#still can't pick a tag but at least I know what the options are so whichever I settle on it will be included

[some-teeth-in-a-trench-coat]

in my dream they added gorillas to minecraft and you could befriend them if you got lucky and I got really lucky and spawned right next to one and befriended it before I even had stone tools and I quickly learned gorilla friendship was very OP early game cuz they were basically the size of wardens and nearly as strong and would defend you against monsters (so like similar to wolves, but more independent cuz you can't lead or sit them and if you attack them they turn hostile even if you were friends before) and if you befriended one and ran into more there was a chance they'd join you too and I ran into a whole group where one was at least twice as tall as the others and I got worried I may never safely left click again because if I hit that enormous hitbox even once I would be dead before I even released the mouse button

[basicinstnct]

if ur taking requests, can we see what happened the time reader denied miguel and he begged? if ur not taking req you can just ignore this <3

word count: 1143

a/n: this got much longer than intended, i don’t think it necessitates explicit tags, but there is dubious consent. I suppose there are slight hints to events in the film as well, but honestly blink and you’ll miss it stuff. referenced fic here.

The date goes alright. The man in general is alright. Reasonably you know you should be satisfied with alright. It's not like you have much going on elsewhere. Except for the fact that you're fucking Spider-Man. One of them, at least.

You don't know much about Miguel other than that, and a couple of other things you've pieced together. Most things you didn't even learn from him. Corporate gossip is the source material for half of his portfolio. It's taken you months to get just those pieces, and you know you're not a girlfriend, but can you be blamed for wanting more?

He certainly expects more from you, you realize, when he shows up at your place an hour after you get home from being out.

“What a coincidence," you laugh. “I had a feeling you might show up, and here you are."

"You look nice," he sidesteps aggressively. It's unlike him to ignore anything resembling an attitude, but he does now. For what reason doesn't even seem important. All you can think is that you want this man out of your apartment, and maybe even your life.

“That's what he said." you reply, wincing at the brightness when you move to hang up your coat. The lights are set to activate when there's a human presence, but he must have hacked the system to turn them off, so he could sit in the dark like a lunatic. “He said, 'you look very nice,’ too. Except he had a lot more enthusiasm."

"So what? You pick him. That's it?"

"I'm not picking you. You aren't even an option.” The rage quietly taking over his features isn't like anything else when it's directed towards you. His brows begin to pinch, and when he opens his mouth you see hints of his fangs.

"Why not?" He starts to step into your bubble. You have less space to retreat before your back is against the way. You can’t see the rest of the room past his broad shoulders, and he’s got his neck craned down so he can see every cute expression you make.

"I know nothing about your past, or even much of your present, to be frank." You say the words monotone secretary style, still trying to have control. "I assume you're busy with things I can't even dream of, and I don't think you want me near any of that either. You have issues, and I don't need you to spill your guts, and we could go on about this forever. It won't be worth it, it's not even interesting.”

“I can make it more interesting." You can see that he intends to fuck you. To use sex to make the problem disappear.

"One for the road," you smile, because at this point why not. He's never been bad at this part, but you have leverage, and if it’s the last time you’ll see Miguel, you might as well blow it. “Sure,” you say, “if you beg me.”

You clench your things when you see him even consider it, and it gets worse when you hear him.

“Please,” he starts, teeth gritted, and you start to think about them in your flesh. “Please, let me fuck you. That’s what you wanna hear? I wanna fuck you. I wanna feel you come on my dick. That good enough for you, baby?”

“Sure, good enough,” you try to downplay, but you think you might want it more than he does.

He's faster to take you than a human man ever could be. You’re pinned to the floor, his fingers in your hair, one hand at your hip and the other at your neck. He just holds his hand there, flexes his fingers, so you can feel the threat of a squeeze. He stares you down. “Nothing like that,” when you cock your head, he doesn’t elaborate.

“Give me a kiss,” Miguel demands. He’s so shy about it that you fall for the bait. He doesn’t waste a minute before trying to shove his tongue in your mouth, like there’s no point in kissing you if he can’t, but the problem is he also drools, because he’s keeping his mouth just a little too wide so he doesn’t cut you with those teeth.

“Just fuck me,” you hiss between kisses, feeling like you’re drowning in him.

“Gonna be nice after being so mean, huh?”

“Maybe,” you groan, “if you stop talking.”

“You sure, baby,” he gives you one last out, “you want me to split you on my dick? Not my fingers first?”

“I don’t care. Do what you want.” You let yourself go limp in his hold, and he does as he threatened. You feel him remove your layers slowly, a small torture, but you’re fit to endure when it leads to the warmth of his hands. They grab you all over, your stomach, your tits and shoulders. Then they make their way down.

Miguel makes a pleased grunt when he finds you wet, and doesn’t waste any time. You feel his cock split you, something you can’t get used to. You used to try and fight it, writhe and squirm. It took you a couple times to realize you’re too weak. In Miguel’s hands all your strength needs nothing. Every time he’s pinned you against him, held you close while inching his cock inside.

He moves his hips till you can feel his balls on your clit, and then sighs. Relief, something you wish you could be granted. You’re whining, all because you can feel him throbbing in your guts, against your cervix.

“Listen to me next time,” he grumbles, sounding strangely fond of you.

Then the sympathy fades away, and he starts to move. He’s not gentle, he’s fucking you to prove something. He’s the only one who can give it to you like this. Who can make you lose your mind on a cock.

“This is what I wanted, fuck.” You can tell it affects him when you wrap your legs around him, dig your feet into his ass to push him in deeper. “Feel so good. Can’t stop clenching all over me, huh. Feels like you’re trying to milk me.” He huffs into your neck. “That it? You want my come, baby?”

He brings his hips down harder, so deep in you breathing feels difficult. You moan and agree to whatever he says, nodding without thinking. Making promises you can’t keep.

He tells you that your cunt’s the best, nobody else can take me this deep, and that’s why you can’t date other guys, need to keep this pussy mine. All while you look into his eyes with a blank stare, almost like you love him while he drills you.

“That’s why you’re gonna be good for me,” he says, “because if not, I’ll just remind you again, just like this.”

[essektheylyss]

This was entirely tangential to this post from @utilitycaster which is why this is its own post, but the tags made me think about what feels most compelling about Liliana to me, and it's really because there's such an interesting approach to redemption in terms of the sunk cost fallacy to be had there.

There have been plenty of comparisons between Liliana and Essek, but I don't think they're really situations that can be compared. Essek had done one horrible thing (that was of relevence to the story; it is implied that he's taken other actions that he feels were wrong, but we don't know what those entail nor do the Nein care enough to ask, so per narrative convention, they do not matter for analysis) and was only still involved in it to the extent that he couldn't take it back, so to survive he had to continue covering his tracks. But he was also incentivized to otherwise act in alignment with the group that was not those on behalf of whom he had made terrible choices, because he was still living in the Dynasty, and as such wasn't actively perpetuating those actions beyond the cover up.

Liliana on the other hand is acting with the Vanguard and has been furthering if not personally committing atrocities on their behalf for a number of years, continuing to the present. Like Essek, she believes her involvement in the cause to be a difficult choice that was made for noble reasons, and now can't see a way out. But she is also relieved to be told to stay, though at the point that they discuss her leaving, she is alone and outside the immediate range of contact or oversight from the Vanguard. It seems reasonable that she could disappear with a decent headstart, and perhaps become untraceable quickly enough to be safe from anyone following. With this context, returning to the Vanguard with the intention of feeding information to the opposition feels like the riskier choice, but crucially it is the devil she knows.

I actually liken this more to Cassandra de Rolo than Essek. Cassandra was manipulated against her brother by the Briarwoods, but this was also spurred by having watched Percy seemingly leave her for dead. There are legitimate reasons why the Briarwoods, as the people who rescued her and then kept her alive for many years, are the easier option in which to place her trust. She knows what she's getting from that vantage point and how to handle it. She doesn't inherently have faith that someone she only knew as a young and helpless child, who ran from the hardships she's faced, would have the strength or willingness to do what she has found necessary for survival.

I think that Liliana's actions are more willful, not least because she was not a child nor in mortal peril when she joined the Vanguard, but she sees herself as having made difficult choices when only faced with difficult options, and I do think they have been difficult. She didn't want to leave her family; she doesn't want to hurt the young Ruidusborn under her care; she is probably genuinely sorry that innocent people were considered a necessary sacrifice for what she sees as the greater good. It is psychologically taxing to feel as though one is always picking between bad options, which is a significant contributing factor for why people buy into a sunk cost for so long. And over time, those hard decisions become easier, because you know what to expect from the outcome. Though Liliana is well aware that she might be killed for a misstep among the Vanguard, she already knows how to act to maintain their favor, but how she might be received on Exandria by those fighting the Vanguard, even with the Hells vouching for her, is anyone's guess.

This is a very real reason why people remain in cults and struggle to push back against this kind of conditioning: because the decision to leave feels more immediately perilous than the decision to stay. (On a certain level making these kinds of choices and actions habitual is a fundamental basis behind a lot of military conditioning.) And if you are acting in the interests of your own survival, but that survival comes at the cost of that of countless others who have not, in fact, made any threat or harm against you to begin with, then is the nature of your survival morally defensible?

This analysis isn't a question of whether Liliana will commit to her role as double agent and turn fully against the Vanguard, or even which one of these is a "better" story; this is about what the story might say if she doesn't. Yes, she might commit to a different path than the one she's on and make an effort to redeem herself, but it is also a perfectly coherent and interesting story if she doesn't.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

Firing on All Cylinders

Week #16 Prompt: Concert & Rain | Word Count: 3000 | Rating: T | POV: Jeff | Characters: Jeff, Goodie (Freak), Gareth, Steve, Eddie | Relationships: Jeff & Goodie, Background Steddie, Mentions of Previous Gareth/Di (OC) | CW: Language, Mentions of Previous Addiction | Tags: AU, Famous Corroded Coffin, 1990s, On Tour, Slice of Life, Jeff and Goodie are Best Friends Who Talk About The Problems of Their Other Friends, Rain Show, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie Loves His Guitar and This Rain is a Real Problem

June 8, 1995

"Looks like real rain today," Jeff says, standing in front of the hotel window. 

It's really fucking coming down here in Tulsa, so much so that Jeff can't really see much beyond the edge of the windowsill. 

As his dad would say, it's going and blowing.

"Rain? You think?" Goodie says, then adds, "What gave it away? The torrential downpour?" 

Jeff laughs. Asshole.

They've been lucky so far and haven't ever had to play in the rain, at least not rain like is forecasted for tonight, but that's clearly gonna end today. 

"It's basically a hundred percent chance all day long," Goodie says from the couch, less snarky this time. He's reading the morning paper that had been dropped off at their room door. 

Jeff rests his forehead against the cool glass, contemplating everything that is bound to go wrong tonight, now.

"This is gonna be a problem," Jeff finally announces, still looking at the sheets of rain hitting the windowsill.

"No fucking shit," Goodie answers, "Eddie's gonna be a real pain in the ass about that precious guitar of his."

Jeff nods, because Eddie is undoubtedly going to be exactly that, "I'm gonna call Tim. See if we can head this off at the pass."

And he picks up the room phone, scans the contact sheet that Steve left with them, and calls the room with his guitar tech in it.

"Tim, is Artie there?" Jeff asks, sitting in the office chair, swiveling slightly.

"Yep. We're already on the same page," Tim answers immediately, and they probably are. Artie's been Eddie's guitar tech long enough to know how he's gonna react to the prospect of pouring rain during an outdoor gig. "Sweetheart would be fine, you know? All your guitars will be fine. We can prepare for this, we have time, and we had ample warning that it's gonna be like this. This is the best case scenario. Seriously. This isn't a surprise storm, and so far, we aren't looking at lightning."

"I know, I know. And I'm not worried about my guitar. I trust you. But Eddie's not gonna play her in the rain. You know he's not," Jeff says, because they all know that. They do. It's never gonna happen. Sweetheart is more than a guitar, and Eddie will have nothing risking her. 

Especially not after the broken neck debacle. She's already been bunged up by touring, and thankfully fucking fixed, but Eddie's not gonna purposefully drown her.

"We know he's not," Tim says, "so we'll make arrangements."

"Good, good. What do you think? I'm thinking we have three options," Jeff says, "One, you run out and buy Eddie something new in town. A throwaway. Something he has no emotional attachment to."

Tim is relaying the idea to Artie, and Jeff can hear Artie disagreeing, which Jeff gets. Eddie won't want to play a guitar he doesn't know, "Same page. Two, he plays Hercules. I think this is fifty-fifty, depending on his mood. Or three, we get him some options ready from my spare guitars on the trailer. That way he'll be familiar, at least."

Jeff hears them murmuring, mulling it all over, and then they agree that those last two options seem the most likely. They're gonna call a meeting later, once they get a hold of Steve for the logistics, but they'll be ready for either. Or if Eddie surprises them. But he won't. 

Jeff is just settling down on the couch next to Goodie when the door swings open, Gareth poking his head in, "It's gonna rain all day."

"Is it really? I had no idea," Goodie snarks, and Jeff smiles. 

"Fuck you, too, Goodie," Gareth says dryly, then looks back at Jeff, "Steve's on top of it."

"Thanks. We called the techs," Jeff tells him, and then the door slams shut behind him.

"I really gotta stop giving him a key to my room," Goodie says, and Jeff laughs. 

"I think this is my room," Jeff answers, looking around, but Goodie's shit is all over the room, too. They have separate suites. They have the money to do that now, but old habits die hard, and they often end up crashing together, still. The road is lonely, and an empty room is often just depressing. He's not sure how Gareth is functioning on his own, especially now that he's sober.

"Omaha's coming up," Jeff says, because every time he thinks of Gareth, that's all he can worry about. That looming tour date. The disappointment that's sure to follow when Gareth's ex-girlfriend doesn't show up to see the Tom Petty heavy encore set they've put together, just for her.

"I'm well aware of where Di is," Goodie says dryly, "I haven't forgotten that we just spent all that time learning shitty songs she'll never hear."

They aren't shitty. Goodie's just being a contrarian. Jeff knows that. Knows him better than he knows anyone else on earth. And Goodie doesn't mean half the shit he says, he just says it to ruffle feathers. Gareth's feathers, if possible.

"Your Honey Bee is good, though," Goodie concedes.

And it is. They've whipped all the songs into decent shape, but Honey Bee feels damn good. Natural. Electric. Diana would really like it, Jeff thinks, and he hopes that maybe, just maybe, she'll show up to hear it. Either way, covering songs, giving them their own Corroded Coffin twist, is still some of the most fun they have on the road.

"She might come," Jeff says, even if he doesn't believe it. Gareth fucked his relationship up, probably well beyond repair, and now Gareth just has to live with it. They all have to live with it. Which, honestly, has been more stressful than when Eddie first got with Steve and drove them all nuts. At least Eddie was happy.

Gareth is withdrawn, quiet. He's different in a way Jeff can't really pinpoint. Not yet. Only time will tell how this all shakes out. If he's growing up, if he can change, or if this is all gonna explode in their faces when he doesn't get what he wants, two days from now.

"She won't fucking come if she knows what's good for her, and Gareth? He's not good for her," Goodie says, flipping to the next page in his newspaper. Jeff's pretty sure he's not reading a damn word of it.

Jeff thinks that's pretty harsh. They're supposed to be supportive of Gareth, here. He's their friend, their bandmate. Their kid to look after. It's been that way forever. They love him.

"She might come," Jeff says. Because she might. Anything can happen. He can't see the future.

"Well, she'd be a goddamn fool, then. I told her to run, to not take any of his shit, and she better listen to ol' Goodie."

Jeff cuts a knowing look at Goodie, "You also gave Gareth a pep talk last winter, telling him she'd marry him someday. So, pick a lane. You can't bet on both outcomes. It's unsportsmanlike."

Goodie sighs, "You aren't supposed to know that. Gareth has a big mouth."

Jeff fucking laughs. There are no secrets between them, and he's not sure why Goodie thought he didn't know. Of course he knows.

Goodie keeps talking, "Well. Both can be true. She's not coming this week. But yeah. Someday. Someday she will. And when she does, I'll still tell her it's a mistake, but she won't listen."

"You sound awfully invested," Jeff says, poking at Goodie.

"It's been our own private soap opera for how long now? Of course I'm invested. I don't have time for television, I gotta be entertained somehow." 

Jeff just shakes his head.

"Well, is he gonna relapse, when she doesn't show up, old wise one?" Jeff asks, mainly teasing. But he is worried about it. 

"No," Goodie says. 

"No?" Jeff asks.

"No," Goodie confirms.

She most likely won't come, they all know it, and Steve's on top of that, too, making a plan to limit the fallout. If Gareth relapses, they're all fucked. This tour schedule cannot accommodate it. No way.

They would. Of course they would. But it would probably mean the tour will come to a screeching halt. All momentum lost.

"If he falls off the wagon, I'm chaining him to said wagon, and dragging him along behind us," Goodie says.

"You say, to a black man," Jeff says.

Goodie lowers the paper, so Jeff can finally see his eyes, "Didn't mean it like that. Jesus."

"I know," Jeff says, and he does know that. Goodie's been his best friend since they were too little to understand what that meant. But still. Not the best imagery.

"He won't fall off the wagon. We won't let him," Jeff proclaims, as if this is within their control.

Goodie says what he was thinking.

"Like we've ever been able to control that kid. Eddie barely can, and Eddie's so far up Steve's ass-"

"Literally," Jeff cuts in, teasing.

"-now that Steve's back on tour, even Eddie doesn't have the time to babysit."

It's true. It's all true. As much as the undercurrent of worry is there, they can't expend the energy on it today. They don't have the time, and obviously have other more pressing issues today. Tonight, it's gonna be Eddie's turn to be unhinged, Jeff's sure of it, "Let's worry about one thing at a time. Tonight it's the rain and Eddie's guitar."

"If he'd just have a whole stable like we do, this would never happen."

"Not how he works, and you know it."

Goodie rolls his eyes. 

"I don't get it. They're just guitars. I love 'em. But I don't really play favorites," Goodie answers, tossing the paper onto the coffee table. "If the bass I play tonight breaks, well, there are twenty more I can play tomorrow. I'll chuck it in the audience-"

"No, you won't. Steve and Erica will both kill you," Jeff corrects. Been there, done that, had the lawsuit to prove it. Erica got it taken care of, but they don't need any more legal troubles.

"I'm not scared of Steve," Goodie says.

"But Erica?"

"Fuck yes, I'm scared of Erica. I'm not an idiot," Goodie says, and Jeff laughs. It's a good thing she's on their legal team, and not working against them, that's all Jeff knows.

Goodie looks up at him again, "Steve never should have bought Eddie that guitar."

Jeff just nods, even if he doesn't really agree. Jeff helped Steve pick her out. Steve knew which guitar Eddie had been drooling over, but asked Jeff to come in to make sure she'd actually be a good one, if he bought it. So, Jeff played the two they had in stock, and picked the one that seemed to have the best sound, and the best feel, and Eddie has loved her more than they could have ever imagined. It was a great gift.

Steve did good.

Steve's always done good, though. They wouldn't be here without him, Jeff has no doubt.

Even if it being from Steve has made Eddie awfully attached to it, as a result.

That night, Eddie doesn't surprise them, but Hercules is ready to go, and Artie promises to give him an extra coat of oil on the fretboard.

The rain hasn't let up, not for a second, and they've never had a rain show like this one. It's kind of cool, and Jeff's really having fun with it. He jumps up and down, bouncing on the balls of his feet, the puddled water splashing beneath him every time he lands. Goodie's soaked, they all are. 

This tour is just firing on all cylinders, and he isn't sure how they've gotten here. Screaming towards the top. All of them. Together. Finally, in sync. Coming off the last couple years, the torture tours they've endured, Jeff's ready for something to go smoothly, for something they can all fucking enjoy for once.

Eddie and Gareth are clean. 

Steve's back on the road, his back not totally fixed, but definitely better than it was.

Jeff gets to have fun with his best friend, playing music, selling out stadiums, and making a boatload of goddamn money.

And tonight, they get to play in the rain in front of god knows how many people in this park. Looking out over the grass, the crowd is fucking pumped, as if the rain hasn't ruined the night for them at all. And if the fans don't care, why should they? 

This is fun.

Someone, Dustin, Jeff thinks, runs out a hat for Gareth. His hair is plastered down, sopping wet and in his eyes, and Jeff watches as Gareth pushes it all back off his face, putting the cap on backwards. He looks funny that way, not at all like himself, more like they've got Chad Smith sitting in, but at least his hair is out of his fucking eyes. Eddie is fiddling with Hercules, like he's not sure that everything is going okay.

It's more than okay. And when Gareth bangs his sticks down again, counting them in on the next song, off they go again and the crowd screams louder than any rain could ever cover.

Back in the dressing room after the show, Goodie is trying to peel his wet shirt off over his head, and Jeff snags the hem of it, helping him tug it off. 

Then he works on his jeans, and it's a whole 'nother job. Everything feels glued on.

"I've never been this soaked in my entire life. I think I could wring out my underwear," Goodie says, and as soon as he steps out of them, he does exactly that over the sink in their shared dressing room.

Jeff laughs, "You can shower first. I think that's the rule. The one with the most soaked skivvies gets to go first."

Goodie smirks, but grabs a towel from the pile on the counter, and slams the bathroom door behind him.

Jeff looks in the mirror, he's lucky. He's the only one of them that doesn't have enough hair to look like a drowned rat. Steve looked awful. All that hair, hanging down around his ears, where it just doesn't belong. 

Not that Eddie will care. Steve is perfect in Eddie's eyes, that's an absolute certainty.

Jeff steps out of his wet clothes and tosses them into the hamper that Eddie had provided for them. He'll be glad to get warm and dry. After being hit with the AC while all wet, he's freezing.

Jeff's putting on a dry robe as Gareth walks in, Dustin's hat still on his head, "Eddie and Steve are showering first. Can I hang with you?"

And Jeff nods, kicking out one of the plastic chairs. There is a couch, but there's really no reason for them to be dickheads about it and get the upholstery wet. It's not the venue's fault that there was a torrential downpour.

"That was crazy, huh?" Gareth asks.

"Still sounded good though, Mike had the audio tuned in great for what he had to work with."

"My cymbals were muted," Gareth complains, and they were, they could all hear that, but if that was the only problem they had all night, they made out like bandits.

"Think your drums survived?" Jeff asks, picking up one of the decks of cards that are ever present on their show riders. 

He deals Gareth in without even asking. 

"Yeah, they should. The techs have 'em," Gareth answers, picking up his hand, rearranging them around in his own hand to his liking. "Eddie's freaking out about Hercules though. Steve's got a job ahead of him tonight."

"He'll be fine," Jeff says.

"Hercules or Eddie?" Gareth asks, smiling as he puts down the cards he intends to play.

"Both, but I was talking about Hercules. Artie won't let anything happen to that guitar."

Gareth nods, and Jeff plays his own cards, as they can hear the shower running in the bathroom beside them.

A while later, Steve pops his head in, freshly dried and styled and looking much more like himself. He looks towards the bathroom, where Goodie's still in the shower, taking his sweet-ass time.

Obviously seeing that the coast is clear, Steve starts talking, "Denny got back to me. Sheryl Crow isn't playing all the festival dates, but we checked our schedule against the ones she is playing, and I made it work to get you two tickets to Pine Knob in August. It's a Sunday."

Jeff smiles, "Awesome. Thank you. Don't tell Goodie. It's a surprise. That means you, Gareth," Jeff says, because he knows Steve won't say a word. Gareth, on the other hand.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Gareth says, laying down his cards, "Eddie out of the shower?"

Steve nods, and Gareth hops up, probably more than ready to be out of his wet clothes, "Gonna go shower before I end up with diaper rash in my crack from sitting in these wet jeans all night."

"Please do that," Steve stresses, looking back at Jeff, shaking his head after Gareth's gone.

"Any luck getting us backstage?" Jeff asks, hopeful.

"Definitely," Steve assures.

Jeff grins. He doesn't know why he's surprised. They are famous in their own right, and Steve can work fucking miracles. Now, Jeff's not especially looking forward to going to H.O.R.D.E Festival for himself, but he does want to see Goodie's face when he comes face-to-face with Sheryl Crow, outside of a red carpet.

He smiles at Steve. 

Jeff hears the water cut off in the bathroom, signaling that it'll be his turn soon. Steve leaves, and Jeff gathers up his clean, dry clothes, passing Goodie in the doorway of the bathroom.

This is gonna be a good summer, even if it rains the whole time. Because they finally feel back on track for the first time in a long time.

As Eddie would say, this is their year.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun!

Notes: Yes, technically, this was meant to take place during Tuesday's Gone With the Wind, but if you haven't read that, I'm pretty sure it can just stand alone. Also, Goodie's referenced pep talk to Gareth happened in Only a Broken Heart. It was fun to look at this 'verse from Jeff's POV for a bit.

The H.O.R.D.E. Festival line-up from the date mentioned, looks like it would have been: Ziggy Marley & the Melody Makers, Sheryl Crow, Blues Traveler, Black Crowes. I'd have seen that show! Dave Matthews Band played other dates, but it doesn't look like this one.

Fun fact: I really wanted to write it in as Lilith Fair, because that seemed like a fun place to send Jeff and Goodie, but alas, it didn't quite exist yet in 1995.

[jrooc]

✨Weekly Tag Wednesday ✨

Hi hi! Welcome to your local Tag Game. I’m your friendly neighbourhood host, Jess, and today we’re talking fandom. Come play!

Name and A03 handle: Jess, JR_ooc

Current Location: In my kitchen, in my running gear despite having not yet gone for a run 'cause I just remembered I was doing the tag game

Favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)?

I don't have a favourite but this one is new? Why do I choose questions I can't answer 😂

What's one thing you want in a picrew?

Two toned hair.

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

Unsurprising my sportsAU: In My Veins Like Lightning

Why is it your favourite? I just love the story and the boys I wrote and so many of their angsty and sweet moments.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? Both? Some parts came quickly, a lot of the scenes just came to me. But there were some sticky parts I struggled hard with.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? Darkness comes before the Dawn by @ian-galagher @creepkinginc and @transmurderbug and @crossmydna's Locking Down the Locksmith -- both amazing.

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? Things Beyond Mistake -- I am still heartbroken over a year after reading it. What an amazing story I would give my left arm to have finished. We miss you Grayola.

Favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? Cocky!Mickey and Tough!Ian. Love when they fall into bed right away and catch feelings after.

Least favourite? I'll read it all but don't love when Mickey after one interaction is all in. Where's the tension! Where's his tough/untrusting side? Also the slow slow slow burns make me insane... not that that stops me.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? A/B/O and really unique AU's like Maintenance or The Circus

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? Like I drank some warm tea. Like things have clicked into place for a moment in time.

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: I'm lucky to have a few but @bawlbrayker always helps with a beta and a kind word or helps me choose when I'm stuck between options. Special mention to @runawaybrainsc @gallapiech and @blue-disco-lights who have been clutch and hugely supportive.

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Pour a glass of wine, play snails in the discord chat and read some angst with a happy ending or the latest fic club discussion pick.

If you were mentioned, you're tagged! Rest of the tags below the cut:

@deedala @energievie @spookygingerr @michellemisfit @celestialmickey

@mybrainismelted @tanktopgallavich @mickeysgaymom @such-a-barbarian @crestfallercanyon

@rereadanon @too-schoolforcool @roryonic @lee-ow @stocious

@transsexual-dandelions @transmickey @sgtmickeyslaughter @rayrayor @solitarycreaturesthey

@ms-moonlight-inn @whatthebodygraspsnot @suzy-queued @callivich @francesrose3

@doshiart @guinguin1984 @look-i-love-u @spoonfulstar @the-rat-wins

@thepupperino @gallavichgeek @andthatisnotfake @burninface @batty4steddie

@mmmichyyy @pookiebearmick @palepinkgoat @heymrspatel @deathclassic

@wehangout @gallawitchxx @gallavichsuperfan

Lmao I hit my tagging limit so if you see this pls know you’re tagged 😆

[another-whump-sideblog]

Fixing Tracy -- Failure

TWs in the tags

Masterlist

Tracy grabs the backpack and goes into the bedroom, locking the door behind her. She dumps the contents out onto the bed.

There are a few different ropes of different materials, a pair of handcuffs, a chain, and– Tracy has to rearrange it to figure out what it is– a straightjacket. Fuck, she hates Molly so much.

The main advantage to having this stuff is that Molly doesn't have it anymore. Not needing to worry about being restrained opens some options for Tracy. But… Molly still has the cattle prods… and she definitely keeps at least one pair of handcuffs in her pockets…

There's got to be a way for Tracy to use this stuff. Molly made a mistake, there’s got to be a way to take advantage of it!

She could try to restrain Molly. The worry with attempting to knock her out was that she wouldn’t be out of commision nearly long enough to allow Tracy to get the keys and cattle prods and get away, but if she could even just disorient Molly long enough to cuff her hands behind her back…

Oh, that’s perfect! It would work best if she could attack Molly from behind, but she’s unlikely to get a chance to. Molly is going to notice she left the restraints as soon as she calms down, she’s too smart not to.

She’ll probably come downstairs wielding her cattle prod, like she did when Tracy called her down to try and attack her…

Tracy doesn't get a chance to plan any further. She hears the door to the basement open and close.

Quickly, Tracy picks up a pair of handcuffs, unlocks the bedroom door, and rushes out. Molly had already been heading towards the bedroom, so Tracy is able to tackle her to the ground swiftly.

Through luck alone, Tracy is able to avoid getting shocked by the cattle prod held in Molly's hand, as Molly drops it in the fall. She goes to get the cattle prod in her other sleeve, but Tracy gets there first and tosses the cattle prod away. Last time she got her hands on one of them, it took too long to figure out how to use it, so she'll probably do better by just making sure Molly can't use them.

Molly makes a small, fearful sound. Tracy grabs her by the hair. She just needs to disorient Molly enough to get the handcuffs around her wrists. It'd be better to have them behind Molly's back, but that's not necessary. All she needs to do is slam Molly's head against the ground a few times… slam it hard… against the ground…

It always tastes like concrete. Why do concussions have a taste? Tracy imagines her brain bouncing around in her skull like jelly as her head is slammed against the wall over and over and ov–

Tracy only hesitates for a moment, but that's enough. Molly kicks Tracy in the stomach and throws her off, then quickly grabs the closer cattle prod.

The wind knocked out of her, Tracy struggles to catch her breath. That wasn't– every other time Tracy's failed it was because of Molly, but this time it was Tracy's own fault. Her plan would've worked, but she couldn't go through with it. Tears spring to her eyes.

"No!" Tracy wails. "No no no, what's wrong with me??"

Molly takes the handcuffs from Tracy's hands and tosses them aside. Then, after staring at Tracy for a moment, Molly kneels next to her and pulls her into a hug. Tracy can feel the cattle prod against her back, but it doesn't shock her.

"...It's okay. Just let it all out, dear."

Tracy doesn't have much of a choice, she can't stop herself. "I'm never going to see Alicia again! I'm never going to get to go outside without my ankles being cuffed together! I'm never getting out of here because I'm too weak and stupid and cowardly and useless and–"

"Hey, hey, you're not any of those things. Can you take some deep breaths for me?"

"I hate you!" Tracy screams.

"I know. You wouldn't refuse to breathe to spite me though, right? You're too smart for that. Can you follow my lead? In… and out… In… and out…"

Tracy doesn't want to, but Molly's right, she can't just refuse to breathe out of spite, and breathing intentionally off of Molly's rhythm would still be listening to and focusing on Molly's rhythm. So Tracy breathes. She can't tune Molly out no matter how hard she tries.

"There you go. I just don't want you to hyperventilate, but you can cry as long as you need to, okay? I'm here."

"I hate you." Tracy blubbers. "You're just like my parents, I hate you."

"That's better, I'd much rather you insult me than yourself. Better to lash out than to… lash in? Anyway… I'm here. I've got you."

"Stop saying that like it's comforting!"

"Right. I'll shut up. Just let me know if there's anything I can do to help, okay?"

"You can help by letting me go!" Tracy shoves Molly away harshly, even though losing the physical comfort feels like letting go of the only thing holding her together.

Thankfully, Molly doesn't retaliate. She gets up and gathers the restraints off of Tracy's bed and the handcuffs Molly tossed aside earlier and packs them all back into the backpack before setting it in it's customary corner. 

"My life is over!" Tracy howls, terror consuming her. She's never, ever getting out of here. This is the rest of her life. Even if a super easy opportunity to escape comes up, she won't be able to take it, because she's a weak, stupid, useless coward! This is the end! Her life is over!

Molly puts both of the cattle prods back up her sleeves. Even if she doesn't quite know why, she knows Tracy isn't going to fight any more today.

"Why don't you just kill me?? It would be exactly the same as this!!"

Molly grabs a blanket and drapes it over Tracy's shoulders, then sits next to her on the ground. Close, but not touching.

"I hate you! I hate you!" And yet, Tracy falls against Molly's side and lets Molly hold her.

"Do you want some water? Screaming always sounds therapeutic, but then your throat just hurts really bad…" Molly sounds like she's trying not to sound like she's been crying.

Tracy shakes her head. It doesn't matter, none of it matters. For all intents and purposes, Tracy is dead, and this is her afterlife. Escaping will be as difficult as bringing herself back to life through sheer force of will. Can she do that? Is that even possible?

"I promise it'll get better. It won't hurt this much forever, you'll settle in."

After such a dismal failure, what choice does Tracy have but to believe her?

Tag list: @whumpyourdamnpears @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees

[divinesolas]

The Seatfiller (1/2)

Summary: You got the job as seat filler at the grammys and you just so happen to be sitting next to your favorite band, the dragons. Anything can happen.

Pairing: Modern!Singer!Aegon Targaryan x Fem!Reader

Warnings | none for this chapter, smut in the next part

w.c | 3.4k

part two

You two have been friends for years and luckily stayed in touch despite going to different colleges and working different jobs thanks to you too living in the same area. You can hear her getting into her car, “Do you have a dress yet?” you shake your head, “I have a couple in my closet-” It was the truth, they had all been dressed you've worn before sure but you liked each of them. “No! We need to go out and go get you a nice dress so you can look nice and hot and they'll fall in love with you.” You scoff and shake your head not that she could see.You were delusional but not that delusional, “I shouldn't-” “I'm on my way so you better be dressed.” You groan, she always ends up getting what she wants so you reluctantly agree. “Fine.” “Yesssss, we're gonna get you a dress that will have that one guy on his knees for you, trust me.”

She’s not a fan like you are but knows of your obsession with them so ‘that one guy’ she happens to be referring to is Aegon targaryen.The hot lead singer who also happens to write and compose a lot of their music. He’s mesmerizing from his attractive face to his enticing voice to his charming personality. He had it all and you had a huge crush on him. Or at least in the way a fan can like a celebrity. What if you were sitting next to him? What if he smiled at you? Would he be able to tell you're a fan and have been obsessively keeping up with him and his band for years? It would be humiliating but you would only be there for forty-five minutes. Or at least you hope so.

“Don't be ridiculous.” You can hear her driving as you move to change out of your pajamas, “There is no ridiculousness in it! He will be sitting near you and there you’ll be sitting looking hot as fuck and he’ll have no choice but to fuc-” “Enough!!” You could feel yourself getting red as you shook your head as if she could see you. You hear her laugh as you finish putting on your clothes. “I'm right though!” you sigh, “No youre not.”

You wait around for her to come then you rush down to meet her. She gets out of the car to hug you before you both get back in and she drives you to the mall. Once you arrive she grabs your hand and drags you over to one of the more expensive stores, “I can't afford this-” “I'm paying.” you scoff at her and try to rip your hand away from her, “No way.”

She turns to you and gives you a glare. “This is your big night! Consider it an early birthday gift.” You attempt to argue with her some more but she still does not listen as she drags you around the store. “Now lets look, hmm no this color wont look good on you. Ugh no this is too long.” When you finally accept her ‘gift’ you begin to look around with her, attempting to pick out the cheaper options before she quickly shuts you down, “You would never wear that in your life stop looking at the tags.”

You swear you've been in this store forever trying to find a dress but can't find anything until you look near the back and see it. You pull it out and rush to show it to your best friend whos eyes widen upon seeing the dress. “That's the one.” You try it on and you walk out to show her. She squeals as you spin around, “It's perfect! If nobody wants to fuck you in there ill do it myself!” you laugh and face the mirror. The dress makes you feel hot, you admire yourself and you smile.

“See? I'm a genius, we're getting it.” After attempting to pay and having your card slapped out of your hand you two manage to leave the store. You turn to her and give her a hug, “thank you.” “Of course.” you two laugh and pull back, “Now let's go get dinner and you pay.” “Bitch.” you two laugh as you walk away from the dress store.

On the day of the event you couldn't shake your nerves as you put the finishing touches on your outfit and makeup as your friend tries to boost your confidence. “Come on, you look so good, look at you.” You sigh and nod as you stand up and look at yourself in the mirror. You really did look good and there was no point getting worked up you would be in there for forty five minutes in and out then you could go and freak the fuck out afterwards about how you sat next to your favorite band.

“Are you gonna ask for an autograph?” “They said I can't do that in my contract. I just need to sit there and look nice until I'm supposed to leave.” she groans and rolls her eyes, “Boring.”

You check your phone and see your uber is almost here, “I gotta go.” She stands up and hugs you, “Love you girl, text me when you get there k? And try to get laid.” You laugh and flip her off as you walk out your front door.

The door shuts behind you and you sigh trying to relax, the night will go just fine. You hope.

The room filled with cheers as another award winner was called, the camera panned to the dragons who had smiles on their faces before shifting back to the stage. Once the camera was away Aegon covered his mouth to yawn. “Aegon…” Aemond, his brother and drummer of the dragons, was sitting next to him glaring at him, “What? I'm tired.” Aemond rolled his eyes and Aegon giggled to himself. He hated these award shows, all he wanted to do was get back to his studio, drink some beer and write up a new song but instead he was stuck here watching these stuck up people win awards he didn't care about.

The long and boring speech was finally over and they cut the cameras. Aegon let out a sigh of relief, the person next to him got up and was rushed backstage. Aegon couldn't remember their name but they were supposed to present at some point during the night. One of the staff of the event came over to the group, “A seat filler will come over to take his place now, please do not be alarmed.”

Jacaerys, The Bass player and childhood friend of aegon and aemond, gave the staff member a smile, “It's no problem.” The staff member nodded briefly before walking away, seemingly going to fetch someone. Aegon wasn't really paying attention until he spotted he felt a soft brush of someone as they sat down next to him and a soft apology.

9:00: He looked over and saw the most gorgeous woman he's ever seen. Now that he has his eyes on you he cant take him off.

The dress you wear suits you beautifully, his eyes linger on your chest area before trailing down to the rest of your body. God you were gorgeous, suddenly aegon became way more interested in the event.

The woman turns his head to him feeling his stare and gives him an awkward smile before turning back forward.

He sat up straight and readjusts the cuffs of his suit causing aemond to give him an odd look. “What the hell are you doing?” Aegon rolls his eyes, “What can't I sit up?” Aemond eyes the girl now sitting beside Aegon and scoffs. “Oh shut up.”

This can't be happening. Your body burns and you feel like your face is on fire. He was staring at you. the aegon targaryen. Lead singer and producer of the dragons. He even checked you out.

You thank your best friend in your head for buying you this dress as you feel Aegon's eyes continue to drift back to you.

Do you look back at him? You play with your fingers and look down at your hands as they call that the show is about to start again and you look back up.

You can't help but take a glance at him and notice he's already looking at you. You quickly look away again. You hear aemond hit his arm to get him to look forward, aegon grumbles as he does but his gaze on you.

You notice you're shaking, it really is so crazy to be sitting next to the band you've been admiring for the past couple years of your life.

Another commercial break starts and you're wondering how long it's been and how much more time you have yet. You're really wishing you had your phone right now. Not only to check the time but because you're sure your best friend is blowing up your phone right now.

You look back at Aegon and notice he's on his phone. What if you asked him… it would be a good excuse to just speak to him at least once plus your friend couldn't yell at you for not doing anything despite sitting next to your all time favorite band.

Aegon had been on his phone, texting the dragons gc.

‘do not do anything stupid.’ - aemond

‘but the girl is so hot ☹️’ - aegon

‘aegon. don't you dare.’ - jace

‘i just want to know her name ☹️☹️’- aegon

‘I know good and well that's not true.’ - helaena

“Excuse me…” The voice next to him rang out. All of them whipped their heads towards her, Aegon being the closest that looked her directly in the eyes. He notices she bites her lip slightly and avoids eye contact, god he didn't know how much more of this he could take. “Can i know what time it is?”

Aegon looked down at his phone before looking back at you, “It's 9:15 gorgeous.” He feels aemond hit his arm but its all worth it to see you flush and turn, “thank you.” its hushed but he can still hear it. “of course gorgeous.”

He notices your shaking and playing with your dress. There were hundreds of stars in the room but you were the only one he could see. “You have a gorgeous name?” “aegon..” aemond harshly hisses at him.

you look at him shocked, your beautiful eyes wide open and your eyelids flutter. You were so pretty. “um…. its y/n.” He smiles, “a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.” You look away bashfully as he grins, “no..” “Really, I'm serious, you're the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

There's an announcement saying the cameras were about to turn back on and he groans. He just wants to keep on talking with you. He sits up and he feels aemond put a hand on his arm, “what do you think you're doing?” aegon shrugs, “what? im just talking to her there's nothing wrong with that?” He looks over at her and winks as aemond slaps his shoulder.

“You will quit it now.” Aegon groans, “You just had the situation with cassandra-” “she was the one bothering me,” Aegon hisses, “i never wanted her.” Aemond sighs, “The media doesn't know that-” “I don't care. they don't believe me anyways.”

Cassandra baratheon, one of the four daughters of a famous director and a top model and she was one of the most annoying people he's ever met.

When they met at some random award show afterparty where she came up to him claiming to be a fan of his group. The two talked, she tried to come home with him, he didn't want that, he told her that, she got pissed because her nepo baby ass never got told no and told the media the two slept together.

For the past week hes been dealing with people up his ass about cassandra but he's denied everything and it fucking sucks.

“Aegon-” “Please dont bring her up again.” The worst part of it all is that shes been showing up to his fucking house begging him to believe her that she would never say something like that to the media and asking if she would let him inside. “Fuck off cassandra.” “baby-” “dont fucking baby me i dont even fucking know you.” “youre an asshole!” “you say this every fucking time but you keep on coming back just leave me the fuck alone!”

Aegon shakes of the memory now frowning, god e could really use a fucking drink. Once again it was a commercial break at 9:22. Aegon Rolled his head back and looked back at you.

You sat with a stunned expression on your face as your eyes layed on him, fuck you must have heard all that. You notice him looking at you and you look away. Ugh now the pretty girl doesn't even wanna fucking look at him this sucks.

“I'm sorry.” a hushed whisper comes from you, one that only he can hear “I had seen it on the news, that must suck for you. I'm sorry, I believe you.” Aegon's eyes widen as looks at you, you haven't lifted your head. Nobody other than his bandmates had told him they believed him.

He smiled, he leaned down near your ear, “thank you sweetheart. You're as sweet as you look.” You turn your head farther away from him, he can practically feel the heat radiating off of your body as he watches your hands shake.

He smiles as you turn back to him, “I'm sorry for butting in-'' he shakes his head, “there's nothing to apologize for angel, it makes me feel nice knowing a pretty girl like you believes me.” He can partially feel aemonds annoyance but he can't be bothered as he takes in your reaction. 9:29 the show turns back and now he has a smile on his face as he faces the stage.

This can't be happening. Your face feels so hot and your body burns, this can't be happening. Is he hitting on you?

You can barely sit still in your seat as the award show continues. Maybe you should be brave, I mean you'll never see the man again in about 15 minutes so it doesn't matter what happens, right?

You readjust yourself and turn your head towards him and see him already looking at you. you lose any sense of confidence you had and look back down at your lap. Nope can't do it.

He smiles, “you wanna say something to me angel?” You shake your head, god this was so embarrassing. You stare up at the stage, the performance on the stage captures your attention that you don't notice the hushed whispers between aemond and aegon. 9:41 your final intermission.

A staff member walks over, “Please gather up your things, I'll be coming back around to collect you in a few minutes.” You nod as they rush away.

Upset that the night is ending you frown, already thinking about what take out you're going to get once you get home. You take a glance at Aegon to see he has a frantic look. Before you can even question it in your head he turns to you, “do you mind giving me your number angel?”

You almost faint, you're shocked you didn't, no way he was being serious. You stare at the phone he's handed in your direction frozen. Now your favorite member of your favorite band is asking you for your number. This must be a dream.

Snapping back you snatch the phone and shakingly put the number in, double no triple checking if it was right before handing it back to him. He smiles with a laugh as the staff member comes back and rushes you out, “I'll see you later angel.” Later?

You are rushed out along with other seat fillers for the night and taken outside to wait for transportation home as well as your bag. Everyone was chatting but you can barely even think right now. Your bag gets handed back to you and you can feel your phone vibrating.

You take it out and see over a hundred texts from your friend and 2 texts from an unknown number. Your hands are shaking, What the hell was happening. Avoiding what was probably his messages to you, you open up your friends messages to you.

A lot of them were just nonsense.

‘MISS YOU’

‘ONG YOU'RE ON CAMERA

*pic

‘&-)/&:)/$/$:’

‘WHY IS HE TALKING TO YOU OOOOOOOOOO’

‘YOU GOTTA TELL ME EVERYTHING’

*pic

The two photos are one of you when your face showed when the camera panned to someone in front of you and the next is a shot of you and Aegon looking at each other. Oh no.

‘NOT YOU LEAVING ME ON READ’

‘ANSWER NOW’

‘TELL ME’

She starts calling you and you move far away from everyone else to answer her.

“hey-”

“OH MY GOD.”

you move the phone away and wince before pulling it back, “you're so loud.”

“Oh shut up, tell me what happened.”

You smile to yourself as you think over the last forty five minutes of your life and tell her everything. “shut up!” “i know!”

“Have you looked at his messages?” You shook your head as if she could see you, “no-” “WHAT. look at them now are you kidding.”

“I'm scared.” “stop being a pussy and look.” you sigh and open the message with shaky fingers. He had sent a couple more since you last checked and by a couple more you mean a lot more.

‘hey its aegon’

‘shit’

‘the guy who was sitting next to you’

‘sorry never told you my name’

‘oh wait you said you knew me’

‘ANYWAY’

‘you know i never got your name angel’

‘or would you rather me keep calling you angel’

‘that was corny im sorry’

‘god’

‘um’

‘i'd love to see you again, the hotel im staying at has a bar if you'd meet me there’

‘no pressure i just cant get you out of my head’

‘sorry i have to go, i hope to see you there :)’

The last message was an address line to a really nice hotel only a block or two away. “Holy shit.”

you can only stare as your friend yells in your ear, “what?!? what happened??” You take a screenshot and send it to her. “No fucking way you have to go.”

You are looking at the hotel's website, “I don't know… what if he's like a secret psycho murder or a human trafficker.” Like sure you did admit him and obsess over him a little but that didn't mean you trusted him. He's a celebrity for crying out loud he could be the worst man on earth.

“I have your location. If you dont text me or anything, I'll call the police .” You genuinely consider your opinions right now. You could go home, get take out and sit and talk with your friend all night about nonsense when all you could think about is the what ifs or you could go and see what could happen.

“Oh fuck it ill go.” “YES.” There's no point in getting an uber so you begin the walk to the hotel.

You stay on the phone with her as you make your way there, still looking at the hotel's website. The place was super fancy, makes sense for a celebrity, people were giving you odd looks since you're just casually walking around in a fancy dress but you can't even be bothered.

“Did you shave?” “Fuck off nothings happening.” “surrre i believe you.”

You finally arrive at the place and stare at the big door, oh fuck it its not like anything is gonna happen right.

[umbracirrus]

OC in Fifteen

Tagged by @skyrim-forever and @hircines-hunter to post fifteen lines of dialogue that showcase your oc's personality!

Of course I'm going to use my girl Elyse <3 Lines 1-13 are from The Perfect Storm, line 14 from 'A moment in the sunset' oneshot, and line 15 from my smutty '"Do you surrender?"' oneshot :3 I looked through Seeking the Sun but she hasn't spoke much in that yet-!!! She's very much in her shell still.

"He knows well enough that I’m not getting involved in the war. After everything that I went through for Skyrim… It might sound selfish of me, but I can't. Won't.”

"What Ulfric failed to mention... Was that he wanted to force me to marry him. He wanted to take everything away from me so that he could use me. What better way to sway the masses than saying ‘look, I’ve married the Dragonborn who saved you all, you should join me because she’s with me and not the Imperials!’, right?"

"That bastard wanted to take my freedom away from me!"

"I wouldn’t be surprised if it is. Why else do you think that I decided to come here? Not to invite the Jarl for salad, that’s for certain."

Now… the sooner we get this tidying done, the sooner we get some free time, and the sooner I we can have a look around. I mean, I didn’t even know Dragonsreach had guest rooms until last night! Maybe I can ask the Jarl if there is anywhere of interest… Do you think that there would be a library? There has to be one, right? Or maybe a-"

"When the time comes that I have to pick a side in this war, I already know what I will be choosing. Divines, I already have chosen. I will be on the side of Whiterun."

"No matter the consequences. He trusted me through everything as I worked towards defeating Alduin – now it’s my turn to trust him. He hasn’t given me reason not to."

"If, as Farengar said, not even the Skyforge could melt it… getting it far away from civilisation is likely the next best option. There is nobody at Skuldafn. One or two draugr, but most certainly no people."

“I saw that, and it isn't funny! This was a fluke, there’s only two bows I can use properly, and this isn’t like either of them!”

“Sweetrolls, cake, tarts, candies, berries... How could I not?”

“I... I don’t like burdening others with my issues. It just drags others into the chaos that has been my life since I made the stupid decision to leave Cyrodiil years ago. Balgruuf took on enough of them by letting me into his home...”

 "For so much of my life, it was just me and my parents. It was us against what felt like the world. Then it was just me, on my own… I'm not used to having other people trying to look out for me. Or at least… never for long. Not without some sort of ulterior motive or ending in death."

“Winterhold is in my blood... But Winterhold never has nor ever would truly accept me.”

"Perhaps we could slip out to the Bannered Mare for a warm meal and a drink? I'm sure that Irileth and Lydia wouldn't mind… so long as they don't realise that we are gone."

"Heh… 'mercy', is it? Balgruuf, I have the capability to knock you onto your backside with just a word, and you know it. Just try me."

[niallsgoldhoop]

Chapter Eleven

Niall

"This one?"

Wide, pretty brown eyes stare back at me with no answer.

Again.

"There's got to be at least one here that you like." Looking down at the options, I shake my head. "Come on— Put me out of my misery!"

Cal stares back at me from where he sits in front of the shopping cart loaded down with at least eight million dog toys, nine thousand pounds of dog food, a minimum of six hundred training pads, and at least eight dog beds for around the house.

With everything else picked out, the last thing we needed was a collar and a leash. I'd picked out a few and sat them on the floor thinking that he would get curious and 'pick' which one he wanted, but so far my efforts have been met with the quizzical tilt of his head.

"I give up." Sitting back on my ass, I barely have a second before he barrels over the small space from the cart and stretching the lead we left the vets office with, catapulting himself into my arms and licking my face. "Cal! Fuck!"

A small bark makes a laugh tumble out of my mouth as he makes a couple circles in my lap before plopping down right in the middle, looking up at me with a pink tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Scratching behind his ears, I can't help but feel a tug at the bottom of my chest. When I heard the whimper out on the course the last thing I expected to end up with was my very own dog.

A puppy at that.

One that would require attention and training.

As daunting as it sounds though, the idea of not taking him home with me didn't even really cross my mind.

"I like this one." Reaching through the scattered mess of collars, my fingers wrap around the smooth material before holding it in front of him. "Do you?"

Raising his paw, he bats at it before trying to bite it, which seemed like the only answer I needed.

Picking up my mess and grabbing the matching leash and harness adding them to the cart, I make sure my little best friend was by my side as we made our way to the checkout.

"New dog?"

Looking up, I smile at the woman behind the register. "What would be your first clue?"

"I'm going to go with the training pads— Definitely a dead giveaway." She laughs. "Did you make sure to grab a name tag? There's a lot of options to choose from."

I follow her eyes to the spot behind me loaded down with options.

What seems like a simple task feels monumental as I look over all the colors and shapes, eventually picking the safe route and going for a circular golden tag, one that would easily fit his name and a phone number.

"There's a machine just over there that does the engraving." Taking my card in her hand, the woman looks between me and my overloaded cart. "If you need any help just let me know!"

With a quick nod, the two of us head over to the machine and put everything in to get it made, only to stop and stare at the screen when it asks if I want to put two phone numbers or just one.

I start to just type in mine— But then I think twice about it. Pulling out my phone, I open my text messages and type out a quick message.

Niall

Can I put your phone number on Callaway's tag? Just in case I'm somewhere where I can't be reached?

The reply comes in almost immediately, making my heart rate gallop in my chest.

Wren

Of course. That's my little guy too, whether you like it or not, Niall Horan.

I laugh as I take a quick picture of the way he's looking up at me from between my feet, pink tongue still hanging out.

Niall

He said he wanted to say 'Hi, Mom'.

Wren

Tell him that his dad is crazy.

Wren

But give that cute face a kiss for me.

My fingers go to respond, but the beeping sound from the machine in front of me forces that thought away so that I can punch in my phone number and Wren's, watching as the laser moves across the metal and then deposits the tag into the receiving well.

Grabbing it and putting it in my front pocket, I bend down to pick up my furry friend.

His smooth coat feels soft against my fingertips as he licks the side of my face, a reminder that I need to order Wren some flowers for meeting me at my house last night with a few essentials to get us through the first night.

When we left the vet's office she went and bought dog food, a bed, and some shampoo— nothing too fancy, but enough so that we could get our little guy all cleaned up and fed before we could make it to the pet store.

While I changed out of my ruined, muddy clothes she had already pulled out a couple of bowls and sat on the floor as the small fighter greedily ate his food and lapped up more water that I even thought was possible.

By the time we took him outside and corralled him into the bathroom, he was even more covered in mud and dirt than when we found him.

It didn't take long for us to give him a bath— But it also took half of that time for him to shake water all over both of us.

Even now as I load everything into the back of my car, I can still hear the way Wren laughed as she tried to hide behind me to avoid getting soaked from the water in the bathtub, a failed attempt considering she left my house wearing a pair of my sweats and an old sweatshirt.

Again. 

The smile on my face matched the same one I had when I watched her leave.

One that just makes me feel happy.

"Here, let's get this on." Grabbing the collar from one of the bags and sitting in the front seat, I let Cal sit in my lap as I pull off the price tags and slip the shiny new name plate into place before buckling it. "There. Guess that means you're really mine now, don't you think?"

Before I can even scratch behind his ears, his paws land in the middle of my chest as he licks my cheek, making me laugh harder than I have in a long time.

I guess that to him it didn't sound like a bad deal.

I guess he likes the idea of coming home.

Just like I do.

_________

I love live music.

Always have.

So when my friends asked me a few weeks ago if I wanted to go as a group to see an artist we all liked, the answer was easy.

Yes.

Over the years, I've been lucky to keep the same group of friends.

Some of them came from the golf world and some of them didn't. It was nice to have a mix because everyone seemed to get along and really that was all I could ever ask for.

My life was chaotic and it was busy, but I tried my best to carve out time for people.

I almost backed out because I didn't want to leave a puppy alone, but when Rory suggested bringing him over and letting him play with his daughter and their dog, I finally broke down and said yes.

So here I was, drinking Guinness with my closest friends and waiting for the opening act to start and the lights to go down.

"How has work been, Niall?" Elliott asks me. "I know the course has been gearing up for some events."

Nodding, I swallow down the dark beer. "It's great. We've got a great marketing department and they are killing it."

"What he's not telling you is that his girlfriend is in that said marketing department." Rory chimes in, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

Arlo's eyes go wide over the rim of his glass. "I'm sorry— Did he just say girlfriend? You're dating someone and didn't tell us?"

"You're worse than a bunch of teenagers, I swear." I laugh, shaking my head. "Yes, I'm... Dating someone."

I could easily tell them the truth, the reason behind why I've got a girlfriend for the first time in years, but I don't.

"I never thought I'd see the day." Elliott whistles. "Don't forget to invite us to the wedding."

"Tell us about her." Arlo adds. "How did you meet? Where did you meet?"

I ignore the wedding comment— As if.

Instead, I manage to tell them about how we met at the grocery store which isn't a lie.

I realize the more I tell them about her that it feels so natural to talk about her, to brag about her.

So fucking easy.

Even as the lights dim, I tell them about her.

How smart she is.

How funny she is.

How beautiful—

As if talking about her with my friends conjured her up, there she is. Standing with a couple of people, it's like my eyes couldn't look away from her even if I fucking tried.

I'd seen Wren in casual clothes before, but she looked so stunning in her jeans that looked like they were made to fit every curve she owned along with the cut off shirt that revealed the most tantalizing sliver of skin I'd ever seen.

Her dark hair fell in waves around her face and when she turned, the low lights refracted in the diamond— my diamond— hanging off of her neck.

It's like my body disconnects from my brain when I finish my beer in one gulp and toss the tall can into the trash before pushing my way through the crowd of people to get to her.

Halfway through the mass of people, the golden invisible string between us pulls tight, her gaze snapping up to meet mine as her friends laugh about something else behind her. Turning to them, she says something before she matches my pace, pushing through people before meeting me in the middle of the crowded room.

"Hi." Out of breath, she smiles up at me and I'll be damned if it doesn't rival the sunset every night. "What are you doing here?"

A smile of my own soon matched hers. "My friends convinced me to come out."

"What about Cal?" Wren asks as she bites her bottom lip, looking down as if he would magically appear at our feet.

"He's at Rory's. They have a two year old dog they rescued and so I figured they could play, besides it'll help him get more socialized. Besides his daughter is fourteen and has been getting for another dog." With a shrug, I jut my chin in the direction she came from. "What about you? What brings you out here?"

Turning to look over her shoulder, Wren laughs as her friends all make funny faces back at her. "One of my friends really likes the headliner so I agreed to tag along."

We stand in silence for a second, people talking around us and pushing us closer together.

When someone behind her accidentally pushes her a little too hard, her body lurches in my direction and I reach my arms around her waist and tuck her in front of me before telling the guy behind her to watch where he's going.

"Sorry— I guess we're going to end up being stuck together." Her laugh is nervous as she looks over her shoulder at me, those long lashes taunting me. "If you want to leave—"

"No." Stepping even closer behind her, I shake my head. "This is fine."

Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she just nods before turning to face the stage just in time for the opener to come out, everyone around us screaming and chanting their name.

But I can't focus on anything but the woman in front of me.

As the night goes on, the space that we've put between us becomes less and less and by the time the headlining artist gets into their set, I've lost my mind and I don't really care to find it.

Music thrums around us as people sing and push closer to the stage, my arm wrapping around Wren's waist, the smooth skin of her stomach along my palm making me unable to concentrate on anything else.

Leaning down, my lips brush against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver through her body that I can feel. "Is this okay?"

"Yeah." Her answer is breathy, barely audible, but to me it's like she's screamed it. "It's okay."

Her body relaxes into mine, each dip and curve folding to fit perfectly, driving me out of my mind. When she starts to sway with the music, I groan when her ass brushes against me, my grip growing even tighter. My nose brushes against her temple at the same time that I slip my hand into the front pocket of her jeans, pulling her back into me so there's no room for questions.

"Do you know how good you look, Birdie?" Closing my eyes for a second, I can feel the goosebumps as they travel across her skin beneath my palm. "I'm so tired of pretending you aren't the most infuriatingly stunning person I've ever seen." A whimper falls from her lips just for me to hear, but it travels straight to my groin, making me feel like I've lost all sense of control. "I know this is fake but give me one night— Just a few hours to act like it's not."

Reaching her hand up and cupping the back of my head, I can't help but groan when her nails drag across the skin underneath the few curls at the nape of my neck. "Niall, please."

"Please what?" Dropping my lips from her ear, I let them ghost across the skin of her neck. "Tell me everything, Wren."

"No kissing." She breathes out a rule from our list. "Not on the mouth— And when— When the lights come on it goes back. We go back."

I don't need another second before my lips press against her neck before raking my teeth over the same spot, soothing it with my tongue after.

"God, why do you taste so good?" My words are low, my voice like gravel. "I could do this all night."

Tilting her head to the side, I take advantage and let my lips travel over the smoothe skin and leave hot, open mouthed kisses anywhere and everywhere I can. Pressing my hips forward, I can't help but let out a low moan when her ass presses into me just right.

"If we weren't in a room full of people— Fuck, the things I would do given the chance." Taking her earlobe between my teeth, I tug. "There's not enough time."

"What— What would you do?" Turning just enough that I can see the look in her eyes, Wren bites that bottom lip that haunts my dreams.

Taking a chance, I let my fingertips on her stomach dip just below the waistband of her jeans. "I'd start here, giving you my fingers until you were dripping for me. Does that sound like a good start?"

Her gasp of an exhale sends electricity shooting through my body.

"And then?" Leaning her head back on my chest, those long lashes flutter against the top of her cheeks as her eyes close, like she's thinking about it just as much as I am. "Or would that be it? Would that be enough?"

"With you? With you there's never enough." I lick a path down her neck, pressing my lips to the warm skin before taking my hand out of my pocket and sliding it under her shirt, the tip of my finger tracing the lace of her bra. "You'd feel me here, too."

Another whimper. "I want to feel you everywhere, Niall. Please."

Resting my forehead against the back of her head, I take in the sweet smell of her hair, letting myself get lost in the way her body moves with mine along with the blazing need to feel her everywhere.

"Fuck, Wren." Barely shaking my head, I drop my hand from under her shirt and back into her front pocket. "You drive me crazy. So fucking crazy."

"I need you."

Those words from her are the last thing I hear before the music fades out and the lights barely come back on, the signal that we agreed on that breaks us out of our spell.

They say that time flies when you're having fun but those people have clearly never had the girl of their dreams against them in a dark room.

Right now, I contemplate if I could get away with smashing every light within a two block radius just so that I can give her what she wants— What she needs.

"I'm— I'm sorry." Wren turns around, her eyes finding mine as she wraps her arms around her stomach. "I wasn't really thinking and—"

I shake my head, reaching up to cup her jaw as people move around us to get out of the venue. "Don't. Don't do that, okay? What happened here? It stays here. Do you hear me?"

With a quick nod, Wren barely gives me a smile before she darts away from me, leaving me in the middle of the room thinking about anything and everything to make the feeling of desire go away.

Turning over my shoulder, I watch as she finds her friends, her own gaze finding mine before they disappear into the crowd.

Even from here I could see the emotion in those brown eyes.

The fear.

The want.

I know because the same emotions course through my body too.

Closing my eyes, I give myself another ten seconds before turning on my heel, searching for my own friends and reminding myself that no matter what just happened... Only one thing remains the same, only one thing remains true.

Fake or not— Wren Jacobs is doing one thing.

She's ruining my life.

_______

Oops!

twitter @ niallsgoldhoop

-Alex 🍀

[loftec]

Last week's Weekly Tag Wednesday!

Because I was festival prepping last week and had zero time for anything else but now I'm back and ready for some tags! Thank you @wehangout @mmmichyyy @michellemisfit for the tag (and also @deedala & @jrooc for the picrew tags!) <3

Name and A03 handle: lofty / loftec

Current Location: Sofa, living room.

Favorite picrew (don't have one? you can skip this or do this one)? I can't remember if I have a favourite one, so I'll just do this one!

The "SF" probably stands for something, but I immediately thought of Svensk Filmindustri and thought that was fun.

What's one thing you want in a picrew?

MORE GLASSES OPTIONS omg please. Colour and shape. I also really love it when I can build the hair in sections so I can colour my roots differently than the rest of the hair. Also, worse hair options. Come on, normalise 'I've got no hair texture or interest or time to do anything about it'. I feel like an imposter whenever I pick one of these perfectly swooshy dos.

Favourite thing you’ve created (or seen created) for the fandom?

None the wiser

Why is it your favourite? It's mad to think about but it was the first thing I decided to make for this fandom, and I'm still working on it (very very slowly) I don't know if I've ever spent this much time and effort on anything else. It's very special to me.

Did it come easily or was it hard to create? Both, right now it's very hard, but it usually comes back around.

Last ao3 fic you commented on? A Dead Boy Detectives fic, I'm pretty sure.

Biggest WIP heartache you’ve ever experienced? I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't usually read WIPs, not really because they're unfinished but because I don't often read long fic lol. My ideal fic for reading is a concise 5k oneshot, I am a terrible hypocrite.

Favorite trope or head cannon you like included in a fanfic? I do love a good outside perspective on Ian and Mickey's relationship not fully getting their dynamic and misunderstanding their special flavour of love. Also really like different canon-divergent stories where they get separated in different moments and then reunited in the future in various ways.

Least favourite? For most ships / fandoms I read fic of, I usually develop a set of icks that cause me to click out more or less immediately, often it's to do with a certain nickname or expression or act that I can't physically stand, or, you know, which signal a fundamental mismatch between mine and the author's focus/interests/views. Unfortunately, any mention of anything happening after season 5 has become a bit of an ick for me, which is deeply unfair to writers who embrace the later half of the show.

Secret or surprising kink or trope? No, I'm extremely basic tbh. My favourite time to read fic for a new fandom is always at the very start when everybody is writing the same super basic story over and over again.

Describe how you feel after you’ve created something new? The best feeling is when I know I've written the last sentence of a story or a chapter, it's always so clear that this, this is it, that's where it ends. I feel really accomplished and complete in that moment and it's great. Then there's still hours and hours of editing after that and it's usually 4 in the morning and I'm feeling slightly unhinged when I actually post.

Top hype man you have that always helps you get across the finish line: I tend to keep to myself when I'm working on something, but I can always rely on @mittimellan @wideblueskies & @the-rat-wins if I ever need to ramble about anything.

It's been a bad day, you turn to the fandom and you _____? Lurk and enjoy the good vibes and crafts. I probably also find something in my bookmarks that I've already read a thousand times and read it again.

[caxycreations]

To everyone I haven't talked to in a while

And especially to those I tag

I have not been talking with y'all much, and I'm sorry.

I wish I had some big, grand excuse that justified it and made everything okay.

I wish I had the words to make you all smile and forgive me and feel better.

But there is no excuse.

There are no special words like that.

So I'll settle for explaining it, and if you want to forgive me or forget me, it's up to you, and there will be no hard feelings held towards you for it.

I am forgetful. I am forgetful, and I follow my whims, and I follow what is most directly presented to me. I am focused on one thing or another at all times, and I recognize that hurts some relationships more than others.

It's something I've been trying to fix for years and can't seem to sustain for very long. None of you are obligated or expected to put up with it, or to try and maintain a friendship with me if you don't feel I'm putting in the effort needed for it.

What I will say, however, is that on my end, just because I'm not reaching out doesn't mean I'm unavailable to you. If you were my friend once, you'll be a friend in my eyes til I stop drawing breath. My friendship doesn't decay, it doesn't have dues that need paying, there's no conditions to my support or my love.

If you need me, if you need a shoulder to cry on, if you need someone to yell at or scream to or hit or vent or just *talk with* so you're not alone for the day, you are 100% always welcome to come to me.

I may not be the best option. But if I'm the option you want to take, or the last option, don't be afraid to reach out to tell me you need something, or that you want something. If I can provide it, I will, and if I can't, I'll sit with you and listen to what you need so that, at the very least, you aren't bottling it all up.

My life is a cycle of hyperfixated relationships and bonds on the backburner, but absolutely none of you are forgotten or beyond my attention. I am, and always will be, a single text away.

And if you need me, I will pick up right where we left off, and show you the same care and love that I never stopped feeling for any of you.

But if you feel it's not worth it, if you feel spurned or abandoned or unwanted, I understand, and I am sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry.

You don't have to invest your energy in anything that you don't want to.

Just know that at the end of the day, I do care about you all, and even if I never hear from any of you again, I will still find you on my mind once in a while, and I will still hope the best for you.

You are my friends.

Even if the feeling isn't mutual, even if you don't believe me, even if hearing it makes you angry

You are still my friends, in my heart.

@moremysteriesthantragedies @thetruearchmagos @filthymcnastyass @mikathewriter @a-scaly-troublemaker @shepardsherd @likegemstone @sithbelle @serafyyn @the-secondborn-of-seven @sleepywriter00

[samuelroukin]

twenty questions for fic writers!

tagged by @meyerlansky thank you 🙏

1. how many works do you have on ao3?

18..

2. what's your total ao3 word count?

294,445

3. what fandoms do you write for?

right now just cod 😔 i gotta write the third turn fic but the brainrot is strong

4. top five fics by kudos

limerence (i'll be your animal)

no face, no case

baptized in gunpowder

bliss in suffering

bite (this is war)

5. do you respond to comments?

sometimes it takes me a while bc i get Anxiety but i try to respond to all of them, it means so much that someone would take the time and i'd feel horrible not at least saying thanks

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

probably and i'm glad the world is ending bc well. nothing like knocking out the guy you just had weird sex with to make your escape.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

genuinely couldn't pick one, i think they all end on a pretty happy note? i don't always resolve Everything but i leave them in a spot where they can work out the details later if necessary lol

8. do you get hate on fics?

not to my face! i can think of a million reasons why i would, but everyone's been really niceys

9. do you write smut?

me??? write smut?? never.

10. craziest crossover:

i don't have any, and they're not really something i'm interested in so i'm unlikely to ever write one

11. have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don't think so, i'm not a big name author so unless it's just ai scraping i don't think anyone would bother

12. have you ever had a fic translated?

nope, not as far as i know! i do have one reader that used google translate bc they don't speak english tho

13. have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope, most i've done is discuss ideas and Options which is really fun, but i don't think actual co-writing is for me

14. all time favorite ship?

i don't think any ship i've liked has ever had the grip on me that soapghost has 💀

15. what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

at this point it's looking like part three of the simleb fics but i WILL get to it. i will. i can't abandon my boys. there's also the one with gaz overhearing soapghost and relaying the details to price which i still like but it needs Something and i couldn't put my finger on it

16. what are your writing strengths?

smut. i think i'm alright at setting tone as well, and i like to think i'm ok at building up tension

17. what are your writing weaknesses?

i'm terrible at dialogue and pacing. set descriptions too, i never know how much detail to put in vs letting readers fill in the blanks. i also don't really know how to describe it but i feel like my fics read less like a book and more like a script. and i get pointlessly, annoyingly wordy to say something that could be said in like two sentences lmao. add to that abuse and misuse of punctuation marks and it really is a mess lmao

18. thoughts on dialogue in another language?

i don't like it generally speaking unless it's a word or two. i've used it once or twice tho dkjfhjkhst. it depends on the Why i guess, but if they're speaking another language together (as in one or more characters understand what's being said) i think it's better to be like 'he switched to dutch' and then use italics to go "Okay, this is what's happening, don't let them catch on." instead of writing the language

19. first fandom you wrote in?

i think it was death note? maybe something for a band before that, i'm not sure tbh

20. favorite fic you've written?

miannach my beloved 🙏 it's not perfect but i had a lot of fun with the magic and the crack taken seriously while still also being a little funny, plus it has one of my fave smut scenes i've written

tagging @bayonettotheheart @brotherdusk @meduseld @c4tto626 @ferindencadash only if u want ofc 🫡

[jennawynn]

Starfield

I think I finally got rid of the "have to play as much as possible" brainworms, which is good. It's a Bethesda title. You basically know if you'll like it or not based on that one fact. It is solidly Bethesda. It is Skyrim/Fallout in Space. I like Bethesda games. I still play Fallout and Skyrim sometimes...

HOWEVER...

Things I wish it had... because where else can I shout this into the universe? You think I'm gonna go do it on Twitter? Ha. I don't think any of these are THAT egregious, either.

I love that I can be a space trucker or a miner and don't have to go be a hero somewhere. I don't love that you HAVE to kill people to get there. Like even just to get off the moon. Give me the potential for pacifist playthroughs, Todd! Or at least the option to skip the opening once you've done it. Or an alternate start where you have to earn a ship or SOMETHING. (Sometimes in Skyrim I'll just make an NPC who picks flowers and does alchemy to afford nights at the inn and food to eat, no killing, no nothing... so seeing that I can set up a mining outpost and take jobs to be a delivery driver/passenger vehicle or to sell to starports is A+ in my book.)

Tag for trash/sale in inventory. Sometimes I know I want to keep a thing. Sometimes I know it's just junk. I wish I could tag for trash/sale and then a) be able to see those in a sortable list to determine what I'm getting rid of first when I go over weight and b) sell it all at once at participating vendors.

Speaking of, SORT BY WEIGHT/VALUE. I *think* it's available on PC, but I'm on xbox and the UI is (necessarily) different. But I still think it should be an option. You KNOW how we play, TODD. You know we sit there to determine which junk is the best value for the weight while we're getting under max capacity mid-dungeon. Make it easy on us.

Land vehicles. Some of those POIs are _so far away_ and a) you make it so we can't sprint constantly and b) you space things out really far. It makes it a chore to explore and get those juicy surveys done. I almost _always_ max out a biome's survey options before I get to the first trait. Give us a speedier travel option, please?

Less suicidal companions. I can't tell you how many times I've sat there shooting at a pirate when my companion comes over and stands RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME and then complains when I accidentally shoot them. Maybe don't stand where my bullets are!

This is a much less common complaint than the others, probs, but when you have a chameleon spacesuit and you try to shoot... you can't see your ironsights/reflex scope. You have to go to third person or a scoped weapon to be able to see where you're shooting. So like... maybe just DON'T hide the sights? Or put a reticle up just so we can actually use the armor?

I suck at space combat and I'm not sure why. So I don't have a solid suggestion here, but that does seem to be the consensus- people don't know how to space combat because the system is either not good or not explained.

Oh that reminds me- BETTER TUTORIALS. I was EIGHTEEN hours in before I realized I completely misunderstood the lockpick minigame (which is a huge improvement fwiw).

Level ranges on the mission boards so you don't end up in a level 15 starfighter combat when you're level 5.

Current inventory counts on crafting/vendor screens. I need to know if I have 400 of a thing in my cargo bay before I buy/build another 30, please, without needing to back all the way out, check my inventory, then come back in. Or do an inventory spreadsheet. Which I totally didn't do. Promise.

[thisapplepielife]

Written for a @astrangersummer.

What You Need For Today

Week #3 Prompt: Flowers | Word Count: 1400 | Rating: T | POV: Lucas | Pairings: Lucas/Max | Characters: Lucas, Dustin, Steve, Erica, Max | CW: Language | Tags: Post S4, Recovering, Buying Flowers, Dustin Has Opinions (Doesn't He Always), Hospital Visits, Always the Goddamn Babysitter Steve (But He Wouldn't Have It Any Other Way)

Looking through the glass door of the cooler, Dustin at his side, Lucas checks out all his options. They all kind of look the same to him, to be honest. Different colors aside, they are just flowers wrapped in paper or arranged in vases. 

He can't stand here forever, so he opens the door and reaches for the nearest bouquet, one wrapped in a pale blue.

"That looks like it's for a new baby! She didn't have a baby!" Dustin snaps, shoving him out of the way. Lucas moves away from the door, willingly. He isn't sure what he should pick, doesn't have the brain power left to decide, so any help, even if it's just Dustin steamrolling him, will be better than nothing.

Dustin is rifling through the options, touching them all far too rough, and Lucas doesn't want to be associated with this at all. The florist isn't looking, isn't paying any attention to either of them, but Lucas is not in the mood to be yelled at. Not today.

The place has had a steady stream of customers, in and out, and he assumes that's because so many people are still hurt, still grieving, after the town was ripped to shreds. And those who stayed need to do something, anything, to feel like they're helping. And buying flowers, that's normal, a relic remaining from before.

He understands that, deeply.

Dustin is still making a spectacle of choosing, so Lucas looks over his shoulder, and sees Erica sitting on the bench by the door of the shop, feet scuffing against the tile of the floor, ever so slightly. Uncharacteristically quiet. The way she's been since, well, since. He wishes she'd get up and come over and have an opinion just as strong as Dustin's.

Embarrass him, shame him, anything.

But she doesn't.

"You need to get these," Dustin finally declares, picking up a huge bundle of red roses.

"I can't afford those," Lucas hisses, because while he doesn't know the price, he knows they are damn well out of his price range. His allowance is good, but it's not that good.

"Can you put a price on love?" Dustin asks, like it's that simple.

Lucas takes the flowers from him, and puts them back, "Not those. Someday. But not today."

Dustin rolls his eyes, "Fine. Be a dumbass. See if I care."

And Lucas just stares through the glass, again. Still unsure. 

He isn't sure how long he's stood there, mulling, unable to choose, when he hears from behind them, "What are you little dickheads doing here?" 

Oh, thank god. Steve. 

Maybe he can rein in Dustin, or at the very least, distract him.

"What are you doing here?" Dustin crows, like he's caught Steve doing something he shouldn't be. 

"None of your business, you little twerp. And I asked you first," Steve says, and Dustin is getting wound up, Lucas can see it.

"Help me pick flowers for Max," Lucas says in a rush, cutting Dustin off before he has the chance to derail this opportunity.

"Well, you can't go wrong with red roses," Steve says, and Dustin throws his hands up in an 'I told you so' motion. 

That's not enough for Dustin, it never is, he has to rub salt in the wound, given an opportunity, so Dustin adds, "I told you so."

"I know, I know," Lucas says, conceding, "but I don't think that's, uh, exactly, right," Lucas says, "for the…occasion."

And Steve nods, like he's understanding what Lucas is laying down.

"Of course, you're totally right," Steve agrees, arm draped over his shoulders as he's standing next to him, also looking, while Dustin prances around impatiently. 

Lucas is leaning towards the yellow bouquet. It's pretty, and bright, and would really liven up Max's hospital room. Even if she can't see it. Even if she'll never know it's there.

When he brings her red roses, he wants her to know it.

"How about the yellow?" Steve asks, finger pushed against the glass, pointing at the arrangement that Lucas was contemplating.

"That's what I was thinking," Lucas admits, happy to have confirmation that it's a good pick.

"Max will love them," Steve says, and reaches in and plucks them out of the cooler, handing them to Lucas, then demands, "Henderson, go get him a blank get well soon card from the counter."

Dustin grumbles about it, but blunders away.

Once he's gone, Steve's voice is low, "You got enough, Sinclair? If not, I can loan you some cash."

It's nice. Steve is really Dustin's friend. Or even Erica's, in a weird way. But he still shows up when he's needed, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. 

"Thanks, Steve. But I think I do."

And Steve just nods, turning back towards the cooler, reaching in and grabbing a big bundle of the red roses.

Dustin reappears, and they both stare at Steve.

Steve looks back at them, "What are you little shitheads looking at? It's a classic, and I like what I like. You don't mess with what works."

"And red roses? They work?" Lucas asks.

"I told you that, asshole," Dustin says, adding his two cents, yet again. 

"For some occasions they definitely do, but these yellow ones? That's what you need for today," Steve reassures, and Lucas puffs out his chest, feeling happier, more confident about his decision. 

They both pay, and on the way out, Steve stops in front of Erica and pulls one of the roses out of the bouquet in his hand, holding it out for her to take. She rolls her eyes, but gives him a smile, and it's one of the few Lucas has seen her offer up in days, weeks.

Erica takes the rose, and Steve lowers his hand over her head, like he's going to touch her hair. Lucas wouldn't recommend it, but she takes care of herself, like always.

"Watch it, nerd," she says, batting his hand away, and Steve stops short of touching her, but he's made her happy. Lucas can tell, and he wishes he'd have thought of it first. Maybe it wouldn't have been the same, coming from him, her brother. Maybe it had to come from Steve Harrington, the ringleader of her beloved Scoops Troop.

"Good thing you showed up, we need a ride home," Dustin demands, not asking, never asking. 

"Maybe I have other places to be, Henderson. You ever think of that?" Steve snarks at him, holding up the roses, but he still unlocks his car, letting them all inside. Erica puts on her seatbelt beside him in the backseat, clutching the stem of the rose in her hands, looking out the window.

Lucas wonders when, if, things will ever go back to normal.

Dustin and Steve banter in the front seat, lobbing barbs back and forth that are familiar and normal, so Lucas supposes that's a start, at least.

Later that afternoon, Erica standing at his back, Lucas pauses in the doorway of the hospital room, listening to the steady beeps of all the machines keeping Max alive. The vase of yellow flowers in one hand, a new Stephen King book in the other. This time, he checked out Skeleton Crew from the library. It's a short story collection, and he likes the idea of having something new, something fresh, to read to her everyday during visiting hours. 

A new story for a new day.

She's still asleep, body still broken and trying to mend, and it squeezes at his heart. He doesn't know when they'll let her try to wake up. How long it might be, even if it has already felt like forever. Her hair is braided to the side, bold red against the white pillow, and that means El must have been here earlier. 

The vinyl creaks as Erica sits down on the couch behind him. She's been a near constant presence at his side since the Creel house. She goes where he goes, and he honestly has no complaints.

He places the flowers on Max's end table, and scoots the chair up as close to her bed as he can get it. Once he's situated, he cracks open the book, smoothing his hands over the borrowed pages, holding it in his lap, as he begins to read.

"This is what happened. On the night that the worst heat wave in northern New England history finally broke..."

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @astrangersummer and follow along with the fun! 🌞

Notes: The end book snippet is from The Mist, the first entry in Skeleton Crew.

[malinaa]

TOP 9 BOOKS

tagged : @hmsharmony ty jennifer this was SOOO hard oh my god like. genuinely agonized me for days to think about what to choose but it was SOOO fun tho <3 tagging : @rosesau | @evcndiaz | @pendrgcn | @gayarthur | @the-tenth-arcanum | @oretsev | @wherepoetsdie | @bellamyblakru | @ryekat & anyone else who wants to do it !!! rules : list your top 9 books obviously. i cheated a little and put series as as one option because that's just who i am as a person. most of these i chose at random from my 5 star reads from the past few years btw

1. percy jackson and the olympians (series) by rick riordan

i was never a big reader in elementary school—or at least not to the extent that my classmates had been. my sixth grade english class required us to bring a personal book from home for silent reading and i stole my brother's spine-cracked copies of pjo and brought them to class. i finished the whole series in less than a school week (i had to scramble to the library to pick up another series because the single novel should have lasted me at least three weeks). pjo literally kickstarted my love for reading as a hobby and i truly don't know how to state the importance it had on my little ten-year-old brain fr

2. on earth we're briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong

i have never read a book more beautiful in prose and so uncommonly human than this. there's just something so incredibly heartbreaking knowing this whole book is the narrator's letter to his mother who can't read! like what the fuck

3. alone with you in the ether by olivie blake

this came as a surprise to Me when i first read it. i meandered through the first quarter, loving the writing style but feeling disconnected from the characters until the Church Hand Scene™ and it was hook, line, and sinker at that point (i have since come to love the disconnectedness in subsequent rereads, knowing that the feeling was the Point). i have read this book four (4) times since i read it first last year. LAST YEAR!!! olivie has like... fundamentally altered my brain chemistry or something because i feel like everything i have written since having read this book has been somewhat influenced by it.

4. much ado about nothing by william shakespeare

what can i say! this is theeeeeee romcom ever. i have watched so many adaptations of this play, read it countless of times and can recite some iconic lines, and still the banter between benedick and beatrice is sooo elite. cannot be topped!!

5. a place for us by fatima farheen mirza

fun fact: seed rec'd this book to me and has been reccing it to anybody who would listen. the prose is so lush and melancholic. it's one of those books where nothing Really happens, but you feel Every Emotion Under The Sun and you're just like. altered by reading it

6. the song of achilles by madeline miller

obviously.... OBVIOUSLYYYYYYY this had to go here. if i had two nickels for every greek myth retelling i read during school that fundamentally changed me etc etc u get it. i read this as a junior in high school when we, yet again, had to bring a personal book to read durin class. i think at that point of my life, i've never read something that tragic yet so beautiful at the same time and now i am always looking at the beautiful and tragic in media. so! there u go! brain cells rewired and whatnot!

7. the grisha trilogy by leigh bardugo

this is funny because i . technically did not rate any of these books 5 stars i'm sobbing. but like, considering the fact that my url is what it is and the way i always have them in the back of my mind, it's no wonder that i put them here. i have such an odd attachment to these books and these characters. i had copies of these books since their release but didn't touch them until ... before the sab tv release which is so fucking funny. like i don't know what i would be like if i read this as a t(w)een. i would've been so fucking insufferable ngl

8. when my brother was an aztec by natalie diaz

i actually read this for an assignment and had to write a report on it and i had SO much fun doing it. diaz plays a lot with hunger and her imagery is literally unmatched. i think about the way she contructs sentences and am filled with such envy. my beginning sentence for my paper was a nod to her style (though i failed miserably). it was: "in a paradoxical sleight of hand, hunger feeds in natalie diaz's debut." she is just. so fucking good at words i need to CHOMP on it

9. sharp objects by gillian flynn

you know the thing where you see a really popular author for a really long time and they have their work adapted to the screen and it's so good but you still haven't read their actual writing? yeah, that was me with gillian flynn (specifically about gone girl). i read gone girl, i read sharp objects, i read her short story the grownup, i'm currently reading the last novel of hers that i haven't read, dark places, and flynn is just so... incredibly good at constructing harrowing stories. it's no wonder why all three of her novels got adapted to the screen! her prose is so grounded. vivid. there's this ease to her writing that, whenever i concurrently read another novel, i always find the other piece to be lacking. i slink back to flynn's prose and immerse myself in her awful, human worlds.

[funakounasoul]

Survey Results! We're a bunch of courteous folks (lol)

The Tumblr version of the poll finally ended, so here are the results that I got between both here and over on Twitter. The results are quite overwhelmingly in one direction:

Twitter definitely had a more active presence for the 12 hours it got for its poll. Those are 17 different people! I can't even vote in that version - I get to see the results live! But I did have to pick something if I wanted to do the same over here, hence that third option. I AM surprised, though, to see that not many actually picked that option, so there are definitely Tsukutabe fans following me!

Or...there are fans that check out the fandom tags frequently, at least. Hey! You should follow me! I draw a lot of NomoKasu~~!

Anyway, what does it look like? Well it looks like a lot of us are simple and courteous folk. "Nomoto" and "Kasuga" are how they're referred to in most of the stories, and in summaries, etc. They still address each other as such (they're so polite! lol), so that's what we tend to use, too! While we know their first names, it still feels odd to use it because they don't, like we're being considerate of their own ways of addressing.

Or, you may just call them that because it sticks to your brain quicker. That's fine, too! Sometimes it's hard to remember full names! I barely remember the names of all the regulars at my job, so I take what my mind can get down!

But hey, lookit you, little handful of folks that endearingly call them by their given names! All Tumblr folk, it seems~ You see them as close friends, just like Sena (Nagumo for those that didn't realize it during the poll's active time). But I see we got a long way to go before that becomes a majority, if at all.

...Do you think we may all start shifting that way when the actual ladies themselves finally shift gears? Or will we all be stuck in our ways by then lol?

I guess only time will tell. Right now, for me anyway, it feels weird to think of them with their given names. A weird background, nagging feeling. Nomoto and Kasuga just sound more Familiar. Friendly? Something like that.

Feel free to reply with your reasons, as well! I am especially curious of the YukiToto folks!