sky - 35 - Chapter Title for things that I'd finished. This helped me find things later after I'd been working for three years and would not have remembered what was in a document.

I personally like the model of doing a separate document for each chapter. This allows me to move these episodes around at will without the danger of possibly deleting a large chunk of text. This does not work for everyone! If you like one big document, use one big document.

The other reason I liked lots of little documents is that it gave me the opportunity to slot in other things that I didn't think were originally going to be chapters. When I first started working on TDS, I had a lot of flashes of ideas for different things throughout the whole story, and I wanted to get them down all at once. Some of those made it into the final story. Some did not. Some of them were written for one part of the story but got recycled into a different part. But they are all in the big document folder in case I needed them.

I also did something for TDS that I've never done for a story before - I wrote down all the different story beats and show beats on notecards and I laid them out on my floor underneath cards that had the show episodes on them. (You may have seen pictures of this.) By putting the plot points on notecards, rather than a list, I had maximum flexibility to move them throughout the story and could visualize over a larger space where the story was going. This also allowed the story and the characters to go places I did not think they would go.

Give yourself grace and time. It will not all happen overnight. It does not need to all happen overnight. The people who are expecting it to all happen overnight are not the people you need in your life.

Having said that, a schedule can be a wonderful and valuable thing. I was trying to post a chapter every two weeks during the pandemic, and then when work picked up again I scaled that back to once a month. The schedule was not for the readers. The schedule was for me. Having something to keep myself accountable was helpful to me to prevent burnout (a chapter a day, no thank you) but keep myself moving forward.

I am going to say something provocative here: There is Writing the Fic, and there is Doing Fandom On The Fic. Doing Fandom On The Fic is the "New chapter coming soon!!!" sorts of things. I would be very cautious about feeling like you need to do the second thing. Work on it first. When it is done, it will promote itself. (If you have already created the Doing Fandom thing as a part of your creative process - great! share that! But don't go out of your way to Make Something Just To Have Something.) There is a time and place for the second thing, and it fills a specific need, but there is a different and I would argue more effective way to do that, which is -

Find a Pit Crew. This is an endurance race, not a sprint, which means at some point you are going to look at what you have on the page and you're going to want someone to tell you that you are doing a good job. You're going to need someone to change your tires and change your oil and talk to you at ten o'clock at night when you want to rip everything up. This is not a big public server - this is one or two trusted friends who will listen to your bonkers AUs and what your characters ate for breakfast. Create a server for you and those two people and go have fun. If no one else shows up to this party, you and those two people are still having a great time, and that is what counts.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Today, March 3rd, is OFMD's third birthday. I'm so, so glad that I heard mention of the show here and there around on tumblr back in March 2022. I don't watch a lot of new TV, it's pretty out of character for me to just watch a TV show on a whim, and looking back I don't even remember what it was that convinced me to watch it. A mixture of it being a Taika Waititi project, about pirates, and just this undefinable something drawing me to it, I think. I'd seen a few gifsets and posts about it, back then, and I got caught up just in time to watch the final two episodes of season 1 as they aired. Up until s1e9, I was still so cautious, still pretty sure I was probably just being queerbaited - I'd literally never had a show prove me wrong before.

Three years ago, I never would've guessed that a few years down the line I'd be so grateful for a TV show and the community that sprang up around it. I hadn't participated in fandom since I was a kid. I didn't write fanfic or meta or anything. I was still the kind of guy who didn't give myself a lot of compassion or allow myself a lot of space to challenge my own toxic ideas about how I was supposed to express my masculinity and queerness and how the intersection between them. I'm so glad I've had three years of OFMD, and it's changed all of that.

Happy third birthday to our show <3

[wilmonsfolklore]

Wilmon fic recs!

my health has been shit lately but at least it's given me the time to read a lot of fics, so I thought I'd rec a few!! of course this is a non-exhaustive list and there is so much other beautiful fic out there. also remember to leave comments and kudos if you enjoy any of these!!

here's some of my favourite WIP's that im obsessed with and that brighten my days with their updates <3

like we've never touched before by nonalovesyou - Post season 1 angst in 2025? I'm so happy it exists. Simon gets assigned to tutor Wille in math and they (in a S2 way) awkwardly, inevitably, try to reconnect. Simon's characterisation is incredible, the angst hurts in the best way, and I'm so excited to see it continue.

Hope And Legacy by @malinowaj - Simon and Wille are both pro figure skaters and Simon gets forced to coach Wille by Kristina. Sports AU's have a special place in my heart and this one is just perfect. The way their relationship slowly and organically develops feels so realistic and is incredibly heartwarming. And it's actually gotten me more interested in figure skating, which is fun!!

Even If It's Just Us by queerfrogprince - Wille and Simon reconnect after years to travel Europe together. Wille is grieving, it's messy, it's painful, it hurts, it doesn't shy away from difficult yet important conversations. It's also comforting in a way their relationship kind of inherently is and their natural connection and pull towards each other is so well described. And also, they feel so grounded in every place they visit. I drop everything every time an update comes out.

Change My Mind by @iwouldnevergetintofanfic - Wille comes to Hillerska two years later, Felice wants to date him, and is best friends with Simon. I love Simon and Felice's dynamic in this, and the way Wille keeps subverting Simon's expectations never gets old to me. And Simon finding more of a place at Hillerska is really interesting and fun to read about, it feels really grounded and has those true high school experience-vibes to me. Really excited to see how this one will play out!

come closer and see into the dark by @bigalockwood - Simon and Wille are ghosthunters who work together and care a little bit too much for each other to be professional. There's angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, tension, everything you could ever want. The way their personalities got so perfectly influenced by the world they're in is impeccable and I could talk about it for hours. A masterpiece.

land between our bodies by @phneltwrites - Wille and Simon don't get back together at the end of S3, instead they start to fake date. But this is so, so, much more than that. It explores Simon's character in a way that has made me actually understand him better, the writing is gorgeous, it has one of my favourite OC's of all time, and the way the inevitability and yet the active choice of Wille and Simon's relationship plays into everything here... It hurts and it is so good.

Et c'est le but! by @piebingo - Simon moves across the world to play hockey and live with a host family, Wille's of course. There's only one chapter of this so far but the premise of this is so exciting, and the first Wilmon interaction had me invested already. Really looking forward to reading more of this!

Running With Wolves by @enjoythesilentworld - I'm kind of cheating by putting this one in because I've only read the first chapter but I am already so invested. I never knew the YR fandom needed their own crime novel but this made me realise we so do. Detective Simon, crimeboss Wille, an intricate and incredibly developed plot and so so so much tension. It doesn't get better than that.

And also, because I couldn't bear leaving these out, a few finished works that I really really enjoyed reading!!

Moon go down (do it again) by @skibasyndrome - Wille and Simon in Simon's dorm a few months into meeting and their first uni semester. This has been living in my head since I first read it. The atmosphere, the writing, the quietness of the scene and the loudness of their emotions, the sweetness of the moment. It's so perfectly captured and I want to be in it forever. I'm so happy to have this fic to read whenever I want some comfort.

Take A Punt by @gulliblelemon - Wille and Simon connect in a UK university town. I loved following along as this was posted. It's lighthearted and cute, and it's adorable and fun how Wille is so immediately mesmerised by Simon. But there's also some honest and emotional conversations, and the awkwardness of the transition from accidently spending time together to doing it very much on purpose. Perfect for a pick me up after a tough day.

Never Not You by @pagegirlintraining - Twelve years after the sex tape, Wille and Simon are best friends but have moved on romantically. Or have they?? I was lucky enough to binge this fic when it was finished because oh my god I don't think I could've managed to wait with how invested I was. The fact that this fic had both pov's added so much and puts you right into both of their headspaces. Characterisation is incredible and the dynamic is so Wilmon but has also clearly grown up with them. It's exceptionally painful and messy, but just like with their relationship, it is more than worth it.

[oh-no-its-bird]

I cannot lie to u guys. A big motivator driving me to write the Shang Qinghua in Naruto fic (and specifically to finish it) is that I so desperately need to see one very specific scene of Houhua somehow getting zapped into canon

I genuinely don't remember if I've posted about this yet or only written it out in my notes app but like .

Houhua's gets into a fight and his mangekyou (relating to time shit and directly connected to the 'real' naruto universe via the system) kind of smashes into Obito's mangekyou (dimension travel shit) and also possibly even into Sasuke's own (idk whether he has the rinnegan or not in this au / at that point, but he's also there, and if he does have it, it'd also pitch in w time and dimension)

And basically, all three of them get tossed face first into canon naruto for a bit! I'm sure this can't possibly go wrong.

They get scattered across fire country ,,, They were originally fighting in some 3rd location and Houhua lands back inside of Konoha, and assumes (logically) he just got regular teleported and not hit with the fucking dimension travel beam.

So, yk, he goes 'oh FUCK I lost Sasuke' and goes straight for the Hokage tower to tell Tsunade what happened, bc

a) last uchiha(s),

and b) they were quite possibly specifically sent out on some mission together by her when it was crashed by Obito

Maybe they were going to try and hunt down Itachi ?? Sharingan vs sharingan,,,, idk but if they were then Itachi is also probably around here somewhere due to the dimension zap. No one ask me the specifics I have no idea yet, this would be so down the line in the story

But anyways. Just. Houhua bursting into the Hokage's office then immediately bursting into tears and wailing smthn ab having "lost Sasuke" to a very confused Tsunade and very alarmed team of ANBU agents

More realistically, he'd never be able to make it up into the Hokage's office, so like. Houhua being stopped (by people he knows !! that no longer seem to know him !!) at the doors as he is confused and angry bc WHAT THE FUCK YOU GUYS HE HAS TO REPORT IN LIKE YESTERDAY !!! THEY HAVE AN EMERGENCY ON THEIR HANDS !!!

Houhua accidentally manages to bullshit his way into the Hokage's office by just acting so confident (bc ofc he is! He fr thinks he's supposed to be allowed to be here!) and also jabbing his finger into an ANBU's face and calling them out by code name like he knows exactly who they are, going SPARROW U ARE NOT DOING THIS TO ME RIGHT NOW !! THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR THIS SHIT !!!

Maybe he throws in Itachi's name somewhere in there if the mission he was sent on involved trying to hunt him down

Either way, the ANBU are successfully convinced (and confused) that this guy... must belong here? Is he some higher up? Was he undercover? They dont know but he sure does know them and is acting like everything is ok, so...?

I just need Houhua interacting with canon tbh, au x canon is my favorite thing ever, in the entire world. He deserves to get zapped into naruto canon w Sasuke for a while !!

Meanwhile, Obito is now in an alternate world close enough to the one he left that he doesn't really care (Houhua's existence has not impacted him much tbh) but like. No consequences. Obito doesn't have to worry ab his plans here bc this isn't his world so nothing really matters. But it's still similar enough that the people (read: Kakashi) he might interact with are basically the same to him

So anyways Obito goes to give Kakashi some special 1 on 1 harassment. Could literally go in any direction tbh

Obito probably appears in his room like a little freak and just starts fucking w Kakashi as Kakashi goes through the "who are you how did you get in here" routine (while slowly sliding into an "oh god its Obito" realization fueled panic attack the longer the conversation goes on)

In true Obito fashion, Obito mood swings like no one has ever mood swings before, alternating between making some serious threats to saying straight up creeper shit he'd probably never even voice aloud in his original world

But he can say them all here because there are no consequences, and he wont even have to look himself in the mirror later when he goes home and itll all be fine :DD

Kakashi is having a straight up bad time.

Meanwhile Itachi is just having. A time.

He probably goes back to the Akatsuki only to be faced to face with HIMSELF and immediately checks tf out of just. All of this. He is dissasociating.

The Itachi's haaateeee each other btw, pure self-loathing directed at eachother in such a passive aggressive way. It's very telling, actually.

It would be incredibly uncomfortable for anyone to watch but most of the Akatsuki (Deidara and Hidan especially) are watching with rapt attention while shoveling popcorn into their mouths. Deidara is especially delighted to see that even Itachi himself can't fucking stand another version of him

(As if Deidara could last 1 minutes alone in a room with another him without trying to blow each other up)

Eventually ofc they realize the root of the differences between their worlds (Houhua) tho I think the first real difference they'd note would actually be Jun's existence-- just because he's the easier topic between them, since he's occasionally partnered with (our) Itachi

Idk how they bring up Houhua but like, once he's prought up, (canon) Itachi would be like "Who?" in just the flattest voice as (our) Itachi has a little episode of 'oh. he doesnt exist here.'

Itachi having to describe Houhua to someone else,, but that someone else is himself so he finds himself being more honest than he might have otherwise been w literally anyone else,,, ough,,

(canon) Itachi has Izumi, and mmmayyybe they'll realize that they're just gender bent versions of each other (kind of, anyways) but I kind of doubt it. Either way, thatll be a fun conversation to have

Even more fun of a conversation is the inevitable Sasuke conversation, which I do not even know where to begin with

WHICH ALSO BRINGS US TO SASUKE. WHO IS OUT THERE SOMEWHERE. IDK WHAT HES DOING BUT MAN IS HE LOST.

Sasuke's part of this arc could go in a lot of directions depending on if he defected from the village or not (still undecided on that but for now lets say he isnt, since Tsunade sent him on that hypothetical mission w Houhua)

Just. A slightly healthier and more stable and sane Sasuke who was raised by Houhua after the massacre. Ok and now throw him at his canon counterpart. I think they would also dislike eachother

Canon Sasuke probably burns with envy at the knowledge that this Sasuke got to keep one of their clansmen, and that Houhua helps to shoulder the burden of revenge. But he also has scorn for the fact that Houhua has seemingly "held him back" from revenge or some shit. Not entirely to mask his jealously, tbh

Idk but like, Sasuke vs Sasuke. It's a mess.

Don't let Naruto meet the Sasuke who never left Konoha / possibly came back or he'll lose his mind ab it

Anyways yeah !!! Houhua au meets canon ,,, I need it so bad,,, fuck,,

[bill-gates-hate-blog]

would anyone like to read my story

Zombie apocalypses are supposed to be… apocalypses. That’s what I thought until I was sixteen, when what the scientists call Opheliacordiceps was discovered.

I was raised on a ton of zombie media-- shows, books, video games, you name it. It had what appealed to every teenage boy-- the fantasy of laying down the law with your shotgun. When the Brazilian government revealed they had discovered a fungus that could reanimate the dead, I and every other misanthrope on the planet pervertedly fantasized about the collapse of society, imminent mass death, and becoming the badasses the games convinced us we’d be.

The doomsday preppers must have been real disappointed when business continued as usual.

Two things, we learned that fateful year. One, that the fungus didn’t actually do anything to you until you were already dead, and two, that we’d been in contact with it for a lot longer than we’d realized. Have you eaten a piece of fruit in the last two months? Congrats, you’re going to be a zombie when you die. Sure, getting bit accelerates the process, but the consequences are the same.

Even now, sometimes I find myself wishing that society had collapsed anyway. Humans and their damn perseverance.

I didn’t know my mother passed away until I got home from work yesterday. My daughter pointed at the TV and asked why the news was looking for Grandma. I called my boss this morning, asking for the day off so I could grieve and be with my family.

He said no.

What could I do? My daughter has to eat, so I took the bus to work.

Collections officers frequent the crematorium for obvious reasons. You can tell them apart from civilians by their tired, anxious expressions. They’re a little like paramedics. However, for Collections, a misstep will cost more than one life.

I don my gas mask.

It’s grotesque, the way the dead strain against their bonds. False people, bound to planks of solid oak, fingers thick with bloat. My job is to make sure they don’t get up.

Sometimes people come here straight from the hospital. There have been a few cases where they aren’t even quite dead yet, but are still bound and sent to the crematorium in anticipation of their death. It makes it easier on Collections, I guess.

People are often less than whole when they die, too. Sometimes Collections nails the parts to the boards in a last ditch-effort to keep them in place.

I spy one such woman. She’s been cut cleanly in half. I heard it was a workplace accident. Her hand seemed to have gotten caught in the machine too-- it’s stapled to the board, detached, straining eerily against its prison.

I scan the bodies one by one as I burn and document them. None of them have been my mom.

When I finally go on break, I’ve neutralized 36 threats.

“You’re working slower than usual, Jim. I hope I don’t have to write you up...” Johnson drawls.

“You can’t be for real,” I say through gritted teeth. “I told you my mother--”

“She’s still running around, no? They’re not dead until they go through us.”

“That’s not--”

Johnson has the gall to pat my back like he’s my friend. “Listen. I know something that’ll cheer you up.”

Despite myself, I meet his eyes.

“I’ve picked up a new hobby. If you can spare a few hours after work, I’ll explain on the way.”

“I don’t know…”

“There’ll be beer.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Good man. Now, pump those numbers up! Those zombies won’t roast themselves! Though I certainly wish they would,” he says, guffawing at his own joke.

The rest of my shift goes by without incident. I try my hardest to put thoughts of my mom out of my mind.

5pm rolls around and Johnson motions secretively to me from his car.

“People aren’t supposed to know about this kind of thing, you see. So you’ll have to keep it between us.”

“That’s fine,” I say, not sure if I’m lying.

He pulls out of the parking lot and puts on some smooth jazz.

“So Jim, what do you know about operating a gun?” he says, eyes squarely on the road.

“Huh? Um, just what I learned in college. The mandatory courses, after..”

“Not that they have any effect.” Johnson snorts.

“Yeah.”

“Well, you’ll learn today.”

“Are we going to a shooting range?”

“Eh, not quite.”

I try to pry more information out of him, but no luck.

We pull into the driveway of what is probably the biggest house I’ve ever seen. That’s a real mansion, no doubt about it…in the middle of the woods.

“You know  this guy?”

“He’s my brother,” Johnson snorts. He buzzes himself in with the thumbprint scanner.

The mansion is practically empty. Most of the furniture is white. Sometimes I’m not even sure there’s furniture there at all, if I move my eyes too fast.

“Oh hey, Dave. You brought a friend this time?” It’s a man that, unsurprisingly, looks like Johnson.

“Jim, this is my brother Cory. Cory, this is Jim. He’ll be joining us this evening.”

“Ah, I see.” Cory grins. “He’s got just the build we’re looking for, too.”

“Build?” I can’t stop myself from asking. Johnson hands me a beer.

“We need young, fit guys. Most of the people who try their hand at this kind of thing are old coots.” Cory rolls his eyes. “Wait, did you tell him?” “Oh, yeah, we’re going hunting.” Johnson says casually.

“Oh. I’ve never hunted before.” I’m not sure this is going to make me feel better at all.

Johnson seems to read my thoughts. “You’ll find this cathartic, I promise.”

I don’t answer. I just take a swig of Cory’s expensive beer.

“Sun’s about to set,” Cory notes. “They get more active at night. We should start preparing.”

“You have a gun preference?” Johnson asks as we meander our way to the shed.

“Well, I haven’t shot a lot of them.”

“Just pick something that looks cool.” Cory shrugs, pressing a button.

As the motorized door slowly slides open, I can’t help but find myself in awe of the sheer collection in front of me. It’s the decade-old violent wet dream of every teenage boy.

“Tell me, did you ever play ‘Gears of the Dead,’ Jim?” Johnson says smugly.

“Not for ten years. Wait… do you mean..?” I can’t make my mouth work.

Cory winks. “Take the shotgun. I have a feeling you’ll like it.”

Johnson himself chooses a pistol. Cory has a sniper rifle. I obediently take the shotgun off the wall, trying to remember how to load it. Something tells me the games I played as a kid wouldn’t be very accurate, and my college memories are hazy.

“Eyes up, men!” Cory says, in an approximation of a commanding voice. “Once I open this door, we’re in their territory.” He’s at the other shed entrance.

“Let’s kick some ass,” says Johnson, in the lamest way you could possibly imagine.

I just nod, and we enter the vast, gated forest.

“On my mark, gentlemen.” Cory says, closing the gates behind him.

“So… you play zombies in here. Is that it?” I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t had so many beers.

“Shh!” Johnson says.

Cory leads us further into the woods.

“Some kind of camp there,” Johnson notes.

Cory nods. He takes a metal stake from his pack, and then vaults up the tree, perching himself on a thick branch with rifle in hand. He signals to Johnson with a nod. “I’ll watch your back. You two raid for supplies.”

“This is your property.” I say in disbelief.

“Cory has the servants set stuff up here so we never have the same scenario twice.” He lights the fire nonchalantly.

Incredulously, I check one of the tents. Bullets.

I cautiously check the other tent and all of a sudden a hissing zombie launches itself on top of me, pinning me to the earth scarily close to the campfire. I try to kick it off, its deathly scent making me gag. 

“Johnson! Help!”

“Use your gun, man! Come on!”

“You have a g--!” I give the thing a swift kick in the gut before I scramble to fire my shotgun. White pain shoots through my stomach. I must have fired it incorrectly, because my ribs hurt like crazy, but the zombie reels back with pellets peppered across (and in) its chest.

Cory fires a bullet through its brain, barely missing me. It slowly falls over, searching for its head like a drunken man searches for his dignity.

“You aren’t very good at this.” Johnson says, frowning.

I slowly sit up, clutching my stomach. “I needed help!” I lift my shirt up to check the damage. It looks like this is going to bruise pretty badly.

“You needed the practice.” Johnson says dismissively.

“Hey, he did fine for his first time.” Cory says, hopping down from the tree. “Was it guarding anything?”

Johnson fires another bullet into its spine, stopping it almost entirely. “You check.”

Cory steals into the tent, coming out with a few beers and a loaf of bread. “Eh. This is alright. Did you see that headshot, Dave?” He grins.

“Ah, yes, from point blank range.”

“You still saved me, though.” I mumble. “Thanks.”

“See? He appreciates me.”

“So this is the game you play?” I say slowly.

“Jim, there are very few times when a man can fulfill his actual potential. You have to fight to feel alive in this world.” Cory says with mock wisdom. “Sometimes, Collections will miss somebody. I do society a favor by bringing those missed souls here.” He opens his arms grandly.

“...how do you catch them?” I say, stunned. ‘Usually Collections won’t rest until they find someone.”

“Hi, I own the Crematorium,” Dave says casually.

“I also make deals with Collections,” Cory nods sagely. “That one, though?” He gestures towards the now motionless corpse. “Bobby Carter. His daughter agreed to give him to me after I promised to pay his outstanding medical balance. Cancer treatment ain't cheap.”

“She…sold him?”

“You can sell anything for the right price.” Johnson said. “He was already dying. I was doing her a favor. I get to keep my hobby going, and she gets to be debt free. Win-win!” He grins.

Something boils in my gut, but I can’t figure out what it is.

“Get up,” Johnson commands, offering his hand. I don’t take it, and instead stagger to my feet. Worth it to spite him.

“Let’s keep looking. I want to find the tower before Junior gets himself killed.”

I want to tell the both of them to go fuck themselves so, so badly, but I bite my tongue.

We walk for at least thirty minutes. The brothers fight off another two zombies with ease. I don’t understand how they do it--how they can detect them near-instantly. They must have been doing this forever.

We arrive at another camp by a small creek. Obviously new and planted by Cory’s staff. Not well-worn by genuine hardship.

“Jim, here’s your chance to try again,” Johnson says haughtily. “Keep your wits about you. We’ll watch your back.”

“You got this.” Cory shoots me a thumbs up.

Johnson leans back against a tree, while Cory climbs it again with ease. I don’t want to do this anymore, but the last thing I want to do right now is lose my job, so I steady myself and make sure I’m holding the shotgun correctly this time. I walk slowly towards the camp, trying to listen for zombie noises.

I try to survey the area like I’ve seen Cory do. I’m shaking. I check all three tents. No zombies.

I wave to the brothers. “Hey! It’s all--”

Something grabs my ankle with violent force, dragging me into the water, I kick myself free and then I see the zombie’s face as I stumble and fall backwards.

“Mom..?”

Really, I should have expected this. I should have thought about this the moment I figured out the Johnson brothers were hunting zombies for sport, and that my mother had never been collected.

I can’t make myself shoot her. She’s blue, bloated with water, but it’s unmistakably her. Her leg is mangled, and her torso is just barely holding together. She’d been hit by a car, after all.

I slowly slide away, unable to find the strength to get up.

“J…” I think that’s what she said. I don’t know if she can recognize me. Could Ophelia do that?

I try to make out if she’s mouthing something. “It’s me, Mom.” Tears are running down my face. “It’s Jim. I’m sorry I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“What are you doing, Jim! Shoot her!” Johnson yells.

She grabs onto my ankle again, and I stop crawling away. I just miss her. I just want to talk to her. “Kelsey misses you too. She’s five now. I wish you could hold her. She’s gotten so big.”

Mom opens her mouth. Is she about to say something? She pulls herself closer, using me as an anchor. Opheliacordiceps buds are sprouting from behind her ears. It reminds me of one of my favorite pictures of her from when she was young. She’s got a white flower crown in her hair, in that one.

And just like that, Johnson sends a bullet through her neck. Her body is so weak that her head flies clean off.

“No!” I yell, pouncing on the head.

“Let go of it, moron! She can still bite!”

“No! That’s my mother!” I scream. I’m so angry. I clutch the head close to my stomach.

“Jim, you’re no good to anyone dead,” Cory says slowly, hopping from his perch. “This isn’t how she would want you to go.”

“Keep her memory out of your fucking mouth!” I yell. “How many-- how many people do you have trapped in here! Do their children know? Does it matter one bit to you that you’re tearing apart someone’s family?”

My mother’s head has bitten into my arm. I barely recognize it, and hug her tighter.

“This is a necessary evil.”

“Jim, you burn these people for a living.”

“Yes! To keep people safe! Not to stroke my ego!”

“Dave, I think he’s been bit,” I hear Cory whisper.

“I’ve always hated you.” I spit at Johnson.  “I told you I wanted a day to grieve and all you do is squeeze and squeeze me until I have nothing left. So here’s the deal, you sons of bitches.” My vision is starting to fade. “I’ll play your little game… but Kelsey… everything… she needs to be taken care of. My daughter.”

Johnson turns to Cory. “Well? He’s young, and well built, and he doesn’t have any significant injuries.”

Cory nods. “He’d make a nice challenge for sure. But…”

“But what! I’m already dying!” My vision clouds with white fibers. This is the part where Ophelia grows through my eyes. It hurts so bad, but it’ll all be over soon. I won’t be here for these men to tear my body apart. At least, I hope.

“But I don’t remember negotiating that in your contract.” Johnson’s voice is sharp and cold. And then nothing.

[ckret2]

I have a public service announcement! No one's done this lately so it's not aimed at anyone specific—but that's why I'm posting now, so it doesn't single anyone out.

It's true that, in-universe, Bill's said he's apathetic about what gender humans see him as. But you and I aren't in his fictional universe; we're in the real universe.

And out here in our real universe, when someone discovers that a guy they've ONLY ever referred to with he/him pronouns actually has breasts under his shirt? If that person is a conservative, they might start calling this man "she." If that person is more progressive, sometimes they start calling him "they." Like they'll respect that he's trans but refuse to respect that he's transmasc.

And because we live out here in the real world where I'm sick and tired of watching this happen, I'm also sick and tired of watching it happen to characters I write with he/him pronouns. Because multiple times I have had readers—nominally pro-LGBT readers!—start calling a he/him character I write "they/them" the second I headcanon him as transmasc or give him physical traits associated with AFAB bodies, in spite of the pronouns they see me use for him.

You've never seen canon call Bill anything but he/him. You've never seen the guy who invented Bill call him anything but he/him. Except when I write from the perspective of a character who literally DOESN'T KNOW they're looking at Bill, you've never seen ME refer to my specific interpretation of Bill with anything but he/him pronouns.

(And not to get too serious over cartoons, but—if you can't get a character's pronouns right after seeing me use THOUSANDS of he/him pronouns for him—a character whom you were INTRODUCED TO with the correct pronouns and whom you likely ONLY called by the correct pronouns for years, right up until the moment you saw him drawn with tits & hips—if the mere knowledge of his anatomy is enough to completely overwrite every single time you've seen & heard his pronouns used—then I worry about how y'all would talk about an IRL transmasc guy if you could see immediately that he's AFAB and only hear his pronouns once.)

Knowingly using the wrong pronouns doesn't magically become woke when it's gender neutral wrong pronouns. Stop ignoring the only pronouns you've ever seen me or the show call Bill. Do not misgender the silly cartoon triangle in my inbox & comments.

Thank you.

I'm GRUDGINGLY more flexible on calling Bill the wrong name, since I know sometimes y'all need to differentiate whether you're talking to me about the vague concept of canon Bill or, specifically, the copy of Bill undergoing the events in my fic, and using his in-fic "this is the name used by PEOPLE WHO DON'T KNOW WHO HE IS" nickname is convenient for that.

So, yeah, if you HAVE to, you can call Bill another name. But please know: 1) I dislike that; 2) I'd rather you only do it in contexts where it's necessary for clarity; and 3) even if you're calling him the wrong name out of grammatical necessity, it's still the wrong name.

EDIT: I'm disabling reblogs on this post because people who don't even watch gravity falls, much less read this fic, have started trying to signal boost it. "Don't they/them transmasc he/hims" is an important message that should be spread, but it isn't the message of this post. The message of this post is "you know how people they/them transmasc he/hims? Don't do that to my fanfic cartoon character." This post is not for anybody who doesn't read my fanfic. Don't try to use a post about a Disney cartoon fanfic as a social activism message.

There are posts out there whose message is "don't they/them transmasc he/hims." If you want to spread that message, that's commendable, and you should find one of those posts or write your own.

[zivazivc]

“Your hair…

“Les…

“Leslie.”

“Mmhm?”

Les barely stirred in his sleep and the iridescent golden speckles in his dreads already started to dull and the rest of his hair started to darken. It was as if a large cloud had just passed over them and blocked out the sun during this uneventful, pleasant afternoon nap.

Floyd snapped out of his surprise, but only partially as he fisted the desaturating hair in a thoughtless attempt to hold onto the fleeting moment. But much like sand, the harder he squeezed the quicker the color and shine drained between his fingers as Les roused.

Sensing Floyd’s distress, he quickly lifted his head.

“What’s wrong?”

Floyd felt tongue-tied, still stunned from what he had just witnessed. He was staring at Les—the familiar dark-haired Les that he knew all the quirks and details of better than the back of his own hand—, and who he was now trying to picture with the out-of-nowhere sparkles and saturated brightness. But he hadn’t even noticed the change appearing, and by the time he realized what he was seeing, it was already gone.

“Your dreads…” he finally blurted out, “they were golden.”

The crease of worry between Les’s brows smoothed out into a more relaxed look of confusion.

“It’s just a dirty yellow-green color,” he said while glancing to the right, at his three dreads flopping over the side of his face. “But I guess it sometimes looks a bit like gold in the—”

“No, I mean for real. And your hair was bright,” Floyd cut in, “like, as bright as mine.”

Les hesitated, trying to process Floyd’s steady wide-eyed expression, before pulling a strand of his dark purple hair in front of his face. He inspected it carefully but decided it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary the way Floyd claimed.

“My hair’s always been this shade. Are you feeling okay?”

[dailytims]

Robin (1993) #8