#so many wonder much ow lol

[xcziel]

Hey saw your tags about anemia and still being anemic after taking supplements. And you may have tried this, but I got this tip from another tumblr user so I'm passing it on. Have you tried Iron Bisglyconate supplements? It's a different form of iron than typical supplements or RX supplements and it's much better on your stomach and more easily absorbed. And in my experience it worked when normal Ferrous Sulfate didn't.

I consulted my doctor and she went off and told me the correct dosage for me when I was severely anemic was 100mg/day but normally I take about 50mg now.

Just worth trying. For the record they don't know the cause of my anemia either but my mom has had the same problem her entire life. They just don't like when I tell them it has to be genetic.

I haven't tried bisglycinate - i've now got some tabs open for reasearch, thank you!

my Dr put me on 28mg heme polypeptide + polysaccharide iron complex every other day, which does seem to help a bit but not get me out of the zone?

after the one session of iron infusion last november, we seem to be just watching the hemoglobin go slowly back down. he seems to feel like if it gets too low again then the answer is just another infusion and has stopped really looking at causes/other options

i'm a bad case i guess because i'm also taking omeprazole and that inhibits absorption.

my new idea recently was to try a methylfolate supplement, even though my folate numbers are good, in case it was a lack of the right kind of folate that was inhibiting iron uptake (i don't get a lot of plant-derived vitamins) but it was *really* affecting my mood for the worse, so i had to stop. next appointment is soon, so we'll see in the bloodwork if it had any affect.

i'll ask him if trying another form of iron supplement might be worth looking at - maybe in addition?, because he didn't really offer a choice - just said "take this, it's easier on your stomach" (probably because the metformin is rough enough on my digestion)

[orcelito]

i think it's just in my nature to get stabbed

if i count this, then this would be the 3rd stabbing i have endured

[satoruhour]

reader x toji where they hav an argument nd the reader dresses slutty and suddenly has plans at the club w her friends. but toji doesnt like that 🫣

a/n: IM HERE . IM HERE SORRY IVE BEEN RB-ING SO MANY THINGS !!!! but i promise im writing hahahaha. but also i dont owe anyone an explanation! enjoy anon!

wc: 1.4k

warnings: toji picks ur lock w/ a bobby pin lol, reader is a little mean LMFAO but #valid, dom!toji, pussy drunk tojiiiii, implied overstimulation, oral / cunnilingus (from the back + face-sitting + lying on ur back), exhibitionism? (reader is on call with her friends but her girls don’t know she’s getting eaten out!), implied unprotected p -> v sex @ the end, implied creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

“yeah— but you didn’t have to say it like that!” you huffed out at your boyfriend, or so you thought, because you probably had read too much into this relationship, heart tearing apart when toji simply said he was with his woman, with benefits while on the phone with shiu. 

you tsked when toji opened his mouth to explain, a distraught expression on his face that implied it was a slip of his mouth but even then you were relentless about the simple slip-up that meant a lot to you. it wasn’t often that toji had anything but an indifferent expression on him and you’d relish in his panicking face with a smug grin if it wasn’t for your rage.

“stupid fucker — still thinkin’ i’m just some bitch he fucks like he doesn’t whine for me in his sleep,” you grumble to yourself mindlessly later, phone blowing up from the messages from your friends while you scour through various outfits that slowly flood your bed. 

No way he said that!!!! Wtf???? Who does he think he is?

let’s bring u out tonight babe. wear sum cute

yeah!!. Let’s get ur mind off of that lame fella . he still kinda hot tho…

it’s messy and there’s a continuous clash of colour with each skirt or top you pull out and you groan in annoyance, so you take a shower — and it’s not all that better either, mulling over that dreaded sentence while lathering yourself up, while washing it off, getting dressed. it pisses you off so much that a man’s words can affect you so much, but that’s the price you pay when it comes to toji.

the toji who gives you a crushed, bloody bouquet after coming back from one of his dangerous missions, the toji who grumbles while he pushes the last nugget in the mcdonald’s box toward you despite loving it, the toji who likes to feel your body against his because he’s said that the mere sensation of you pressed up against him is enough to make him cum.

you scoff when you hear a knock on the door, in the midst of pulling an extremely short skirt up your hips with your ass basically peeking out from under it, paying it no mind before securing a tube around your bust.

“shut the fuck up!” you bark back when toji knocks again and there’s silence altogether, rolling your eyes when there’s a dramatic sigh from behind the wooden door and your feet naturally has you swerving away from the bed to open up the door, if not for the call from your girls that come in. the ringtone echoes throughout the room, distracting you from the professional work being done by toji with one of your bobby pins.

with phone on the bed, it’s led to your ass being propped up while you’re on your hands, butt facing the door with a full on display of your miniskirt and the very lacey underwear toji’s gotten for you for your anniversary. it was a petty move, you know — everything felt right when you pulled the material over your legs after your shower, not expecting yourself to pick up such a revealing bottom.

but now you know everything definitely felt right when those panties pooled at one of your ankles that hang off the bed while you’re trying not to whimper into the call with your girls who’s just so excited to see you. it’s a wonder they haven’t already heard the sloppy noises of toji eating it from the back, hands gripping onto your ass cheeks so hard they form bruises and you don’t have it in you to give a fuck when the other licks a hot, long stripe up your folds.

“left the house already, hon?” one of your friends ask and you’re gripping so tightly onto the phone that it hurts a little, not missing the way toji mumbles out that your pussy tastes as sweet as ever.

“uh— ah! n-not yet!” you squeal when toji smiles into your cunt and you absolutely hate how your hips shimmy toward him instinctively when your boyfriend pulls on your thighs to bring you closer, “i’ll leave soon, o-okay— mm—”

“babe?”

“okay bye!” you panic and press the large red button, hanging up immediately before your moans increase in volume immediately and your head dips into the bedsheets. the man eats pussy like a starved man, slobbering over your pussy while his nose just takes in your scent and arousal — something that’s gotten him hooked since day one. your leaking hole, your sensitive clit, your twitching thighs. god, toji loved every part of you and he was determined to fuck you better than a friend with benefits.

“’m sorry baby, mmfhh—” toji grunts into your core, “any chance ya could forgive your old man?”

the hold on your pride was getting looser and looser while your hands only clutch the sheets tighter and tighter, whimpers turning into a borderline scream when the man manoeuvres himself under you and yanks you down onto his face. your arms support your limp body instantly, hips moving with their own mind as you grind into toji’s tongue with breathless pants, rolling your pelvis over him and he groans at the feeling. toji doesn’t care that your miniskirt is in the way, eyes peeking out from the fabric and flitting over to you and your breath hitches cause you know he’s serious in earning back your forgiveness.

“not when— haah… you’re still saying i’m just some— w-whore you fuck.” you’re still a little bitter, but toji below you is enough to make you clench around nothing, high already approaching when he switches between sucking and nibbling and flicking his tongue at your bundle of nerves. 

“slip of the tongue, i promise, doll,” he talks into your drooling pussy, the vibrations sending chills up your body, hands flying to his hair to grab onto toji’s hair and pulling, “you’re my cute lil girlfriend, aren’t ya?” you hate how easily you nod your head, “mine to fuck, and mine to eat out, yeah?”

that sentence alone has you needing to lock eyes with toji just for a moment to see his lips curl up slyly, bottom half of his face soaked with your juices that your stomach contracts a little at the sight, a weak whimper leaving your lips.

“yeah…” you mumble out breathlessly and that’s all it takes for toji to go back to eating, quickly bringing that burning coil in your tummy again while slurping up your arousal. the room feels so hot and you’re sure you’re sweating through your outfit that you so carefully picked out that you’re peeling it off your body. your lover only wraps his larger arms around your thighs when he sees that your pretty tits are out, intoxicated on the thin layer of sweat lining your body and the curve of your upper body.

“toji, toji, toji—” you’re chanting his name like it’s a mantra, dizzy from the constant abuse toji does to your clit, pleasure shooting through your body when he moans around your cunt and you’re cumming with a moan of his name, thighs shivering around his head that he only laughs, humming into your core while you soak his sheets and skin. you’re just about prepared to get fucked when you catch a glimpse of toji’s hand palming his bulge, but that isn’t what toji has in mind when he changes positions again.

“taste s’good, baby,” toji groans, pulling apart your thighs that close from the sensitivity, “let me eat ya out until i’m forgiven.”

and all he can do is stick to his words whenever after each orgasm he pulls from you, you’re shaking your head like you’re saying you aren’t forgiven and he figures out your game soon enough, but whatever his girlfriend says, it goes. it’s just like that for toji who worships every part of you, a mistake rewarded well later when he taps his fat, leaking tip on your cunt and slips in easily from how many times he’s made you cum, reaching nirvana just from hearing your still-loud mewls leaving your worn-out body.

it’ll be something that will be burnt into his brain, forever, but toji doesn’t have time to think about that for now, so he just fucks you like he thinks a sorry man should fuck — deep into your cunt with the promise of being better and the need of giving you everything you ask for, even if it’s something as simple of wanting his cum in you.

whatever his princess wants, his princess gets.

i cannot go a day without mentioning breeding omfg im actually deranged

[icarusredwings]

I rewatched Deadpool 2 and took notes.

Disclaimer: He's mentally ill and does mentally ill things (GASP, who would have thought?). Also, violence. A lot of violence. It's really long. Like.. really really long.

The very first words he says is "fuck wolverine"

Then blows his own head off with a shit ton of gasoline. Wonder if he had insurance on that appartment.

He started taking worldwide cases

He also admits to knowing "8th grade spanish"

"Passion of the christ. Then me." Says the man whos marvel jesus now.

I wonder how much wade owes cab guy.

Cab guy killed bandu Lmao

"What is it?"

"My IUD"

"A bomb??" Tell me why he was lowkey excited for it to be a bomb?

I love how serious he gets talking about how scared he is to be a dad.

This empire joke traveled from the first movie too.

"Pretty sure it doesn't work that way but we can try" yes.

When making toaster strudles its almost as if he could sense them coming despite it being so silent. This kind of makes me think that Logans not the only one who just jumps up sometimes.

This man really just said "Fuck it" jumped out of a 2 story window, BOLTED after this guy as fast as he could, got hit by a car, rammed another car, and whole ass hugged this guy before jumping in front of a truck with him. I don't want to see anyone try to tell me he's one sandwitch drop away from jumping off a cliff.

Cinatography by Blind Al.

Directed by one of those guys that killed john wicks dog.

God I love Ryan Reynolds because you know it was him.

Wade stop peeing your pants in public.

Weasel "We still have bowie..." Yeah id lie to him too at this point.

"Yeah im fine"

Fucked up

Insecure

Needy and

Emotional. Kübler ross apprently.

"Buck no more speaking lines for you" and he meant that shit.

Al is so humble and sweet. Making tea and giggling. Tries to shoot him and then just hears him collapse on the floor. How many times do you think he collapses on the floor a week? Just to be drimatic?

"Sweetheart can you speak up? Its a little hard to hear you with yhat pity dick in your mouth" Oh so shes his mom. Al is his fucking mom. Hands down. And the best one.

I love how he decided to do an entire bag of cocaine before dying. There was no reason for it and honestly was a waste of cocaine until you realize that these cocaine is wades whiskey. Shots dont work for him really, probably because hes already done it so much, but its the same way how Logan chugs that bottle before wade kidnaps him. Its easier to blame it on a substance then accept those were your actions.

Ness is so cute. The poster behind her has "I love you wade wilson" scratched into it. Its nice to know that his version of heaven is literally just a cozy Saturday morning with his wife.

Colossus just walking in to find wades body parts everywhere and put him in a bag like old dirty clothes lol

"Why cant I fucking die" tone was SO serious.

The fact that theres an x men rule book and its lowkey thicker then a bible. I bet you scott and Logan made 80% of those.

"That asshole was me" oh the tears. Baby boyy.

Wait isnt cable literally scotts son.

Im never going to understand this fucking time line jesus christ

Mutant rehabilitation?? What is he a drug addict? That kid is clearly in pain dipshits.

"X men trainee" is so funny

"Please stop cheating on me"

Daniel the pedophile looking ass

Bro casually signs ryan reynolds on the wolverine cereal box and then destroys his knee caps.

"Those guys hurt you??" It was at that moment, wade went ape shit.

Wade having fun in prison is so him. But come on imagine going to prison just for standing up to an abused child. Not to mention, His face when he immediately realizes how fucked he is and that "oh shit I actually DO have cancer now and it SUCKS"

Is it just me or does Cable reminds you of forge with all his cool fix it abilities. Or is he just futurey.

He didn't say were not friends to make him upset but to draw attention to himself. Him just eye rolling when stabbed in the hand was so funny too because he was like "Ouch. God damn it. Ducking OUCH."

Hes literally pleading with russel to find someone else to peotect him or hes gonna get molested because he cant do anything. His entire power is replacing dead cells WITH new cancer cells. His entire body is dying 24/7 but never fast enough to actually kill him, always regrowing way too quickly. Cancerous is better then dead.

"Get away from me kid" yeah cause he knows hes trouble and he REALLY doesn't wanna watch this kid die.

"Who the hell tries to kill a 14 year old boy"

"Kids give us a chance to be better then we used to be"

Dopinder is so wholesome. I love him so much. No i dont care that he killed a guy. Hes the type of friend you call to take to the movies or the zoo once every year and hes stoked just to be invited.

Peter: I just thought it looked fun :D

Dopinder: FUCK

Peter is that one dad whos kids left the nest and now he needs friends and a hobby so searches for the biggest weirdos he can find.

"Grab the boy- NOT INAPPROPRIATELY >:("

i love his crayon maps/plans

Oh my god weasel im not telling you anything ever again you snitch (same dude, cable is terrifying)

After crying over the love he has for his new team (x force) Wade confirms that he spent 10 years in special forces.

I love how supportive wade is with Peter despite him just being a normal dude only for him to immediately die LMAO

He just cassually lets his impulse win in which he steals a moped.

Oh i just noticed Dominos vitiligo. I always loved vitiligo charaters. Theyre so unique and barley ever given movie roles. Like why not?? Why wouldnt you want someone so beautiful? Im pretty sure she just has make up but it would be cool if not.

Something else is that cable just starts yeeting criminals out onto the street lol

"Theres nothing I cant kill" Let me intorduce you to the man whos on a constant road to dying but can never actually get there.

Im assuming cable wants to kill russel because he unleashes a big bad guy or something.

*cassually snaps neck back into place* Oh god that hurt!

Oh I was right! It was Juggernaut :)

Wade: *gets excited about being PHYSICALLY ripped in half*

"Rub my legs mama 🥺 I got growing pains"

"Oh noo! No no no Dp not again!" We love you Dopinder. Do not ever stop caring. "This shits happened before!?" Yes weasel. Sometimes your friends get ripped in half. Get used to it.

Wade just moves her gun to the right position.

Wade talking about saving russel is so serious that it makes you forget that he has a tiny baby ass rn. I couldn't make a deal with someone woth tiny baby legs... just... no. Not to mention that those baby legs are made of cancer.

"50 years from now you're super fucking dead"

Wade standing outside of the xmen mansion with his phone and a picture of a boom box playing music for Colossus to come outside and help him save russel is something i can see happening to Logan. They have a fight and he storms off to the mansion only for wade to stand outside like that.

"Hi Wade🎀✨️" "Hi Yukio!🥹 you guys make a super cute couple 😊 where was I? 🤨"

"So you wear a helmet so your brother cant read your mind?" "Yeaaahh" average kid conversations.

"Lets fuck some shit up is my legal middle name"

Okay sir edgelord.

Apprently wade has a gluten sensitivity

What is it with wade and metal men??? My man has a type.

"Im just gonna use this brick and maximum effort" Same wade. Same.

Yaayy!! Go yukio! Eveyone loves yukio.

"Thats how we do it in mother russia" What? Shoving an electrical cable up their ass and then put them in a pool? Damn. Ok.

That "I never should have never left you in that prison" with the hug? Man hed be a decent dad I think.

"Dont be ive been trying to make this happen for awhile" okay someone supervise him 24/7. Hes on the active watch list.

Wade: *is dying* Hi Yukio :D

Yukio: Hi wade :)

"R-dog" Oh my god hes too cute.

Them carrying the racist joke all the way til the end made me cringe but that was the point.

His last words being "do you wanna build a snow man?" Is such a deadpool thing.

I was NOT expecting to cry at the end of this stupid ass movie, AGAIN

"Dont fuck colossus" VANESSA KNEW

THE FUCKING COIN

"Is there a knife in my dick?" "There's a knife in your dick."

Oh I just didn't even notice she has heterochromancia! <3 Aahh!!

PFFT DOPINDERS SECOND CONFIRMED KILL

"WERE DEFINITELY NAMINF OUR KID CHER"

"Dont scratch!" *shoots himself 8 times* "Love you! Bye."

Wolverine: ???

[sgiandubh]

News from Birmingham, part 4: last tidbits

The Highlanders 7 con ended about one hour ago. Here is the last batch of selected pics from the closing ceremony, immediately sent by the girls.

Same restrictions as yesterday: Mordorians need not apply and no stealing for X or Instagram, please - whoever you might be.

An interesting tidbit was brought by this guy, in his closing speech:

Meet Sean W. Harry, the owner of the Highlanders franchise. He took the time for a special kudos to Steve Himber and he said that when he first got the idea of organizing the convention, he didn't really know where to start. He knew, however, that Himber was 'the Number One in the US for convention casting', contacted him and told him he 'wanted the OL cast' : 'thank you, Steve, none of all this would have been possible without you'.

As mentioned by @misssophie-me, things might be more nuanced, IRL. Thank you for the research, honey and might I add a screenshot of my own, for clarity:

The guy owns two companies, on each US coast: Himber Entertainment Worldwide, in New Jersey and Himber Entertainment, in LA. He introduces himself as a 'talent manager', but I can't understand how and why his number of professional connections is so limited. Perhaps he is just like me, he doesn't like LinkedIn much - go figure:

Himber lost a trial in court, in 2007, against another LA talent manager, Holly Lebed, for 'negligent breach of contract' - no fraud, however, was retained against him:

The above go to show the plaintiff won the case and took the money. Lebed's attorney and Lebed herself, as plaintiff, were served a 'satisfaction of judgment'. This shows they received the money they were owed by Himber, who lost the case. His reputation must have been stellar, afterwards. I bet the farm.

If Himber is 'Number One in the US', I wonder who Lebed is: Number One in the entire galaxy? There is quite a difference in numbers, on LinkedIn:

Remember (LOL for years) this New Jersey convention, in 2018? Granted, it was way before my time, but hey, Internet is forever:

Neither S, nor C could attend (last minute) due to conflicting filming schedules and were replaced by Rankin and Skeleton. Something caught my eye in the very stiff statement released by Himber, at that time. Perhaps it might clarify his status as far as S and C are concerned:

'The booker who coordinated Sam's appearances between his theatrical agents and promoters such as yourself'. For sure, those guys at Creation Entertainment were mightily pissed. Himber's choice of words is peculiar, though and he lends the impression he doth protest too much. This is the kind of statement and the kind of guy that would make many people suspicious.

You make up your own mind. I think there are many things that just begin to make sense, now.

But to end on a somewhat lighter note, remember (LOL for all the rest of the season) this recent pic, at Wimbledon?

Turns out the same guy showed up at the Highlanders Con, as Skeleton's assistant for the autograph session. I have no pic to substantiate, but I was told by our girls he was helping out with post-its, etc. Weird.

Questions, questions.

[morningstargirl666]

hie!! obsessed with your fic and while (patiently) waiting for updates, i have THE biggest craving for fics with the same vibes as your fic & The Wolf by yokan. for instance, fics with caroline in NOLA with lots of mikaelson family dynamics and just her being around them or being considered as a part of their family. i'm lowkey a sucker for found-family kinda tropes if its not obvious lol.

i haven't read alot of kc fics yet so honestly just hit me with any fic!! popular or underrated everything works since i'm technically very new in the fandom! :D

thankyou for the recs in advance!!

Thanks so much! Specifically NOLA fics:

Blood and a Quick Murder (and isn't that how it always is) by KS_Caster

After a magical accident turns Caroline into a human, she discovers that her values don't match up with her friends' like she thought they did. She discovers that some choices are permanent - and some aren't. Oneshot - complete.

Whisper To Help Me Remeber by LaLainaJ

Put down by Tristan Klaus waits. And plans. Once awakened he's thrilled to set out and get revenge. A wrinkle forms when he hears news of Caroline, and is told that she's been working for his enemies. Klaus is determined to find out why, and soon learns that something is not quite right with her. He'll fix it, whatever it takes. Uses TO characters but ignores most TO canon.

Like The Sun Shines by LaLainaJ

"Klaus finds himself blinking down at his phone for an embarrassingly long length of time while he filters his brother's usual nonsense and the pertinent information sinks into his brain. Caroline is in New Orleans." It's an average Wednesday in NOLA until it isn't.

Fallen by klarolineepiclove

Caroline Forbes was a woman with a secret. Running from a shattered past, she settles in New Orleans, determined to disappear in the crowds and chaos. When her path continually crosses with the Mikaelson family, her plans go awry. When she finds herself drawn to the charasmatic Klaus, she begins to wonder: How far can you run before the past catches up with you? AU/AH Klaroline

Break Your Promise by Fearfrost

"What can I do?" He breathed. He knew in that moment listening to her fall apart hundreds of miles away he'd do anything she asked. "Break your promise."

Wicked Schemes by willowaus

Old family secrets lead Caroline on a journey of self-discovery and into the dark underbelly of New Orleans as Klaus works to reclaim his kingdom and rebuild the family he's slowly destroyed over the centuries. A TVD/The Originals crossover.

Someone's First Choice by unpublishednovelist

How many times can Tyler put their relationship on hold, ignoring her calls and hiding in the mountains of Appalachia, before Caroline finally snaps? He's pushing her away. Who could blame her for being pushed to something else? Someone else --- A rewrite of the TVD S5E1 scene where Tyler leaves Caroline yet another stupid message about how she's not the most important thing in his life.

throw roses into the abyss by marxandangels

Throw roses into the abyss and say: Here is my thanks to the monster who didn’t succeed in swallowing me alive. Caroline goes to see Klaus in New Orleans after her mom's death, humanity free. That choice changes her life from the foundations, every single brick of it --- I think that the whole humanity switch thing is the dumbest plot device in TVD, but also the most interesting. What is humanity, really? What are the edges of it? What would it /actually/ mean to be able to turn that on and off?

Not NOLA, but the Mikaelson family dynamics are off the charts:

not for him a watery grave by MyLadyElise

He's saved her life, more than once. Doesn't she owe him the same? An alliance, a rescue, a race against time. A possibility. Hope. AU after Season 3: Before Sunset.

Persistence of Memory by perfectpro

Caroline comes to New Orleans, nervous to see Klaus after their last argument. As it turns out, she doesn't need to worry about him being angry. He doesn't remember the argument. After all, how can he when he doesn't even remember who she is?

a vampire, a brother, and a pack of wolves walk into a bar by banazie

In which Kol angers a pack of wolves with moonlight rings, his girls’ night out with Caroline is ruined, and Klaus feels particularly dagger-y.

where the heart moves stones by darkness_shows_the_stars

Caroline’s planned college experience in New York, so far away from her magic-infested hometown, keeps getting interruped because the Originals have apparently decided that her dorm room is free game. Getting away from supernatural drama was so much easier in theory.

the fate makes for a lousy poet by darknes_shows_the_stars

It is not unheard of. Soulmates born too far apart to ever meet. Caroline did her research thoroughly. It’s just rare. And for all that she’d known her entire life that her fated other half was dead long, long before she was even a gleam in her mother’s eye … it’s unfair. --- Everyone is born with a soulmate. It just so happens that a millennium divides Caroline from hers.

There's tons more. Search through my fic rec tag in my tumblr archive if you want more fic recs, or browse my AO3 bookmarks, I've answered a few asks like this one ✨

[orion4ever]

qiu and tamarack with an mc that seemingly NEVER gets sick and then one day they are just in bed an entire day with the worst fever, they're loopy and dazed and more prone to crying just because they accidentally stubbed their toe or sneezed one to many times.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this, I am sort of like this. One day id feel fine and then the next day my stuffy nose basically suffocates me lol

I wrote this for Step 2 but if you wanted Step 1 then please do request again!

Pairing(s): Qiu Lin x MC and Tamarack Baumann x MC

🍂🗒️

QIU LIN🗒️

They always wondered how you never got sick.

I headcanon that Qiu gets colds often so they’re curious about what witchcraft or tricks your pulling that make you immune.

So when you do get sick, they are surprised, to say the least.

If you were feeling loopy and saying random gibberish then they can’t help but tease you a little.

“Do you think, If you road your bike..fast enough *sneeze* you could…*sniff* rewind time.”

“…Probably.”

When you do end up emotional maybe after leaving your chicken noddle soup to cool down for a bit and then eating it to realize it was cold

Or

Coughing hard enough that it hurts your throat and start crying. Then Qiu would be so doting and sad that you have to go through this.

They’re an angsty teenager but have the biggest soft spot for you and hates seeing you so miserable and ill.

They don’t try and invade your space when you’re sick since as I said, they are somewhat sick prone.

When your mom has to eventually ask Qiu to leave so that you can rest, Qiu will write notes and slide them under your door and talk to you from the other side.

Or maybe even, cup phones. They see them as childish but it’s just you and them anyway so who even cares?

Once you feel better or at least better enough to rejoin society, Qiu is definitely making sure you get some fresh air.

You owe them the time the two of you missed from being sick and they missed you!

You were sick.

You got caught in the rain yesterday and thought it was the best idea to tough it out after forgetting your umbrella.

Your dear mother had banished you to your bedroom, leaving a bowl of hot soup and some water on your bedside table.

You were miserable, today was such a nice day. The days after a rainy day were always the best so it sucked that you were stuck in your room. You had nothing to do and were spacing out while constantly readjusting your pillow.

You heard noise from downstairs and slumped out of bed and cracked your door open to see who it was.

“I am sorry, Qiu. MC is sick today. I don’t think it's best to have a hangout.” You heard your mother say, sympathetically to your crush.

“Really? They never get sick..” Qiu replied, a confused tone making an obvious appearance in their voice.

“MC got wet while it was raining yesterday-“ your mother explained, her voice becoming more muffled; like she was moving around.

“Aw, man. Ms. L/N, Could the two of us hang out, I promise to “ They’re voice also begun to be muffled up, like the walls were swallowing their words.

You had already assumed that your mother would be true to her word and keep you quarantined until you were feeling better and you hated how much she cared about you at that moment.

You were so drowsy from the medicine, the lights were too bright and you accidentally knocked your hand on the bedpost and everything just SUCKED.

You slowly closed the door and slid down it. Becoming too lazy to bother. You wanted to cry a little, You didn’t cry that often; I mean you were 14. What 14-year-olds cries because they’re sick? Like, please.

You brought a hand to your eye to wipe a stray tear from your eye, I guess you were the rare instance of crying teenagers. Contemplating crawling back to your bed, you suddenly felt the door open a little before something was thrown into your room like a grenade.

The door closing was barely noticed by you as you quickly turned to see what was thrown into your room.

A paper cup, with a string attached to it and leading out the door.

A small smile appeared on your face, your eyes glossing over at the gesture; You already knew who was the culprit behind it.

You picked the cup up from the floor and put it up to your ear.

“Hey. Sorry, you’re sick..” they apologized sincerely.

“It’s fine, really *sniff*” you replied, getting comfortable against the door and talking into the cup.

“I am not used to being sick.”

“I can tell. In the four years I've known you, You have NEVER gotten sick.” Qiu said, a little surprise in their voice.

“I know right, I hate it!”

And the conversation went from there, You two talked for what seemed like hours.

Debated about if you churned premade butter, would you get more butter or if it would turn to milk?

Played hangman with a shared paper that was pushed under the door multiple times.

They hated hearing you cough and suffer and hoped that you got better.

Qiu stayed with you until it was late, promising a fun day at the diner tomorrow.

TAMARACK BAUMANN🍂

She unintentionally babies you so hard when you get sick.

I have a headcanon that Tamarack barely gets sick, mostly due to her just being able to run around in just a scarf and no hats or jackets.

She believes that no one is immune to sickness but when you finally do get sick, she’s a little surprised but is ready to bring you her Omi’s soup and her company.

If you were feeling especially loopy or dazed then she would giggle A LITTLE, but then stop because she felt bad.

“pfft hehe- Oh no, that's not right. I am sorry!”

“…Do you think when you are born, that you’re the youngest person in the entire world?”

When you do get sad and emotional over small things and start bawling over it then Tamarack is so quick to try and help.

Accidentally slam your hand on a table? The table is now moved away for now. The water scratches your throat when you drink it? She’s getting you some tea, you like honey with yours; right?

When you are stuck in bed and have nothing to do, then count on Tamarack to give you some company. She doesn’t even really care if she’s potentially getting herself sick by being around.

She’s bringing stuff from outside and putting it on your table as a gift and chatting with you.

She understands not having someone around your age to talk to and she doesn’t want you feeling abandoned when you’re stuck in your room until you feel better.

And when she eventually has to be asked to leave from your mother, she will be writing you letters, drawing, and collecting forest finds to either wait to give you or give to your mother to send up to you.

She even gets a ‘Get well soon’ card and tries and get everyone to sign it for you.

Which admittedly isn’t all that hard.

You have lots of lovely people around in your life, Tamarack being a special one.

“MC, You are burning up..” Your mother said worriedly, laying the back of her hand on your forehead.

“*sneeze* this is the worst.” You groaned, regretting your past choices up to this point. This morning, you had forgotten to bring a jacket and it was much chillier than you were used to.

“That's why I always remind you to bring yourself a jacket.” Your mom sighed, getting up.

“I will start making you something to eat. I will make you some oatmeal, stay all cozied up in bed and take it easy.” She gave you a motherly smile, patting your knee before leaving with the door closing gently behind her.

You were now alone.

This did suck, You had promised you would go over to Tamarack’s and you hated flaking on your promises.

So you just sat in your bed, twiddling your thumbs. Maybe you could start on assignments right now..? Nah. That was boring, your body’s immune system was already torturing you; let's not add homework to it.

You could draw something? Reorganize? Watch a video online-

Before you could bore yourself to death, you heard a pebble being thrown at your window and moved your attention to that.

You got up from your bed and wrapped yourself in your blanket before stepping over to the small window to reveal...

Tamarack!

You opened the window and received another pebble, barely missing you; earning an apologetic gasp from the ginger girl outside.

"Sorry! I wasn't aiming for you!" she apologized, waving her hand side to side as a greeting. You smiled before moving your face away from the window to cough.

"It's okay, Tama! *wheeze*" You reassured her, leaning on the ajar window to hear her better.

"I wanted to come inside but your mom said you were sick and was quarantining you.." Tamarack sighed before pulling something from her pocket.

You could barely make out what it was, that's until Tamarack got into paper airplane position and aimed for it at the now open window.

You moved out of the way just in time for her to throw it and......

She sticks the landing! The paper airplane flew right into your room and onto the ground. You picked up the white and red lined paper and turned back to Tamarack to open it.

Inside the airplane were a few pressed flowers and a little note.

'Get Well Soon!' was written in big letters; little notes from other people were below it.

'I hope you feel better'-Ren

'Expect me to break into your house soon.'- Qiu

'Make sure to get lots of rest'-Vianca

'See you when you get better!!'-Serenity

and finally, the sweetest one.

'Thinking of you, always! I will keep you company until you feel better! :)'-Tamarack

You smiled big before yelling down from your window. “Tamarack?”

“Yeah?” She replied , looking up with a shy smile.

“You are a angel”

[oldhalloweentape]

🪨Venture (OW II) x (gn) reader ⛏️

(Love Language Pt. II Edition!)

(Not my picture!)

(Here’s Pt. II, I’ll try to get a crack on the other pieces I’m planning on doing soon! For now, enjoy this!)

Their love language: Physical Touch, Quality Time, Gift Giving, and Words of Affirmation (Pt. I here!)

Gift Giving

- Alright so, we all know that presence of Venture is a gift itself, they also love giving you other gifts. This love language is the most obvious one when it comes to Venture, they just love giving things to people.

- And, you being their number one you’re no exception, you get the most stuff in all honesty.

- The amount of rock kids you guys have alone tells all you need to know.

- Their gifts specifically either hold a lot of sentimental value, or they saw it and went, “Yeah, reader would like that.”

- They take mental note of everything you like, even the littlest of things, like if you walk past a shop and something catches your eye, something unnoticeable for most, but to them? They’ll come back later to see if they can get it for you.

- Overthinks about what to get you when it comes to special gifts for the holidays, with Valentine’s Day, the day dedicated to stuff like this being the perfect example.

- They just want to give you something that you like, what you’d get use from however you see fit, and something that signifies how much they care for you and that’s reasonably a very hard thing to do.

- But also, they love receiving stuff from you in return, they do not care what it is, but the idea of you taking time to get them something is just so wonderful to them.

- Though it’s definitely a bonus if it’s based on the things they like, for example, new expedition tools, camping gear, hell even their favorite ice cream.

- Eventually, it gets to a point where you guys have specific spots at your places dedicated to some of the various gifts you’ve gotten each other and it is honestly the best.

Words of Affirmation

- Another obvious one, they’re a naturally very positive person and they just love to encourage people (besides Mauga of course), so obviously wouldn’t be weird to have uplifting words being thrown at you by them.

- There’s the usual “You’re doing great!” And “Keep it up, you can do it!”, but the more personal words of affection like “You did so well, I’m so proud of you mi vida!” Is understandably reserved for you.

- They take pride in being your partner and they make that abundantly clear by their words, and doing it right back at them is a great way of shooting an arrow in their heart and a lovestruck giggle from them.

- They have so many pet names for you in both English and Spanish, switching from both languages interchangeably, sometimes if they’re feeling overly excited they even end up changing from one language to the other in one sentence alone.

- The pet names are: Mi corazón, Sweetness, Mi vida, Amor, Babe, and other affectionate and personalized things but these five are the most used.

- If you guys work together, whether it be at Overwatch or as a fellow archeologist, I think alongside being encouraging and supportive of you they like complimenting and flirting with you. Mostly because physical PDA isn’t the place for both, they make do with being with you and fawning over you lol.

- That and they just love talking to you and getting your honest reaction to their honey-coated words.

- They just say anything that comes to mind, they don't see the point of refraining from doing so after all.

- Again, love letters are a part of this, scribbling down what they're feeling at the moment, and by the time it's done it's like affectionate word vomit.

- It doesn't matter though, they mean well and it's usually the cutest shit ever.

(Alright!! Here we are, Sloane is really bringing something out of me that is hellbent on being consistent for once and I gotta say, I like it. Hope you guys do too.)

[jrooc]

✨It's the Wednesday Tag Gaammmme (Oprah voice)✨

Hello beautiful kittens! 🐈‍⬛ Today’s tag game is about our wonderful fandom 😍

How did you get into the fandom? 

Scouring the internet for more content after I’d watched the show several times through I came across a fanfic and then somehow found the @gallavichfanficlibrary and Ao3. Eventually, after I’d started writing and had a few stories out, I joined the Tumblr (cause Mandi told me too 🙏😘)

How long have you been here?

1 year and everyday it brings me joy 🤩

What’s the first fandom channel you found? (Youtube, Reddit, Tumblr, Insta, Twitter, FB, other?)

YouTube to watch edits

what’s your favourite now? 

Tumblr, obvs (or discord but I didn’t include it cause.. reasons?)

Which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom?

@bawlbrayker 👋

Which tumblerino’s did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know?

So many ☺️ respectfully giggling and waving at @gallawitchxx @francesrose3 @callivich @energievie @captainjowl @whatthebodygraspsnot

I just wanted to play tag games with ya and here we are. Consider this your tag lol.

First Gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)

It may have been Evolution of Kissing by ProstheticLove

First one that floored me was Etherized Against the Sky by Snarfle

First AU was my all time love ORFNSP by @goodkwuestion

First fan art that blew your mind? 

I discovered @steorie first with art like this one

Fanfic trope that you were sure wasn’t for you but now you low key (or high key) love?

Soulmates or A/B/O or even sports AU’s. (Yupp I wrote one)

What surprised you most about this fandom?

First, how much talent there is. Then how welcoming and lovely everyone is.

Moment in the show (or YT vids if you’re one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with Gallavich?

Club kiss.

Ian or Mickey?

Mickey

Which Gallagher or Milkovich are you? 

Fiona maybe? (I made this question why is it so hard 😅) cause I’m always living somewhere between: taking care of everything and a hot mess

Lmao never write a tag game while cuddling your cat - so many typos lol. Tagging or just respectfully poking:

@mybrainismelted @deedala @heymacy @michellemisfit @energievie

@mickeysgaymom @creepkinginc @ian-galagher @stocious

@transsexual-dandelions @transmurderbug @transmickey @heymrspatel

@sgtmickeyslaughter @blue-disco-lights @guinguin1984 @rayrayor @too-schoolforcool

@doshiart @gallapiech @roryonic @spookygingerr @astaraels

@lee-ow @sillygoofygoobersstuff @spoonfulstar @ardent-fox @look-i-love-u

@palepinkgoat @wehangout @mmmichyyy @crossmydna @the-rat-wins

@darlingian @ms-moonlight-inn @sam-loves-seb @samantitheos @suzy-queued

[wannaeatramyeon]

The Yakuza daughter! S/o x Gun basically made me fangirl as I imagine them being a power couple lol. I now wonder if you got part 2 in that like Goo just discover Gun ring on his hand and a photo of his fiancée/wife in his photo (I just imagine that he took a photo of s/o in a lingerie lol)

Ughhhh Sam, this idea is too fun. Here's a much much quicker follow up with a lot less Yakuza-ness (sorry 🙇🏻‍♀️).

Gun Park x Reader: After I do (feat Goo)

Goo finds out. Follow up to 'I do' fic here

"How was Japan?"

Goo watches Gun washing the blood from his hands. Something about Gun has changed. He seems... different. Goo couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was Japan. Maybe it's the guy just being a freakshow as per usual.

Gun side-eyes him. The response is clipped, short, singular.

"Fine."

"Not like you to take an extended leave."

"..."

The lack of answer doesn't deter Goo, all too used to his partner's silence. "Business or personal?"

"..."

"Anything I should worry about?"

"..."

"Are you planning anything?"

"..."

"Did you pick up my Sanrio-"

Gun thrusts his hands in the dryer, the blasts of air drowning out Goo's incessant questioning. Unfortunately, this doesn't last long enough. Nothing ever does once the blonde's curiousity is piqued.

As soon as the whirring stops, Goo opens his mouth once again and Gun finally responds. "No, no and no. Shut up."

Hmph. Looks like Goo won't get anything else from this asshole. With a glint in his eye, he asks his final question, "You owe me for covering your duties. Was Crystal always this annoying?"

Gun reluctantly smiles. "Yes."

.

.

"What does our big bad boss want?"

Gun scans his phone. The message from just moments ago wasn't anything of significance to their mission. Although. The selfie of you in a seductive pose and risque underwear might be a distraction.

He appreciates it for a beat longer then locks the device. "It's not our boss."

That's the end of that conversation. Or so he thought.

"Huh?" Goo's eyes dart over to him with increasing frequency and the car starts to swerve.

Gun will not die by his hand because this fucking maniac can't keep his eyes on the road. Begrudgingly, he elaborates, "It's personal."

The blonde's eyes bulge out at this admission, "During work hours? Who wants to text a mean bastard like you?"

For fuck's sake. Can't this fucking idiot ever mind his own business.

Goo continues, "Who the hell would even want to be friends with you? I hope you're not plotting anything against me..." A malicious snicker, "Or are you dating? You should introduce me to them, they must be a firecracker!"

Gun tunes out his partner, a skill he has long mastered.

But when his phone buzzes for the third time in as many minutes, with you no doubt sending yet another racy image, Gun has to physically restrain himself from looking (and internally curses you for your poor timing).

Goo tries to swipe at the phone. "Hey, let me text back!"

Gun moves it effortlessly out of arm's reach. "If you're not going to keep those eyes on the road, then I can just pluck them from your head."

"You're no fun." Goo pouts, narrowly missing driving into a ravine.

.

.

"Oppa~ do you want a bite of this sushi?"

"No."

"Are you sure? It's really delicious!"

"..."

"Just a little taste!"

"Come near me again, I'll jam the sushi and the chopsticks down your throat."

"Ahhh~! Goo, your friend is so mean!"

What the fuck? Gun seems to be in an even more sour mood than usual. The last time the both of them were at this Gangnam bar, Gun had no issues with the women. Someone to warm his bed for the night, he had figured.

This evening though? He didn't even bat an eyelid in their direction.

"Gun! You can at least be nice to these sweethearts!" Goo snaps.

"No." Gun replies simply, getting up to leave.

What a fucking weirdo, Goo thinks. Oh well, more sushi for me.

.

.

"Since when did you wear jewellery?"

Goo snatches Gun's left hand, pulling it up to his face and holding it so close he is cross-eyed behind his glasses.

He absolutely has not seen this before, his brows furrow at this very odd addition. A plain, silver-coloured ring wrapped around the fourth finger.

Yanking his hand back, Gun responds. "Since I want to."

"A plain ring? On that finger?" Goo trails after him as he strides off, "You know what that means right? Wait..."

Goo completely stops in his tracks, "A couple band? Engagement? Are you...?"

Gun completely ignores him, increasing the distance between them.

No fucking way, right? The simple band on his hand is definitely something, but-

There's just-

No. fucking. way.

Who the fuck would be able to put up with Gun Park?

.

.

"Who's that?" Goo peers at the picture of the smokeshow on Gun's phone, catching a glimpse just before he tucks it into his pocket.

Having that image is certainly... a choice. Who is she though? A new k-pop idol? Gun doesn't seem like the type that would have an image of an idol or a celebrity as their background.

"My wife."

"WHAT THE FUCK?"

"Focus." Gun commands, as a gang of men come at them with knives and baseball bats.

"WHAT THE FUCK?" Goo repeats, ducking to avoid a slash.

"I said, focus." Gun easily tanks a couple hits before returning some of his own.

"WHAT THE-" Goo's words are cut short as some thug takes advantage of his diverted attention and knocks his glasses off.

"FUCK- Fine." Goo elbows the guy in the solar plexus then easily plucks the baseball bat from his now slack grip. "Let me just borrow this~"

.

.

"You must be Goo Kim!"

Turning on the hostess charm, you note how Goo has to almost literally pick his jaw off the floor with your entrance.

Gun leans against the doorframe, observing with quiet smugness at the reaction. You had dropped in at the HNH offices to join Gun for lunch. Usually he would pick a better time and place but the level of questioning from Goo had already surpassed absurd levels ever since he found out Gun was married.

The last few weeks had been hell.

"When did you get married?! You didn't invite me to the wedding? I wasn't your best man? Tell me, who was it! I'll beat them up! When can I meet your bride? Or are you scared I'll charm her away?"

And Gun had promised you a partnership of equals. With your short time in South Korea, you had more than enough proved your usefulness and loyalty. It's about time he cuts you in on the Crew business.

He surmises this is a way to kill two birds with one stone.

You're Gun's wife? This absolute knockout? With him? That fucking boring asshole?

Goo would have thought this is Gun's twisted idea of a prank if he hadn't found out that the guy barely had a sense of humour a long time ago. That time had almost ended in stitches for Goo.

"Mrs. Park!" He gives you a theatrical bow, "I've been so looking forward to working with you!"

"Just call me Y/N," you giggle.

Goo takes your hand, pressing a loud smooch to the top of it. Gun's entire body tenses at the contact. This does not go unnoticed by you.

You retract your hand back, subtly wiping the kiss away, "I can't wait to get stuck into all the details."

"Of course, Y/N!"

"There won't be any trouble from you, right, Goo?"

"Princess, don't you trust me?"

You look Goo dead in the eye, seeing through the fake hurt on his face and dropping your own act.

"No. And," you grab onto his crotch, digging in your nails as Goo yelps, "If there is even a whiff of anything amiss then I'm coming after your balls." Your grip tightens as he tries without success to push you off, "Got it?"

"ACK!! Fuck! Got it, got it!"

You release him, relishing at his squeal.

"If you've broken anything," Goo scowls, struggling to stand and cradling himself tenderly. "Ugh, you two are fucking made for each other. Psychos."

Gun arrives at your side with a smirk, he guides you by the small of your back, leading you out.

"Not bad," he murmurs into your ear, "You were wasted in Japan."

[yellowsweater-bluevest]

Paper airplanes

Written for 'edge' for the @steddiemicrofic wc: 509 | Rated: G | no cw

This made more sense in my brain maybe lol

ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ ᓚᘏᗢ

It was a lonely day in the Harrington Household. All the kids and Robin were busy with their own lives.

Steve lay in the middle of his living room, trying to combat boredom alone. That's when he saw a pile of old homework shoved into a box. He thought he had thrown all of it away, yet there was, hiding behind a sofa a year later. 

Steve dragged himself over to the box with the plan of throwing it away, but then he remembered the origami cranes El taught him.

Trying to recreate them was more difficult than he thought, and one thing led to another, and now he had a lot of paper airplanes.

Too many paper airplanes.

Enough to fit in the box.

Having still too much time, Steve decided the best course of action was to try them out. So he climbed his stairs, stood at the edge, and made them fly.

They flew very far. In fact, most hit the wall. So, Steve decided he had to try them outdoors to see their true potential.

He grabbed the most promising planes, put them in the box, and went outside. His plan was initially to throw them in his backyard, but his pool was uncovered, and he did not want to deal with wet paper in his pipes. So into the woods, he went. 

Eddie did not even see him coming. He was resting his eyes with headphones in when suddenly, he was hit in the face by a plane.

"Ow, what the fuck?" He exclaims, alarmed. "Is this a paper plane?"

"Fuck, sorry," Steve apologized, suddenly aware of his presence. "I did not see you there."

"Oh, in that case," Eddie said, standing up suddenly. "It's okay you nearly poked my eye out while I was innocently relaxing."

"It did not fall anywhere near your eye," Steve defended himself. "What are you doing sleeping in the woods, anyways?!"

"That is normal to whatever the hell it is you're doing, Harrington!"

"I thought you were all about fucking normality, Munson," Steve shot back.

"Well-" Eddie started. "You do have a point there."

They both stood there for a second.

"What are you doing here?" asked Eddie.

"I wanted to see how far these paper airplanes could fly." Steve explained nonchalantly.

"Did you make them?" Eddie wondered.

"Yeah, they fly pretty far out."

"I have a better place you can try them," Eddie said.

That's how they were on top of the Munson's trailer. Their feet were over the edge, aiming paper airplanes at Eddie's annoying neighbor.

"These are some pretty solid planes, Harrington," Eddie commented, aiming for Ms. Fowler's potted plants.

"Dude, we are throwing airplanes at your neighbors, you call me Steve."

"Alright, whatever," Eddie rolled his eyes. "Bullseye!" 

"Won't they get mad?"

"Me and her have a long rivalry, Steve."

"She looks old." Steve commented, trying to hide his smile.

"The devil is old!" Steve laughed at that, and Eddie tried to keep a serious expression but failed. "You are alright, Stevie."

"Likewise, Munson."

[manias-wordcount]

hello :) can you write a black butler oneshot w/ sebastian michaelis x fem reader?

reader is a succubus demon and she and seb are ex lovers of some sort then one day seb is surprised to see reader working as a servant in the manor. ciel accepted her without seb's knowledge but ciel also did not know about their history. seb is a bit skeptical of reader cause he does not know her motives so he acts a bit cold towards her but reader actually did it just cause missed seb (but not that she'll admit it cause she is too proud for that. also maybe seb feels the same who knows lol) reader is the teasing and provocative type if thats ok. pls ignore this request if ever its complicated to understand, i just based this on some random imagination i had hehe. anyway thank you :>

What You Couldn't Do (Sebastian Michaelis x Reader)

𝗔/𝗡: 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼!! 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝗿𝘆 𝗶𝘁 𝗴𝗼𝗱 𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗱𝗮 𝘀𝗮𝗱 𝗹𝗼𝗹

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚: 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝘂𝘀𝗲𝗱

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

The door to the kitchen shuts behind you with no fanfare. That is to say, there’s no light-hearted, half-shouted greeting from one of the other quirky members of staff. Nor was there a harsh, barked order from the young master of the household. There wasn’t even a small, near silent yet warm grunt of acknowledgment from your favorite tea-sipping house steward. 

  So naturally…

  “Oh, Sebastian!”

  …you knew who it was…

  “To what to owe the pleasure of this-”

  …and all that it entailed.

  In an instant, you find yourself cutting off your own words with the swiftest of tongues. You suppose it truly is the smartest choice. You had only been working at the Phantomhive Manor for a mere couple of days. You were still in all sense of the word. You didn’t yet have the young master’s good favor. Nor did you think you could ever be on the receiving end of any sort of sympathy from a boy such as him. So it’s only right you learn your place and you learn it well. Because while such a feeling make be odd and discomforting, you imagine it’s still better than the feeling of the knife being held between Sebastian’s gloved hand plunge itself into your throat.

  “What is your aim.” His low murmur comes from behind as he traps your body from behind between himself and the counter. Despite his words, you know to take everything as a demand rather than a question purely based on the dull pressure of the boning knife pressed lightly against your jugular. That, among other things of course. “Why are you here.”

  You pursue your lips, fully aware of the way his eyes would follow your every action through your faint reflection in the mirror. His voice is as cold as you remember it to be. Unfeeling and so very cruel. The unspoken threat to you is loud and clear. His utter disdain for you? Even louder and even clearer. Yet, you find that it’s terribly hard to hide your excitement. The arm that crosses over your chest to hold the knife to your throat brings up so many memories. The way his body presses and molds into yours reminds you so much of the past. When the two of you weren’t so-called co-workers serving under the most irritating of charges. When the two of you weren’t so-called enemies who spent your days and nights, far, far apart. When the two of you weren’t anything to each other. 

  But when the two of you were lovers.

  “Knife play, Sebastian? That’s a new one…” And fueled by those resurfaced memories, you respond to him. It’s obvious in the way that his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits through the window’s reflection, you know you’re not exactly giving him what he wants. But you hope- no, you don’t hope, you know- he’ll play along with your typical game. Just for a little longer. Just one last time. “You certainly seem like a much different man than from what I remember…I wonder how that little brat managed to whip you into-!”

  Once again, you found yourself cutting your words short in favor of a long life. Your murmured words were meant to be heard. Meant to rock the boat. Meant to get yourself in trouble. They always were. But you know when enough is enough. Even when your entire life is about toeing the line and saying the things that men and women wish they could say- you when it’s not your turn to speak. At least, not your turn for the moment. 

  Though you can’t help but feel pleasantly surprised now that the threat you’re faced with is being phrased a little differently than before. No, the knife is not being pressed further into your skin. It still sits where it was originally- relaxed in a comfortable grip as it delivers the lightest of kisses against your skin. Rather, it’s Sebastian himself who has changed. It seemed that with your bold words, he was no longer content with just trapping you with weight. The arm that had now snaked against your lower waist and was holding onto your hip with a vice-like grip tells you as if the action was words itself. 

  “I won’t ask you again.” He bites out behind you in a harsh whisper and it’s almost shameful how your body instantly reacts to the feeling of his breath just dancing over your ear. “Why have you followed me here.”

  The way you just shivered at his words? The way you just gasped at his tone? You’re worse than you thought. God, what are you doing? Chasing a man like you weren’t the one who should be chased in the first place? All while trying to play coy as if you weren’t practically shaking with excitement at the thought of seeing him again. All while trying to play powerful as if the first thing you wanted to do when you saw him after all this time was to get on your knees and listen to his every command. 

  You’re not going to last like this. You’re not, you’re not, you’re not. So with one last selfish act for yourself, you decide that you won’t That you had come all this way. That you had pulled all these strings to get here. And the very least you could do for yourself after all this time running and running and running after a man you know doesn’t deserve you was to be kind to yourself. That’s all you could do. Be kind to yourself. Because if not today? Because if not now? Then when?

  “I missed you…Sebastian.”

  As if you could ever be kind to yourself at all…

  “What…” For once, he sounded stunned. This great and powerful demon that you knew so well sounded like he was taken by surprise. But even then, you couldn’t enjoy the feeling. Even then you couldn't look in the eyes- even as he released you from his hold and stepped away. You couldn’t. Not with your heart beating so fast you could have sworn you were alive in this moment. Not with your throat shaking so much you could have sworn that you were truly the blushing virgin you tried to appear as. “No. No, that cannot be true.”

  Not with the way he denies you after all this time.

  “Oh, but it is, Sebastian. Even after all this time…” You murmur softly, a sad smile crossing taking over your beautiful face. Words left unsaid. Memories left on repeat. And heartbreak that begins to take shape. You couldn’t look him in the eyes now that your life has been spared. You couldn’t look him in the eyes now that the two of you are no longer close. You couldn’t look him in the eyes when you feel like this. “Even after all this time, I…I continue to miss you.”

  And you certainly couldn’t look him in the eyes right now.

  Because how could you stand to see such a handsome face through the blurry mess of tears?

  You just couldn’t. 

  You just couldn’t.

[tillthelandslide]

Insufferable Arsehole Part 16: Marry Me

A/n: I’m definitely not crying…. Sorry in advance for the sappy note: This series has been a whirlwind to write and I honestly went through it with this one. I hated it and loved it in equal measure (that’s on me though because I'm self-critical lol) but I'm truly sad it's over. I owe so much to this series, it was the first proper work I had published within this fandom, it brought me so many of you wonderful people. The main thing I want to say is thank you to every single person who read it, whether you’ve read one chapter or 16, THANK YOU!!! I just want to say that although the main series is over I am truly happy to continue writing little bits for these characters so if you have anything you want to see please let me know 🥹 I love you guys - Lou

Precious Part

Series Masterlist

The rest of the tour rolls by quicker than any of them expected. Matty and Lou spend every waking moment with each other and with their boys. The group laugh and drink and play the music they love and they're completely content. Their days are filled with the friends that were family now and their nights are filled with just them, their bodies and souls intertwined, their love being confessed and shown in every possible way they know how.

Each show seems better than the last and each of them are unsure whether it's because their love was always adapting and growing or whether it was because time was running out and they were hell bent on not letting it get taken for granted. They secretly thought it was a mix of both.

Lou and George would spend as much time together as they could, sometimes accompanied by Matty, usually wedged between them, sometimes resting across their laps (squashing them) or at their feet, the three of them laughing about things only they seemed to understand.

Lou and Ross would spend their time with Matty or sometimes with Mia when she was able to join them. Matty enjoyed watching the way they laughed together and felt privileged to hear them tell stories or spill secrets and confessions.

Adam and Carly would spend their time with the couple showing them ultrasounds or clothes they had bought for the little man. They'd talk about what they liked to call 'grown up things' and Matty would tell them the things he was going to teach the little man.

Then there were the times they were all together, one big happy family, a huge loving and supportive system that knew they would die for each other. Each time they’d laugh, each time they’d smile so wide their faces would hurt, each time they’d hug and talk and cry together, would make them realise how lucky they were to have each other.

Matty loved the moments before the shows, he'd spend hours watching her write in her notebook. He was in awe every time she sang and he knew he'd spend every day of his life proving his love for her.

Eventually the end of the tour rolled round and the last show was performed: a teary and emotional one, filled with one too many hugs and kisses. It was a show like no other and each of them was hesitant to leave the stage, knowing that would be the end : at least for now.

The party Jamie had thrown for them was huge, everyone and anyone they knew was invited, not that they spent much time with anyone else but each other. Matty and Lou disappeared to the toilets at one point when Charli and George had taken over the decks. Luckily no one could hear them over the loud music, but god did were they loud.

Adam and Carly's son was born three days later, the group crowding around the hospital room, taking turns in holding the little man. Carly asked to see Lou and Matty separately an hour or two after the birth. She simply placed the baby in Matty's arms, the baby boy wrapping his finger around Lou's pinky as her boyfriend held him, his barely opened eyes trained on her instead of the little man.

Carly felt emotional as she looked at them, smiling happily as her husband held her close to him. They had both come so far since the start and witnessing their journey was beautiful.

"I love you" Matty said, making her eyes snap away from the baby holding onto her finger. Something about the way he said it was different from all the other times, she couldn't quite pinpoint what it was exactly, but she felt it in every fibre of her being. She knew if the whole world changed tomorrow, she'd be certain Matty would be there, unchanged and forever loving her fiercely.

"I love you too" she says, tears filling her eyes. The rest of the group come back into the room now, suspiciously standing in a semicircle around them.

"I want this" he says, looking down at the child in his hands "I want all of this with you" he says, his own eyes filling with tears now. Adam moves to take his son, knowing what was coming, having spoken to Matty with his wife about this exact moment.

Lou gasps as Matty drops to one knee, his hand dipping into his pocket before pulling out a velvet box.

"I know we haven't had the easiest ride... I know I was an absolute Arsehole for most of it... And I can't promise I won't be that.. at least sometimes" he says making her chuckle through her teary eyes and choked throat.

"But I can promise that I have loved you, more than I have ever loved anything or anyone, for as long as I have known you and I can promise I will continue to do that until the day I die" he says, his voice breaking slightly, tears flooding his cheeks. Her knees buckle, taking her to him, holding his face in his cheeks.

"I have had this ring... Since Rome. I just knew, I knew even before you were mine that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you... I know this has happened quickly and it's been intense... But it's also been fucking incredible... The best thing that has ever happened to me and I know... I know in my soul that you are my person" he says, making tears fall even quicker from her face.

"You make me a better man. Lou...My love... I love you so much... Will you marry me?" He asks as he opens the velvet box in his hands, revealing a beautiful diamond ring.

"Yes Matty. Of course I will" she says, pressing her mouth to his before pulling back, allowing him to place the ring on her finger before their lips find each other again.

"I love you so much" she says against his mouth. The couple stand then and are swarmed with hugs from their friends.

George pulls her into a tight hug, lifting her from the ground and she notices he's been crying too.

"I'm so fucking happy for you... Marrying my best friend... The best man I know" George says as he pulls back from her, Lou nods at him.

"I'm so glad you were here for this g" she says, pulling him back into her embrace. George is then moving to Matty, the two guys crying into each other as Ross comes to hug Lou.

"You got the happy ending you deserve" Ross says, making her smile. The group comes together then, joining in a big group hug.

"sorry we took your moment away from you guys" Lou says, her words directed at Carly and Adam.

"It's alright... Matty asked us and we couldn't say no, it's you" Carly says, making her smile widely.

"Besides, Matty never lets me have my moment" Adam says jokingly, making everyone laugh.

She looks around her empty flat, one box left, her entire life up to this point tucked away in boxes, currently being loaded into a van by her best friends. She hears distant laughter, George’s cackle, Ross’ chesty machine gun laugh, Hann’s gentle chuckle and Matty’s childish giggle. Her eyes water as she looks around the space, feeling someone rest their chin on her shoulder as their arms wrap around her frame.

“You okay?” she hears Charli ask and she lets out a brief “mhmm”.

“A lot to take in, I know” Charli says, pulling away from her friend and allowing her to turn. Matty listens in from the doorway, leaning against the wall. “Having second thoughts?” Charli asks, trying to sense her friend's mood. Lou shakes her head and smiles.

“About Matty? Never” that makes him smile widely, his stomach filling with butterflies.

“It’s hard moving out of your home” Charli says and Lou turns to look around the room again. She shakes her head and smiles widely.

“This isn’t my home… not really” Charli is confused but then Lou is turning to her again and hugging her tightly. She pulls away after a beat.

“Matty is my home… you guys are my home. As long as I’ve got you and him… I'm good” Matty wants to rush in and hug her tightly and kiss her like it was the last chance he’d get but he doesn’t want to disturb her, or admit he was eavesdropping.

Charli nods, she gets it. She places a kiss to her cheek “I’ll leave you to it” she then leaves, passing Matty on the way out.

“You’re so lucky Matty… to have someone love you like she does” Charli says, wiping a tear from her cheek and pressing a kiss to Matty’s cheek.

“I know… believe me i know” he walks into her apartment, finding her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Ready to go?” he asks, looking down at her. His heart falters when she smiles up at him, leaning on her tiptoes to press a haste kiss to his lips.

“Ready to spend the rest of my life with you?” she asks, watching the way a huge smile breaks out across his lips “never been more ready”.

George stands at the centre table, to the right of Matty, he's holding a champagne flute in one hand and a microphone in the other, his eyes hold tears in the corners and he has a lump in his throat as he begins to speak.

"I have always known that Lou is one of the best things that has ever happened to me. She is an incredible friend, someone who will love you in the exact way you need, someone who will love you so hard that your broken parts start to heal. She is my best friend and for years I waited until she met someone who loved her the way she deserved..." George says, his voice cracking several times as she spoke, Lou stared at him, Matty squeezing her hand as tears ran down her cheeks.

"Never did I expect it to be Matty" George says, making everyone, including the married couple, laugh.

"Matty is also my best friend, my partner, my bandmate and my brother... I truly believe it when I say that he's the best guy I know" he says, making Matty cry a little.

"But he wasn't always that way with Lou... I won't go into that too much because the past is the past... Although I will still end you if you so much as hurt her" he says jokingly making everyone laugh again.

"Matty loves Lou exactly the way she deserves and Lou makes Matty better. They are perfect for each other and I am so unbelievably happy and proud to witness their love... Because it's fucking beautiful. Congratulations to my best friends... I would make a joke about the sex going down hill from here but... I've heard you in hotels and on the tour buses so I very much doubt that's going to happen" he says, everyone laughs as Lou blushes, hiding her face in her hands. Matty pries them away with a kiss to her cheek, making everyone awe.

Everyone cheers and then Matty and Lou hug George tightly.

"I love you" they both say to him.

Mia then stands to do her speech, looking around the room before she speaks "I'm really shit at these things so... Sorry in advance" everyone laughs again.

"Lou is the best sister I could ever ask for and I'm probably biased when I say this but she is far too good for this world and the people in it... Sorry Matty" he just nods along, agreeing.

"But from the moment I met you Matty, I knew you were her person. I had never seen her the way she is with you, you make her so happy and I will always thank you for that. I wish you both the absolute best, Lou, I love you and I am so proud to call you my sister... And we are so happy" she says, gesturing to their family "to be welcoming Matty in to our family, he is the best thing that has ever happened to you. And you him cheers" everyone cheers then and Matty and Lou share a sweet kiss.

Matty then stands, still holding onto Lou's hand. He shakes his head as he looks down at her, bringing his hand up to his mouth and kissing the back of it. He then looks at everyone else, raising his glass up to them.

"God... I just want to start by saying thank you" he says, gesturing to those who have made speeches.

"And thank you to all of you for coming... For sharing this beautiful day with us" he sighs then "okay this is the part where I get really fucking emotional and make a fool of myself and make my wife question the fact she's just married me" he says making everyone laugh. Lou whispers a never to him and he smiles.

"Fuck... 'My wife' that's mental. She's my wife" he points at her, she smiles widely at him. She watches as his eyes water and the way he briefly tucks his lips into his mouth, fighting back the tears.

"You look so beautiful. You always look so fucking beautiful but my god" he says, everyone smiling as she fawns over her.

"I am truly the luckiest man alive... I'm going to try to keep this short and sweet before I start weeping. Lou you are the best thing that has ever happened to me and I know I will thank whatever force allowed you to be mine, I will count my lucky stars everyday because you are mine. I don't know what the future holds... But I know as long as I have you, I'll be okay" he says making her smile, he leans down to kiss her gently before he continues.

"I love you so much" he says.

"I love you too"

It's then her time to stand.

"I'm not even going to try one up you on that" she says.

"I have written so many speeches, thrown them away and then rewritten them... I wrote about how we once hated each other but that story didn't quite do us justice... Because we are so much more than that... I then wrote all the things I love about you, but it was too long and I knew I'd get too emotional... And then I started wracking my brain on what I could say" she says looking down at him.

"I knew I wanted to tell you how much I love you but I could’t find the words to truly encapsulate what that's like. And I thought... Why say something... When you can sing it? Now I know you have begged me every single day since we got engaged to sing at this wedding and everyday I said no... And that's because I had something else planned" she says, looking around at the band and smiling at them.

"I guess you could say this is our last show… without you of course" she says and they all stand up, making Matty gasp as they make their way to the dancefloor that has been set up, microphones set up (ready for what Matty presumed would be the band they've hired). Ross stands go the left of her, Hann to the right, George behind her, Polly at the back next to George on the right and Jamie and John to the left.

"You and this band, are the best thing that has ever happened to me, you’re my family and my home and I love you all so much.. but this is for you. I love you so much Matty" she then sings a cover of All I Need To Hear with the band playing their instruments. It brings tears to his eyes and he shakes his head as she smiles at him.

"Just tell me you love me, that's all that I need to hear" she sings and he mouths an I love you to her.

They finish up the song and Lou begins speaking again.

"Okay... That was just a warm up" she says, making everyone laugh. The boys hug her and she thanks them before they leave. Jamie hands her an acoustic guitar, his guitar, one in which he had gifted to her at the end of the tour and Matty thinks he's going to sob, seeing her dressed in her beautiful white wedding dress, holding his guitar in her arms.

"I... I wrote this song, for you" she says, "I didn't release it because it's yours... only yours" She says and he knows what she's about to sing.

"When I was younger I saw my daddy cry and curse at the wind. He broke his own heart and I watched, as he tried to reassemble it. And my mumma swore, that she would, never let herself forget, and that was the day that I promised, I'd never sing of love, if it does not exist, but darling, you, are, the only exception' she sings.

She finishes the song, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she passes the guitar back to Jamie. Matty joins her then, gripping her tightly in his arms as he presses his lips to hers “I love you so much, my wife” he says against her mouth, the couple laugh as everyone around them cheer. Both of them throw up their middle fingers to the boys when they begin to make inappropriate comments. They all laugh and cry as they watch them.

They sit at the steps outside their venue. Their friends and family are dancing inside, drinking and laughing, celebrating their love.

Matty’s hand is resting on her thigh, over the fabric of her white dress. Her hand is playing with a few stray curls that had fallen in front of his face, whilst her other hand rests under her chin. Her hand only moves from his hair when he passes her his cigarette, watching her as she takes a few puffs before handing it back to him.

“You're so beautiful” he murmurs “my wife” a huge smile breaks out over her features, eyes crinkling and teeth baring. Her eyes flick from his eyes which have been brimming with happy tears the entire night, down to his lips which are spread wide too.

“I love you, my husband” they hear the door creak behind them, revealing their group of closest friends.

“Sorry we're not interrupting are we” Carly says kindly.

“You'd be able to hear them a mile off if we were interrupting’ comes from George, making everyone laugh. His arm is wrapped around Charli who looks up at him fondly as he speaks. They'll be next, she thinks.

“You know you guys are always welcome” Lou says, making the group walk down the steps to join them.

“But maybe call before you spontaneously pop round to ours” Matty says, wiggling his eyebrows at the group, receiving a quick light smack from Lou, which makes everyone laugh.

They fill out the steps pretty quickly. Charli and George perch on a ledge near them, Mia and Ross sit a few steps down, turning around to look at them, Lou smiles widely at their intertwined hands.

Carly and Hann are nuzzled together a step down to the right of them.

“Where's the little man?” Matty asks, making Hann look up.

“Your mum's looking after him” makes him smile.

John, Jamie, Gabi and Polly are scattered here and there. They sit in silence for a few moments, sharing a few cigarettes, all with huge smiles on their faces. They watch as the sky continues to get darker and as stars begin to appear.

Matty pulls her closer, pressing a kiss to her cheek before mumbling in her ear.

“I love you” she turns to kiss him, only pulling away when she hears Ross speak.

“What now?” He asks and everyone chuckles.

“What do you mean , what now?” George says, laughing loudly.

“I mean what happens now… Hann and Carly are married and have just had a kid… Lou and Matty are now married and will probably be popping out babies in no time” his words make Lou blush and Matty smear his lips to her cheek.

“You bet” he murmurs into her ear before he delivers his next line to the group “we'll be practising for a bit mate don't you worry about that” it causes another chorus of laughs to break out.

“You guys will probably be married next” Ross says pointing to Charli and George.

“And then we'll all be busy and be less inclined to see each other… what happens then?”

“Don't be daft mate… the bands not broken up. We're just having a little break. You know Matty can't go that long without making music anyway and who's he going to get to help him if it's not us?” George says, Ross shrugs at that, nodding his head slowly in agreement once he realises George is right.

“Besides… we're a family” Polly says, everyone looks around at each other then, smiling at one another.

“We're a family” Matty confirms, eyes trained on his wife who's looking back at him just as intently.

The group slowly begins to filter out, leaving the newlyweds alone on the steps.

“What now?” Lou repeats Ross’ words from earlier, feeling the sentiment behind them. Everything up to this point seemed so perfectly planned as if it was scripted. Their own little novel, a story of two people who hated each other, discovering that they in fact didn't hate each other at all. A story of two people, finally loving and being loved by the one person who they were supposed to be loved by.

Now everything was out in the open, Lou didn't know what would happen next and the thought was both exciting and terrifying.

“We go on our honeymoon, have a ton of sex” Lou laughs and nudges Matty's shoulder with her own “we eat amazing food and drink loads of alcohol and we love each other every day we're there” she smiles, Matty places a hand against her cheek and she leans into it.

“And we come home, and maybe the band will write some songs and eventually do another tour and maybe you'll do the same with your band, but we'll stick together through all of it, through thick and thin… we'll love”

“And then what?” She asks, he chuckles and places his lips against hers, they laugh as they kiss.

“And then we have the rest of our lives, we don't need to plan it, as long as we've got each other” she nods at that.

“Yeah, as long as we've got each other…”

“Here's to the rest of our lives baby” he says, smearing his lips against hers. He pulls back slightly and she watches as a smirk comes to rest against his lips.

“Now how about we get you home, so I can get you out of this dress?” She giggles at his words as she pulls him in for another kiss.

“Lead the way Mr Healy” Matty stands, reaching down to her. Lou intertwines their hands and allows him to pull her up to him. She collides with him, her lips merging with his again.

“Come home with me, Mrs Healy” he murmurs against her mouth, twisting his tongue against hers, making her sigh.

“I love you” she pulls back slightly, one hand sweeping the curls that had fallen loose from his hair back.

“Your insufferable arsehole” he says, smiling down at her.

“My insufferable arsehole”

“Always”

“For the rest of our lives”

Taglist: @scooby-doodoo @thereisaplaceintheheart @promocodesorry75 @eaglestar31 @thefrontofmymind @fallingforel @partoftheairforce @procrastinatinglikeapro @poisonmedaddy13 @xthe1975 @all-things-fic @jstbeeingme @rossgirly @juliardk @you-muppet @moodyyyychickx @k4tie75 @insidemymind19 @zzzhealy @maybeiwouldlikeyou @at-her-very-foreign @not-alien-girl-v @sinarainbows @friedlandblog @momentum2023 @youlooklikeshitandyousmellabit @inhalerbea (add yourself using the link in my bio 😊, those with a line through are the ones i couldn’t tag)

[britswriting]

The Announcement | Quadruple The Love H.S

Follow Y/N + Harry's journey from being a family of two, to a family of six! Also know as, Harry + Y/N have quadruplets! This series will contain blurbs, social media posts, interviews and everything family + fame!

full masterlist qtl masterlist Read on Wattpad

harrystyles and ynstyles

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♡ liked by: annetwist, niallhoran, liampayne, and 3,765,874 others harrystyles: Been busy on break

annetwist: I can't wait!!

gemmastyles: I've already bought onesies 🙈💞

liampayne: Welcome to the club, mate!

ynstyles: You owe me £5 for not spilling the beans!

harryfan1: OMG WHAT

harryfan2: She said.. I'm having your baby! ↳ harryfan3: And it's ALL OF HIS BUSINESS OMG

harryfan4: Guys... we're getting dadrry. I repeat, we're getting dadrry!

ynstyles

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∘∘•∘∘ ∘∘∘•∘ ∘∘∘∘•

ynstyles: First trimester diaries! 🍼 First things first, finding out your pregnant, at least.. when you're trying, is the best feeling ever!!!! Harry and I took so many photos and videos (far too personal to share, (See slide four to see me on the verge of screaming and crying over the fact that I'm pregnant lol) you see me cry enough as it is lol) and we sat on the bathroom floor in pure happiness and disbelief. (and a lot of concern on my end..) I couldn't stop looking at my stomach and bubbling nonsense to Harry as we began our true first steps into parenthood. (I'll eventually talk about our journey, but if you're new, it hasn't been an easy one💝) As we watched my stomach grow, we couldn't stop touching it! The idea of feeling a kick, or a flutter... or even just the thought of a baby inside of me; pure happiness. (Pst, Harry sleeps with his hand on my belly and it's my new favorite thing ever!!!! It's so cute!!!) For those wondering, Morning sickness is brutal. I'm already losing sleep, vomiting my guts even in the middle of the night and much to my dismay, awakening Harry every time I scurry to the bathroom. (If Harry looks extra tired on camera, I apologize! - he'll tell me off for this, shh!) Tiredness is unreal. I mean, I figured growing a human would be hard, but I'm convinced I'm asleep more than I am awake. I wake up, vomit, eat some crackers take my meds, sleep repeat. Ultrasounds are the craziest experience ever!! Harry and I lost our minds and Harry's soft smile when we saw the screen is burned in my brain forever. He's honestly already such a good husband but I know he's going to be an even better father! I honestly can't wait!! @harrystyles I love you so much! Thank you for making me a mumma <3

annetwist: Congrats! I'm excited to finally talk about it!

yourbff: I can't believe you didn't tell me for 3 weeks smh ↳ ynstyles: It was unbearable for me too!

comments on this post have been limited

~

"Love, staring at it won't make the line appear quicker" Harry tried to ease, his hand on my back as my eyes laser locked on the pregnancy test.

"The line has to show at some point!"

Harry snatched the test off the counter, my mouth a gape, ready to throw protest when he grabbed my hand and led me to sit down on the cold tile with him.

"Harry! Give me the test!" I whined, my tear ducts filling as the past couple months of worry begun to spill over.

"Y/N, babe, just sit down with me. We're dong this together, alright?"

I reluctantly sat next to him, Harry setting the test on his thigh, his right hand clasping my left as we stared down at it.

"What if it's just one line?" I asked softly, my biggest fear being vocalized once again.

"Then we'll try again" He repeated instantly, a singular tear rolling down my cheek.

"Harry, it's our sixth round in three years" I cried, my eyes squeezing shut as the emotion left glistening trails down my cheeks.

"Y/N, we don't have to do it again" He told me calmly his thumb rubbing against my knuckles, something he did frequently to quietly soothe me.

"You already know how I feel about adoption" I whimpered, guilt encasing my chest as I slowly opened my eyes, my blurred vision attempting to peak at the test.

"I know" He replied, not offering much else as he starred at the test.

"I'm a horrible person" I begin to cry again, taking my hand out of his as I covered my face.

"You're not a horrible person, y/n"

"What woman doesn't want to adopt, Harry?! We could! We could have already had a family! What kind of person is afraid too adopt?!"

"A person whose thought about every avenue. Y/N, it's perfectly normal to want what you want. Can you open your eyes please when I talk to you?" He asked, His green eyes were full of hope, my throat tightening as I glanced away. "Y/N" Harry warned, getting me to look back at him. "I know you're afraid of everything that comes with adoption, and if it's a huge fear of yours, whether it's that you won't love them the same, or they won't love you, or all of the separation issues you've read about.. it's just a different journey that we'd take together. We'd figure it out. You're not the first person to be nervous to adopt if that's a path we need to consider. However we start our family, is how we start our family. I know having a biological baby means a lot to you, but if that's not where life takes us, I think we both need to prepare ourselves to come to terms with that" He told me honestly, my lips pursed as I nodded.

It was true.

As horrific as it made me feel, I was afraid that if I adopted, I wouldn't love that child the same way I would my own. Maybe it was silly.. but my dream was to always have a baby of my own, and now that it's became an entire ordeal including medical professionals and obsessive calendar counting, I knew I needed to let my brain dance with the idea again... but could I really do that to a child? Bring them into this loving home.. and not love them the way they deserved? Would I ever view that baby as my own? Or would it feel more like a godparent babysitting situation?

IVF has been a rough path that Harry and I have walked down. One we didn't take lightly, and one we definitely probably over researched before even attempting such feat.. but with all the cons.. there were the pros.

So we tried, and we tried, an we tried.... and we gave up. Adoption maybe? Foster care? Surrogacy? Egg donors? There was a million routes.. but none of them felt like my dream. I wanted to have sex one night and wake up pregnant the next morning with my husbands child, and I struggle a lot with the fact that that isn't how it's happening.

It would be so easier if I could blame Harry, and his annoying sperm.. but the reality is, Harry is perfectly capiable impregnating someone.

I'm the problem.

Learning that you're supposed sole duty of a period every month wasn't even worth it... definitely landed me in some pretty intense therpary.

There has been more dark days than light for both Harry and I.

I'd be lying if I said divorce had never crossed our minds.

Things got bad, before they got good again and now here I sat next to him, wedding band on my finger as tears streamed down my cheeks, ready to be once again disappointed by my body.

"Can we just see what this test says and go from there, please?" I asked quietly, Harry nodding. "Can you look? My eyes are blurry"

I did my best to clear my vision when I heard the inhale of Harry's sharp breathing.

"What?" I asked, panic making my body tense. "What?!"

"It's two lines! Y/N! You're pregnant!" He practically yelled, my entire body stilling.

"What?"

"YOU'RE PREGNANT!" He yelled, scurrying off the floor, helping me up and yanking me into a hug and a kiss.

"Oh my god" I exhaled, my vison thankfully clearing as I snatched the test, seeing the two pink lines for myself.

"That has to be fake" was my immediate reaction as I held the test up to the light, the pink line darkening right in front of me. "Where is the clearblue one?" I asked Harry, Harry's arms wrapping around me, his palms resting against my stomach as I pulled open one of the drawers, finding my stash of pregnancy tests.

The drawer was probably my most opened drawer in the entire household; which meant it was also my most hated.

All it held was dreams and disappointment.

"Can you grab me a few water bottles, please?" I asked, setting the test aside as I opened one of the more expensive pregnancy test boxes.

"Baby, it's so dark" Harry showed me, crease lines between his brow as his dimples pops from the smile he had.

"I know, I know.. I just.. want to be sure. I need to pee again! Water, please!"

Three water bottles later, I found myself peeing on yet another stick and plopping the capped test onto toilets paper on our counter.

I hated waiting.

"Babe, are you going to look?" Harry asked, a goofy smile still on his face as he leaned against the door frame.

"What if the test was wrong?" I asked again eyeing the drugstore pregnancy test next to Harry.

"Baby, they're supposed to be one of the most accurate tests"

"But false positives are a thing!" I shouted, shaking my hands as I paced the space between the toilet and the bathtub.

"Y/N" Harry sighed, "I know you're worried, and we can make a doctors appointment to verify.. but baby, I think this is it. I think we've done it"

I hesitantly walked up to the counter, my eyes locked on my mess of a reflection in front of me before slowly finding the test.

"Oh my god" I exhaled, the bold "pregnant" staring back at me. "Harry!" I quickly showed the test, a smile starting to form at my lips as my eyes welled up with tears again, "I.. we're... oh my god!" I shrieked, jumping a little as I waved the test next to me.

I quickly pulled out my phone, the video shaky as ran over to Harry, kissing him before showing the test to the camera.

"We're pregnant!" I yelled out, Harry grinning as he leaned down to kiss me again, the video stopping and I turned to the camera, Harry snatching the drugstore test, both of us holding up the tests as we took countless photos before posting in the mirror, taking all sorts of different angles of my belly.

I can't believe we're pregnant.

"I told you you weren't fat" he chuckled as we inspected my bloated stomach.

"I'm fat with your baby!" I laughed, my hand running over the puffy skin. "God, I'm going to get more stretchmarks"

"Good thing you married a man who happens to love them" He pecked my cheek, his hands on my hips.

"We need to make a doctors appointment pronto and make sure these tests are correct" I informed, setting the plastic test on the counter.

"Baby..."

"I know, I know! I just.. I want to be sure, okay?"

"I know. I love you no matter what, but I really think this time.. this time is it"

🍼

Hello! I've had this idea for a while, and I thought it would be fun to make kind of an open ending series? Meaning we can work on this for as long as we want! From finding out, to their birth, and just watching them grow up! If you have any requests, feel free to ask! I don't plan on posting them in order (like birth, growing up etc), but I will have them posted in (hopefully) chronological order in the masterlist!

Feel free to leave requests in the comments or on my ask via my profile!

If you have any baby names, let me know! I have the sex's picked out, but not the names!

I wanted to make this longer, but Tumblr has a 10 photo limit so...

I'm hoping as I get into it, I can write the blurbs better, just with their storyline, it was a bit hard to make it very happy and fluffy lol.

Welcome to my Quadruplet series! (I might post it on wattpad, I'll update the masterlist with a link if it is!!)

pst. my little circles won't stay where I want them to, if you know how to fix that lmk, otherwise we can both be annoyed together!

-Brit <3

[writefightandflightclub]

The light is blinding (Joel Miller x fem!reader)

Summary: When he's hurt, you offer to wash Joel's hair for him. Turns out there may be other forms of comfort you can offer him too.

Genres: character study; angst (sorta); hurt/comfort; SMUT. Joel's POV.

Author's note: I watched TLOU ep 1 last night, then made bad choices today in favour of hyperfocussing on this 8k Joel fic. I mean, this was sort of inevitable tbf. We've been handed a sad, scruffy, brown-eyed, dusty apocalypse DILF, and there was no chance of me not adopting him as a blorbo. Anyway, this is my first attempt at Joel, I wrote this in a trance so god knows what it says and I haven't spent any time on editing/correcting. Can't promise it's any good, but if you want to wash his hair as much as I do (lol) maybe you'll enjoy it, who knows. P.s. I promise it does get super smutty. You just have to survive the extensive internal monologue and many rounds of haircare first. (I'm just like that :P)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Minors interacting will be blocked. EXPLICIT SMUT (unprotected p in v sex, totally ignoring practicalities like birth control in the apocalypse bc we can); canon-typical themes such as grief, apocalypse, infection/disease, trauma, injury. SPOILERS - if you know the core plot points or have seen episode one you'll be okay. Joel's POV.

Word count: 8.2k

GIF by @joelmjller (Pls lemme know if you'd like me to remove this!)

How did he get here, exactly? All stretched out on his back, your careful fingers twining through his wetted, grizzled hair?

Well, he supposes he got here because a smuggling deal had gone sideways - like usual.

He got here, because he’s getting too old for this shit, and because someone precisely young enough for this shit had garnered the advantage just long enough to land a gun barrel blow to his head. A blow which then made room for all manner of nonsense, of course; like Joel being teep kicked into a desk. The desk - owing to its sturdy construction and deliciously planed hardwood - had withstood the blow. Joel’s body, however -far less sturdily constructed - had reacted far less favourably to that particular transaction.

Most of all though, cracked ribs and busted shoulder aside, Joel is here, because of you. He is here, because you offered to wash his hair.

Joel isn’t a clean man, by any stretch. Who could be anymore, with the way things are? In truth, he’s forgotten what it’s like not to be coated with a layer of dirt and smoke and ash. But apparently, even in the midst of an apocalypse, the dried-in, caked-up, days old blood matting his hair had left something to be desired.

He’d agreed to your offer only because - honestly - it was starting to itch. Because this time he truly couldn’t do it himself, the searing pain in his ribs seeing to that. Making sure he couldn’t quite raise his arm high enough or dip his head low enough to get the job done.

He’d agreed to your offer, in part, because he thought you would be quick. And - he now realises - you are being anything but.

You have him stretched out on his back, on a repurposed dentist chair. The worn, dark green leather creaks beneath him as he adjusts, positioning himself just so. You’ve installed a makeshift neck rest and basin to the rear of the chair, and Joel’s head is currently dipped backwards into the warm water, your fingers diligently combing through the strands to release the debris and muck.

You use a cup to cascade the water from the basin over his head, cupping it with the other hand to guard his face and neck from any rogue rivulets. Then, you ease your fingertips over his scalp, massaging in circles, being extra careful -he notes- around his recently closed wound.

Yes, to Joel’s dismay, you are taking your time. You are being so thorough and so attentive, in fact, that Joel even wonders if you will end up washing the gray right out of his hair - Joel’d never been wholly convinced that his newly-developed colouring was ever anything more than a thick, impenetrable layer of dirt and ash.

You hum thoughtfully, a sweet, innocuous note as you assess your next step. “I’m switching out the water, okay?”

That doesn’t sound okay at all. That doesn’t sound done. And Joel had thought that this would be quick. Had needed this to be quick.

Before he can grunt an answer though, you are winding a towel around his hair, presumably attempting to save the drips from reaching the floor as you swap out one basin for another, setting down the one now filled with muddy brown water, and bending carefully to lift a second steaming basin of fresh water on to your makeshift plinth.

He needs to stop this here. “That’ll do,” he says gruffly, motioning to sit up -carefully- despite the pain in his ribs.

“Lie back,” you insist, the sound of your voice muffled through the towel wound over his ears but soothing nevertheless. “I’ve only managed to rinse out the blood and bird’s nests so far. We still need to wash and condition.”

Joel would protest more vigorously -means to, in fact- but the soft smile on your face dissolves him like sugar before he can do so.

He frowns though, for good measure. “Fine. Just make it quick.”

“The quicker you relax Joel,” you sing song, “the faster I’ll let you out of my seat. Deal?”

He grunts. He doesn’t relax. He can’t relax.

“And,” you add playfully, as if reading his mind. “If you can’t relax, you’d better learn fast to fake it.”

Joel sighs deeply in frustration as he lies back, and you usher him gently into position. However, the slow, deep breath he expels does genuinely serve to sink him more deeply into the chair. Does force him to release just a jot of the tension snaking through his taut muscles.

You hum again, softly, in satisfaction, and he thinks he can even hear a smile on your mouth as you foam his hair with some sweet-smelling product, your fingers resuming their careful ministrations across his scalp.

It’s nice, he notes, unwilling as he is to admit it. Your touch could knock him out better than a barrel full of oxy and a bottle of the good stuff. He almost lets himself enjoy it - an attractive woman like you working your hands into his hair, massaging with your thumbs, your fingers, your palms. Applying pressure and sensation, even into the tight muscles in his neck. Loosening some of the tension at his temples. He even consciously relaxes his forehead, feeling his frown soften. Closing his eyes instead of fixing his stare on the broken picture rail he’s sure he could fix with a few tools and a little bit of effort.

He breathes more deeply as he closes his eyes, focussing in on the sensation of your touch. On the scents flooding his nose. Floral and sweet and fruity. It smells of you, and he breathes it deeply. He tries not to think about how his pillow will smell of you later.

It shouldn’t be possible for you to smell as good as you do, Joel ponders. You even have him wondering whether perhaps he’s not the only game in town. Whether there’s another smuggler dealing in contraband which hasn’t even occurred to him to barter with. Perfumes and oils and essences. He doubts that you would be mixed up in smuggling, but he doesn’t doubt that you are capable of far more than surface-level assessments might suggest.

After all, people only survive this long with one of two things: brutality, or blind luck - and no-one is that lucky that they’ve never had to dabble in the former. Everyone who has made it this far is only out for themselves.

Therefore, who knows what secrets you hide behind your sweet facade, Joel contemplates. Though, if he did have to believe there was anyone selfless left on god’s blighted earth? If he had to believe in someone, Joel would bet cards on it being you.

He sucks in another long, slow breath, and the scent of you envelops him all over again. For a moment, he finds himself wanting to believe in you. But it’s never too long before he recalls he gave up a long time ago on believing in anything. Anything except his wits and his fists and his gun, at least.

“That’s it Joel,” you praise as he relaxes - uncoils - just a shade, and the smooth tone of your voice slides right under his skin. The thought that you want to make him feel good makes him tingle. Makes him forget - almost - that he doesn’t deserve that.

Meanwhile, your deft fingers and thumbs continue to work nimbly into him, sliding over the contours and bones and ridges of his skull. Applying a warm, steady pressure against the muscles at the nape of his neck. Circling your thumb against a spot that sends a buzzing, suffusing warmth skittering down the length of his spine. Blooming through him - and, it has been so long. So long since Joel felt anything resembling pleasure that when he feels this warm honey trail down his back, an involuntary moan overspills his parted lips.

Shit. There's no chance that you didn't hear that.

The moan reverberates in the tight, quiet room. Lingers far longer than it sounds out for. Lingers, despite how quickly Joel cuts it short - clamping his mouth shut and hoping he can pass it off as a grunt or some expulsion of pain from shifting in his chair.

Your fingers halt, still tangled in his hair. “D-Do you want me to stop?” There is a heat in your tone, Joel thinks, the vowels and consonants warm and full like the pop and crackle of a hearth.

It's new. And it occurs to him, ever so suddenly, that maybe you are enjoying this too? Touching him?

After all, he’s not insisting upon it. Didn’t suggest it. Has not attempted to prolong it. And yet, you continue, working diligently. Soothing him. Freely offering your praise and those little, contented hums - those small, burgeoning sounds which make his fingertips ache to have your skin beneath them, so that he can keep on making your lips overspill with those sweet sounds of satisfaction.

Indeed, Joel’s hair has got to be cleaner now than it’s ever been. He’s been in your chair longer than he ever intended - and you don’t seem to be working any other angle. Don’t seem to be after any contraband that he can get his hands on. Haven’t submitted any requests. Fished for any information.

Perhaps then, you are enjoying him. Enjoying performing this act of service for him - though god knows why. Perhaps you are even looking down at his body right now while he’s all laid out for you in this worn-out chair. His long limbs stretched out, clothes tugging taut over his tight, muscular frame. Perhaps you like looking at him like this, his hair slicked back and away from his sharp face and his hawkish nose, watching the twist and pull of the muscles as he sets his jaw - needing to consolidate all of his resolve simply to resist your sweet, sugary touches. Perhaps you liked when you watched his eyes flutter closed under your touch. When you watched his lips part with that sound. That throaty, undone moan, all for you.

Joel’s not stupid.

He’s clocked the way you look at him sometimes. With this gentle, inviting hunger. The way you always make the effort to come over and speak with him whenever opportunity presents itself. The way your appealing body bends to him like a flower to its sun, as though he has anything nourishing about him. As though he has anything but darkness to offer.

He’s clocked you too. Has seen the way kindness and warmth dance across your features like a living, licking flame. Has seen you glow brightly too with a steady, constant fire, which he is sure must run hotter and more fierce beneath the surface than any would estimate. He had noticed too, of course, the swell and contours of your body, hiding beneath your clothes in all the places he most enjoys.

He’s thought before how he’d like to find out where the hunger in your eyes could take him if he chased it; but in the end he knows there is never any further to go than here. That every road is a dead end since the world ended. That the quarantine zone is the only place with walls more impenetrable than his own.

Still; he’s thought about you more than he’d care to admit. To Tommy. To Tess. To you. To himself. Has thought about the way your lips might feel on his. How soft and warm your body might be if he held it up against him. The way his calloused hands might look with his fingers sunk into your flesh, grabbing up handfuls of you like you are his daily bread - the very thing he needs to survive.

Of burying his head between your thighs for hours and trying to suck the impossible sweetness out of you, as though, somehow, he could then begin to understand how someone as good as you is capable of existing in a world as shitty and cruel as this.

He’s had darker thoughts too though. Thoughts of filling you rough and sudden - if you’d let him. Of burying his anger in you with every thrust, deep enough that he could attempt to forget it. Of letting you take his rage from him for just a few moments - as if it could ever truly leave him for a moment longer than that.

But of course, in actuality, he’s done none of that. Joel hasn’t pulled on a single one of those threads. He hasn’t unravelled.

Instead, for the most part, Joel has simply ignored you. Ignored you, because that’s the precisely the last thing he wants to do. Ignored you, because the safest option - Joel has established - is usually to give himself the opposite of whatever he thinks he wants.

That is… he’s ignored you until today. Until you offered to wash his hair. A simple yet towering offer of kindness in a world blighted by dark and rot. An offer that feels like more than he deserves when all he’s ever done for you is to give you the brush off. To answer you tersely, his aim with every interaction to have it over quick.

Still… he’d said yes. Or, at least, he’d declined to protest. Had nodded. Had followed you.

If he’s being honest with himself, he could have asked Tommy to help him, even if he was trying to obscure the severity of his latest injuries from his dear ol’ brother. Even Tess - she’d have done it. With plenty of griping, but she would have done it.

The truth is though, that he wanted it to be you. Needed it to be you. He’d gravitated towards you, even before he knew what you might be prepared to give him. Even without any trade to offer. For you, he’d unravelled. Just a little; in a moment of weakness. He hasn’t slept and he hasn’t succeeded and he hasn’t succumbed for so long, that he finally slipped. Finally gave into one of his wants. Finally gave in to what he wanted most. To seat himself in front of the warm hearth of you and to feel a little god dang comfort.

Joel opens his eyes, expression washing clean with a new resolve, and your fingers still frozen in his hair. He fixes his gaze on the broken picture rail. Precisely at the point where it fractures. Where it needs fixing. He needs a little fixing too, he thinks. He’s sure now, that he’s chosen the right tool for the job, when not another damn thing could do it.

“No,” he finally responds, his voice unwavering, blinking his bitter coffee eyes, sweetened already by your sugar. A gentle gulp sinking down the corded column of his neck. “I don’t want you to stop.”

From behind and above him, he hears you release a breath as though you may have been holding one, tight in your chest, and you slide your fingers from his hair. “Good.” Good. The word rattles pleasantly in his chest when you say it. “We’ll do your conditioner next.”

And, for the first time, Joel unclenches his fingers from where they have been curled around the arm rests of the chair, clinging on to the lip until his knuckles had turned white.

This time - for all he can tell via his scalp - your touch feels a little bolder. A little looser. You even drag your nails over his head now, applying long, sizzling scratches which send that same buzzy warmth snaking down his back. You massage him more eagerly, blood flooding to his crotch as he thinks about having your strong, supple, precise hands work him in other places. He imagines, as your nails graze over him, how you might claw harsh stripes down his back in a moment of ecstasy. As your thumb massages a circle into the spot behind his ear, imagines how you might circle the soft pad of it around the swollen head of his cock, collecting up the glistening bead of precum as he leaks for you. Imagines, as you carefully pour a cup of warm, cascading water over his head, how he could bathe himself with the warmth of your skin on his. Imagines, as he hears the subtle wet sounds created as you scrunch sweet-smelling elixirs into his hair, how it might sound if your own juices were being coaxed out of you by his fingers until they began to drip, working down his veined, muscled forearm.

He allows himself to imagine everything he plans to deny himself. He at least allows himself to have that.

“That temperature still okay for you?” you ask as you lift the cup of water once again, fracturing his sordid daydreams.

Joel gives a terse grunt. It’s all he can manage.

“So,” you ask breezily. “Are you going anywhere nice for your holidays?”

It takes Joel a few moments to realise just what you’re doing. To twig. It’s a decade - shit, more - since he had a haircut like that, so it takes him a while to pick up that you’re echoing the banal small talk which used to occur as you sat down in the barber chair. Those memory cogs are stiff. He hasn’t turned them in a long time. He doesn’t want to remember that there was anything before. At least, not a lot of it.

Still, your bit takes him by surprise. It’s such a ludicrous contrast that it makes him laugh to think about how things have changed. Who can even go on holiday now? You can’t even leave the quarantine zone. Shit. Even if you could, you wouldn’t want to. And so, Joel laughs. He laughs and he barely recognises the sound from his own mouth. He laughs… and he instantly regrets it, because he knows better than to pull on any of those threads.

But; it’s too late now.

He laughs and you mirror him, the sound melodious and hopeful, and all of a sudden Joel can imagine everything he’s been avoiding you for.

He hasn’t been avoiding you because he wants to fuck you - not really. He’s fucked plenty of folk, and he’s moved on.

He’s avoiding you, because of how easily he can imagine you in a summer dress, twirling in the yard to show it off to him. How easily he can imagine you sitting on a front porch gripping your morning cup of coffee and the sun shining on your face as you smile up at him. How easily he can imagine you lifting a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven, batting his hand away as he steals one before it cools.

Truthfully, he has no idea whether you ever did a single one of those things before - before all this. He doesn’t even really care whether you did. He knows it’s a flat, idealised, empty picture postcard version of you.

But, even so, it still hurts.

It still hurts, because of just how easily he could imagine waking up beside you in his house.

The house that no longer exists.

The house with Sarah in it.

And that’s why he never pulls on that thread.

That’s why he avoids you.

That’s why this can never work.

Because you?

You make him remember all the sweet things. All the sweet things the world used to contain before the rot and the death and despair painted over everything. Infected it.

You make him remember the taste of fresh mangoes. The feeling of sand beneath his feet and waves washing over his toes. Saturdays at the mall. Picking away at his guitar in the living room. The easy jubilation of ball games on the TV on Sundays, with Tommy in the kitchen plating up chicken wings. Of bad movie nights. Of mornings spent around the kitchen table, and his daughter cooking up birthday pancakes.

That’s why he can’t ever start to be happy with you. Why he can’t pull on that thread; because all the good things in life are attached to it. All tied and knotted and tangled up with “before”.

When he dreams of you - when he lets himself - he dreams of then too.

He has to, doesn’t he? Because the past is the only place to build a future when the present is apocalyptic, isn’t it? When you are the only thing he hasn’t lost yet, and everything else -pretty much- is already dead and gone.

It kills him that he found you now.

Found you too late.

It kills him because Sarah would have loved you, and because he thinks he could have too.

You don’t know all of this, of course. You can’t ever know this. And so, your oblivious fingers continue touching him, until he feels another moan begin to spool itself tight in his chest, getting ready to unravel. This time though, he is less sure whether it is a moan of pleasure or of anguish. More and more these days, those two feelings have been starting to feel precisely the same.

“Can we move this along?” he asks gruffly, some of the weight settling back into his brow. He asks, predictably, for the opposite of what he wants. It has to be like that. There’s no other road anymore.

“We can stop whenever you like but… that’s a shame.”

His frown deepens. “Why?”

“Because your hands had only just started to unclench.”

Joel’s heart clenches at the thought you were watching him that intently. That you were weighing the state and tension of his body. Valiantly trying to release some of that weight from him, even when you must be so heavy too.

And of course, knowing this, he only tries to push you further away. Before his dreams of you are seared even more brightly under his skin.

“You know what. I should go.” His chest constricts - throat grows tighter, a lump forming.

Joel idly wonders if his grief will ever stop feeling so raw. That’s the second disease, he thinks. The other monster infecting everything around it. The shadow of the original cloud. He wonders if it will always be this debilitating, even after he’s pushed it down as far as it can go. It’s not only a grief for what was lost, he ponders. It’s also a grief for what he can never have again. It's a grief for you and all the ways he could have loved you.

He sits up -carefully but abruptly, hand clamped over his aching ribs- and his wetted hair sends rivulets snaking down his face, his neck, his chest. Inching beneath the collar of his green button down shirt. Collecting on his shoulders like a pattern of indoor raindrops.

“Joel,” you scold, tutting lightly. Following quickly after him with the towel, trying to mop up after him. Hastily, you towel off his hair. Sneak your hand beneath his collar, gathering the drops up from his chest and neck.

With effort, and a grimace, Joel swings his legs around, until he is sitting upright, feet planted on the floor. But, whether for the pain or for the promise of pleasure - he’s not sure - he can’t bring himself to move any further than that. Especially not as you finally round from the basin, the damp towel slung over your shoulder, your hands and wrists still shined and wet from caressing his hair in a way he can only describe as reverent.

You kneel before him, drying your hands off and setting the towel down before boldly sliding your palms up his denim-clad thighs. “Joel. Would you just let me take care of you?"

He meets your eyes and finds them soft but determined. Empty of darkness, even with the black expanding abyss of your pupil eating away at the colour of your iris.

Joel looks down at your hands as you begin to smooth them up and down, inching slowly up towards his crotch before retreating - repeating the pattern. He looks at you in displeasure, but there’s nothing about your touch which is unwelcome - and that’s exactly the problem. He swallows. Gathers his question up in his throat before he offers it to you gently, as though in cupped, outstretched palms. “How?”

Your beautiful eyes flash with pity then, he thinks, or something like it. It seems like a silly question, but after all this time he doesn’t recall what it’s like to be cared for. He doesn’t know how to let you.

Your palm reaches up to the scruff on his cheek. You smooth it fondly. “Lie back,” you encourage, with a soft smile which seems to glow from the inside, like a porch backlit with the glow of home. “And just let me take care of the rest.”

Joel has always found something to fight for, but today, he has no fight left in him. In truth, he doesn’t want to fight this. To fight you. It is easy to give in to you. In fact, it's too easy. That has always been the problem.

Your hands continue to travel up and down his thighs, and he feels the warmth of you bleed through the fabric.

God. He’s already hard for you. Already full and throbbing in his jeans. Already, he is imagining your hands wrapping around the thick, straining mass of him. Imagining the way that -in moments - you may be unloosing his belt, threading leather through denim loop. The way you might pop the button keenly with your thumb, and he might groan as you relieve the pressure. The way you might unzip the straining fly to have his substantial length spring free, so rarely touched and so so ready to be taken care of.

At the thought of that alone, he’s straining against the seams of his pants, a pressure which sits smack bang between pleasure and pain.

“Joel,” you whisper softly, and he realises he hasn’t yet moved from his position.

“Right.” He swallows. He lies back. Stretches himself out, feeling far more exposed this time, even if he is still fully clothed.

You stand, quickly disappearing the basin away and soon you’re back, standing over Joel and watching him laid out all needy like this. His eyes travel over you, entranced by your form, and he suddenly needs friction. Needs the relief he didn't even know he was waiting for until you offered it - or, implied it. He bucks his hips up, not even caring if he’s being subtle, and the denim and leather creak as he shifts. He punches out a breath as he strains in his pants, chasing any morsel of friction he can. The feeling of his shaft pushing harder against the seam as his whole cock twitches for you. For those hands. For that plush mouth. Maybe for that cunt of yours.

As usual though, when Joel feels anything good, there is a familiar swell of guilt too; this time, riding in on the flood of arousal to his cock. This time, there’s something new to be feeling guilty for too. Something to add to that already long list. He feels guilty for having all of these thoughts about you, despite never having asked you where you were from. Before. What you used to do. Who you lost.

“I’m sorry,” Joel offers, before he even knows that his mouth is moving. Before he’s even figured out what it is he’s sorry for.

Truth is, he’s sorry for so many reasons. For what he’s done. What he’s lost. Whatever you’ve lost. For not asking you about it. Mainly, he realises, because he can’t make you any promises. None that he could keep. Not to keep you safe. He can’t promise you that.

He thinks you’ll ask him what for - why he’s sorry. But instead, you say something else.

“Don’t be.”

If only it was that easy.

Even so, he looks into your eyes as your hungry gaze skims the length of his body, settling at the bulge at his crotch as you drag your tongue along the pillow of your lower lip. You’re beautiful. Vibrant. Full of life and lust and hunger. Alive in a dead world; and suddenly, it doesn’t matter one bit to Joel where you came from. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It only matters where you’re going. What you want. How he can give it to you.

But it is you who gives him something.

You hinge at the hips, slanting your mouth against Joel’s, and he feels your lips brush up against the scruff on his top lip. Feels the pillow of your plush mouth meet his before your tongue fleets out, licking into him like a searing, dancing flame. You hum hungrily into his mouth and his lips chase you as you pull away, another backlit smile dancing on your face, your features already beginning to resemble home to him in a world where there's no such thing.

Joel watches you move now, with quiet fascination, as you kick off your boots. As you wiggle your pleasing hips, untying then easing your cargo pants and panties down your thighs. His tongue curls around his lip as he is gifted glimpses of your skin - although you are still covered to your upper thigh by the yellow tunic top you’re wearing - and now he can’t help but palm himself through his jeans for a morsel of relief.

Still. What you're about to offer him? It feels like far too much. “What are you doing? You don’t have to-“

“-Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” you promise, meeting his eyes, open and honest and ready to back off if he doesn’t want this. But shit, how could he not want you? Look at you - and so he can’t. He can’t possibly tell you that, even though he thinks that he should.

“No. God, I want you,” Joel pleads, voice hollowed-out with need. All spent, like ash.

“And you’re going to have me.”

You kick your pants and panties off, leaving them to pool discarded on the floor, and Joel palms himself a little harder, grabbing the fat roll of himself through the denim as he catches a glimpse. They’re nothing sexy, of course; but from the way they’ve fallen he is able to note the telltale wet spot on the crotch. It looks like you’ve soaked them through, and God he wants to feel your wetness for himself.

You ease over him, settling your knees on to either side of the leather chair, where Joel’s legs are stretched out before him, sturdy thighs slightly parted to accommodate the arousal between his legs.

You’re still wearing your tunic top, bright yellow like sunshine, and the length of it dances and clings at intervals to your hips and thighs as you move. It’s driving him wild that you are bare beneath. All he can think about is that warm, delicious wetness of yours spilling over him. God, he wants to hear it. Wants to squeeze it out of you. Wants it to drip down the veined shaft of him.

You straddle his thighs, knees folded, the soles of your feet pointed up towards your ass cheeks, and your heat settles just below his own - not quite grinding over him, but tantalisingly close.

You take a moment like this to simply look at him. To gaze into his coffee brown eyes as though there’s something more to him than being sorry and bitter. Like you could see anything sweet there. Anything worth wanting. Then, you comb his damp hair back with your fingers, drawing the strands back from his forehead. Tucking and curling them around his ears.

Your touch - your tenderness - makes him ache. Makes him throb. Makes him want to bury himself in you. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, his feelings - anything of him you’ll take. And, as he wraps his arms around you a wracked moan unspools from his chest as his rough fingertips find the soft skin beneath your yellow tunic. As his touch traverses the contours of you he’s always admired from a distance.

As his jaw falls open, slack with desire, you drink down his moan, catching the resonant sound in the cave of your mouth. Kissing him with a gentle yet constant hunger. With a red hot spark of deviance in your sweet eyes which almost makes Joel spill creamy ropes into his pants there and then. Your tongue travels along your lower lip. Your gaze drops, lust dark and heavy to the bulge at his crotch, and you unloop his belt with those hands of yours. They'll look small next to the size of him, he thinks. He likes that thought a lot.

“Let’s see what contraband you’re smugglin’ in these pants of yours, cowboy," you smile, and Joel's eyes crinkle with rare amusement. His face tips up with a lopsided smile which is quick to drop - all of him focussed on where you're about to touch him.

He twitches eagerly in his jeans thinking about how tight you will grip him, but you don’t touch him just yet. Instead, you shuffle yourself back, down his legs, giving yourself enough space to tug on his clothing and to ease it down his thighs. Once his pants and his boxers have reached his knees you stop there, abandoning them almost as soon as his thick, veined length is sprung free, nestling all tender against the hatch of greying hair trailing down his abdomen - where his shirt is lifted.

He’s flushed a deep colour already. Veined and needy and weeping for you. His need becomes even more urgent yet as he thinks of your hands and the way they move - the way they might touch him. Take care of him. As he thinks about you sliding your thumb over the pearl of precum at his head.

Still, he is not quite ready for the feeling when you dip forward to slide your tongue around the head of him instead, gathering that salty bead with your tongue, lapping it up with relish. He feels you hum around the head of him, the vibration sending a zip of pleasure flooding along his length. Making his balls tighten and ache already.

He wants you. He needs you. He wants you with an urgency, and yet here you are, still taking your time. Taking your time to suck at him and feel him weigh heavy over your tongue until your jaw aches from it. To grip him in your hand and marvel at the girth of him. At the way he is so sensitive that every motion and shift of your pattern makes him melt into the chair, increasingly boneless, his brow burdened with need.

You are tender with him. Careful, of his injuries. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? You touch him like he’s wounded; everywhere. His whole body. His whole soul too. And he is, isn’t he? All of him is hurting? Has been for so long?

Joel groans, his lip almost splitting from biting down and stifling his moans. He never was a vocal lover but God, it’s different for you. And this time, the sound punches out of him as you shift. As you settle your cunt over him and he feels your sopping heat glide along his length for the first time. It is a non-descript sound, halfway between pain and pleasure; and instantly, concern flashes in your eyes. You pause; lift off of him with a rise of your thighs and check-in with him.

“Joel. Are you okay? Am I hurting you?”

Are you? His breath is searing in and out of his lungs. Ragged breaths, jolting his pained ribs. You have him on the edge and so alight with desire for you that his need feels unbearable. He’s aching to fill you up. His face is contorted and crumpled by his need, brows drawn down, eyes half-lidded. But is this pain? Or is this something else? Something he has forgotten.

For a moment, then, he almost answers “yes”. Yes, because he doesn’t remember anything else but pain and so, the sensation he’s feeling now? Isn’t that pain too? Is there anything else?

He’s almost grateful when he shifts slightly, writhes against the chair to buck his hips keenly up in search of you as you withdraw so cruelly from him, his muscles coiling up. He’s grateful that the shift does indeed send pain blooming through his side; because he knows then, with certainty, that you are bringing him nothing but pleasure.

He’s grateful too though, for the pain, because a pleasure like this? A pure hit of it, not cut through with anything he's more used to? Joel thinks it would be too much for him to take. Joel thinks you are too much for him. Far more than he deserves.

“Joel?” you prompt, sliding your palm against his scruff. He hears it rasp like a scraped match. “I want you.”

You don’t want me, the voice in his head sounds out. I have nothing I can give you. But those are not the words that make it to his lips. Those are not the words at all. “Then have me, sweetheart.”

Joel may have nothing he feels he can give you, but holy shit he wants everything you are offering. He wants your plush, velvet mouth. Your smooth thighs. He wants the pooling slick between your legs - and for once, just this once, he intends to allow himself to satisfy his needs.

He figures he will simply owe you a debt. Find something that you want or need and acquire it for you. He simply has to think of this like a transaction, doesn’t he? Something familiar. Something he knows. That way, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t deserve - and he sure as hell doesn’t deserve you.

Once invited back to his body, sure of what he wants, you kiss him. Deeply, hungrily, your tongue rolling and writhing against his. Your breaths just as ragged as his. Your thighs quaking next to his, your want more than evident.

You break for air and you rise up on your knees again so that you can settle over him, notching the fat, swollen head of him against your folds.

You look like a dream on top of him, and with this yellow fabric dancing about your thighs, you look to Joel like you’re wearing a sun dress. Indeed, when he looks up at you - when he blocks everything else out - you make it feel like nothing ever happened. Like nothing was ever lost.

You look just like you’re about to fuck him on his bed on white crisp sheets. Like you’ll fall asleep beside him and in the morning he’ll make you breakfast.

You look like everything he wanted and found far too late.

You are beautiful. You are good. You are gentle. Gentle still. Gentle despite everything. And where on earth did you learn that from - how on earth did you hang on to it - in a world like this? A world which has not been gentle with him. Which has been out to get him at every turn.

You are gentle with him, even when he is undeserving. Even when he has been anything but.

Gingerly then, you settle yourself over him, and once his head is notched there and your slick hand is guiding him home, he slips easily past your folds. His eyes flutter closed as he feels your warmth wrap around him, the tightness of you hugging his girth. You’re so tight that he feels like he must be splitting you apart, but the way you’re shaking for him, the way these delicious moans unravel from your mouth tells him it feels just as good for you too.

You’re gentle with him. Sinking down on him slowly. Being ever so cautious of his ribs and his bruises and scrapes. You’re making him feel so good. So close to coming undone.

But god, he’s not planning on being gentle with you.

There’s a part of Joel that wants to make love to you, sure; but he’s not even sure he’d know how to do that anymore. How to be tender. How to be gentle. And so, he reaches for you in the only way he knows how. Reaches for you with his arms, his hands. With a body that doesn’t remember pleasure - not really. With a soul that doesn’t remember anything good - not really. He reaches for you, with hands that only know how to kill things.

In the end, it’s clunky, when he extends his touch towards you. Rough - and far too desperate. He reaches for you like it’s survival - the one thing he knows how to do - and he claws at your hips, the rough pads of his flesh sinking into your skin like dough. He has the sense, at least, to check with you, to ask with words rasped through gravel in his throat if he can fill you up. And as soon as you say yes, as soon as your breathy affirmatives and pleas lilt to his ears, Joel is dragging you down on him. Spearing you -abrupt and sudden- with the fat length of his dick, surging into you all at once.

The motion, along with the sudden swell of him punches a breath from your lungs, your rib cage flaring with quick short pants. Your eyes, rolling back into your skull as you mewl his name, and god, if he wasn’t hurt he’d be drilling into you already, fucking himself up into you at a brutal pace, so long as you’d let him.

“S-sorry,” he stutters, with effort. “Too much?”

“Almost. Joel - fuck. I’m so full of you.”

He stills as you breathe around him, adjusting to his size, and as soon as you’re ready you rise up on your knees, dragging electric pleasure all along his shaft as your cunt strokes and grips him tightly.

Then, when you sink yourself down once more, impaling yourself on his length, Joel screws his eyes shut as he eases -glides- into the wet, warm cushion of you all over again. You’re so soft and tight and forgiving, your walls relenting to the girth of him, yet providing such glorious friction that it makes his head spin. Makes him see spots, the edges of his vision whiting out.

Next, Joel moves too, adjusting his hips slightly. Helping you impale yourself on him over and over like this. He keeps it going, despite the burn of pain in his ribs and his shoulder. He tries to guide you with the claws of his hands at your hips, until it begins to hurt him too much. Until all he can do is lie back and take it from you. All he can do is feel it, emitting gusty, billowing breaths from the shocked “o” of his plush lips as he attempts to stave of his end. To do all he can to take care of your end too before he spills himself.

He needs to. Needs to take care of you like this, because he can’t offer you any other damn thing.

He can’t promise to take care of you.

He can’t promise that to anyone ever again.

He will only break it.

So, no promises. But surely, he can feel pleasure, for these fleeting moments? Surely, he can give you that too, because even if he doesn’t he’s damn sure you deserve at least that much.

He reaches for you. In desperation again. Like it’s survival. Like he can’t live without this. Without you. Even though he has already. Even though he'll have to again.

For now though, for right now, he's filling you all the way up. Squeezing your juices out of you. Pushing them out with every thrust until he’s fucking you with wet, obscene sounds. Until your slick is coursing down his shaft, coating his balls, inching over him.

With a grunt, Joel gathers some slick with the two forefingers of his left hand, and he rubs the calloused pads of his fingers into your clit. You yowl at the pressure -the pleasure- and then you guide him with your hand over his, Joel quickly learning your pace and your patterns, replicating it perfectly when you release your guiding touch.

It feels so good. It feels so good and your eager, pleasured moans are billowing down to him, your cunt clenching down on him and his dick is feeling fucking blissful as you repeatedly sink yourself. It feels good - so good - and it’s more than he deserves but god, he’s going to take it. He's going to take it even if he has to be punished for it later.

He’s pretty sure the world has been punishing him for years anyway. Pretty sure it’s keeping score and will be sure to let him know about it if he dares to take too much.

For now though.

Holy shit.

It feels so good and you’re so beautiful. So perfect. Better than he could have imagined, his flattened daydreams of you nothing compared to the real thing. You’re a vision, and you’re too good for this blighted earth and you’re every bit deserving of the life Joel knows he can never give you.

It’s bittersweet and you’re beautiful; but you’re too beautiful to look at - bright like the sun in your yellow tunic, fabric moving around your thighs like a sun dress, like something you might have worn in the before times. Like you might have worn in his yard if he’d still had a home to offer you. Maybe. Maybe you would've. It kills him that he'll never know. Never know what you could have had. What he could have given you.

You’re beautiful, and god you’re too beautiful to look at and so he drags you down to his lips as you clamp down around him, squeezing him like a vice, causing pleasure to sear white hot from his middle, creamy ropes of cum filling you up as you convulse. Your spasming cunt sends jolting aftershocks zipping through his length, ekeing every last drop from him, draining him dry.

You’re too beautiful. Too good of a thing for him to hold on to - and so Joel keeps kissing you, his hands coming to cup your face as tenderly as his killing hands know how. Kissing you, for long enough that he can quash the tears which threaten to squeeze out from the corners of his eyes. He kisses you softly, his sentiments dissolving like sugar against your mouth - as sweet as he can muster.

He kisses you, until he feels the shape of your mouth morph into a smile, and that’s it. That's when he stops.

That’s when he stops, because he can’t let himself feel this. He can’t let himself feel this because he can’t pull on that thread. Not when everything he has worked so hard to push down is all knotted and tangled together. Everything he’s loved and everything he’s lost, all bundled up in his chest.

He can’t let himself feel this because it was far more than he expected to feel.

He’d thought that you would be quick. Thought -hoped- you were just using him. Like this was a transaction. That maybe this was how you collect advantages. How you’ve managed to survive. Instead though, you gave, and you took, but it was not transactional in the slightest. And Joel has nothing left in his heart or his pockets except ration cards. Nothing he can give you in return.

Most importantly though, he can’t let himself feel this, because happiness died when the world did.

Died when she did.

And, happiness?

Well - Joel doesn’t believe he deserves to feel it again.

That’s why he encourages you off of him a little too quickly, even when you pepper kisses along the column of his neck. Why he moves away a little too abruptly, even when you tongue hungrily at the salt-slick sweat which has pooled in the hollow of his throat. Why he sets his face, all stern again even as he’s still leaking out of you.

Anyway, he stands, grunting out in pain. Maybe in anguish. Pulling his pants up with his good arm, and preparing to go.

He sets his face, and he looks back at you, where you have huddled yourself in his spot on the chair, your makeshift yellow sun dress hitched up around your hips, exposing where you glisten, all slick with the evidence of what he just did with you.

You're beautiful. Too beautiful. You look like summer when he meets your eyes. A sun that is bright and constant, like it used to be before the rot clouded over the skies.

A light that is far too bright for him.

Part of him expects you to look sad. To look surprised that he has leapt up like this, motioning to leave so violently. Expects you to plead with him to give you more; but instead, you look at him levelly. Knowing, not naive. Maybe you too are clear on the limits of what’s possible. Clear that there are some things that can never be.

Still, as that soft smile plays over your face, as Joel holds the memory of your touch over his body, the bitter coffee look in his eyes sweetens just a little.

“Listen. Thanks," he states brusqely. It’s not enough. Not by any stretch. But unless you want some contraband or some shit, it’s all he’s got.

“No problem, Joel-y. I... I just wanted to take care of you. I thought you deserved that - at least once.”

Tears prick at the corners of Joel’s eyes. Stinging; but pushed down and flattened before you can even notice it. He’s not quite sure. Not quite sure whether hearing you say he deserves something he’s sure that he doesn’t counts as pleasure or pain, but he supposes that it doesn’t matter anymore anyway. He’s back to not knowing the difference. Not recognising pleasure or happiness when they stare him in the face, because now they have become strangers.

Joel nods efficiently at you. Picks up his rucksack and moves towards the doorway, trying not to think about the fact you’re still full of him. About the fact that you’re still smiling, that backlit glow of home imviting him in.

Truth be told, he can’t imagine ever being happy again.

If he could imagine it though? If he could imagine being happy, he’s sure as all hell that it would be with you.

You’re like summer, he thinks. Bright. Luminous. It's just that Joel’s not looking for the light.

For someone who’s so used to the dark? Like him? The light is blinding.

Still, he pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you for one moment more. From the surprise on your face now, he can tell you didn’t even expect that much from him - and by God, you deserve so much better.

His eyes sweeten, just a little further, and his face sets - now with a different kind of resolve. He offers his words, like they’re cupped in outstretched palms. Like he could be gentle. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“You don’t owe me a debt, Joel.”

He nods, but that doesn’t mean at all that he accepts your assertion.

His eyes tick over to the broken picture rail, right where it fractures. His gaze lingers on it for a moment, cataloguing what tools he might need to fix it. Clocking the picture frames of salvaged art you have leaning up against the wall, not yet hung.

“I said, I'll make it up to you.” You nod efficiently back at him, and Joel drinks one more long measure of you in before he leaves. Maybe it's not quite a promise, but right now, it's all he's got.

He’d burn the world down for you, he thinks, if it could change a damn thing.

Thing is though, the world has already burned.

He can’t make you many promises. Can’t keep you safe. Make you happy. Offer you a home.

He’ll only let you down.

Maybe all of that is true. Maybe it is - but Joel knows one thing for sure. You’re brighter than the sun, and, in a world full of darkness? He just can’t look away, even though you’re blinding.

[obv10usly]

Have you seen that clip of great British actors on the same stage reciting “to be or not to be, that is the question,” while emphasising different words and giving completely different meaning to the line?

That’s what I feel about dan’s “Trying to Live My Truth.” Let me explain…

When the video was out, the response was overwhelmingly positive. Of course it was. We missed dan. It was his first video in 3 months. We were so proud though clearly we didn’t know what that truth was. He alluded to things, quite explicitly at times, but never really spelled it out.

At the time I thought,

“okay. It doesn’t matter. It takes guts already to admit to yourself this much. And he doesn’t owe his truth to anyone, least of all us. He’s TRYING at least, and he’s openly admitting it in a really good and inspiring video too. It’s great he’s on the right path.”

Then June 2019 came and we finally knew the TRUTH he was alluding to in the video. TTLMT is now full of comments made in 2019 saying how it hit different. It did and we’re beyond proud. But I couldn’t help wondering often what was on his mind at that point in time.

Then! In 2022 we finally got an answer for that. Dan wasn’t doing well at all in 2018. II tour almost didn’t happen as he didn’t think he could’ve gone through with it without coming out first.

He felt he wasn’t living HIS truth. He would spend the whole year pondering this.

Thinking about this today while watching old DanAndPhilGames videos (as you do) it suddenly hit me like a brick in the face that TTLMT was published 2 days after “Can Dan and Phil Survive Fortnite?!” You know, the one where these happened:

"We can make a life together up there."

"I will find you in any world phil"

Maybe the emphasis was on the word in TTLMT that I didn’t think was significant in that way after all.

Dan was trying to LIVE his truth. He wasn’t trying to announce it. He was actively, decidedly /living/ it in front of us.

Many called 2018 their “glass closet” era and that’s just it. I just feel blessed to have been there to witness everything I just talked about here as it happened.

And yeah, that’s how I ended up comparing dan howell to shakespeare on twitter. (Yeah I posted this to twitter first lol) Didn’t see that coming, did ya?