#idk why someone would be looking for the sticky note tag

[pm1073-b]

Lobobo heheheheeee

Sorry for the shitty camera quality, but I did try to make it worse soooo

[barleyo]

BARELYYYYY write another daddy Leon fic, AND MY LIFE WILL BE YOURSSS

867-5309.

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: this fic is shitty and short, sorry ^_^ i literally have no drive or desire to write anymore, idk what's going on with me. probably some type of brain worm! but i thought i should at least try to get something written :3 (ily whoever knows what song the title is referencing)

Tags: incest (daddy-daughter), phone sex, age gap (21 and 50-ish), mutual masturbation, no actual sex, idk dude i'm not sure what i was going for with this

Wordcount: 719

!!! DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT/DARK CONTENT !!!

"Little note wasn't lying," Leon said into his phone, sitting in his car near the back of the bar's mostly empty parking lot. "What's this about a good time, doll?"

It was too late for him to be out like this. Too late for him to be this far from sober. Too late for him to be calling some random number that was stuck to the urinal partition. And, of course, it was much too late for him to be this horny.

"Depends," a voice, your voice, spoke on the line. "What kinda night is it, mister?"

Thank god he was drunk, or else he would've heard right through your overly sensual, fake tone. Thank god you were stupid, or else you would've known it was him right from the sleazy nicknames he used.

"Tonight?" 

Dirty fucking man. His hands were practically already in his pants. Roughly palming at himself over his tented jeans to the sound of some mystery broad's voice. 

"It's a real good night, babydoll. I think you could make it better though." He pulled his zipper down, cock pulsating desperately. 

You giggled on the other line, absolutely drowning in the sudden flush of attention. That's why you slipped the damn sticky note with your burner's number into the men's room all those nights ago, hoping some horned up man old enough to be your dad would ring your line and validate you. Little did you know, that man would truly be your dad. 

"Sounds like you could use it. I don't mind 'chatting' for a bit," you said, hand finding its way all over your body. "Tell me, y'touching yourself already?"

"To a voice like yours? Of course I am."

Leon freed himself from the confines of his pants, eyes shifting anxiously as he looked around the sparse parking lot. He was a grown man, he'd jerked off to hotlines and voices on the phone all the time. In public, though? New territory completely. 

He squeezed his shaft, feeling it pulse in his hand. Thing had a heartbeat of its own at that point as it practically begging to catch some friction and relief. 

"Glad you called," you said, sliding your panties off while you spoke. You tossed them in the corner of your room mindlessly. "I've been waiting for someone to find that little note."

Leon opened his mouth to respond when he heard a soft moan escape your mouth. That was enough for him to start. He wanted to take it slow, to enjoy himself, but who was he kidding? He was a needy fucker and he wanted to cum ASAP. 

"What'cha doing right now?" he was finally able to ask, swallowing thickly as he pumped his length. "Using those cute fingers, doll?"

You hummed through an over exaggerated moan, dramatizing and putting on a show for your 'mystery man.' 

"Sure am," you said, finger curled, reaching your g-spot the best you could with the limited length it had. "But it's not as good as the real thing."

He could practically hear the pout in your voice, and it drove him crazy. You sounded like a bratty little baby, just his type. 

"Awh, aren't you a poor thing? Bet some older cock would do you good, huh?" 

He heard the squelch of your cunt through the phone speaker. It picked up the sound of your palm hitting your clit, and the little gasps of air you let out each time you slammed your fingers in.

"Guess so." You bit your bottom lip, holding back an excited squeal at his words. "You offering?" 

Leon chuckled dryly, watching the tip of his cock weep with pre as he stroked himself. "Oh, someone's eager. Sure," he said, amused smirk on his face as he started to near his climax, hand still working furiously over his cock. "I'm offering. I could use a cute thing like you, anyway. It'll be much better than just hearing ya through the phone."

"We'll see about that," you teased, phone clicking off of the line just as he started to cum. 

(XXX)-867-5309: *sent location* 

(XXX)-867-5309: pull up ;)

Wait, that address? That was his house...

"Fuck."

Leon's head fell back on the car seat headrest, brain going a mile a minute. Hand still covered in stray spurts of cum.

"Fuck!"

[clood]

Weird Questions for Writers: 1, 4, 15, 16, 24, 35, 39

eek thank you!!

1. What font do you write in? Do you actually care or is that just the default setting?

if i change the font, i write in times new roman xD i am a science bitch through and through!! i have it set to my default on actual word, but in google docs it's just on arial and i only change it if it starts to bother me. i only care about 25% of the time!

(however i will not write in comic sans ever. no matter who tells me it's good for writer's block or creativity or whatever. i will write in wingdings before i write in comic sans.)

4. What’s a word that makes you go absolutely feral?

feral in a good way? desperate, profound, beholden

feral in a bad way? orbs, member, squelched

15. Do you write in the margins of your books? Dog-ear your pages? Read in the bath? Why or why not? Do you judge people who do these things? Can we still be friends?

hmm i tend not to write in books, one reason being that i was always told i would like, go to baby jail if i did so. another being i don't really own that many physical books. i'm not about to deface public library property! if i like something, i will copy it into my ongoing note in my phone titled "lines that i like" so that i can later go back and reread them and be fond and mushy.

i use bookmarks because i think they are so cute and fun. also i like to use random things too because that way if i ever forget them in books from the library, i might give the next reader a silly little treat.

i do read in the bath, but mostly i will put on an episode of something instead. this way, i am reminded to actually exit the tub at some point, because otherwise i will decay in there and never get out xD

i will be friends with everyone, though i slightly question the people who do the millions of sticky tabs in their books to mark moments. idk, it seems sort of wasteful. but also they are enjoying themselves and their book so whatever :)

16. What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever used as a bookmark?

haha. i stole a drawing of a fish i had found at a beach house my bf and his family were staying in one spring break. it was a doodle some random stranger had left behind! not sure where it is now :(

honorable mentions include to/from tags my mom made for christmas with pictures of my dogs, and also a cheese stick. (wrapped)

24. How much prep work do you put into your stories? What does that look like for you? Do you enjoy this part or do you just want to get on with it?

this depends! for arms unfolding and where are you roaming, my two big multichaps, i have done extensive outlines. i say extensive, but really it's just been me rambling about what i want in the chapters. for smaller works it either looks like a few random bullet points or i just start writing right away, lest the ideas leave my head before they're out on paper.

i do really love the frantic, word-vomit stage of planning though! it's so crazy and chaotic for me most of the time and it's funny to go back to it as i'm getting further into the story and be like, "oh, yeah. that's where i was going with this!! such enthusiasm!!"

35. What’s your favorite writing rule to smash into smithereens?

i'm a comma abuser.. idk man i feel like a lot of the time i just slap commas wherever the hell i please and neither god nor google docs grammar checker will get me to take them out.

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

this will definitely come off as super sappy but it's definitely the community of people i've been lucky enough to find myself a part of. all of the incredible friends i've made through fanfiction/fanart are such an inspiration to me, and it's really been such a blessing to be able to hear everyone's takes on everything—the good stuff and the bad. like, whenever someone is down on one of their pieces or super stuck on something, i try to be supportive and hear them out, so it would be unfair to myself to not give myself the same treatment. also, everyone rocks and is so kind that they really motivate me to keep going :)

THIS BECAME SO LONG I'M SO SORRY XD

[lysershine]

@willwoodimagines​ lore timeline (what is my life)

So firstly, a fuckin massive thank you to @hotsinglelemonsinyourarea​ because I cannot do this shit alone and he’s helped me compile all of their old posts because I, apparently, underestimated how long they’ve been doing this. So from this point forward, I’m assuming nothing is a joke. Here we go!!

I am so sorry. Let’s do this.

So earliest posts that are likely lore come from around April the 9th. This post is a conversation seemingly between Three and One where Two is gone on a road trip, -- although it might not Actually Be A Road Trip, -- and then One tells everyone to stop acting like Two is dead, because he’s not. Which, fair enough, although later in the conversation, Two replies and seems to invent that he’s at the beach, probably to calm down the people speculating about his whereabouts. I am Anything But Calm. 

There’s also this post, presumably from One or Three but it’s hard to tell cuz Three didn’t start signing posts until much later and they type pretty similarly, where they tell us we should be grateful for them feeding us and keeping us warm, and it’s tagged with ‘#I wish I was warm.’  

So here’s where stuff gets very interesting! Backstory, people! In this post, we start to see some pieces put together. The imagine reads:

IMAGINE: Will Wood invites you into his home for an exclusive performance of I/Me/Myself. You are so excited! But then, he asks you to come down into his wine cellar, explaining that his keyboard is down there. You go down there hesitantly. You don’t realize for several minutes that he did not follow you down here. The only things here are a laptop and a sticky note with the words “POST IMAGINES” written in sharpie. You are so afraid and attempt to leave the way you came in but the door is gone. You are trapped. It is so cold and you just want to see your family again.

So that’s horrifying!! But it gives us insight into how the mods were probably captured and why they’re running this blog. It’s a great blog. 10/10, doesn’t make me solve codes. Oh wait. 

After that post, -- which I am assuming comes from Three, -- we’re treated to a bunch of morse code that the wonderful Nigel was kind enough to translate for me:

They then added in a reblog, “It seems I have made a typo! I meant mod 1 won’t let me speak, I am mod 3.” So, it seems like One is trying to quiet any cries for help.

This is shortly thereafter followed by this post from the 11th, and to quote directly, it says:

IMAGINE: Inside of the cellar basemeant, there is a suit. It is tempting but Weill said you are not allowed to touch. YOu know you want to. Touch it. he is guarding it. he is hiding something. follow for more will woof imagines.

So that’s riddled with typos, and if you stick them all together you just get eeOf so I’m gonna assume that all this means is that this post is courtesy of Two. There’s also a skeleton circled so maybe Will has previous victims or something? Who knows.

On the 12th, we have a couple posts, one about being in Will’s basement and watching him cosplay the onceler, another about Will being vaguely inhuman. Don’t know how important that is but I’m gonna make note of it anyway, because Will being inhuman especially might make sense for some stuff.

The next seemingly important post is this one:

So this one is probably about Two, my evidence being this post and the fact that, following this, Two gets significantly worse at spelling and more confused about what’s going on with their captivity. My best guess is that Two gets in trouble either for the lack of imagines OR they did touch the suit from that earlier imagine and now they know something that they shouldn’t. Either way, Will takes him away and brainwashes??? Lobotomizes??? Bite of ‘87s???? Idk???? I’m gonna go with lobotomy, it seems the most accurate to Two’s behavior from here on out, I really have no idea but he comes back Very Different. And in the tags it says ‘Laplace’s Angel 2:14!’ and the line at that time is “Somebody, help me!” so you know, pretty straightforward cry for help. 

Though it makes me think that in the cellar, they are probably limited to interaction with only things directly connected to Will Wood, which is why “as a treat” they watch the documentary and they communicate with his music like this. They’re not allowed any media other than his. 

Anyway, here’s an important note: From this point forward, Two is an unreliable narrator. Everything he says from here on out should be taken with a pillar of salt. (H.A.L.T., it’s not my fault!) 

So with that in mind, the next post of importance is this one, a conversation that goes Three, One, and then Two. Two says Will let them watch the documentary as a treat, One tells them to stop making it seem like Will is holding them captive, and Three just says “movee :-)”. Which, fair enough.

The next posts that are worth noting are this one, where Three simply says “mental anguish” and One shuts them down saying that no one on the blog is experiencing that, and threatens them in the tags, and then this one where someone is being silenced.  

There’s this post, which in the website version of their blog links to itself, I don’t know how or why or if that matters but if someone figures something out with that, please let me know. There’s also this imagine, which is about bodyswapping with Will -- storywise, I don’t think this is something that really happens, -- but it’s tagged with ‘#I miss my family.’ So that’s Not Good.

There’s some posts in between solidifying that despite this wackiness, the mods are indeed still friends. And then we go straight back into absolute horror with this post:

And so evidently they are Less Than Okay and probably being held captive by Will Wood. It’s immediately followed by this morse code, presumably from Three because he seems to use morse where One uses binary, and when deciphered, it reads: “I am blinking. Hear my cry.” Three’s post is then followed by One trying to shush them once more, saying: 

“[W]e at Willwoodimagines would like to apologize for last night. We might have, perhaps, made it seem as if we are being held in a wine cellar against our Will (Wood), and that some of us have been down here for six years, and that we may miss our families, but I, Mod 1, would like to remind you that we are fine and need no help! Cheers!:) #We are NOT blinking. At all. #Not at all. No blinking from us! Blinking? Aha! Not at all.”

So what can be gathered from this is that they’re absolutely being held in Will Wood’s wine cellar, and some of them have been there for six years, and they miss their families, are NOT fine, definitely need help, and are CERTAINLY blinking. Also the random bolded letters spell “help” again.

Then there’s this post, which Nigel translated for me (ty man ily):

We also have this crudely-drawn map from Two, but it doesn’t seem to be related to anything. Anyway, the address is totally garbled, yep, but nonetheless if you put it into Google you get the address for a relatively poorly-rated landfill in New Jersey:

So clearly someone picked up on that, because then we have an ask from an anon who wants to know what the recycling situation is where they are being held. One seems very confused by this question, and Two pipes in saying that have a trashcan. Their confusion would make me assume this is the wrong address, but I don’t actually have to assume, because One(?) confirms it later with this post containing binary that can be translated to read:

“oh god the address was wrong i don't know where we fucking are help“

So you know, concerning! This is immediately followed by another ask, this one in binary. The conversation goes:

“Are you good?” “Absolutely not”

Which kinda speaks for itself. There’s also a quiz they made and I took it to see if there was any lore and uh apparently I’m most like One, so that’s poggers, I think? Idk there wasn’t any lore though. There is this post where Three says that Two’s favorite song isn’t a Will Wood song, and One threatens to knock them the fuck out, and I’m adding this as a point to my theory that they’re unallowed to consume media unrelated to WW. They make up though, so it’s fine.

It gets more quiet and more confusing for a while, Three saying “wake up” and this post being tagged with ‘#I’m cold and I am afraid.’ Two leaves again, Three goes quiet cuz they’re having a rough time, Two hates being smol-bean-ified and is behind held below One and Three, who seem to be in the same room? They’re also all starving, and Three could be an arsonist if you let them out.

Blah blah, they called me out and I cried about it, and NOW we’ve reached the 100-follower-special. Thank fuck.

Three posts this, it leads to binary, and that binary says:

“Listen carefully. The video that Will (Wood) be posted is extremely important. Do not skip it.“

This is immediately followed by this video of Two sprinting through the woods, presumably to freedom, if you read the tags. Three follows that with another post, saying “It has begun.” One shuts them down again in this post, but it links to binary that says:

“hello? can you read this? mod 2 is free! and hopefully will be coming back for us both. you all did absolutely nothing to help so i'm not thanking you for this. however i am thanking you for following us all! you've given us moral support thank you, mod 1“

As I’ve said earlier, I’m fairly certain that their captor is Will and he has access to this tumblr, which is why One especially is trying to be quiet about this. Like in this post where they apologize for the insanity on the blog, which links to binary, and it reads:

“we’re not in ddlc. i am not monika. listen to me closely. mod 3 and i are still stuck here. we have been posting cries for help for weeks. go look for them! they’re like easter eggs. just for you! thank you, mod 1“

DO I LOOK LIKE I’M COLLECTING EGGS YET??? DO I??????? Anyway, I got named the official lore account so now I’m fucking trapped here, and then we get some posts about how Two has made it to a McDonald’s.

Then One posts yet another apology, with two links. Link one directs you to a groupchat between the three mods, detailing Two’s escape and everyone’s very odd adoration for fast food. But then again, Three says they’ve been eating slop for a while, so. Fair enough. To bring back my old commentary about this, though; in this conversation there seems to be a bit of confusion over who exactly put them in the cellar where they’re captured, but as we saw earlier it was indeed Will Wood himself who is keeping them prisoner. However, Two also asserts that very soon he will be able to save One and Three, apparently with the help of Will? So there are two possibilities here:

1. Two is still an unreliable narrator, so it’s a possibility that his lobotomy or whatever has ruined his ability to perceive threats and he is being tricked by Will, who is indeed their captor, and will get thrown back in the cellar with the other two.

2. Something bigger than Will is controlling the situation. It makes no sense that all three mods would remember Will putting them in the cellar if he didn’t. So someone else could be controlling Will, I don’t know. They allude to a person from the documentary and initially I assumed it was Will but I actually haven’t seen the movie (shock and horror, I know, I’m sorry), so maybe it’s someone else and that’s the piece of the puzzle I’m missing? Idk, if you’ve made it this far and you’ve seen the documentary, check the conversation and let me know.

Link two leads to binary, and when translated it becomes:

“i do think it’s less endearing and more terrifying how people on a blogging website care more about my freedom than my own friends and family did i dont need to sign this. you know who it’s from“

Which, maybe, but I love ARGs and Nigel and I are already incredibly invested so whoops. Besides, who’s gonna do it if we don’t?

Anyway!!! I sent an ask in response to some of my confusion for the groupchat, and because One said to keep sending messages. One responded, and I was redirected to even more binary because of course! This time it says:

“THANK YOU FOR ASKING MOD 2 SAID THAT HE HAS INTERACTED WITH WILL. SO I DO NOT THINK WE ARE BEING HELD BY WILL HIMSELF. I BELIEVE MOD 3 KNOWS BUT WHEN I ASKED AGAIN HE JUST TOLD ME THAT IT WAS THE GUY FROM THE MOVIE. THIS WAS NOT VERY HELPFUL THANKS  MOD 1 P.S. THIS IS IN ALL CAPS BECAUSE I'M VERY EXCITED!!” 

Then there were two posts in quick succession, the first one was a new puzzle type! Morse code! And grandma taught me that, so I can tell you it says:

“I think we posted an address once but it was wrong and we got caught doing it. I didn’t like that day. This entire computer has safety settings on it so I can’t just ??? (this looks like a keysmash or something to me?) stop writing. Hold on, I hear something.”

And I would’ve thrown it directly in a translator, but as One acknowledges in their next post with a link to more binary, I had to translate by hand because:

“well! you'll never guess what desktops do to morse code! we're back at binary! anyway. we did post an address but everything went wrong, i don't like thinking about that entire week, the pain was unimaginable! more importantly, though, i've asked mod 3 and he s hold on i think i hear something.“

That post was immediately reblogged with more binary that just says:

“well that’s not good”

Which is horrific!! So I sent an ask, like, ayo homie what the fuck, and I got a response! The text itself is just a dismissal that anything’s wrong, but the bolded text spells out “footsteps” so that’s terrifying! Also Two apparently slept in the McDonald’s parking lot and One slept in a sleeping bag in the cellar.

They posted that this morning when I started working on this post, -- I’ve been here for like eight hours now I think, -- and so I replied expressing my distress that they were active again and One responded with backwards text, which when read normally, says:

“Did you think we were going to sleep forever? The show must go on!”

Death undertones, I dig it.

Anyway, @hotsinglelemonsinyourarea​ my beloved asked why they were watching @emerald-whale​, and One hit back with binary that says:

“you don't think we're watching all of you? tell the lorekeeper to write this one down. sincerely, mod 1″

Which is fucking horrifying, but no worries One, I am writing it down!! I am making a whole ass fucking timeline!! Because I am but a humbled servant that kneels to whatever story you’re trying to tell here. :) Apparently. ::) I hate it here.

Anyway, an anon sent in an ask that is one of the funniest interactions ever:

“ooohhh pizza mozarella pizza mozarella rella rella oohh“

“alright no more lore for you guys until you learn how to behave”

And then Two felt like pitching in as well:

Now keep in mind all of this was posted very fast and I was writing this post, -- still am, whoops, -- so I sent this very stressed ask telling them to SLOW DOWN THE LORE PLEASE IM FUCKING PLEADING as well as asking each mod a question, and I got shot back more binary cuz they hate me but they did answer my questions so the conversation goes:

Me: “One, are you in the same room as Three? What about Two?”  One: “yes. no. i miss 2 dearly.” Me: “Two, who did you bite to get out? Two: “the  ghuy from the movee !!!!  i bit him and sstole hias phone!!!!!! his passw ord was "willwoodsux"  :-)” Me: “Three, how long has it been since you’ve consumed any media that isn’t WW related?” Three: “It’s only been a year since I entered the cellar, so not that long ago :-) Around July you're welcome, lorekeeper sincerely, the three mods

So to clarify what and why I was asking:

1. My theory about One and Three being together while Two is separate is confirmed, yay me! Kinda trivial but I want to understand what’s going on in the cellar, so that stuff makes sense in context.

2. I haven’t seen the Will Wood movie, so this means nothing to me! Lucky for me, I have a friend, @indubitablyswag​, who has seen it, so I asked them!

They have no fucking clue either!! So I will probably be renting that movie tonight, because this lore is worth money to me now, apparently, -- and I’ve been meaning to see it anyways. 

3. Three made a comment about having never seen Ratatouille, which Nigel thought tied into my theory that non-WW things weren’t allowed in the cellar. I think this confirms that, but it actually doesn’t excuse Three from not knowing Ratatouille because it came out much longer than a year ago. (Unless this ARG takes place in a different year? I’ll have to ask about that.)

Then there’s another pizza mozzarella whatever ask, but it’s okay cuz Two fucking murders them. 

I got my numbers screwed up and hurt One’s feelings, (IF YOU’RE READING THIS, ONE, IM SORRY, I MEANT THREE!!) something???? hurts, and I have wasted a solid nineish hours of my existence on this.

Then One gave me a whole ass heart attack by asking my favorite flavor of ice cream. (Theirs is birthday cake, apparently.)

I’m posting it before any of those fucks give me any more lore to add to this timeline because I’ve been here for like ten hours and I honestly just Can Not Keep Doing This, so I’ll be back with more theories later, -- especially after I’ve seen the movie. 

In the meantime, au revoir, I’m gonna go have a stroke. I hope you guys are pleased with your lorekeeper. Cuz if you’re not then literally what has this been for? :::))

[does-this-look-logicality-to-you]

Valentine’s Day

words: 2868 universe: human au characters: virgil, roman, patton; mentions of remus, logan, janus pairings: romantic prinxiety, platonic moxiety, platonic DLAMPR, implied background romantic logicality warnings: none i can think of, just fluff on fluff on fluff a/n: happy late valentines day, everyone! i wanted to have this done on actual valentine’s day but executive dysfunction said no thank you. this fic is dedicated to my amazing girlfriend @katlikethesword. i still can’t believe how lucky i am to be your datemate, and i love you with all my heart. this is my first time writing a prinxiety fic this long, so i hope you like it <3

Virgil had never liked Valentine’s Day. As he often said, it was just another commercial holiday created for big corporations to take advantage of people’s relationships in order to make even more money. It was the same with holidays like Christmas and Halloween, but Valentine’s Day had always stood out to him as the worst of them all. He sometimes wondered if, deep down, he disliked this day in particular because he’d never had someone to spend it with.

That is, he didn’t, until he met Roman.

Virgil never would have guessed he’d fall for someone like Roman. The two had met through the internet, after joining a small Discord server for those who shared an interest in Steven Universe. The two held a sort of rivalry between them at first, arguing almost constantly to the point where the others would grow nervous when they noticed both of them online at once. They didn’t dislike one another, per se, but the fact that their opinions clashed a majority of the time led to conflict more often than not.

After some time— and convincing by the others— the two of them begrudgingly started to get along. Their arguments went from heated debates to playful bouts of banter. Virgil found himself growing fond of his eccentric friend, and began to see him as less annoying and self-absorbed. He instead grew to appreciate his sense of humor, and his eagerness to stand up for his beliefs, and his unrelenting loyalty to those he cared about.

Over time, Virgil’s feelings blossomed into something more than just platonic and he felt himself falling. It had terrified him at first— after all, he’d never had feelings like this toward anyone before. He finally came to terms with it after one fateful night, when a voice call lasted so long that the two of them had ended up falling asleep. After that, there was no turning back. After what felt like forever— in reality, a week— he finally opened up about his feelings, and somehow, by some miracle, Roman reciprocated them.

As a result, the two of them were now in a romantic relationship together. Virgil felt himself fall more and more in love every day. It was the simple things that made him special. Roman often sent him messages containing words of adoration and devotion, and he tagged his boyfriend in Tumblr posts that reminded him of their relationship, or of Virgil in general. Virgil had been hesitant to admit that he was in love with Roman, but he did so eventually. He couldn’t imagine loving anyone else.

Not everything was this easy, though. Roman lived thousands of miles away, too far to come and visit unless he was travelling with his family, which was unlikely considering how unappealing his home state was as a vacation spot and how unlikely it was for his parents to plan a trip there. All they could do was pine hopelessly as they waited until they could finally see one another. It wasn’t uncommon for Virgil to lose himself in daydreams of the day they could finally see each other, when they could finally hold each other, when they could finally be together. Roman sometimes joked that he’d expect the pining to die down when they got together, only for it to double once they actually did, and Virgil couldn’t help but agree. It was hard being so far from the person he cared about. All he wanted was to see his love, to be by his side, to be in his arms, even if only for a little while. Was that really too much to ask?

__

When he woke up on February 14, the first thing Virgil did was grab his phone and open Discord to message Roman. When he did, he’d been expecting his boyfriend to have sent him something, anything, but there was nothing. Maybe he’s not awake yet. He hoped that was it. gerard-gay: hey. happy valentine’s day. i miss you. After he sent it, Virgil lay back down, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes again. He stayed like that for a few minutes before stumbling out of bed and changing out of his pajamas. He wasted little time in changing into a purple t-shirt, his favorite hoodie, and a pair of dark gray sweatpants. With that done, he headed into the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, then dried it before taking out his makeup kit. He decided to go for a simple look today, complete with the black eyeshadow on his lower lid that he often wore. Satisfied, he left the bathroom and headed into the kitchen.

The first thing he noticed was that his parents weren’t sitting on the couch like they usually were. Panic surged through him as his eyes flitted around the room, looking for some kind of clue. His gaze fell on a bright pink sticky note on the counter. He came over to it and read it. We had to go pick something up. We’ll be home around 1pm. Love you! ~Mom and Dad Virgil sighed in relief. They hadn’t abandoned him after all. They could have told me beforehand, though. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. 8:49. Damnit, I got up too early. At least he had the house to himself for a while.

He made himself a cup of coffee and a bowl of cereal, got out his daily pills, and headed into the living room and set everything on the coffee table. He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, switching it to Netflix and putting on The Office. It wasn’t his favorite show, but it was better than eating in silence. As he ate his cereal, Virgil checked his notifications again. Nothing. He can’t still be asleep, can he? Even on the weekends, Roman was usually awake at around this time. He wasn’t ignoring him, was he?

Virgil soon finished his breakfast and grabbed a blanket from the back of the couch, swaddling it around himself. He stayed there for a while, occasionally having to venture out of his cozy cocoon to ensure Netflix that he was, in fact, still watching. As he watched, he kept an eye on his phone for any indication that Roman was alive and hadn’t grown bored of him.

Soon, he felt his phone buzz, and he nearly dropped it as he opened Discord to check the notification. To his disappointment, it wasn’t from Roman. It was instead from Patton, one of their mutual friends. happypappypatton: Happy palentine’s day!

Virgil couldn’t help but chuckle. gerard-gay: happy palentine’s day pat

happypappypatton: How’s your day so far?

gerard-gay: could be better

happypappypatton: Oh no! Why? Did something happen?

gerard-gay: nothing happened gerard-gay: just kinda worried about roman

happypappypatton: Is he okay?

gerard-gay: idk gerard-gay: i messaged him earlier but he didn’t respond

happypappypatton: Oh no, I’m so sorry!

gerard-gay: it’s okay gerard-gay: at least my parents aren’t home gerard-gay: so i get the house to myself😎

happypappypatton: Can I call you and keep you company?

gerard-gay: nah that’s okay gerard-gay: i don’t wanna take time out of your day

happypappypatton: You’re not happypappypatton: Nobody should be alone on Valentine’s day happypappypatton: Pleeeeease??? I want to talk to you!

gerard-gay: okay

happypappypatton: Yay!!

Virgil laughed to himself as he clicked the phone icon. It didn’t even finish ringing once before Patton picked up.

“Hi Vee!”

“Hey, Pat.”

“How’ve you been?”

“In the ten seconds since you last talked to me?” He laughed. “Exactly the same.”

Patton giggled. “Good point.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing great! You know I love Valentine’s day.”

“I know you do. You and your roommate are having that Palentine’s party this year, right?”

“Yup!”

“I wish I could come,” Virgil half-joked.

“I know, I wish you could too. Just hang in there, we’ve only got a year and a half ‘till you graduate.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m counting the days.”

“Me too,” Patton agreed with a soft laugh. “Has Roman gotten back to you yet?”

“Nope.”

“That’s really weird. I would have thought he’d have sent you a page-long message about how much he loves you and misses you.”

“I know, I thought so too.” He sighed. “Do you think he’s sick of me?”

“No, absolutely not. You know how much Roman cares about you. Besides, even if he didn’t, he wouldn’t just ignore your messages.”

“Yeah, I guess. It would be pretty out of character for him to just ghost me.”

“Ghost you? But it’s not Halloween, it’s Valentine’s Day!”

Virgil groaned. “You couldn’t not make a dad joke, huh?”

“Sorry,” he giggled. “But you gotta admit, that was kinda funny.”

“Meh. It wasn’t your worst work.”

Patton laughed.

“Anyway.”

“Yeah, anyway…”

The two of them were quiet for a moment. “What about the others?” asked Virgil. “Have you talked to ‘em today?”

“Mhm! I DMed everyone earlier. I’m actually talking to ‘em right now.”

“Oh, cool. Are you…” he hesitated before finishing, “talking to Roman?”

“No, he’s the only one who hasn’t said anything. So on the off-chance he’s actually ignoring you, he’s ignoring me too.”

“Has anyone else said anything?”

“Nope. It’s weird, I asked them if they’d talked to him today after you told me he hadn’t been responding, and they all said no.”

“Even Remus?”

“Uh-huh. Apparently he hasn’t even seen him today.”

Virgil started bouncing his leg anxiously. “Okay, now I’m getting kinda scared. Do you think something happened to him?”

“I dunno. Maybe? But Remus would’ve said something about it, right?”

“Yeah, I’d think so.”

“Let’s change the subject,” Patton suggested. “I don’t wanna make you more anxious about this than you already are.”

“Thanks, Pat. How are the others? What are they up to?”

“They’re doing pretty good! Remus is working on a writing project, Janus is playing Stardew Valley, and Logan’s procrastinating on his schoolwork by scrolling Tumblr. Don’t worry, I already scolded him for it.”

Virgil laughed, the mention of Logan reminding him of something. “Ooh, speaking of Logan, are you gonna tell him today?”

“No, not today.”

Virgil was genuinely shocked. “Really? Why not?”

“C’mon, you know him. He sees Valentine’s Day as an excuse for big companies to make a boatload of money.”

“So? I think that too. What does that have to do with you not telling him?”

“It wouldn’t mean anything to tell him today. I don’t even know if I’m ready to tell him yet or not. Besides, he’s got a lot on his plate today, Valentine’s day or not.”

“I get that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so pushy. You tell him when you know you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Vee. You didn’t sound pushy, though. I definitely know how frustrating it can be when your friend’s been pining after someone for months on end but they still refuse to do anything about it.“

Virgil laughed. “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stop complaining.”

“I’m not saying you have to. I did my fair share of complaining when y—” Patton stopped abruptly, and Virgil heard a faint voice coming from the other end. “Okay, just gimme a second,” Patton called out, clearly talking to someone else. “I’m so sorry, Vee, I gotta go. Emile promised a couple friends we’d meet them for lunch today and it completely slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay,” Virgil reassured him. “You go have fun, Pat. I’ll be fine by myself.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. If I get really lonely I can always talk to the others.”

“Okay. Tell me if Roman gets back to you, ‘kay?”

“I will. I’ll talk to ya later.”

“Bye! Love you!”

“Love you too.” Virgil hung up the phone and got up, grabbing his dirty dishes and taking them into the kitchen to wash them. Once he finished, he glanced over at the clock, which read 10:37. Only about two and a half hours until Mom and Dad get home, he thought as he put the dishes away. He left the kitchen, checking his phone again as he headed toward his bedroom. Once again, Roman still hadn’t said anything. He’s definitely awake by now. Had he been right? Had something happened to him? He forced the thought away. He couldn’t let that bother him. Why was it so important, anyway? Today was just another day.

He reached his room and sat down at his desk, turning on his laptop and putting on his headphones. He then opened Spotify and put on the playlist he’d made for Roman the day after they’d gotten together, before switching over to Tumblr and scrolling through his dashboard. He could probably do the exact same thing in the living room, but he preferred the cozier, more familiar atmosphere of his bedroom. Peanut, his cat, climbed up onto his lap and curled up into a ball. Virgil smiled to himself and reached one hand down to scratch him behind the ear. Peanut purred, and Virgil’s smile widened.

He stayed there for a few hours, seeing what everyone on Tumblr was up to today. Every so often, he switched to Discord to see if Roman had replied to him yet, but no such luck. He did his best to ignore his growing worry, focusing instead on the computer in front of him and the cat on his lap. He could be busy today, he reminded himself. His world doesn’t revolve around you.

Soon enough, he heard the familiar rumble of the garage door, followed by the ca-CHUNK of the front door and the clip-clop-clip-clop of his parents’ footsteps. Virgil gently moved Peanut off his lap, which the pale ginger tabby didn’t seem to mind much. “I’m gonna go say hi to Mom and Dad,” he told the cat. “You can come if ya want.” Peanut meowed in response, which made Virgil laugh. He knew his cat couldn’t understand him, but he still found it wildly amusing when he acted as if he did. He crouched down to pat his head a few times before leaving his bedroom and going into the living room. He smiled at his parents when he saw them. “Hey,” he greeted, giving a sort of half-wave.

“Hey, honey,” his mom greeted with a smile.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” added his dad.

“Yeah, you too.” He came over and hugged his parents.

“Have you eaten yet?” his dad wanted to know.

“I did,” he reassured him. “I had a bowl of cereal.”

This satisfied him. “Good.”

“What’ve you been up to?” asked his mom.

“Not much. I had breakfast, called Patton and then went to hang out with Peanut and scroll Tumblr for a bit. What about you guys? What exactly were you picking up?” He glanced around in search of a box or some kind of indication of a possible answer but found none.

“Actually,” answered his mom. “It was something for you.”

Virgil hadn’t expected that. “Oh! I-uh, cool. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” his dad told him with a laugh. “Go and see, it’s in the garage.”

“Okay.” He went into the laundry room, where the door to the garage was, with no idea what he was going to find in there. His parents rarely got him big presents, and when they did it was either for his birthday or for Christmas. He had no idea what to expect. He reached the door, turned the handle, and flicked on the lights.

Standing there was a teenage boy with a broad smile. He wore a red hoodie and a pair of ripped blue jeans, and his white sneakers were dirty and worn. Around his neck was a necklace with a gold-colored charm shaped like a crown. He spoke, his voice sounding to Virgil like the most beautiful of songs. “Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.”

“ROMAN!” Virgil barreled into him, nearly knocking him over as he threw his arms around him. “Oh my God, you’re actually here. Like, right here. In my garage. How did you even manage to do this?”

“I have my ways.”

Virgil pulled back a little to smirk at him. “You’re just as insufferable in real life as you are online, huh?”

“Well, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me and my insufferableness.”

“Unfortunately.” Virgil gave him a lopsided grin as an indication that he was joking, and an adoring smile crossed his boyfriend’s face. “Is this why you haven’t answered my message?”

“I can’t believe you’re actually here. You actually are here, right? This isn’t some practical joke?”

“It’s not a joke. I wouldn’t do that to you. Well, maybe I would, but not on a day like today. Not on Valentine’s Day.”

The two were quiet for a few moments, just taking in one another’s presence. Virgil was pretty confident that he would willingly stay here forever if he could.

“Well, now that you’re here, what do you want to do first?” Virgil asked, finally breaking the silence.

Roman gave Virgil the playful smirk he’d only ever imagined before. “I think I have an idea.” He rested a hand on his cheek and leaned in, and Virgil felt his heart soar as he and Roman shared their long-awaited first kiss.

[writingpuddle]

(responding to your tags bc it's interesting and i've been thinking about it a lately) andrew isn't necessarily less violent when medicated be he definitely follows through more when he's sober? and he gets distracted much more easily from being angry when he's medicated. in the first book he smacks neil with the exy racket, but it seems more like an impulse than planned, and then we see him threaten people twice (nicky and kevin) but not follow through, also on impulse, his plan to drug neil, which is carried out semi-sober, and that's about it. (he also threatens to hurt himself but doesn't follow through, impulse as well) after easthaven he pretty much immediately chokes allison and has to be bargained with to stop, punches matt, threatens katelyn, chokes kevin and has to be physically pulled off him before he stops, attempts to physically fight the fbi, nearly punches neil, and breaks rikos arm. idk i wouldn't say he's like, nonviolent on medication by any means but i think it did defang him in the way the court intended it to, for the most part. he does genuinely seem to lose interest in following through in the first part of the books, and he gains that focus back in the latter half. obv this isn't like, an ironclad theory and also it's possbile i'm missing smth bc this is off the top of my head, but i also think that as far as it cosmetically looking like it's making a difference it could just about pass muster for a parole officer who's making sure there haven't been any extra murders yet.

sorry this is super long i just have many thought thank u for ur time

oh my GOD do not apologize for sending me this i am so happy to see all your thoughts and i think its totally fascinating. i am 100% with you on the fact that sober andrew has more follow-through--hitting someone who hit someone else like...yesterday is a very pre-meditated, almost clinical sort of violence. there's no real emotion to it, it's just methodical punishment, and drugged andrew seems like he would respond at least less reliably with violence since the drugs would wash away his immediate emotional reaction by the time he ran into matt again.

so its more a matter of...is clinical violence more violent than impulsive violence? which is why i would want to actually like. collect all the incidents and compare them not just in number but severity. because of the nature of plot, a lot of really insane shit happens in late in the series when andrew is sober, versus many of the triggers for his violence when he's drugged are a lot less serious; nicky making an off-colour joke, kevin being pushy about exy. it's hard to directly compare that to like, someone andrew loves being kidnapped and presumably murdered. i couldnt confidently say if drugged andrew would react with less violence to that situation because drugged andrew never encounters a situation that serious (excepting drake, in which case its a) against himself, who he doesnt value as much as his family b) he's too physically injured to do much other than hold on to aaron).

(actually speculating about how drugged andrew might have responded to baltimore is an interesting puzzle--but then its begs the question of how neil and andrews relationship might have evolved if andrew was still drugged, since i personally hc that andrew isnt comfortable with engaging in sexual activity when he's high)

BASICALLY i could make a case for either side really, because its so ambiguous. i can kind of see how andrews sober, methodical and premeditated violence would be more frightening to people than the emotionally impulsive one-off incidents that happen when he's drugged, but the volatile nature of andrews moods when he's on his medications do not seem super safe either.

i think tho we can agree that andrews medications werent really about his own mental health--they were about controlling his behaviour. whether they worked or not...unclear. whether they were ethical or not? hell no.

ugh. next time i read the books im gonna have to use sticky notes to keep track of all the incidents. im gonna have a goddamn spreadsheet of andrew behaviours.

[angelsswirl]

Icarus

Summary: You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend.

Or

If you should fall

From your pink sky

Just know you'll fall into my arms, every single night

Icarus babe

Requested: Yes

Word Count: idk, a decent amount?

Title Song: Icarus by Max Lawrence

Rating: Mature, but the smut wont be graphic because I don't think that fits what I've written here. It's more implied than anything

Notes: I hope you enjoy it!

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

You were never supposed to fall in love with your best friend. You weren't. You knew this as fact.

And that isn't to say, it never happened for other people. That it never worked out. No. You just knew that it wouldn't work out for you. Things like that rarely did.

You had prayed, and wished, and hoped that this would all work out. But all of your pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And you couldn't say you were surprised.

Park Chaeyoung was your best friend.

She knew that. You didn't have to tell her.

She was the person you told everything to. The person you did everything with. The person you lived for.

Park Chaeyoung was the love of your life.

She did not know that. You weren't going to tell her.

She was the person you dreamed about at night. She was the person you fantasized about in the day. She was the person you breathed for.

But.

She would never know. Because you would never tell her. Living in your truth by yourself seemed a much better option then speaking your truth and being denied of it.

You're not afraid to admit you're not very strong when it comes to love. But you are afraid to admit that for her, you would try to be.

~•~

"Watching you two together makes me sad." Jennie said out of nowhere.

You frowned at her. Rosé had run off to God knows where minutes prior, leaving just you and Jennie standing in the corner of someone else's livingroom during a house party.

It gross and sticky and hot and most definitely not your scene, but Rosé had practically begged you to come along, and return you had practically begged Jennie to be your buffer. And maybe even your sober coach as well.

You didn't trust yourself, alone with Rosé and alcohol in your system.

"What are you talking about?" You and Jennie are standing close enough to each other that you don't have to shout of the pumping bass of som Top 40 song, but you definitely can't whisper either.

Jennie rolled her eyes. She was bored. She really only tagged along to be a good friend. This wasn't her scene either. That was one of the reasons you two got along so well. You both hated and loved the same things.

Sometimes, you think if maybe Jennie wasn't straighter than a steel beam, then maybe she'd be the best friend that you'd have fallen in love with.

But that wasn't what the cards said for you.

"You and Chae. It's like watching those 'arms of the angels' or whatever commercials. You know with the hurt, homeless puppies?"

It was your turn to roll your eyes, "Well, I'm sorry I can't serve to be your entertainment 24/7."

"Oh, I didn't say this wasn't entertaining. It's just also sad. Like, what's the hold up, just grab her face and kiss her."

"I'm sure to her it would be like if I just grabbed your face and kissed you."

"No, that would imply she's straight and not head over ass in love with you. Both of which, I know not to he true for her in the slightest."

"She's not in love with me, Jennie."

"And I'm not sweating through my clothes right now." She replied sarcastically.

You only shook your head and took another sip of your lukewarm beer.

"Riddle me this, Y/N. If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she look at you like she would stop breathing if you were ever out of her sight? If Chaeyoung isn't in love with you then why does she treat you like you'll melt away? If Chaeyoung isn't love with you then why are you the only thing she talks about when you're not around?"

You shook your head profusely, "Chaeyoung is like that with everyone. She's sweet and nice and flirty with everyone. And that's exactly why it's time for me to finally get over her."

Jennie nodded along silently. You got the feeling she was only pretending to agree with you.

"Ok, well then, you know what the first step to getting over someone is. Get under someone else. How about the girl over there? She's been staring at you since we got here." Jennie pointed to a tall, admittedly beautiful woman across the room from you. She wasn't looking at you at the moment, but you had noticed her staring earlier as well.

Despite all of what you just said, you'd sooner rather die than get over Rosé but you were stubborn and needed to prove a point to Jennie.

"Hold my beer." Jennie did so with a curious smirk on her face.

You walked your way over to the woman, dodging elbows and sloshing drinks. She saw you coming, a soft smile engulfing her lips.

"Hi." She said some what softly.

"Hey."

"Not to be creepy or anything, but I noticed you when you walked in, and I sort of couldn't help myself but to stare at you all night. You're beautiful, "She paused, "My name is Lisa, by the way."

"I-it's not creepy. I'm Y/N....want to dance?"

"I loved to."

You grabbed Lisa's hand and all but dragged her onto the dancefloor. This must have been where the drunkenness set in. You turn around on your own accord, pressing your back into Lisa's front. Swaying your hips to the pounding in your ears, because you definitely cannot hear the music anymore.

~•~

"Where's, Y/N?" Rosé asked Jennie as she met her. She handed her the water she had picked up for the three of them.

Jennie pointed in your direction with a hum.

Rosè watched silently as you grinded on the stranger.

"I was gone for 5 minutes..."

"You snooze, you lose, I guess." Jennie felt bad for acting so cavalier, but at this point, the only way to get you what you wanted was to be completely honest.

Rosé didn't exactly know what to think of that. Or rather it was hard for her to think anything when you were dancing seductively with someone pointedly not her.

The emotions that come with it are hard to pick through as well. Hurt, anger, jealousy, and maybe she's even a bit turned on because she finds you immensely sexy.

Whatever the case may be, she decided that she can't sit around and just watch. No that would hurt too much. She's gotta stop this. She's gotta fix this.

~•~

Chaeyoung was never supposed to fall in love with her best friend. At least she doesn't think she was supposed to. There's no real way to be sure.

And that isn't to say that she's not sure if she loves you. She's 100% sure about that. It's to say that, how is she supposed to know if you love her back.

She had prayed and wished and hoped that you would see the signs that absolutely poured out of her whenever you were near. But, all of her pleas had fallen on deaf ears. And she couldn't say she was surprised.

You were her best friend.

You knew that. She didn't have to tell you.

You were the person she confided in. The person who knew her deepest, darkest secrets. The person she breathed every breath for.

You were the love of her life.

You didn't know that. She had been trying to tell you.

You were the person she gave herself pep talks in the mirror for. The person she put on her most expensive outfits for. The person she would live a thousand lives for.

But.

You were oblivious. Sometimes, it seemed like you didn't even want to know. Chaeyoung didn't want to live in her truth by herself. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops. But keeping that to herself seemed a much better option than making you uncomfortable and losing you as a friend.

She's not afraid to admit she's in love with the very fiber of your being. But she is afraid to admit that, even if she wasn't, you'd still have her wrapped around your finger.

~•~

"Get away from her." It's harsher than she intended and it definitely startled you, but it got the point across.

"Chae?" You questioned as you were practically yanked to Rosé's side.

"Don't grab her like that." Lisa said with a frown.

Rosé's resolve slipped for a second. Maybe she shouldn't have grabbed you but that was besides the point now.

"I said stay away from her."

Lisa put her hands up in mock surrender, "Look. Sorry. Didn't know she had a girlfriend."

"She's no-" Lisa walked deeper into the throng of people before you could finish your sentence.

You turned back to Chaeyoung with a frown.

"What the hell was that, Chae?"

That was a good question. One that she didn't exactly have an answer to. She glanced down to where her hand was still gripping your forearm. She let go silently.

"I-um...."

With a roll of your eyes you pulled Rosé through the crowd. You searched for an empty room, quickly finding an unoccupied bedroom.

You close the door behind you two. Finally, some peace and quiet.

You crossed your arms and looked on expectantly.

"Well?"

Chaeyoung's face scrunched up, like she was losing a hard fought battle with herself, "You don't get it do you?

"Get what? Why you pulled me away from Lisa? No. I don't."

Rosé wiped her hands over her face roughly, "I did that be-because....your mine. Or at least, I want you to be."

Your arms fell to your sides, and your face softened into confusion.

"Huh?"

"God. I thought I was being obvious. I thought I was being so obvious." Chaeyoung shook her hand before sitting on the edge of the bed.

"But, you're flirty with everyone?"

"There's a difference between being nice to someone and being irrevocably in love with you."

You scrambled for any words, any explanation that could help you describe your confusion, and quite frankly you're embarrassment. It seemed as though you had put her in the same position you had thought she put you in.

"I-"

"It's okay if you don't feel the same way. As long as we can still be friends. I just had to finally tell you with words. We can still be friends right?" She doesn't look at you as she speaks. Her eyes casted down onto her wringing hands in her lap.

You move slowly towards her, grabbing her hands in her lap, "I love you too. I'm sorry I didn't say anything before-I thought...I thought...well it doesn't matter what I thought. I just-I love you too. A lot."

Chaeyoung looked up at you, a stray tear falling from her eye, "You do?"

You nod, "I do." You leaned in towards her, taking her bottom lip softly between yours. And she kisses you back, it isn't hungry, but it passionate, and somehow that serves to turn you on more.

You pushed her back slightly and straddled her lap.

Chaeyoung seemed to not know what to do with this turn of events, so you helped her along. Grabbing her hands and placing them on your ass.

"Oh."

You breathed out a chuckle into her mouth, "Yeah. Oh."

Chaeyoung let herself be pushed backwards onto the bed. She grabbed at the zipper to your dress. Fumbling with it until it finally did what she had been willing it today.

She pulled the dress delicately over your head, pushing it onto the floor beneath your feet, "You're beautiful." She whispered into your neck.

You tried to hide your blush by turning your head as much as you could away from her.

"Don't hide from me. Not anymore."

You turned back to her. Your blush covering your face in full force. Chaeyoung leaned in and kissed you again.

You fumbled with her clothing just as she did with yours. A sense of urgency encompassing the both of you. Like you only had so little time to make up for the time you lost.

You're not even sure how you ended up on your back and further up the bed, but you are sure that Rosé touching you, on the outside and inside feels like being thrown head first into a volcano. And you finally come undone it's just like an eruption that you can't (nor want) to stop.

The same goes for Rosé. Having you taste her feels like she's drowning in the world's shallowest pool. It's like swimming in a puddle. Impossible, yet satisfying beyond belief. And when she finally comes undone it's just being evaporated into the summer sun.

When it's all over and you're laying on top, amd underneath, and through each other, Rosé speaks up, "I love you."

"I know." And you did.

Because,

You and Chaeyoung were best friends, and you were always meant to fall in love.

You knew that, like you knew the back of Chaeyoung's hand.

[honestlyfrance]

first lines

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag 10 of your favorite authors!

thank you so much @buckyrhodey for the tag!! miss youu 💕

idk what were my last stories so i went deep for these hehe, mostly a mix of published and wips

1. A Better Starry Night (sam/bucky ; horror)

The sky was silent. There’s a thundering crack from down the horizon, heads turning down by the mountainside. It seems to be approaching — faster now.

2. the sweetest tragedy (sam/bucky; mcd) - def a fave of mine!

It's a goddamn tragedy, it's what it is. You love him but he's leaving, high on euphoria with a rank under his name, you're going to lose him in every universe and there's nothing you could do about it.

3. to cease intimacy (sam/bucky ; first date) - this makes me yearn till this day

It's that moment when your heart hitched in your throat and you're unable to breathe freely, feeling asphyxiation nipping at your veins, it’s like you know that your heart was too full of emotion to function right, too much love that sends your heart running a marathon. It was a good feeling, a blissful moment, yet there was that betrayal within it that makes you question your feelings over and over again because there’s that one question running through your head: “Why is it him?” but it’s all good, everything’s peachy-keen because you don’t have to hide it anymore — you had to show it now, however, and that was a wave of dread coming all at once.

4. hug infinitely (sam/bucky ; protective!bucky)

It’s only a fact that you can’t protect who you love from every little inconvenient thing. You can’t fix every crack in the world just so you could breathe easy thinking your love wouldn’t trip. You also can’t make the sun go away so your love can’t get a sunburn on your nice little beach date. It’s miserable thinking that the world just has it’s ways to hurt your love, but that’s reality, and to have it bother you so much, it’s only a tragedy in three acts.

5. falling in love against gravity (sam/bucky ; sam centric) - i loved exploring sam’s experience with flying in this one

Falling was a violent act. You’ll trust the fall with intent so dangerous it’s almost like a kiss with death, and you’ll love it. You’ll love how you can fall backward and have a night with death. You’ll love how you could close your eyes and never open them again. Yet, you fly instead somehow. You fall then you fly, defying the law of gravity.

6. pine (wip name) (sam/bucky/steve ; thirst tweet acc)

The thing is, it didn't happen suddenly at all. They had mulled it all over, understood the risks and consequences. It's dangerous work, and there's no assurance that they'll make it out with their dignity, but what the hell. The 21st century needed more of Captain America and the Winter Soldier pining over the Falcon; let them be.

7. (wip name after mutual heh) (sam/bucky)

Little boys growing up in grand houses and ocean views are the kind of boys who would like adventure, the kind of boys who would yearn for the woods, and cozy little cabins in farms. Instead, December comes and they grow up smoking like chimneys in winter. Yes, little boys grow up and move into cities with blinking white lights, but they always come back seeking adventure.

8. death speaks (they called it kindness) (sam/bucky ; sam centric ; wip)

They say death aches like a motherfucker. Sam Wilson presses on it like a bruise, wanting to feel something before the sensation leaves his senses. He’ll ache for it, flawlessly manipulating it, and sooner or later, he’ll resurface and regret every single bruise he’d made. They say death licks all the wounds of the forgotten faces away, but to Sam, it’s just unforgivable.

9. milkshakes in two (sam/steve/bucky ; stucky fight for sams luv ; wip)

Truth is, love comes in many forms, but the form of a fist fight at a parking lot in three in the goddamn morning, like a modern-day Achilles versus Hector except they both leave with a cut under the eye and a broken nose instead of, you know, a bloody corpse, is just as romantic as leaving cute sticky notes around the house for them to see. It’s even more romantic if they noticed it, but sometimes a romantic gesture such as a fist fight between two supersoldiers need to tilt towards the murder part of Troy before a certain Falcon could notice.

10. field of flowers (sam/bucky fatws drabble 1x03)

When you look into Sam Wilson’s eyes, maybe you might see something surreal. Maybe something you shouldn’t have seen in the first place. After all, the eyes are the window to the soul, wouldn’t it be quite intrusive to look at him so bare?

(yall know my damn first lines are chunky paragraphs long so more below 🥰 )

11. love sweeter than candy, cavities to the heart (sam/bucky) 

It’s not that Sam despised the idea of it, in fact, he breathes it in like cocaine, feeling the rush and instant fall of his senses, and maybe it’s not actually drugs to him but maybe something milder, like, a kiss, one that is so slow and soft that it makes him scream at the deprivation, making himself aware of how desperate he just was about touch, literally any sort of touch, but then again, it’s Sam we’re talking about; suppressed and no-nonsense, he couldn’t possibly want something so good like some cliche grand romantic gesture that is too cheesy for its own good, and maybe it’s for the best that he keeps quiet about this want because it’s not like he gets it every day.

12. Partners (sam/bucky)

It was in the bathroom of a safe house that Sam Wilson finds himself bandaging himself up. There was a small gash on his forearm from the afternoon before; it ran down from below his shoulder blade to above his elbow, but it wasn’t as deep as it should be, just looking quite raw but wouldn’t need any serious stitching.  He’s been washing the same spot with clean water from the faucet for the past solid half hour, the sound of water gushing echoing in the tiny bathroom.

13.  oranges in october (sam/bucky) - this one!! this!!

You’d think that just because he had wings and he flies, that makes him an Icarus. Icarus fell to his death. He did not resurface, he did not live beyond that power. Sam Wilson soared high into the missiles of war and came back battered and red, dripping love and death as he stands in the aftermath of it all. You think he was an Icarus when he was actually Apollo. Anyone who gets close to him falls to the ocean waves, then sooner than later, he’s left singing eulogies as his heart rattles in a cage.

14.  It Rains Every April 10th (sam/bucky; mcd) - this too! ive been told by someone that this was the most accurate desc of depression theyve seen

Depression hits like a wave on a cliffside — sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you didn’t see it, and sometimes you just let it happen. It sometimes gnaws at your skin, always there, but more of a ghostly hand hovering over you; there’s that presence but you think you don’t have enough proof to prove it existed. Times like these you try your best to move but you become unmotivated, absolutely immobile except for the moments your body decides to exhaust itself for unrelated things you shouldn’t be doing. It takes a toll on you you wouldn’t even realize, and even then, who else realized it? You’re just tired. You don’t cry. You’re just tired.

15. to hold dear (sam/bucky)

Bucky Barnes didn’t want a lot of things. He’s got a really low bar of standards now, even just waking up without a threat on his life counts as a win. He doesn’t even mind if there wasn’t any more soap in the bathroom; he’s just glad he’s got a shower in the first place. Breakfast? God, he’s just glad that he could walk around a house with his guard let down.

i have no more (:

tagging: @enchanted-lightning-aes @siancore @pianistwriter80 @glittercake @lesbians-love-samwilson @mariahthelioness29 @rhodeslabs @lovelyirony :)

[parkerspicedlatte]

Sicko (Part 1/2) Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Dom is a snuggly puppy. 

Content: Fluff

Pairings: Dom+Gender Neutral Reader

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: IDK naked people???

"Love, why are you still sleeping?"

You felt something wet drag down from your cheek to your lips. There was no need for you to open your eyes to know that the wet somethings were actually Dom's own lips. Infact, you were  sure that it would be nearly impossible to open your eyes due to the blinding lights you knew would be clear to greet you and amplify your headache. 

The bed dipped a bit on either side of your body seconds before it started rocking back and forth lightly.

"Baaabe," you groaned. The rocking stopped. The subtle pounding in the front of your head continued, it matched the pattern of a horseshoe hitting concrete whilst in a gallop.

Something lightly brushed against your nose, like a feather being run over your face. You brought a hand up to brush it away but nothing was there. The hand dropped beside your head on the pillow. Then you felt it again, a light flutter across your nose. Once, twice, thrice. Your eyes opened hesitantly to guard against the daylight you'd anticipated but relaxed when something moved to block it. The something giggled above you. Your eyes revealed a mop of dark stringy hair falling over a pair of bright green eyes.

Dom shook his head ever so slightly causing his hair to brush against your nose again. You smelled minty breath when he leaned in to kiss your nose while giggling before moving onto your cheeks. Both of his knees were on either side of your hips leaving his fists to support his weight from either side of your pillow.

"Mornin' love," he mumbled into the side of your neck he'd buried his head into.

"Morning, how long have you been up?" Dom was still dressed for bed but you knew that he hadn't just rolled over to wake you up judging from how energetic he was. That and the fact that nobody wakes up with minty breath.

"'bout an hour, maybe half-" Dom smiled at you. "You were sleeping pretty hard and I didn't want to wake you. Are you feeling better at all?"

You'd gone to bed earlier with the beginning of your current headache and an impregnable urge to sleep for days. Unfortunately your symptoms had only magnified themselves and brought their friends. Now you had a sore throat, a stuffed head, and some major chills on top of the headache and fatigue.

You shook your head to answer Dom’s question with a saddened  ‘no.’

“I think I’ve got a cold.” You pointed at your throat and pouted pathetically.

Dom looked at your half wakened pouty face and found himself pouting as well. He didn’t like to see you not smiling. He watched as you rolled over onto your side and nuzzled into his right forearm. He shifted his own body to lie on the bed properly in front of you so that he could pull your body into his chest. Once he was satisfied with the way you were tangled in his own body, he positioned the blankets so they made a faux cocoon around you. Dom brought his left hand up to run it through your loose hair, brushing stray pieces from your face.

You watched him for a few seconds as he did this but were not able to keep your eyes open. On a good day you would have been made sleepy by someone playing with your hair but in your condition, you didn’t stand a chance.

Dom pressed sweet kisses to your head as he watched you fall asleep again. He made a mental list in his head of the things he’d need for you.

Soup 

Medicine 

Immune Boosters

Once he was sure you were asleep (once more), he cautiously slipped out of bed but not before he rearranged the covers and his pillow to seem like there was still a body beside you. He didn’t want you waking up looking for him. He knew if you were half asleep you’d accept the pillow as his body. 

He put a note on top of your phone on the side table.

Went too the store, be back in 20

You smiled at the bright pink sticky note on your phone, The misspelled word on top of the fact that the note was pink just made it totally him.

You pushed back the covers looking like a drunk trying to swim and stumbled out of bed. You didn’t even notice or care about the pink socks littering the floor or the jumpers thrown over the chair in the corner of the room. The only thing on your mind was your mission to find something to dull your headache and a bucket of water to wash it down with.

When Dom came home he placed the bags on the kitchen counter and took off towards your shared bedroom to look for you. He heard the shower running two doors down from the masterbedrom. The bathroom door was not only unlocked, but left halfway open. The trail of clothes started a few feet from your bed to the bathroom, an article of clothing every yard or so. Dominic frowned, that was definitely not your style. In fact you would have not been pleased if he’d done that. He knocked on the door as he stepped into the room.

“Love?”

“In here,” you answered from behind the shower curtain.

Dom bent to pick up the discarded clothes on the floor and put them on the dirty laundry hamper.

“D’you need anything?”

“No.”

He peeled back the shower curtain and chuckled to himself at the sight. You were sitting on the floor of the tub under the hot water, letting it flow over you. Your head rested on your knees that were pulled up to your chest and held by your arms. 

“What’re you doing love?”

“Letting the steam help with my headache.”

Dom thought for a second. “If you had shut the bathroom door you’d probably have more steam in here you know.”

“Probably,” you sighed. Dom dropped the curtain back into place. You could hear fumbling then metal clicking against the counter top. The shower curtain opened again but this time from behind you. You felt the water deflect momentarily as Dom stepped in and sat down, letting his legs move in on either side of your body. He moved his body close to you, leaning in so that his chest was pressed against your back. His wet arms snaked around your torso, his fingers spread and carefully traced every inch of skin that they could reach as he did so.

Ever so slightly he rocked your bodies side to side, both of you wordlessly enjoying the feeling of each other’s skin. Dom hummed softly into the space between your shoulder blades then he quietly transitioned his humming to singing lowly.

 I’m okay in the day, I’m staying busy

Tied up enough so I don’t have to wonder, where is he?

Got so sick of crying, so just lately

When I catch myself I do a 180

 By then he was completely drenched. The water that ran from his head, trickled down your back and over your shoulders to meet back with his clasped arms. His humming, the warm water, and the slow constant movement of your bodies began to make you drift off again. Dom noticed this and chuckled against your skin.

“Love, I’ve got to get up,” he murmured, lips ghosting your neck. “Come on baby.”

Your boyfriend carefully slid away from your body with a kiss on your cheek.

Slowly but surely you straightened your back and stretched out your arms and shoulders, a satisfying ‘pop’ followed by multiple cracking sound echoed through the room.

The warm, therapeutic shower water trickled to a stop suddenly.

“Hey,” you whined.

Dom smirked at your behaviour and ran his fingers through your soaked hair to squeez the excess water out. “Come on love,” he cupped your cheek, “-’bout time to get out.” He held out a hand for you and helped you to stand so you wouldn’t slip when you accepted it.

He was already dried off and was wearing a pair of  wildly patterned sweatpants. A towel was held open between between the length of his outstretched arms. You felt like a child at bath time but didn’t argue with Dom. If he wanted to baby you, you’d let him for the time being. Your boyfriend tenderly wrapped your naked body in the clean smelling towel then proceed to carry you in his arms to the bedroom.

“I can walk you know.”

“Shhh love,” Dom kissed the tip of your nose then set you down on the bed.

A/N: 10 PTS to whoever can tell me what song he was singing without looking it up. Who wants a P2. Might just leave this as is but I kind of want to do a second part. I’ve got a few fics on the go but they’re for other fandoms so let me know so that I have an idea what to focus on now. 

A big thank you to @roseycal​ for saving my ass and helping me tear this apart and put it back together properly! You are my Queen! <3

Also tagging @interstellarrambles​ cause they asked me to lol

[getalittleclosey]

100k+ larry fic rec

hi! i’m becca and i read...so much fic. these rec lists are an accumulation of fic that i’ve read or reread and extra loved from 2016-now. there’s a wide range of stuff here and i think there’s definitely something for everyone!! i divided them up by length so you can check out all those categories below!

please make sure to read tags and warnings on all these fics!! the only things i think i can guarantee is that these are all larry, there’s no non-con, no age play, no eating disorders, no mentions of bg, they end happy, and they’re mostly aus. oh and they’re all on ao3 and some are locked so you’ll need an account! anyway i hope y’all enjoy!!!

under 5k

under 10k

under 25k

under 50k

under 100k

☆ with a whimper by kitundercover 133k

Dystopian AU. Louis has been alone for too long to remember how not to be, and Harry has too much to worry about to deal with a scrawny, wild, stranger. ---

The man grips his arm tightly. “You’re not going to say anything.” It’s not a question.

Louis shakes his head, his body twitching.

“Fine.” Large green eyes survey him before letting go. “It’s cold. Take this. Wear it.”

Louis can’t help another flinch as the man’s long scarf is wrapped around his tender neck, it’s still warm. He touches the soft material. “Thank you.”

The man bears his teeth. “Don’t thank me. Don’t ever thank me.”

☆ never be by cherrystreet 118k

Monica: You've got to see her again. Ross: And why do you care so much? Monica: Because! You could get to live out my fantasy! Ross: You had fantasies about Emily? Monica: No! Y’know, the fantasy! Meet someone from a strange land, fall madly in love, and spend the rest of your lives together.

The one where Harry Styles moves to Connecticut from England for nine months as a part of a study abroad program, and he just so happens to move in with Louis Tomlinson and family.

☆ that sounds fake but okay by dancingontheceiling 113k

Harry Styles is a rookie journalist forced to work the gossip desk at a major New York magazine. Louis Tomlinson is the A-list actor who doesn't appreciate Harry or his articles.

☆ if it kills me by you_explode 111k

Harry and Louis have worked together in a difficult office environment for six years. They're best friends; Louis is the bright spot of all of Harry's days. But Louis is in love with Harry, and Harry's engaged to someone else. And that's only the beginning.

The Office AU. More or less follows the first five seasons. A lot of pining and misunderstanding the depth of feelings and rejection and angst, until there isn’t.

☆ shake me down by agreatperhaps12 209k

Harry's new to college, fresh out of Catholic school and conversion therapy camp, and Louis runs the campus LGBTQIA organization.

☆ love is a rebellious bird by 100percentsassy, gloria_andrews 135k

AU in which the boys still make music. Louis is the concertmaster of the London Symphony Orchestra, Harry is the New! and Exciting! interim conductor/ex-cello prodigy who "has made Mozart cool again" according to Esquire Magazine (Louis hates him immediately, which is definitely why he internet stalked him in his dark bedroom late at night that one time), and Niall is the best. Zayn and Liam are around too.

Don't hum Bolero.

note: i fucking love this one. my current car is named thunder because of it (all the cars i’ve leased over the last 9 years have been named after vague larry fic references)

☆ one more time again by orphan_account 232k

Harry looks down to where Louis is cradling his hand between his own. Louis' hands are slender, the bones delicate, the nails bitten short. The 2-8 on the backs of his fingers is gone, but the faded scar from a skateboarding mishap in Year 7 is still there.

Harry's hand is awkward, knobby-boned and naked, no rings, no tattoos. It's too big for his wrist and his wrist too big for his arm. Yet it still somehow fits in Louis' in the painfully perfect way it always did.

He blinks back the sting in his eyes.

On the morning of his second sold-out performance at Madison Square Garden, Harry wakes up to find that he's sixteen years old, on The X Factor, and that he has a chance to make things right.

A canon-compliant fix-it fic (sort of).

note: there’s a 15k second part

☆ soft hands, fast feet, can’t lose by dolce_piccante 113k

American Uni AU. Harry Styles is a frat boy football star from the wealthy Styles Family athletic dynasty. A celebrity among football fans, he knows how to play, he knows how to party, and he knows how to fuck (all of which is well known among his legion of admirers).

Louis Tomlinson is a student and an athlete, but his similarities to Harry end there. Intelligent, focused, independent, and completely uninterested in Harry’s charms, Louis is an anomaly in a world ruled by football.

A bet about the pair, who might be more similar than they originally thought, brings them together. Shakespeare, ballet, Disney, football, library chats, running, accidental spooning, Daredevil and Domino’s Pizza all blend into one big friendship Frappucino, but who will win in the end?

note: there’s a 5k second part to this

extra note: idk if this is an unpopular opinion but i’ve always preferred this over escapade or rntm

☆ paint me in a million dreams by green_feelings 113k

Harry's one of Hollywood's biggest actors, has made a name for himself in prestigious films and lives the life of a superstar. There's just one thing missing to make it picture-perfect, but the one Harry's in love with is completely out of reach for him. Enter Louis, one of Hollywood's biggest actors himself, who just came out of the closet and taps new genres in the industry. When Louis sacks the role Harry auditioned for in Scorsese's next big film, their irrational feud starts. Who could have guessed it would get even worse when for promo season, their teams decide to present them as a couple for publicity?

In short, Harry's in love with someone and doesn't care about dating anyone else, Louis never felt home in L.A., Liam writes love songs for someone he shouldn't write love songs to, and Niall makes everything better with good food.

☆ walk that mile by purpledaisy 150k

Harry stares at him, the line of his jaw standing out scarily. “I wanted to get the most out of this trip so I planned it carefully.” His voice is low and steady and somehow that’s worse than when he was yelling. “So far, you’ve put your sticky fingers on everything I’ve tried to do.”

“Sticky fingers?” Louis repeats, offended. “Are you saying it’s my fault you got stung by a bee? Had you been alone you would have gotten halfway to the Dotty Diner and ran the car off the road because of an allergic reaction, so don’t go blaming me.”

“Polk-A-Dot Drive In,” Harry spits before getting out of the car. He slams the door shut with a deafening reverb and Louis rolls his eyes. - A Route 66 AU where falling in love was never part of the plan.

☆ landslide by aimmyarrowshigh, spibsy (lucy_and_ramona) 143k

The year is 1976. In November, Jimmy Carter will take control of the White House. Americans are meeting Laverne & Shirley at their apartment in Milwaukee. Hotel California diverges from the reign of Kool & the Gang. And the FBI is still reeling from the repercussions of Watergate, the tragedy at Wounded Knee, Operation Family Secrets, and the strategic terrors of the anti-cult movement.

That's what Special Agent Harry Styles has been told is the basis of his mission to an abandoned farmhouse in rural New Hampshire.

With his hair grown out long and his shirt untucked, he's going undercover to do reconnaissance on suspected cult leader Louis Tomlinson, who has led a group of people out into the middle of nowhere, leaving no record of the life he'd had before. All Harry knows is what the agency gave him: Tomlinson's name, and instructions to figure out what he's doing with the eleven people he brought with him.

In the year that Harry spends undercover and under Louis Tomlinson's wing, he learns more than he ever expected.

note: i will rep this fic until the day i die. even my mom knows how much i love landslide

[ficstoreadinthedark]

Child Surprise

Pairing: Jaskier  x You (reader)  

Genre: Fluff(?)

Wordcount: 3061

Tags:  Unexpected  Pregnancy, minor mentions of threats, violence.

Request: Anonymous said:Can I request an imagine with Jaskier, that’s so cute and fluffy with the prompts #7 + #11 + #21 + #99 please? Thank you very much!! 🥰

prompts: #7 “Can I kiss you?”  #11 “You love me.”   #21 “Are you scared?” #99 "I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.”

Summary: After a certain series of events Jaskier & Geralt end up in reader’s home, one thing leads to another. Jaskier get’s his own child surprise just not in the way one might think of usually.

Author’s Note: Very sorry if it’s not as cute & fluffy as you want but I might just redeem myself in the next Jaskier prompt in my pending list( or idk it just might go angsty ) I started writing this thinking it was gonna be like 1k before I knew it I had reached the 6th page, somehow or in some way I always seem to get carried away. I hope everyone reading enjoys it as much as I had fun writing it :) comments are very appreciated  🤗

—

“We’ll rest here for tonight,” the white haired wolf voiced breaking Jaskier’s long streak of chatter and singing for the last couple kilometers on your voyage.

“Here!? Now?” Jaskier was skeptical as usual, you guys traveled much longer distances before settling for the night.

An irritated  “Hmm”, was the only answer he received as Geralt gave you a sympathetic glance he knew traveling in your current state must be very exhausting. “There’s a river stream not very far from here, I imagine you might want to wash up a bit .”

“Yes, that would be lovely” you gave him a meek smile, thankful for his thoughtfulness.

“Jaskier.” Geralt nodded him over, Jaskier took Roach’s reins and held her in place, while Geralt made his way between the trees to collect wood, for fire.

“Ah, let me help you down,” Jaskier offered as he took Roach’s reins firmly in his left hand and extended his right hand to you.

There was a certain air of awkwardness between the two of you yet a hint of playful shyness was evident as much you both tried to hide it. This was quite new on behalf of Jaskier, he was known to layout the charm around the ladies often landing himself in some of the most regretful circumstances. Luckily Geralt had bailed him out of a few sticky situations before any real harm was done. Seeing you both be so timid around each other, no one would have guessed just how well you and Jaskier had become acquainted one fateful night mere months ago, a bard and a Witcher came stumbling on to your front door in desperate need of help as everyone else in your village had turned them away fearing the Witcher as his reputation as the butcher of Blaviken instilled fear upon most of the villagers. Others ready to take advantage of the poor Witcher’s misfortune, he was badly wounded on his last quest against some wraiths, the wounds they inflicted were particularly painful, leaving their wounded in agony.  The Witcher draped clumsily over his horse as Jaskier desperately sought out help but everyone would only slam their doors on his face, while some threatened to finish the job and put the Witcher out of his misery. While some threw stones at them warning if they continued to wander their village, they would come to their demise.  

At last, Jaskier found a small house more similar to a small hut he knocked on the door hoping to find help but in the back of his mind, he knew to prepare himself for the worst. An elderly lady opened the door, just a crack just enough to see who was disturbing their peace. Jaskier stated his reason for knocking so abruptly in the middle of the night.

“I’m sorry I cannot help you.” She paused for a bit taking in the anguish in Jaskier's eyes, she pushed the door open just a bit more only to see the Witcher agonizing, she couldn’t help but pity them.  “There might be someone who can help you, she has knowledge in herbs, botanicals and that sort of thing her great aunt was a mage they say.”

“Woman!? Where are you!?” A man's voice echoed from inside her home.

“Down the road, there will be a house with a red door turn left follow the road till the second to last house on the right, that is where you will find her. I must go.” She spoke in a hushed tone in fear her husband would overhear. Jaskier thanked her profusely and wasted no time following her instructions.

A loud knock unexpectedly pulled you out of your dreams. An audible gasp escaped your lips, you had no idea who or what would be knocking on your door at such obscene time of the night, you stayed still for a moment thinking whomever it may be must be knocking on the wrong door, and surely would leave as soon as they noticed their mistake. You were not one to have visitors often, especially not at such an hour, being a woman who lived on her own you were quite concerned for your well being.

Soon the knocking became unceasing, you mustered the courage to wrap a shawl around your shoulders concealing the thin ivory slip you wore and made your way carefully down the steps. Before nearing the door you took whatever you may use as a weapon, your only close option was a broom; you held it firmly as you stood behind the door.

“Who are you!? State your business!” You questioned while trying to sound as bold as possible.

“My name is Jaskier! I’m a bard, I need help, my friend is injured.” Upon hearing someone was in need of help, without a second thought you quickly opened the door, you meet with a pair of beautiful eyes that could rival the moon this night. “I heard there was a herbalist…” Jaskier’s voice trailed taking in the sight before him, he couldn’t help but let his eyes linger and wander your beauty, he took in the way your lashes fluttered, the curvature of your soft-looking lips and the way the wind ever so gently played with your hair.  Indeed Jaskier was an avid admirer of beauty, even in a troubled time like this.

“I’m not a herbalist, I make bread, I’m a baker.” You confessed bringing Jaskier’s thoughts back to reality. “I’ve only skimmed my great aunt’s books.”

“Can you help us?” He asked with pleading eyes.

“I’ll try my best, bring him inside.”  You open the door wide open and guide him and his friend to sit close to the fire. You quickly brought water and cloth and tended to his friend’s wounds, he grunted and his closed eyes opened a bit and looked into yours that’s when you noticed his eyes were a bright golden amber.

“A Witcher?” You wondered looking back at Jaskier.

“Are you scared?”

“No, I just thought I would never have the luck to meet a Witcher in my lifetime.” You admit as you started grinding several herbs into a paste.

Once you tended to all of the Witcher’s injuries you made sure he was comfortable bringing him blankets and several pillows.

“There, he should be a bit more comfortable and with what I gave him to drink I’m pretty sure he’ll be in a deep sleep.” You turned back to Jaskier with a sense of accomplishment and that is when you noticed Jaskier was not doing all that well himself.

“You’re injured.” You noticed his bloodied knuckles as he sipped his ale. You took it from him and set it on the table you inched closer to him you took his hands in yours and inspected them, once again Jaskier’s eyes couldn’t help to wander off taking in all your features and he couldn’t help but notice the way your shawl was slipping off he admired the view of your newly exposed skin.  You took hold of his chin tilting his head back and forth, from side to side, he had some cuts and scrapes on his cheeks and his forehead.

“Anywhere else?” You looked into his eyes and he was at a loss for words his hand simply went up to his chest, mindlessly you went on undoing his buttons as you told him you had just the thing for his cuts and bruises and it might even help with scarring.

“Oh my, how did you get these?” You questioned noticing broken skin at his collar bones and bruises beginning to form on his chest.

“Well, some of the villagers didn’t take kindly our visit and wanted to stone us to death.” He said in a nonchalant playful tone.

“My goodness,” you pitied them and wondered why people would be so cruel. Jaskier undid the rest of his buttons and pulled the shirt off his shoulders, he exposed his back to you. He was bloodied, you could tell he had tried to shield his friend as well as he could.

You tended carefully to his wounds, trying not to inflict any further pain. “Your friend will need several days maybe a few weeks to recover, wraith bites are terribly nasty.” You inform as you finish dabbing a bit of herbal paste onto his cheekbone.

-

As the days passed Jaskier couldn’t help to further admire you, not just for your beauty but for your gentle kindness. You two made each other great company, as Geralt slept most of the time and you couldn’t really go out. The villagers had become hostile towards you for aiding and housing the Witcher. You only went out when absolutely necessary and Jaskier would always escort and help you in any way possible, mostly helping you carry sacks of grain back to your places to mill and make bread. Besides it all, you found their company quite pleasant, especially Jaskier’s as he always had tales to tell and poems to recite to you, and you would marvel at all his tales of his journeys with the Witcher. At supper, well supper would just not be supper without Jaskier’s singing and Geralt’s grumbling about it.

All had been innocent fun till one night, you went into the room across yours to change Jaskier’s dressings as you usually did. You were carefully wrapping the badges around his torso when Jaskier suddenly turned his head as you turned yours, your nose tips bumped, you both were both in a daze gazing  into each other’s eye until  Jaskier blurted without much thought “Can I kiss you?” Eyes gleaming, yearning to feel your soft lips. You gently nodded your head, Jaskier wasted no time in taking initiative starting with a chaste kiss only to intensify by tugging on your lower lip, one hand firmly on the nape of your neck as the other busied itself bringing you closer to straddle him, and that was how your innocent night developed into a long passionate night with Jaskier. The next morning you awoke in bed next to Jaskier, you couldn’t help but look at him affectionately, you couldn’t deny you had grown fond of him.

You got yourself out of bed carefully to not wake him. It was very early, but you were feeling very content and decided to go out on your own buying a few items to prepare a nice breakfast for your guests and yourself. You had decided nothing could spoil your spirits not even your fellow villagers spewing horrible comments, well that was until you were at a market and couldn’t help but to hear some older women speaking badly about a bard that traveled with a Witcher, Jaskier according to them he was a well known womanizer, a man who would charm his way into young women’s beds and leave as soon as he got what he wanted, even impregnating 1 or 2 along his travels. You couldn’t ignore the little pang of hurt in your chest.

You ignored the feeling and tried to continue your day, as usual, tending to your guests, unfortunately, you weren’t sure how to act around Jaskier, you didn’t want to put yourself in a position that would cause you more hurt after he would inevitably leave along with the Witcher. You feared becoming attached to Jaskier, while he had no clue why it seemed you had put a bit of distance between the two of you. As Geralt was conscious more often you would naturally spend a bit more time with him, getting to know him. A couple of weeks had passed you were noticing some changes in your body your appetite, you were often more fatigued, you chucked the idea off to being stressed about your business not doing so well.  Many people had stopped buying your baked goods in fear of the butcher of Blaviken being around. It wasn’t til you started experiencing early morning nausea, that you sought out the reason from an elderly woman who had been a close friend of your mothers before her passing. She checked your body after you told her your symptoms, she let out a pitiful sigh “My child” she gently stroked your cheek, “There is nothing wrong with you… you are with child.”  In the back of your mind, you knew this, you were in denial at first but then you just needed to hear it from someone else.

-

You were stunned for a moment you had no idea what you were going to do.  Upon arriving at your small home you were greeted with the news that the Witcher and Jaskier would be leaving early tomorrow morning.

“You should come with us!” Jaskier invited enthusiastically. Unsure you turned to look at Geralt.

“I know we’ve caused you some trouble, it might not be a bad idea to join us. Of course only if you wish to.”  The Witcher agreed with Jaskier.

“I’m not sure, I’ll have to think about it.”

Your thoughts went back to your mother's old

Friends advice “My dear, I fear it is no longer safe for you here. The people are very angry at you, and now that you are expecting a child they surely will chase you out claiming it is a product of a mutant beast.”

“My child’s father is not the Witcher.”

“They will not care, they just want an excuse to unleash their anger upon you. If you can, you must leave and do it as soon as possible, before you start showing.”

-

That was how you ended up on this unexpected journey, just you a baker, semi- knowledgeable herbalist, a bard, and a Witcher. So far these past weeks of travel you had kept your child a secret, you had not intended to fool or deceive Jaskier but you were unsure of what to do or how he would react, if he was just to run off then there really was no use of telling him; you just intended to at least make it a few villages over and settle somewhere before the birth of your child.  Somehow Geralt knew, it was an unspoken truth but he just knew. Perhaps he was just very observant.  You took Jaskier’s hand as helped you off Roach’s back carefully making sure to keep your loose cloak around you as to not expose your small but growing belly.

“Thank you.” You beamed at him and even now he couldn’t help but be mesmerized by your smile. “I’ll be quick, I’ll  be back soon and help make supper.” You promised. You took a few things and made your way to the river to wash, you loved the way the water brought relief to your sore feet and aching back. You relish in the water for a bit, while taking in the scenery.

-

“You know what, I think I’ll go check on her. It’s been a while, she should be back. I’ll just see she’s okay” Jaskier blabbed to Geralt.

“Jaskier.” Geralt said in a stern tone, he was 99% sure Jaskier just wanted to sneak a peek at you bathing.

“What!? I’m genuinely concerned.” Jaskier feigned offense. Geralt simply rolled his eyes, maybe he was right and questioned him no further.

Moments later Jaskier came back with a face of bewilderment.

“What?” Geralt wondered

“I think there’s something wrong with her,” Jaskier whispered, as he made gestures with his arms of that of an extended stomach.

Geralt let out an exasperated breath in disbelief before he could say anything, you had chimed in “I’m sorry I took awhile”  the rest of the evening everything went as usual. It wasn’t until night when Jaskier was certain you were asleep that he brought up the subject to Geralt again, “Do you think it’s indigestion? I don’t know maybe bloating, you think bloating could do that to someone?”

“Jaskier. You’re an idiot.”

Jaskier snapped his head to look at him, “Excuse me?” He was baffled and offended. “Well what the hell is it, if you know so much.”

Geralt turned to look at him unamused, “Think a little harder some night a few months ago.”

Jaskier took a second to think, “oh. Oh. Ooooh.” He came to the realization. “You knew?”

“You weren’t exactly quiet that night.”

“You heard?”

“I was convalescent, not deaf.”

Jaskier was in deep thought that night, he didn’t get much sleep, why would you keep such a thing from him?

-

The next morning you were all busied collecting everything from your improvised camp before leaving you had spotted some herbs that could be useful you excitedly showed them to Jaskier and Geralt, “Look these could really come in handy!” Jaskier walked over to you as you extended your hand to show him the herbs a gust of wind blew your cloak and it was evident Jaskier had seen your growing belly.  You were flustered and tried wrapping your cloak around you before you could Jaskier had taken hold of your arm. You looked at him fearfully not sure how he would take it.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry, I really had no intention to deceive you. I’m not expecting anything from you, I just want to make it to the next village.” You Confessed.

"I can’t believe you’re carrying my child.” He said in disbelief. You were scared to meet his eyes, not sure if you would see anger in them.  He cupped your face in his hands, “You’re carrying my child?” His face couldn’t hide his excitement. You nodded ‘yes’. “Are you scared?”, he asked seeing you did not share his excitement.

“I’m not sure.” You confessed you really weren’t sure what you were feeling, but you felt relief that Jaskier was not upset. “Are you?” A silly question but somehow it just rolled out not sure what else to say.

“No, I’m excited.” He admitted.

“Why?”

“Because I think this might mean you love me and of course I’m excited to meet my child.”

You looked at him very confused, “I think this might mean, you love me. Considering you haven’t run off yet.” You joked.

Jaskier kissed your forehead lovingly before kneeling and affectionately rubbing your belly and placing a kiss on your belly.

Jaskier turned and looked back at Geralt, “Geralt! You’re going to be an uncle!!”

Geralt couldn’t help but crack a grin, happy for his friend

--

the gif above is how I picture Jaskier’s reaction to reader’s little joke at the end after he calms down from his excitement 😂 .  As always feedback and comments are very appreciated (:

Ps. could have slipped in the smut part but I wasn’t sure if the requester would be ok with it, I know not everyone like to read that type of thing.

prompt list - inbox/requests

[ober-affen-geil]

Please share all of the things about paper? I know nothing of anything you listed and now am curious and listening to someone who's passionate about something talk about it is honestly my favorite thing. What is deacidification and what consequences has it wrought? What qualities does onionskin paper possess and are you for or against it? Why are basic office supplies the devil and what, then, is your preference? WHAT IS THE GREAT PULP PAPER SWITCH?! I'm dying to know

Anon. You. You are my favorite.

Ok *cracks knuckles* important context. I am an archivist, I work with paper whose creation dates from anywhere to several hundred years ago to several decades ago. Our main goal in archives is long term preservation; basically make stuff last as long as possible as-is. 

Now, all of the stuff I mentioned in my tags on the post anon is asking about sort of tie together, so let me sing you the song of the archives.

tl;dr Office supplies are the devil and so is onionskin paper, paper used to be better and then it got worse, and humans tried to fix the bad paper by throwing chemicals at it.

Let’s start at the top. Idk how many of you did or had a paper making demonstration at some point in their youth, I did but I realize my experiences are not universal. Basically, paper is made by turning a material into pulp (exactly what it sounds like) and adding water and a sizing agent to make it a slurry (a very gross looking soup consistency). 

- A sizing agent is something that is used so that ink doesn’t “feather” when it touches the page. An unsized piece of paper will act like a paper towel with liquid. Not ideal for writing on. Sizing will become important later -

The slurry is then captured in a frame and the water is more or less squeezed out of it until you’re left with soggy pulp that you dry out and presto! Paper. Here’s a quick video showing the process.

Now. The first material that was used for paper was literally cotton rags. They were shredded and pulped and then made into paper. It’s called cotton rag paper and it was the main paper supply until the early-mid 1800s. It has a completely different feel to it than the paper we use today, it feels more like cloth. Paper money is made from something like it because it’s a lot more durable.

- Fun fact, “parchment”, which predated cotton rag paper, is not actually “paper” as we think of it. Parchment very specifically refers to a finely cured animal skin that was written on. Vellum is the same thing except finer, usually calfskin where regular parchment is sheepskin. -

Problem was, with the advent of movable type and higher literacy rates, the need for paper was steadily increasing. And cotton rags just weren’t cutting it. So manufacturers started looking for a more plentiful source. And they found trees!

Turns out wood pulp makes an excellent paper, toss in a little bleach and it works great! So around about the 1860s, most newspapers had switched over to wood pulp paper instead of cotton rag paper. And everything was looking up!

BUT.

Here’s the thing about wood pulp. It has a naturally occurring chemical called “lignin”, which is hella acidic. Not like burn-your-fingers acidic, but like over-time-this-material-will-chemically-eat-itself acidic. Which started to be a problem a couple decades after wood pulp paper started to be mass-produced. 

The good news is, what they quickly figured out was if they added a basic solution (who remembers their high school chemistry?) in the initial sizing agent it would neutralize the natural acidity in the pulp and the paper would last a lot longer.

But this did fuck all to help the paper that had already been made and was quickly becoming very fragile. Whatever can we do?!

Well, some genius (I use that term as sarcastically as possible) got the idea that maybe we could do the same thing - add a basic solution to acidic paper - to paper that had ALREADY been made! Brilliant! The process was called “deacidification” and it was very popular in the 1970s. The idea was to basically give at risk paper a “bath” and it would solve the problem. Here’s a video about it made by American higher ups that is absolutely hysterical imo.

Well, the university where I work had its own deacidification lab, which was fine. Deacidification does work, when done properly and when very specific criteria is met by the paper being treated. When that’s not what happens….it gets messy. The main problem with the deacidification process at my university is that it wasn’t being run by people who really knew what they were doing. Because what they understood about what needed to be done and the WHY behind what they were supposed to be doing were two different things.

Long story short they hella botched the deacidification process, and now not only does a large part of several of our more highly used collections have a lovely gross chemical residue all over it, they also managed to “deacidify” a good chunk of letters that were from the 1700s. AKA they were on cotton rag paper. AKA they were not actually acidic to begin with. I may be bitter.

Anyway. Speaking of types of paper, let’s talk about oinion skin. My sworn enemy. Onion skin paper was used for copying purposes when carbon copies were a thing, otherwise known as the early part of the 1900s up until when copy machines became a thing in the middle-late part. It’s still used if you’re filling out something with a “copy” attached to it, usually yellow, that you get to keep.

It’s called “onion skin” because that’s kind of what it looks and feels like; it’s thin like tissue paper but it’s sized in something that makes it much more durable. Easier to make multiple copies at once on a typewriter by stacking several sheets together. Great! Except it’s the fucking cockroach of paper.

It just fucking LIES there and is fragile enough that you can’t really do too much with it, but whoever sold their soul to make it less destructible than it should be got their money’s worth because it won’t die. It just. Doesn’t age the same way regular paper from the same time frame does and it doesn’t fucking go away.

But GOD HELP YOU if there’s a paper clip attached because you ain’t getting that sucker off without tearing the page short of an intervention by a surgical professional and the pope himself.

And do you know why? BECAUSE OFFICE SUPPLIES ARE THE LITERAL WORST.

I’m talking staples, paper clips, tape, sticky notes, glue sticks, binders, stick-on labels, et fucking cetera. It comes down to two things, metal and adhesive, and the fact that neither of those two things age very gracefully.

You know what’s fun? Clicking a stapler together. Very satisfying, punching that thing through the paper you just finished and are ready to turn in. You know what’s NOT fun? Prying rusty staples out of a stack of 50 year old papers with your fingers because they’ve rotted themselves into it and the tool you have for it won’t work. Same for fucking paper clips, because rusty metal eats into paper. Seriously, there will be a hole left when you finally pry it out. Not to mention rust stains. 

And ADHESIVE oh MAN. The thing is, over time it dries out. And rots. So depending what you’re looking at, it could be a sticky, half-melted pile of goo that doesn’t want to stay where it was, it could be straight up gone with a yellow stain to mark where it was, or it could have eaten into the paper it was stuck to and left a hole. Any way you slice it, it ain’t doing it’s job any more. Which is why traditional scrapbooks are usually an utter shit show.

But anyway, that’s that on that. If you have MORE questions, I am very, very happy to rant or find pictures of horror stories. There are a lot!

[audiopilot]

Snippet: Remanence Chapter 6

This chapter was hard because it culminates in the scene I initially planned for when starting this fic, but it’s been a long time since I started writing it, and I’ve begun to doubt whether it’s a good idea or not. Idk how many people who read this series enjoy the horror elements over the smut. Especially since there hasn’t been that much of the latter in Remanence lol. It is a scene I will need to add another tag for and definitely comes from my love of body horror. 

So while I am not entirely confident on this chapter’s quality, which is why I’ve sat on it for awhile, I plan to post it within the week barring nothing major coming up. Below is the beginning of the chapter as a preview!

No one spoke.

The tension between the three of them stretched out into the very forest around them, like it was watching their passing with anticipation. There wasn't a hint of the thick fog that marked where the divided spaces met, the space beyond the trees obscured by darkness. The dry crush of dead leaves under Laurie and Ace's feet was too loud, but Jake resisted telling them to walk more carefully. It wouldn't make a difference, Jake had no doubts about the entity being aware of them. It had made a point to lead him out of the fog and here he was, running right back to it with other people in tow.

It stirred up a strange feeling. If anything went wrong, it would be his fault. The sense of responsibility left him uneasy, reminded him of things he wanted to forget.

Every step wound his shoulders tighter together. He inspected the crowded branches above for a sign, a flash of black feathers or burning embers.

From the beginning, Jake had never feared these woods in the same way as the rest of the survivors. Compared to a trial, their emptiness had been reassuring. Exploring it had been the closest thing to his life before the entity. He sought out its borders in the dim hope of some way out. He had crossed into them from the forest he knew; surely the path back existed. Eventually that thought grew smaller and smaller as he lost track of how many trials the entity put him through. When Nea arrived, it had turned into a habit and easy excuse to get away from the crowded campfire.

He had never stopped thinking of it as familiar.

Everything he'd learned about survival had no purpose here. There was no point in knowing how to search for water or hunt for food when those needs no longer remained. There was no oncoming winter to prepare for, no need to fix what the elements weathered down. Why did it matter that he could light a fire, when the campfire burned without ever consuming a thing? Their existence was guaranteed whether they wanted it to be or not. Survival had become about something else.

In all the times he had wandered these woods, how close had he been to danger without realizing it?

The thought was undercut by Ace tripping over a tree root with a soft curse. Laurie whipped around at the sudden commotion, hand over her pocket. 

Ace waved his hand at them, lips tugging up at the corners as he flipped it up to make their "all okay" signal. Apparently he'd been putting more of an effort into learning them.

Laurie didn't relax as they continued, hand close to where she obviously had something sharp hidden. She continually scanned around them. In contrast, Ace hadn't stopped smiling, arms swinging a little at his sides. His previous solemnity had evaporated, and he paid more attention to the ground than the surrounding woods.

Too confident, Jake thought, but that seemed to be Ace's state of being.

Jake stared into the trees ahead without really seeing them. There was no "path," no clear signs of his earlier passing. It was his sense of the bond that he followed. In and out it went, like a faint scent that refused to reveal its origin. There was no clear impression of Myers on the other end.  

He licked his sensitive lips, the corners of his jaw still stiff. It had to have been less than a half-hour since he'd been on his knees, quick to give into need like he was back in high school again. He did his best to ignore the uncomfortable, sticky aftermath underneath his clothes. While he'd cleaned himself the best he could, it wasn't the same as actually rinsing off in a shower. Even standing under the freezing water of his old, makeshift one would have been preferable, especially the longer they walked.

Nothing changed. It hadn't taken him this long to arrive back a the campfire, and Jake's doubts increased as Ace kept pausing to comb through the grass until his hands were full of items. Compared to when Jake and Meg looked for things, Ace was practically tripping over supplies, but having to stop for him to catch up was quickly growing old. 

After Ace yet again made a soft exclamation and split off, Laurie demanded, "Will you stop?"

"What's the hurry? Look at what I'm finding!"

"Do you have to do it now?"

"See this beauty." Ace showed off the last thing he'd picked up. It was a syringe. Within the glass barrel, a brightly colored substance sloshed and bubbled.

"What is that for?" she asked.

Ace looked back at it before shrugging and Laurie scoffed.

"It instantly heals you, even when you're dying."

Both survivors jumped at Jake's interjection, like they hadn't realized he was right there and had ears.

"Useful," Laurie observed and Ace nodded with a grin.

"Only in a trial," Jake said, picking a slim gap between two trees to keep going. He had to duck slightly to avoid brushing against their low branches. "Which this isn't."

They both followed without further comment. Right when Jake began to think the entity was blocking them from ever finding it, the forest began to thin and the darkness lighten. 

Slowing, the survivors grouped closer together. Jake raised his hand in the signal for them to stop when the fog completely overtook the forest and enveloped them. Jake looked around. He had been able to spot the campfire last time, but the fog was all-encompassing, not a hint left behind of the clearing or woods. If he took a few more steps it seemed like he would lose sight of even Laurie and Ace.

"Is this it?" asked Ace as Laurie pulled out her broken piece of glass. Something about it struck Jake as odd, but he couldn't figure out what. Like he'd forgotten something important. Distracted by the jagged edge in her hand, Jake's response died in his throat when he saw a dark shape force the fog to part.

Someone approached.

Jake instinctively grasped at the bond, but it slipped away. 

The raw sounds of her breathing betrayed her identity before she drifted fully into view. Ace fumbled with his load of items, dropping half of them to scatter everywhere. A battery bounced past Jake and rolled underneath the nurse's limp feet. Her head lolled as she took in all three survivors. Closer to her than Laurie or Ace, Jake didn't dare look away as he started to walk backwards.

She teleported without warning, a blast of displaced hair hitting Jake as she appeared over him. She swung her bonesaw down over his head and Jake tried to avoid it. It ripped into his arm, past his sleeves and biting into skin. Jake bounced into something, blocking his escape. Jake clutched at his stinging forearm, seeing nothing there. Without realizing it, he must have crossed the barrier and it was back to being impassable. The timing couldn't have been worse.

He thought he heard Ace say something about an oven, which didn't make any sense. When he checked on them, Jake was puzzled to see Laurie kicking at thin air. She was too far away from the barrier, based on where he stood, so why...?

The sound of bells. He twisted to keep everyone in sight even while the air distorted and burned next to him. He hadn't bumped against the barrier at all.

White eyes aglow in his stern face, the wraith fully materialized.

Jake was trapped between both killers.

The wraith growled, reaching for him, and Jake ran. He was too slow, the wraith catching him by the back of his jacket. Wrenched upwards, his feet were left kicking the air and his collar pulled taut around his throat. Jake managed to grab overhead at the wraith's hand. His fingers slipped across a thin wrist, the metal bracelets covering it parting until he accidentally touched the wraith's cold skin. The butchered, human skull at the end of his demented weapon filled Jake's vision. 

"Corrupt filth," the wraith spoke, deep voice hollow and raising every hair on Jake's body, "Transgress no further."

Then Jake was suddenly hitting the ground, something giving in where it shouldn't have with a dull pop that he both felt and heard. Hands pulled at him, yanking on his shoulder and Jake panted through the blazing flare of pain. 

"D-don't," Jake gasped. Ace frowned down at him. "My arm."

Ace's face went understanding when he saw the way it dangled. Jake couldn't move it and used his working arm to hold onto Ace and pull himself into a sitting position.

The wraith had thrown him onto the survivor side of the barrier. Laurie positioned herself between them, brandishing her glass shard, but neither killer attempted to cross. The nurse floated until she was beside the wraith, the small lights around her left hand spinning fast.

"Is he okay?" Laurie asked. 

"Could be worse," noted Ace. Despite the nonchalant words, there was a fine tremor coming from the hand resting on Jake's back. Ace was shaking. "Shoulder's dislocated. You positive this syringe won't help?" 

"I'm sure," Jake said. It would be a waste. "I can make it."

He failed his attempt to stand before he even started, too lightheaded as the muscles all along his shoulder felt stretched beyond their limit. All he could smell was Ace. Despite the pain and the danger only an invisible wall away, he was uncomfortably aware of Ace's scent, gone sour with fear though Ace hadn't stopped smiling. He didn't want to think about what Ace could scent off him in return.

Ace didn't mention it as he murmured, "Come on, kid, let's get you on your feet."

With his support, Jake was able to get upright. But the more helpful the man was about it, the more Jake's stomach rolled hot. He'd been caught entirely off guard, relied too much on the bond while distracted by his own thoughts when he should have been ready to encounter trouble. 

Myers' attention suddenly crawled over him, touched him from head to toe. His shoulder throbbed when a phantom touch swept over it.

Stop it, Jake thought.

"What is that?" said Ace, stiffening beside him and Jake glanced over in surprise. Had he noticed the bond somehow?

"Michael," Laurie said the name like a curse and he realized both betas were staring out into the fog.

Myers stood behind the wraith and nurse.

[thephantomofthe-internet]

Rock You Like A Hurricane

Stripper!Billy Hargrove x Reader

Summary: On the whims of a drunk group of bridesmaids and the bride to be, you went to Studz and found your own Romeo...too bad you already knew him.

Word Count: 2,772

Warnings: swearing, drinking, sexy dancing (is that a warning? idk), minor sexual implications it’s not graphic and i’m a little baby at this so be gentle with me

Author’s note: so did I reach 1.2k? No, but Tumblr is trying to censor safe sexuality and I want to see how far I can go writing wise before I start making plans. If this gets flagged, I will make an AO3 and give y’all the user so we can keep getting weird, ya know? Anyway, hope you like this mess! I tried 😫😫😫

Permanent Tag: @hotstuffhargrove @hargrovesgoldilocks @denimjacketkisses @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @casaharrington @moonstruckhargrove (you ain’t usually on this tag but...I LOVE YOU AND WANT YOUR LOVE) @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22

FEEDBACK APPRECIATED AND ENCOURAGED!!!

Your cousin Elizabeth was getting married. Twenty-three years old, barely out of college, and engaged to the richest guy you knew. Your mother was never going to let you hear the end of it. You and her were the same age and practically grew up together and your mother believed that she was the standard every girl should live to. She was pretty, decently smart, and popular. She was a high school cheerleader, an honour roll student; she volunteered at animal shelters and had just graduated from college with a degree social work. You were a mediocre student, a college dropout, and, thus far, a failed actress. You were a failure of a daughter and your mother had seemingly given up on you.

So when Elizabeth asked you to be one of her bridesmaids, your mother wouldn’t hear the end of it unless you said yes. You agreed, begrudgingly, dropping too much money on a magenta taffeta nightmare to wear once and answered every upset phone call from the anxious bride to be. You had been given the highly important role of planning the bachelorette party. Naturally, the large hoard of rich North-eastern girls were only coming to you for this because you lived in LA and they were ready to bask in the glitz and glamour of Hollywood, refusing to believe that you didn’t actually live at its centre. And so Elizabeth dragged Vivian, Olivia, Kimmy, Maria, and Amber to your shit hole apartment and tried to not complain about it or your plans, although they were already over it and you before the clock struck eight.

You had decided on one thing and one thing only-you would not take them to a strip club. You’d go anywhere else-tourist traps, filthy clubs and bars- you’d even sneak them onto a movie set if it meant the whole thing would be over sooner. Just no strip clubs.

And you didn’t take them to one. Elizabeth’s maid of honour, Vivian, dragged you all out to the nearest club, advertising the hottest guys in town. You were forced into what was perceived as the hottest dress you owned, a short neon nightmare you bought in college, and pushed out the door despite your pleas. You didn’t want to be in a grimy strip club, certainly not with your cousin and her bridesmaids, all various degrees of drunk.

And Studz was not a nice club. If you had wanted to take them to a club, you would’ve taken them to a Chippendale’s, it would have at least been cleaner and a bit busier. Inside the dingy club, with its sticky tables and tiny stage, you were one of three occupied tables. Vivian had chosen a table at the front of the stage, a prime location for viewing the milk crates the club was calling a stage, but the other two parties seemed intriguing.

One was filled with what you could only assume were regulars, an intriguing mix of tough looking women with buzz cuts and sour expressions guarding a trio of grinning, excited boys each with their own sense of style, all of which your mother would’ve called feminine or, as politely as she could, queer, and your father would’ve called…well, you wouldn’t use that word.

The other table was a group of nervous looking women, all old enough to have children old enough to at least in middle school and surrounded by tall orange drinks, which you’d guess were ‘Sex on the Beach’es, knowing the fruity gradient well enough from the drunk barely-legals who came to your bar. They all seemed awkward and embarrassed, the same feeling you felt sitting in the dark room where drinks were twice as expensive and the music blared in your ears. You might’ve been able to handle it if you weren’t forcefully decked out in bachelorette party gear bought angrily by Olivia, peeved that you hadn’t bought any for the group. You had on a white sash which read in glittery pink text ‘I’m the single one’, advertising you like a prime piece of real-estate and not a broke loser. You felt silly and sad, you wished you had just put your foot down and said no. But still you stayed, nursing an insanely overpriced jack and coke through a penis shaped straw, listening as the girls chattered on.

“So anyway, Y/N, this is how you throw a bachelorette party! We want Lizzie to be surrounded by insanely hot dudes for one more night before she ties Stevie down forever. One last night of sexy adventures for our gorgeous bride to be!” Vivian declared cockily, pointing at the giggling Elizabeth, already drunk from the giant Cosmo in front of her and the five jello shots she’d taken at your apartment, the one thing you’d done right so it seemed.

“Whatever you say…” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you spun the melting ice around in your glass. Suddenly, the lights in the bar dimmed impossibly further and the stage lights flashed on, first in a spinning disco ball of bright rainbow coloured lights.

“Alright ladies, let’s give a big welcome to Armando!” the announcer slash bartender called from the microphone on the rail, barely looking up from his copy of Proust. You clapped politely as the bridesmaids cheered, though not as loud as the mismatched table, where the boys of the group lit up like Christmas trees and hollered loudly. The sultry, sticky sounds of Def Leopard’s Pour Some Sugar on Me blasted from the speakers. A larger man with a beautiful tan stepped on stage. He wasn’t exactly rippling in muscles, but he was fit and his fade was lined up nicely. He was dressed as a construction worker, complete with a hard hat. He looked confident, but you could see the Vaseline he’d used to define and brighten his abs caking in between the muscles; most men would’ve used baby oil, but he was trying to appear fitter than he actual was and the trick seemed to work, Kimmy, Elizabeth’s childhood best friend was already openly drooling over him.

His set was awkward and jerky, you were certain it was one of his first shows, and he tended to rely on pelvic thrusts instead of a variety of moves. When the bar cut the song, you were able to count the money he’d earned sitting sadly on the stage floor.

The rest of the numbers were about the same. Next came Carlos, who the back table seemed to be a big fan of. One of the boys, decked in a bedazzled muscle tank, screamed out “I love you Carlos!” in a feminine voice with a slight Puerto Rican accent, clapping above his head. Then Julian, Stefan, Emilio, and Cole all decked out in various ‘sexy’ outfits; poor Emilio was stuck in a weak Native American costume as though he was a member of The Village People.  The whole thing was embarrassing and awkward but as Elizabeth and her friends got drunker and drunker, they seemed to enjoy it more and more. Poor Maria had seemingly fallen in love with Stefan and, after running a shaky hand over his greasy, hairless chest, declared that she wanted to have his baby and spent all her cash on him. When he didn’t come around after his set, she pouted and drank more to fill the void.

Then, everything got improbably darker. At one point, Vivian had snuck off to talk to the emcee and returned with a smug, proud smile, which worried you. You were the only sober person left in the group and thus the babysitter of the girls, watching drinks and keeping hold of those drunk enough to pounce on a dancer.

“There’s a bachelorette party in the house!” the emcee called, earning polite claps from the other tables and hoots and hollers from the girls surrounding you. “Well, we have a treat for you! Welcome to the stage, Romeo!”

First, in the darkness, someone brought out a chair and when the lights came up again, The Divinyl’s I Touch Myself began to blast out of the speakers and out from the sparkling red curtains came a man dressed in leather chaps, the most attractive of the group. His back was to the audience, his muscular legs and butt on full display, his right hand reaching up to the microphone descending from the ceiling, taking it easily.

“I’d like to invite the lovely bride to be up for a dance.” He said huskily and your heart stopped. You knew that voice, it stuck in your brain like a thorn. Billy Hargrove. You should’ve recognized him from the still present mullet. But how could you? Why on earth would you believe him to be anywhere near you, in the Valley of all places? Elizabeth was being forced to her feet by Vivian; this was obviously her master plan from the start to give her dear friend one last thrill.

But this thrill was unwanted, as it seemed. Elizabeth was trying very hard to force her thin wrsit out of Vivian’s grasp and begging anyone nearby to help. Naturally, you jumped into action, pulling Vivian away from her.

“Y/N! Y/N I can’t do it! I don’t wanna cheat on Stevie! I don’t wanna do this!” she cried, tears welling in her bright green eyes. You nodded, taking her hand, and squeezing it in your own.

“Okay, okay sit down you don’t have to. We’ll go home, okay? We’ll go, just calm down.” You said sternly as she nodded, teary eyed.

“Don’t ruin the fun, Y/N.” Vivian said crossly, scoffing at Elizabeth’s tears. “Here, if you’re so hell bent on being the centre of attention, you go.” Before you could even try to retort her idea, you were being pushed to the stage the girls were screaming with delight. Billy was looking down at you with a smirk and a hand extended to you. When your nervous expression met his confident leer, his smirk dropped away.

He recognized you.

You and Billy weren’t exactly friends in high school. He’d come to Hawkins, Indiana in your second last year of high school and joined your graduating class with all the anger and hatred of a boy forced out of his home. He took that anger out on anyone who didn’t play his games and you weren’t one to play along. It was all because you wouldn’t do the entire English project you’d been assigned his partner for. You wanted to split the work even, he wanted to do nothing and get a great grade. In the end, he got a shit grade and tormented you for the rest of high school. It wasn’t as bad as what he did to nerdier kids, who’d get pushed around and the shit kicked out of them for the entire year while he was there. Your torment matched Steve Harrington’s; sure he mostly left you alone, but he definitely made his mark on your mind. He called you Blow Pop for a whole year, based on the baseless rumour that you’d sucked off your gym teacher, Mr. Carlson, who while being a young, hot man was a notoriously easy marker and not worth sleeping with to get a good grade. Although in retrospect, that was probably the kicker of the whole rumour.  Your reputation was ruined for the rest of school and even now the kids of Hawkins, now adults, still knew you as Blow Pop.

And you hated him for it, the whole thing left a sour taste in your mouth. He was so hot, you noted it the second he arrived, but his attitude was so awful that it ruined the rest of him. And once you were Blow Pop, you lost all interest in him, no matter how tight his jeans were.

You wanted to run, but you couldn’t abandon the drunken girls cheering you on, so you used his hand to pull yourself onstage and saunter over to the chair. “Well, come on Romeo, give me a show.” You said through a gritted smile, taking your seat in the chair. Billy nodded, matching your uncomfortable expression.

He started into his number, pulling off his ridiculous leather vest, throwing it offstage and revealing more of his well oiled chest. He rolled his body, running a hand up his chest and through his hair, running his tongue over his lips with a smirk. You watched the girls as they hollered, sticking dollar bills into the waistband of his chaps, lapping up his attention. This continued for most of the song, thrusting and grinding into the open air, ripping off the legs of this chaps, revealing his black jockstrap and earning whoops from the whole bar. You wanted to laugh at the whole scene, to find it awful and gross, and it kind of was; here was this guy who ruled your high school dancing in front of you for cash. But mostly, it was hot. Like, really, really hot. He was honestly too good at this, it made the back of your neck sweat and your nerves burst into flames. You mind ran wildly with dirty images and thoughts you couldn’t get away from if you tried; rationale wasn’t quelling the fire he’d lit in your stomach. He only turned back to you when the coda hit, lip-syncing along with the words. He rolled his lips over yours, straddling you gently and running his hands over your arms, bringing your hands to touch his chest and abs.

“This is really weird…” you muttered, more to yourself than him, letting your smile drop away into a look you hoped didn’t come off as completely lustful and desperate, hoping he’d either stop or finally touch you. Of course, he did neither.

“It’ll be over soon, just till the last chorus, then you’re free.” He replied softly, thrusting into you gently. “Just touch my abs, it’ll give your friends something to laugh about and earn me better tips.”

You obeyed, running a hand over him as he got up, coming behind you to give this look of longing in your reach. You let out a heated sigh, which was mostly fake, letting your head lull to the side as you sighed, earning a scream from Elizabeth, who’d long stopped crying.

“You’re really sticky.” You whispered and you swore for a brief moment, Billy broke, his smirk turning into a tiny smile he was working hard to hold back. He came back around, pulling your hands to rest on his hips as he went back to thrusting and wriggling. You chuckled “And you’re wearing glittery eyeliner, what a treat I’m getting today.” Just as he was about to stand, the song coming to an end, you ran your ring finger up his spine. He shivered involuntarily, his gaze coming back down to you, quirking his eyebrow.

Billy didn’t like that you were here. He didn’t like that he was dancing on you. And he certainly didn’t like how absolutely gorgeous you’d become. Sure, he remembered you well enough from high school, but if he hadn’t? He probably would’ve taken you home and screwed your brains out. It left this uneasy tension for the whole dance. Usually, he’d focus on the bride to be, but with you being so…different and obviously not being the bride herself, he found himself keeping a distance to keep him professional. But he couldn’t stop the shiver when you touched him on your own. And you noticed, you smirked at him liked you’d found some secret trick. He wanted so badly to wipe that smirk off your lips.

You shrugged easily as he looked at you curiously, standing as the song ended and pulling the wad of dollar bills Amber had given you from your bra, handing it to him easily as you walked off. You jumped off the stage, grinning as your fellow bridesmaids screamed, coming to hug you and grab your arm, declaring that he was so hot.

“Come on girls, my hands are all sticky now, let’s get out of here.” You said, pulling your purse off the back of the chair, walking off towards the exit. For a brief moment, you looked back, desperate for another look.

Billy was already gone, much to your disappointment, it was as though you’d dreamt him and you’d wake up at home drenched in sweat and soaked. He might as well have puffed into a cloud of smoke and glitter and vanished, the chair was gone too. But you knew it happened. And you felt so stupid-you’d just been played by a stripper.

[agentem]

Endgame question: Part 1 of a million, the Snap, Cassie’s age, Peter’s school, the general situation

As stated before, I have a million thoughts and questions about Avengers: Endgame. I am going to have to break them up into MANY posts, hopefully broken down by character but sometimes my brain is not that organized.

I will spoiler cut. But also tag with "Endgame spoilers” and “Endgame spoiler thoughts”. I hope no one is accidentally spoiled. But man, I gotta talk about this.

Gonna try to stay broad strokes here. So half the world went away--including animals which didn’t seem entirely clear until Scott saw the birds when “he think it worked” and I would’ve liked more explanation on that.

For the million years the movie takes to “really get moving”, they explain VERY little about the mechanics of it.

I get that a lot of stuff is abandoned, like Scott’s old van. But why the boats around the Statue of Liberty? I get Citi Field (haha, no one likes the Mets. Haha). Like maybe New York can now only support one baseball team or none. But I would like to think, that even if half of us went away that we would keep our National Monuments clean and still visit them.

I guess it is the not visiting that struck me. Because if the boats are left there as like a memorial to the dead, then there were more people in NYC taking pictures of the sticky notes after the election than there are of the Statue of Goddmaned Liberty.

And the bringing of them back five years later seems SUPER problematic to me. I mean, thank god Far from Home is coming to maybe explain some of the emotional toll. But, like Cassie Lang is way more than five years older now. She was like seven before. I think she is supposed to be 14-15? Idk, that girl is not 12. (More on ageism and women in Hollywood TK, probably in the Frigga post! Or maybe Nat? Not sure.)

Did Cassie’s mom who I think is Judy Greer get snapped? Did her step father? That did not look like the house that Scott visited in Ant-Man (I don’t remember the house that clearly). But if she stayed, then I would assume one or more of her other parents survived. IF it is a different home, did someone take her in? What happened! Why didn’t she SPEAK? I mean, yes glad she is hale and hearty but I have questions.

It’s also going to be SUPER WEIRD for Peter. Because that means HALF of his class has, like, graduated by now. If Liz Allen survived the Snap (and we don’t know she did), then she’d be in the work force by now, having already graduated college because she was a senior before, right?

Does that mean EVERYONE who is on the trip with Peter in Far from Home was Snapped? Is he going to be in class with students who WERE in middle school just MOMENTS ago by his perspective? (Since he says he think he passed out and he woke up with Dr. Strange talking to him?)

What was it LIKE for people who WEREN’T in Doctor Strange’s magic glowly circles? Do they remember anything? Did they just come back wherever they had been? What if they had been in a moving car? Are they now roadkill? Or does everyone appear in groups like the Snapped Avengers did.

Are there some people who have “moved on” as Cap termed it, who are now like, “Oh no, I have two spouses?”

Because, obviously, Clint is happy to see his family return and I would like to think everyone would be. But what if you gave birth to a baby and then got Snapped. Now that baby is five years old, does he or she give a shit about you anymore? Does he or she simply have a new family? How do you get custody back?

Again, I have a million questions and I think the answers are going to be mostly meta and not addressed in the canon and that bums me out a bit.

[dracjoonie]

Bts Reaction - Their Last Day With Their S/O Before Leaving For Tour [Maknae Line]

These just got longer and longer and idk how or why, but here you go! I know I said I was gonna post this days ago but between work and the hurricane that just didn’t happen ^^” Still a tone of stuff I’m working on, hopefully I can get something else up on Saturday, but no promises~ 

Tags: Angst, Fluff

[Hyung Line] 

Requests are open !  𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥  

𝕁𝕚𝕞𝕚𝕟

I think he would be fairly prepared for it, but not necessarily in the healthiest way. For some reason I think since knowing he would have to be away from you for so long, he would start becoming distant. Not intentionally. But the kid is needy, and the only way for him to protect himself from the distance would be for him to already be kinda use to it. So with that said I don’t think he would treat leaving like some big event. He might only save half the day to spend with you, wanting to avoid it entirely. 

I think he would treat it like a regular day. Maybe bringing you over to have some drinks and watch a couple of movies, maybe play some video games. He would just be casual about the whole thing, laughing and joking about it but he wouldn’t really want to talk about if with you. I think once it really came to leaving he would do all the things he was supposed to. Tell you how much he would miss you, giving you hugs and kisses before saying his goodbyes. It would feel a little forced because he wouldn’t have let the whole thing hit him yet, that would come later. I think a few days or weeks in is when it would really hit and he would call you crying and spilling his heart out about how much he missed you.

“Y/N? Y/N! Its so lonely without you here! All I do is sit in my room all night on the internet... Everyone's too tired to go places with me.. I really rreeaallly miss you. You have to let me take you on vacation after this, ok? Just us.” 

𝕋𝕒𝕖𝕙𝕪𝕦𝕟𝕘

I think he would the most not okay. He’s very close with the people he cares about, and I think distance is something that’s really difficult for him. I think for the weeks leading up to him leaving he would just be weirdly quite around you. Less excited about things, and he would spend a lot with you just sitting around. It would be easy to tell what he was thinking about because he can get these far away looks. 

He would take so many pictures, on his phone, his cameras, Polaroids would be everywhere. Despite him being down in the dumps about it he would want to capture every single moment he could with you before he had to go. Doing the dishes? Polaroid. Playing with Yeontan? Already took 50 pictures and 3 videos on his phone. He would want you there for everything leading up, every final dance practice, every final shoot. He needed you there when he was packing too. He would want your input in what kind of clothes he should bring, or what fashion styles he should play with while traveling. Everything he would decide to pack he would place on you first. He would snap a Polaroid of you in it, and then pack them tucked in the clothes in his suitcase. 

The night before would be so sweet. He would just want to cuddle up with you forever in a blanket fort with pretty string lights and soft background music. He would give you kisses for every day he would be gone and when he was done he would just hold onto you until he had to go. I definitely think he would cry when he had to leave, and he would cry all the way to the airport. The guys would comfort him; or he would do his best to be excited for the fans, but every night he would just want to facetime you no matter what.

“Chicago is amazing, I wish you were here.. But how am I supposed to take good pictures without you in them? huh?” 

𝕁𝕦𝕟𝕘𝕜𝕠𝕠𝕜

Though I think hes fairly emotional, I don’t think things really hit him until they hit him. So I think he would be mostly fine right up until he had to go.

I think he would really want to do something exciting with you, one last ‘huzzah!’ before leaving. He might even take you on a mini vacation. He would want to take you somewhere cool like an amusement park, or zip lining in the mountains. Something wild you two could have a lot of fun with and remember forever. You would spend the day laughing and goofing around, with random spurts of competitiveness. See that light poll? I’ll race you. Bet you I can chug this faster than you. Are you gonna get slow when I’m gone? 

He would joke about being gone all day, and it would all be lighthearted and carefree. Even if he could tell you were sad he would pull you in for a hug and make a joke about how you’re gonna get soft without him. Or that you had better watch all the fancam’s of him. I feel like he would do something sneaky for you to remember him by too. Like change all your computer backgrounds to silly pictures of him, or change your passwords to his shipname for you. Cute dumb surprises for when you got home. Little sticky notes you would find weeks or months later. Once it actually came to it and he had to leave I think everything would hit him all at once. He would be so happy and thankful to be going on tour to see all the fans he rarely gets to perform for, but he would wish so much that you would be there too. I think he would break down and just cry into your shoulder for as long as he could before someone would have to pull him away from you. Once they pulled him off I think he would try and be playful about it and smile through the tears, fighting back to pull you into another hug. Maybe dragging you along with him or picking you up to jokingly bring you with him.

“Nope, I know you can fit in my duffel bag, come on!..  You have to promise to come next time, I’m gonna miss you too much..”