#the second half of season 2 is such a whirlwind and i love it

[chemmerson]

kagura and kyo’s episode in season 2 is actually so emotional likeeeeeeee

[bitchlessdino]

Would you like a receipt? Pt. 1

In Valentines collaboration with @svthub hosted by my wifey @wongyuseokie, pt 2 out now! Pairing: Childhood bf!junhui x working class gn!reader Genre: fluff, slight angst, slice of life Word count: 2.9k tags: second chances, exes to ???, childhood friend/boyfriend!junhui, spontaneous dates, misunderstandings, smut in part 2!!! Summary: Coming across a grade school ex-boyfriend while you worked a shitty seasonal job around Valentines was not in your 2024 bingo card. author note: to sweet mio at @skyechild i apologize in advance for making you wait for the second half. I promise it'll be worth the wait. but yes! i am your one and only cupid. I hope you enjoy what i have so far. And to answer your ask, idk if i have a favorite thing about myself? Maybe it's the constant desire to look for new things to improve on or my attitude in trying new things? What i look for other people is pretty simple tho. That would be ease. I'd like if someone felt comfortable with me and vice versa. if i can make someone's day by making them laugh or just existing then that would be great. happy valentines day mio! From yours Truly, Cupid💘

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun @tinkerbell460 @aaniag @tacosandbitch @cottoncheol @embrace-themagic

Valentine's Day has always been a bit of a hit or miss for you. The last time you remember eagerly anticipating the holiday was back in high school. Since then, the allure of celebrating love and romance seemed to fade away, as you realized that not everything in the world is adorned in shades of pink and red. Valentine's Day became a luxury, a whimsical indulgence that felt distant and impractical for someone navigating a world that often left little room for such extravagances. Life, for you, was a series of tasks, responsibilities, and the constant juggling act of making ends meet.

From the time you were in high school, you entered the realm of adulthood, where dreams sometimes took a backseat to the more immediate needs of providing for your family. The dreams you put on hold lingered in the recesses of your mind, awaiting their turn to be fulfilled. Working tirelessly, you made sacrifices, dedicating yourself to a job that demanded your energy and time. Despite the challenges, you pressed on, ensuring the well-being of your family, who toiled alongside you, if not even harder.

Now, as an adult working a part-time job that offers a slightly better paycheck than your previous one, you’ve grown used to the matter. While the financial gains may not be monumental, every improvement counts, especially when compared to the downfalls of your previous workplace.

Amidst the whirlwind of your daily hustle, Valentine's Day transforms into a distant echo of the past–a time when celebrations were carefree and seemingly attainable. However, for you, navigating the world feels akin to maneuvering on an almost empty tank. In this moment, mere existence becomes a means to sustain yourself.

“Is this a gift? If so, would you like it to be gift-wrapped for you?”

The middle-aged man raises an eyebrow, smacking that mint gum that doesn’t seem to mask his nicotine-coated breath. “Is it extra?”

“It’s two dollars extra.”

Usually, you’d really sell the idea that the highest premium quality wrapping paper would be used to then be topped off with a satin ribbon that truly pulls it all together, but for such a customer, you know you’d be wasting your breath.

He scoffs, snatching the bag off the counter. “Are you trying to scam me? Fuck that shit.”

You let a sigh of relief slip past your lips the moment he made his way out the sliding door, muttering to yourself about the smell. You reach down for your Powerade hidden on a bottom shelf of the counter you stand behind, hoping this supposed ‘power’ would relinquish itself to you for another long shift.

It’s the day before Valentine's Day, which means the rush has become a regular occurrence since about a week ago. The store is bursting with vibrant displays of flowers, stuffed animals clutching oversized lollipops, and decadent heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. Not such a bad gig if you look at it.

However, the true predicament lies in the presence of aggressive customers, drawn to discounts like magnets. They're all about grabbing anything and everything that's on sale, making things more complicated than they need to be. It's like they're trying to see how far they can push things and make your day even crazier. Dealing with them adds an extra layer of chaos to the already busy scene as if you haven’t lost faith in humanity enough.

“I bought this yesterday and it’s DIGUSTING! I want a full refund and extra compensation for my time and taste buds being wasted on this disgusting excuse of a candy.”

Popping open the box revealed a sorry sight–almost half the candies were missing as if they'd gone on a little taste adventure without an invite. The poor box looked like it had been through a candy apocalypse, so messed up that I couldn't even be sure if it originally belonged to our store.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry you're dissatisfied with our products. However, because the box is so damaged and half of the contents have been consumed we cannot accept this return,” you respond in your most polite service voice.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Where the hell is your manager? The customer is always right!”

At last, a wave of relief crashes over you like a superhero arriving just in the nick of time during closing hours. The once bustling crowd has dwindled, allowing you to begin the task of rearranging items and securing the cash register, signaling the imminent conclusion of yet another busy day.

Just when you're on the verge of clocking out and calling it a day, a sudden interruption unfolds at the entrance. A lone figure materializes outside, softly tapping on the glass as if pleading to be granted entry.

"Please," his voice is all muffled through the glass, "I know you're about to close, but pretty please! I just need to grab something real quick. I already know exactly what I need!"

It’s not every day you see a man of his looks and caliber beg to be given access to a candy store as if he were a determined child. There's this undeniable air of urgency about him–as if he’d die if we didn’t get what he needed–but it doesn't overshadow his perfectly proportioned features that illuminate under the evening street lights. Ultimately, you decide to approach the door, swiftly undoing the top lock of the door and allowing him inside.

He expresses his gratitude with a grateful clasp of his hands, swiftly navigating through the inventory to grab what he urgently needs. Returning to the counter, you initiate the process of unraveling the closing procedures, all the while fervently hoping that no one else decides to join the stranger in last minute browsing.

"Sorry," he apologizes as he drops his items on the counter: several heart-shaped boxes and a bear clutching a mini Mylar balloon that shouts 'I love you,' with a small box of chocolates in its other paw. A classic and popular choice.

“That’s a lot of chocolate. Big family?”

He shakes his head, "Nah, these are for a company thing. I've been busting my butt for weeks, and the one simple task I get, I can't even manage it until the last minute."

"Got it. And the bear? Picking up a last-minute surprise for your girlfriend too?"

A slightly offended look crosses his face. "Oh, if I had a girlfriend, I’d do way more than make up my tardiness with a teddy bear.” He holds the fluffy creature in his hand, “This is just for my mom. So, if you ever spot a lady with my face and long hair, please, keep it on the down-low."

You chuckle softly, bagging up his purchases. "I'll remember that. Cash or credit?"

He extends his hand, revealing his credit card with his full name on display. As you sound out the name in your head, it strikes you as unique yet oddly familiar. You run the card through the machine, unaware that the customer is squinting at you, also trying to place where he might know you from.

"Hey, have we met before? You seem really familiar," he questions.

"Uh, not sure, but your name does ring a bell," you reply as you hand the card back. "Haven't come across too many Wen Junhuis."

"Wait, how do you know my name?" he questions.

"Well, it's on your credit card, sir," You respond with straightforward precision.

"True, but no one has picked it up as quickly and accurately as you did. Maybe we do know each other."

You shrug. "Maybe so. I think the last time I heard a name like that was back in elementary school. A classmate maybe."

"Hold on, you couldn't be Y/n, right?" he questions, his eyes widening with realization.

You take a brief pause to grasp the implication, acknowledging it with a nod. "Been a long time coming, hasn't it?"

His smile widened across his cheeks, evoking memories of a similar grin on a boy more than half his age. "Yeah. Well, I be damned. I'm surprised you remember my name."

"It's pretty distinctive; I'm surprised you remember mine."

He scoffs. "You are a core memory, thank you very much. One of the nicest and coolest people in our grade. God, remember our first Valentines?"

"Yes," you softly chuckle, the memories of childhood innocence flooding back. "I begged my mom to get these really nice scented Valentine cards to give to the class."

"And you gave me the lemon one because I love lemons, and I gave you one of the hologram cards of a cat that smiles when you flip it on its side."

"I was so excited to show my sister, and I just know she was so jealous."

"Yeah, where did the time go?" he sighs, his smile turning wistful on his lips.

You shake your head, still smiling from the unexpected trip down memory lane, and finally, hand off his gifts back to him. "Would you like a receipt?"

"No, I'm good. So,” He leans over the counter curiously, “What are you doing this Valentine's?"

"Working the day. I'll probably just grab takeout for dinner and head home. You?"

"It's a workday,” he says proceeding to grab his things. “So most of the day is spent in the office. But, I'm free the rest of the evening…would it be weird if I asked you out for Valentine's Day?" he nervously proposes.

You raise an eyebrow, slightly taken aback but intrigued. "You want me to be your Valentine?"

"Couldn't hurt," he nonchalantly shrugged, a wry grin playing on his lips. Then, as if a light bulb flickered to life above his head, an idea dawned on him, sparking mischief in his eyes.

"Unless you've got a 200-pound, all-muscle boyfriend ready to beat my ass," he quips, his tone laced with a hint of sarcasm. The words linger in the air, forming a playful challenge and a subtle admission that, just maybe, he wasn't entirely impervious to consequences.

It harks back to a past altercation, one of those rare 'couple quarrels' you had. The promise was made in jest—that you'd leave him if he ever pulled on your hair again, and he'd have to face a burly 200-pound muscle man. Though uttered in humor with no evidence of said muscle man, it struck a chord of genuine concern in his little boy heart, and he kept that promise until the end of your relationship. The memory lingered, manifesting now in an unmistakable charm, a blend of audacity, bravado, and humor that fills the air with laughter and unadulterated ease.

You chuckle. “Lucikly, I don’t, but I don’t know you. Who knows what kind of person you, or I, have become in the last fifteen or so years? Maybe I'm a bitch.”

"Well, as long as there’s no one else in the picture, I see no problem. Bitch all you want to me." he grins.

Your expression shifts into a playful contemplation, "Why me? I'm pretty sure there are plenty of people out there dying for a dinner date with you. I mean, the last thing we shared was a juice box."

"Maybe I'm hoping to reignite an old spark. If I recall our MASH game correctly, we were supposed to be living in a shack with 20 kids, a dog, and daily commutes on a scooter," Junhui retorts.

"Thank goodness that scenario never played out, but, um, I'm not sure dinner is a good idea."

As the banter unfolds, you realize it's been an eternity since you've experienced the thrill of a proper date. The mere thought of dressing up, the nervous excitement before meeting someone, and the shared laughter over a romantic meal become fragments of a distant past, like pages in a cherished novel stored away on a forgotten shelf.

“We never know unless we try, right?” He says, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“You always hit on exes that you stumble upon on a random Tuesday?”

“Only the pretty ones.” Junhui grins, swiftly extracting a candy box from the bag. With a quick scribble on the side, he hands it to you. “If you change your mind. Happy Valentine's Day.”

You roll your eyes playfully, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you accept the candy. “Happy Valentine's Day to you too, Jun.”

You depart with a box of candy in hand when your shift ends, Junhui's number hastily scribbled on the top, the ink still fresh as that abrupt encounter. As you make your way home, the city lights shimmering in the distance, you find your thoughts circling back to his audacious proposition.

The weight of the candy box seems to mirror the gravity of the decision before you. The city streets, now quieter in the late evening, echo with dilemma of pursuing his offer. You can't deny the charm that lingers in the air—a mix of confusion, nostalgia, and an unexpected connection. The mere act of considering his offer adds a layer of excitement to the night, anticipation for plans that have been yet set in motion.

As you unlock the door to your apartment, the scent of familiarity welcomes you warmly for once, likely due to the refreshing end of your night. You set the candy aside–already having memorized Junhui's number–and with a decisive tap, you enter his number into your phone. The screen lights up with his name, a digital beacon inviting you to venture into uncharted territory. As you send a quick message, the city outside continues its gentle hum, and you can't help but feel giddy. You’re eleven all over again.

The memory of Junhui's charismatic grin lingers in your mind, a subtle tug at the edges of your thoughts the moment you hit send, and you throw the phone aside, letting yourself get rid of the electrifying nerves running through your body. When you hear the notification going off–Junhui’s name on display–you realize there’s no going back.

The following day, you’re excited about living for once. Delighted to have something to look forward to after work, you board today's bus with a genuine smile on your face, a subtle change that doesn't escape the notice of the bus drivers, who have grown accustomed to your early presence by now.

As the bus carries you through the familiar townscape, you can't help but revel in the subtle shift in the air. The usual humdrum of daily life seems to have given way to a vibrant undercurrent of anticipation for the holiday. The ordinary scenes outside the window take on a slightly pink hue, and you find yourself savoring the details that often go unnoticed illuminated with festive decor.

Work hours also pass with a newfound energy, and the anticipation for the evening grows with each passing minute, even with the rambunctious customers buying more gifts just in the nick of time. The mundane tasks of the day become a mere backdrop to the vibrant scene that awaits you once the clock strikes the end of the workday.

Today, the world outside the candy store seems to radiate brighter than any other day has. The street lights gradually flickering on, usually just a backdrop to your daily grind, now beckon with a promise of surprises. As the day unfolds, you find yourself counting down the hours until your appointment time arrives and you quickly change into your Valentine's date attire, anticipating Junhui's reappearance.

Time moves forward—one hour, two hours, three hours. Doubts begin to creep in. Were you merely indulging in wishful thinking at this point?

The rose-tinted glasses, which once painted the day with a hopeful hue, must have started to expire. Now, a subtle gray takes over, bringing you back to the stark reality of the passing moments. The initial excitement begins to wane, replaced by a tinge of disappointment and a hint of uncertainty.

As the clock ticks away, doubts and questions swirl in your mind like a gathering storm. The vibrant anticipation that once filled the air begins to dissipate, leaving behind a quiet unease.

You glance at your reflection in the mirror, the Valentine's date attire now carrying a touch of wistfulness. The city outside, once alive with the promise of a special evening, now takes on a different tone. The street lights, initially beacons of excitement, cast shadows that dance with anxiety and unease. The imminent arrival of buses amplifies a fleeting thought–maybe, just maybe, you can still catch it if you run.

Taking a leap of faith, you hastily gather your belongings and make your way to the bus station, adhering to your initial plan—opting for takeout in the solitude of home, if restaurants are still an option at this hour. Amidst the uncertainty, your phone succumbs to the lack of power, its screen plunged into darkness, mirroring the tone of your night.

The familiarity of home brings no comfort, only disheartenment. You set aside the dinner you had envisioned for tonight, plugging in your phone to replenish its drained battery, intentionally avoiding any further interaction with the outside world for the remainder of the night.

When your phone finally regains its power, messages burst to life in an instant, one particular message standing out, beckoning attention. That is, of course, if you were still around to witness it.

Junhui: I’m so sorry! You will not believe the day I had. My office was bombarding me all day with extra work and i only left now. Please tell me its not too late.

P.S. and here's that valentine i wanted to give to you <3 i hope you like it as much as this fic so far

[stars-n-spice]

So, this is it, huh?

I figured the least I could do was write something down before shit goes down because I know after tomorrow I don't think I'll be emotionally available to do or say much about the show and what it and the fanbase means to me.

The last few days, my mind has been a whirlwind of emotions and I don't think I've ever really suspended my disbelief since it was announced that this would be the last season.

I felt like Po honestly, in Kung Fu Panda 2, when he's like "But I just got Kung Fu!" when they're talking about Lord Shen making that weapon that straight-up kills people who practice Kung Fu (I'm going somewhere with this just bear with me-) because I'm fairly new to the animated shows of Star Wars fandom and didn't start hyperfixating on Bad Batch until midway through Season 2 while those episodes were still releasing.

So when they announced that the 3rd season was the final season I was devastated. "What do you mean no more Bad Batch? I just got Bad Batch!" - I didn't want to believe it.

But here we are. Final season. Final episode.

I can't describe how the obsession started. It just did.

When the first season was coming out, I was still on Season 6 of TCW, so I got into it a little late. Then when it was over I immediately jumped into watching Rebels and became utterly obsessed with that show while Bad Batch just stayed, "Oh, neat show I watched."

Then the second season came out. I don't know how or when or why but suddenly something just went off in my brain and I became obsessed. I became attached. I fell in love with Wrecker in a way that I've never once felt or experienced towards any other fictional character, or person for that matter. I grew to understand Crosshair on a deeper level that made my heart ache for him and made me reflect on my own past and choices. Echo became a comfort character and an anchor in my life in where he's the first thing I think of when I'm down to put myself in a better mood. Suddenly I was ready to give Omega the universe and everything good in it. Tech became a lifelife (ironically) a hope that despite how I am and who I am, I'm capable of loving and being loved. And recently I've become so incredibly attached to Hunter because as the oldest child of five as well, I know that crushing weight of responsibility. Of failing your siblings. Of trying to be better.

This squad. This family. Cheesy as it is, I can't describe what they mean to me but Force, I'll try.

Recently I've been wondering why I'm so attached to this show and these characters. Jokingly, part of it is yes, the Bad Batch are lovely to look at and that does play a role in why I enjoy watching the show so much, but that's not completely it.

I think I speak for a lot of us fans when I say that I didn't fit in as a kid. I still don't even as an 'adult.' Look, I'm a biracial guy from two VERY different cultures that don't feel like home to me. On top of that, half of the time I don't know how to identify myself in gender and sexuality because I don't feel either most of the time. I'm introverted. I have anxiety. I probably have autism. I'm a burnt-out former gifted kid. I quite simply don't fit in.

"No, I'll stay. You guys don't fit in here either."

That? Yeah.

This show is for all those kids. Everyone who never fit in. Everyone who was told they were strange or weird, for the kids who ate glue in the back of the classroom, who were told they were too loud, who were put down because they didn't express emotion a certain way, for the kids who sat alone at lunch, who got left behind in their friend groups, for the kids who felt like they had no one so turned to harmful things, for the kids who were told they were special only to be discarded later in life, for the kids who don't know their place, don't know where they fit in and if they even do or ever will.

It's a show that tells those kids you're more than that. You're worth it. You're worth loving. You're worth protecting. You're worth the second chance. You're worth being loyal to. You're worth teaching. You're worth forgiving. You're worth it. You're worth it. You're worth it.

In the end there's hope for us. There's hope for all of us. And I think that's why I cling to tightly to this show. Why it means so much to me. Why I so desperately need these characters to make it out alive.

It's what Star Wars was from the start. About hope. About family. About loving and being loved and learning to love despite your circumstances. It's a show that took a bunch of neurodivergent absolute daddies and packed in so much angst but also feel-good moments with stunning animation, beautiful, moving music, and phenomenal voice acting. It's a show I can't help but love and love immensely because it feels like it was written for me.

For that kid who spent their recesses with their nose buried in an animal encyclopedia or talking to imaginary characters from their favorite books. For that kid who always felt so utterly useless and hopeless whenever they got less than an A- for a grade because they were supposed to be the gifted one. For the kid who struggled so much to be the older sibling they never asked to be. For the kid who just wants to find someone, anyone, who will love them as they are and fight for them. For the kid who valued loyalty above all else, always has, always will, and never gets it in return. For the kid who never fit in.

And well, whatever happens in the finale, I'm so grateful, so blessed, and so honored to have been a part of this journey with all of you.

[thesassypadawan]

Wizard *part 2* (Knight Obi-Wan x RealWorldFemReader)

Note: Read Under My Tree first to get an idea of what’s going on. 

Summary: After a very monumental Christmas with Obi-Wan, it’s time to share the good news with the other most important person in his life, Anakin. What better way to do so than making it the most special New Year Fete he has ever had. Happy New Year!

Warnings: Contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Other Notes: Anakin is ten years old in this.

New Year’s Fete Week is the first five days of the year (according to the Galactic Standard Calendar) and is a five-day festival that celebrates the new year.

New Year’s Day, the first dawn of the year. A time of renewal and fresh starts. The moment when we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new…by celebrating with those we care for the most.

“There!” Obi-Wan declared, straightening the star. “How does that look, darling?”

“As pretty as a card,” you said with a warm smile, setting a tray filled with fresh baked cookies on the small table.

It had been barely over a week since Obi had popped the big question and what followed was a whirlwind of craziness. First you told your family of the joyous news, which they were absolutely elated for you both. Then there was the whole matter of sorting out certain affairs, the biggest being of how you were going to tell the other most important person in Obi-Wan’s life…Anakin.

With two hot chocolates in hand, you came to join your fiancé next to the tree. Offering him a nug, Obi accepted it gladly. “Do you really think Anakin’s going to like all of this?” He asked, wrapping an arm lazily around your waist.

“Of course,” you laughed, resting your head on his shoulder. “In fact, I know Ani will love it.”

“Speaking of the little imp,” Obi-Wan muttered, sensing a ripple in the force.

The second bedroom door slid open and out stepped a still half-asleep Anakin. “G’morning, master,” the ten-year-old yawned, completely oblivious to his surroundings.

Not wanting to spoil the surprise quite yet, Obi replied in his usual cool tone. “Good morning, young one.”

“Morning, Ani,” you chimed in the chipperly.

“G’morning, Aun…” Anakin began to mumble, when suddenly your voice registered, and he snapped fully awake. “Auntie!” He exclaimed excitedly, running over and throwing his short arms around you.

“Hey, kiddo,” you hugged him back tightly. “Happy New Year.”

“Happy New Year,” the padawan beamed up at you. “Are you here to go to the festival with me and master?”

Obi-Wan tousled Ani’s hair. “She certainly did. She also came to help me prepare this special surprise for you.”

On cue, Obi and you stepped to the side. Revealing the tree, presents, decorations, and cookies.

Anakin’s eyes widened in wonderment as he took everything in. “Whoa, what is all of this?!”

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched Ani immediately zone in on the gifts. Typical kid. “This is your first Christmas.”

“Christmas?” He asked, gently shaking a package. “What’s that?”

Grabbing a cookie for them both, Obi-Wan came to join his apprentice on the floor. “It’s a holiday your Auntie celebrates on her planet around this time of the season. She wanted to share it with you. Maybe make it a yearly tradition for the three of us. What do you think?”

Anakin took a big bite of his gingerbread wookie. “If it means I get yummy treats, presents, and spend the whole day with you guys…then I’m in!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After a morning filled with eating sweets, merrymaking, and unwrapping heartfelt gifts��it was time for the New Year Fete.

The two of you agreed to tell Ani your big news after the fireworks tonight. A wonderful way to end an absolutely perfect day. And, with that plan in place, your happy trio headed off to the festival.

As soon as you arrived, Anakin, of course, began begging for some kind of sugary snack.

“Haven’t you had enough already?” Obi chuckled as he (and you) were led through the bustling crowd, to the nearest confectionery stall.

“Nope, never enough!” Ani replied cheekily, before asking the elderly vendor nicely for an order of fried dough balls.

“Oh my, such a polite young man,” she kindly said, handing Anakin his container. “And handsome too with that scarf and pendant.”

A huge grin spread across his face. He had loved the scarf and river stone pendant you both made him so much, that he insisted on wearing them out today. “Thanks! They’re gifts from my mom and dad!”

Trying not to show either of your surprise, Obi-Wan quickly paid the woman and whisked you all to a more secluded area.

Exchanging glances with Obi, you sat down on the bench next to Ani. “Kiddo, why did you tell that lady we’re your parents?”

“’cause,” Anakin mumbled, popping a ball into his mouth.

“Because why?” Obi-wan asked, taking the other seat beside Ani.

Swallowing, the padawan reached for another. “Because Auntie has that ring on her finger. Which means you’re getting married, and we’ll become a family. So that will make you like my mom and dad.”

Anakin paused a moment, looking back and forth between you two. “I got that right, right? Unless you don’t want me to be your kid.”

Neither of you could believe what you just heard. Anakin had known all along, and he wanted to…

Smiling softly, you pulled him into a loving embrace. “You got it right, Ani.”

“We would be honored to have you as our kid,” Obi added, joining in on the group hug.

“Wizard,” Anakin said happily, tears of joy shining in his eyes.

[saltygilmores]

Thoughts While Watching Gilmore Girls-Season 2, Episode 22-I Can't Get Started-Part 6-The Crusty Season Finale! If my post about the kiss between Jess and Rory slipped past you today, here you go: Part 5

We got 3 minutes to go so let's get this crusty nonsense, and this season, OVER WITH.

Lorelai better go check on Rory, because When Jess said that, Shane was never seen again.

Ah I see Crusty's pulling the ol Liz Danes card: "My second kid will be the do-over kid”

Wow, Lore and Crusty sure have had a whirlwind 2-3 days! Let's recap! 1. Crusty surprises Lore and Ror by barging in unannounced and uninvited to Rory's medical appointment 2.Lore falls in love with Crusty in the doctor's office as his Bare Minimum Fathering reignites the tingle in her loins 3.Crusty drops the ol "Me and Sherry are having problems so do you think you can find some space for my wiener, it's lonely" chestnut at Sookie's party which a drunken Lorelai buys hook line and sinker 4.Lore and Crusty have one and half minutes of mediocre sex at her place of employment 5.The gobsmacking level of selfishness displayed by these two fools for the next 12 hours is unparalleled in early 2000's teen drama history 6.They continue to swap DNA all over the damn place at Sookie's wedding in broad daylight 7.Lorelai hangs her entire future on this one and a half minutes of mediocre porking and next thing you know Lorelai is already telling Sookie, her mother , and worst of all poor Rory, that Christopher is totally absolutely 100% fo real fo sho stickin' around this time 8.Lorelai assumes Crusty is going to leave Sherry and move out of their home (?!) 9.Creepy Sherry's "long business trip" was about one day long and she's also Pregnant 10.Crusty leaves 11.Bye Crusty! Season 2 IS OVER!!!!!!

[sashimi-time]

Completed BL Manga/Manhwa/Manhua Recommendations (2)

Hey! Now, I made part 2! I couldn't add images in the other post, so here I am!

Do you have any completed BL that you'd like to suggest? Please let me know!

Love Shuttle (90 chapters; Lezhin)

Plot (MAL): There’s a late bloomer, and then there’s a late bloomer. Do-Yun may be half Omega, but he certainly doesn’t look it: he’s tall, chiseled... But the worst of it all is that he’s a full-grown adult male who has yet to go into heat. He doesn’t see the problem, and everyone assumes he’s an Alpha, anyway. But when his body finally decides it’s “time,” it just happens to be at the most inopportune moment. He has no-one to turn to but his work rival, Tae-Han – but thankfully, Tae-Han is more than man enough to help him out.

Note: This is another cute omegaverse story! Take note, it's NSFW. I don't think I've read a non-NSFW omegaverse story, to be honest... Anyway! This one is pretty wholesome. I believe that Tae-Han and Do-Yun's relationship is very healthy. <3 The two of them are hella cute. Give it a try if you haven't!

Also, kindly note that I did not read what Side Story 2 is about. I've seen some snippets, and it made me not wanna read it. Lols.

Blood Link (135 chapters; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): A human, lycan, or a vampire - what am I?! Completely unaware of the existence of these predators, Hwa Gok goes about his everyday life… That is, until Lee Bin turns his life upside down by biting him on the neck, setting off a whirlwind of events neither of them could foresee.

Note: I absolutely loved this one! I think the story is sweet, and the art is amazing! Both Season 1 and Season 2 were such a blast to read! Please note that there are 2 couples, one for S1 and one for S2, and both seasons are very NSFW. ( ๑‾̀◡‾́)✨ Besides, who wouldn't want to read about vampires, lycans, and humans?! I believe you would most definitely enjoy reading about them. Do give it a read if you haven't yet! The endings are *chefs kiss*

Insecret (72 Chapters + 30 Side Story; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): The life of a K-pop star is a hard one, especially if you’re Choi Yuwon. Not only does he have to keep up with the grueling lifestyle of an idol, but he also needs to keep a vigilant eye on the troublemaker of INSECRET, Park Dojin. Dojin acts how he pleases, and Yuwon is the only person in the group who can keep him out of trouble. This arrangement seems to work just fine for the both of them, until one day, Dojin makes a fateful mistake…

Note: Okay, so, to be 100% honest, as much as I loved the story between Dojin and Yuwon, I am mostly recommending this for the second couple (the focus of the side stories). I mean, Dojin and Yuwon's story is cute, and they're adorbs (especially by the ending part!), but some parts of the beginning of their relationship were kinda problematic for me, you know? ANYWAY. I loved reading this one! Other than the interesting story (HALLO, it's a romance between two members of a boy band?!?! With a weird, sort of master/dog thing going on?!), the art is amazing! It's very NSFW though. //・ω・//). ┻┳|

I won't comment much on the side story because I might be spoiling you unintentionally, but please, take my word for it when I say reading their story is very interesting! I love the dynamic between the second couple. The progress in their relationship, in my opinion, is great. It seems very realistic to me, I guess. To be honest, I didn't even expect that they were the second couple lol. But maybe that's just me. HAHA.

Woof Wolf (55 Chapters + 6 Side Story; Lezhin)

Plot (AP): Min-woo and Jae-min have been eyeing one another across the classroom for ages, but so far they’ve only gotten hot and steamy together in their imaginations. Just as the sexual tension reaches a boiling point, Jae-min makes a shocking discovery: Min-woo is a werewolf! And this only excites him more! Will Min-woo be a good pup and make Jae-min howl in bed? The fangs and claws will surely come out this semester!

Note: This one is a really cute read! It's short, and the couple was sweet. The art is great, too! Plus! Green flags are waving for both Min-woo and Jae-min! I loved that there were no super huge misunderstandings between the two of them. I think their relationship was very mature.

And hello! WEREWOLVES! Who doesn't like them, amirite? It's NSFW, so please be warned. Ehe.

Living with Him (10.5 Chapters)

Plot (BM): Natsukawa Ryouta, a boy with a domestic disposition, is striving to make his college debut. At last, his dream of living alone has come true…!! …or so he'd thought, until it turns out he has to room with his childhood friend, Tanaka Kazuhito, a guy with a sparkling aura?! Their mutually self-conscious, mutual pining love between roommates begins!

Notes: This one is a really short, fluffy, cute read! I loved the relationship between Ryouta and Kazuhito. It's pretty straighforward, and there are no misunderstandings between the two of them. I remember loving how sweet and respectfully Kazuhito is. A total green flag top right there! Ryouta is very cute, too! Most definitely read this if you want something light-hearted and chill.

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 5)

This is pretty par for the course as far as some slightly horny bits but no actual horniness. Still, if that squicks you, read with caution. 

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, (here) Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

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The next few days of Geralt’s marriage didn’t fare much better than the first. He and Jaskier were truly an ill match. Sure, the young man was charming, not even Geralt was immune to his wiles, and he was certainly easy on the eyes, but he’d never met someone as annoying as Jaskier.

Jaskier could talk a mile a minute, and the less Geralt talked, the more Jaskier did. This rankled. Geralt had learned that talking less was supposed to encourage less conversation, but clearly Jaskier hadn’t grasped that.

Far worse than the talking was the singing. Singing, humming, tapping, even playing his lute, Jaskier was always doing something. It was like riding beside a musical whirlwind, with the added penalty that at least a whirlwind wouldn’t know lyrics.

It wasn’t totally Jaskier, Geralt knew. They were riding hard to get as far from Lettenhove as possible, and the weather hadn’t let up. It had rained for almost five days, steady, drenching rain, with never enough time to get dry. They went to bed damp and woke up damper. Their socks were moist, their hair sopping. Jaskier was pouting because he couldn’t play his lute and somehow that made him more talkative. Despite the springtime, the rain was cold and sometimes he had to pause mid chatter to shiver. All this, made Geralt’s mood go south. Worse, he always hated parting from his brothers. There were so few of them, the first days without them were hard. 

And he had to deal with some spoiled little rich boy.

That wasn’t being fair to Jaskier, he rarely acted spoiled, not  really spoiled. It was, however, intensely clear that he was used to comfort and they were not, right now, comfortable. He didn’t complain too much about things Geralt couldn’t change, like the weather, apart from the odd sniffle about all his clothes being wet. He did beg to stay in an inn though. 

That bothered Geralt too. They really had little money, and here the lad was trying to get Geralt to spend it on something they didn’t need. He’d survived rain before.

That thought gave Geralt pause. Of course he’d survived rain before, but had Jaskier? It was unlikely. Days and nights of being slightly damp and chilly weren’t good for humans, they tended to get things. Like chest infections. And pneumonia. 

Geralt spared a glance at the figure riding, hunched, beside him.

Unfortunately, Jaskier seemed to take this as an invitation. 

“I can’t wait to get to Oxenfurt,” he said. “I have this friend, Essi, I think you’d love her. She’d certainly love to meet you, and she’s quite pretty, so even if you won’t tell me your stories perhaps you’d tell them to her.”

Was there a hint of bitterness there?

“Anyway,” Jaskier continued. “She wouldn’t be frightened of you in the least, I know because one time we were drunk... well, I was drunk and she was tipsy, and this man came up, really rough looking type you know? And I was raised to be polite so I ask him his business...”

Geralt stopped paying much attention. If the bard could manage that much, all in one breath, he was fine. Jaskier continued, all about this Essi character and a man trying to mug them in an alley. Apparently the girl had kicked him in the rattle and flute so hard he’d thrown up.

“And there’s this great pub,” Jaskier was saying, gesturing broadly with one hand and flinging raindrops into Geralt’s face. “It’s called the King’s Boots, dunno why, but it’s got good ale. Like, really good, not the swill you probably get in these little backwater towns. Pretty barmaids, too, if that takes you fancy.”

There it was again, that odd little inflection.

“It took my fancy, when I was a student there, of course. They weren’t terribly interested in me but, well, I began studying there at fifteen. Really, I still had spots. I wasn’t the catch you see before you now.”

Geralt didn’t deign to respond. Whether or not Jaskier was a catch wasn’t something he was going to weigh in on. 

Even if he definitely had an opinion.

That was maybe the worst of it all. In spite of the constant noise and restless intrusion into Geralt’s life and routine, he did like Jaskier. That was good, considering they were married, but he wanted to kiss Jaskier, at least once. Just to try it out. That was bad because their marriage was about a half inch from being a sham. Married in name only.

“What sort of ladies do you get?” Jaskier was asking. “I mean, it’s obvious you never have any trouble finding partners.”

Geralt thought of a woman in the woods, of Blaviken, of blood. 

“Shut up.”

“No really, Geralt,” Jaskier whinged. “I wan’t to know. Queens and mages? Legendary beauties.”

“Prostitutes.”

“Ah, legendary beauties it is then.”

“I don’t know about legendary,” Geralt said, cursing himself as he did so for encouraging this inane line of questioning. “But they were beautiful enough. For a price.”

“Ah the ladies and gentlemen of negotiable affection will forever have a place in my heart,” Jaskier sighed. Geralt wasn’t about to hear Jaskier’s sexual history in any capacity. For his sanity, he decided to shut the conversation down.

“I expect they’re the only ones willing to touch you.”

Shit. That one had been too harsh. He didn’t mean it, surely men and women and people all fell at Jaskier’s feet with even a glimpse of his smile. He must know he’s attractive.

Jaskier barely spoke the rest of the day. He wasn’t even pouting, exactly. Just...quiet. 

They made camp under cover of some trees. The thick canapy leant enough dryness that Geralt could build a big fire and they hung their clothes over some low branches to dry. Out of the corner of his eye Geralt saw Jaskier take the basilisk leather from his pack and stroke a hand over it, which was strange. The material simply didn’t absorb water and needed no care.

Perhaps he just...liked it. It was a nice thought, sitting sort of warm and heavy in Geralt’s stomach, like a good meat pie. Jaskier liked his gift. Of course, he’d known that, back the day they’d met. That actually, apart from Jaskier’s father, hadn’t been too bad of a day.

Geralt thought about that day as he hunted wild game for their supper. He snagged a pheasant, a male, because it was mating season, and remembered how nervous he’d been, how at ease Jaskier had seemed. Perhaps it was because Jaskier had likely always known it would be, at least somewhat, a political match. Geralt had never thought there’d be a match at all.

Back at camp Jaskier had water boiling and was sitting in front of the roaring fire in just his trousers and chemise, even his socks so damp as to need a good drying. Geralt set the game to boil with a few wild carrots for a stew and sat beside him, feeling his hair finally begin to dry.

“This didn’t start out bad,” he said. He meant them, of course, and he meant it as a sort of apology, even if he knew it was woefully lacking. He just didn’t know what to say. Somehow, Jaskier’s mind must have been running along the same track.

It’s alright. You never wanted to get married to me.”

No, Geralt thought but didn’t say. I never wanted to get married. It has nothing to do with you. There’s nothing at all the matter with you. I’m just a grumpy bastard and we’re not a good fit.

A little voice in the back of Geralt’s head said, ‘you could be. If you let yourself, you could fit’. It sounded unnervingly like Eskel.

The truth was, if it had been anyone besides Jaskier, especially any noble, Geralt may have hated all this more. Jaskier liked nice clothes and clean appearances, but he wasn’t vain. He liked nice things but wasn’t greedy. He craved praise but wasn’t prideful, disliked many things but wasn’t hateful. Compared to the thieving, conniving, small minded nobles Geralt knew, he was unlike them all. 

He was definitely unlike his father. 

Jaskier played his slow tune on his lute. It was comforting and almost familiar, just background music. Geralt stirred the pot, breaking up some larger chunks of meat with the spoon. 

Maybe this would fix some things. They’d be dry, with hot food. That could fix a lot.

“Geralt,” Jaskier asked. “Can I sing?” 

Damn. Well, it was weird the lad was asking for permission, but Geralt didn’t like the idea of controlling the man’s voice, no matter how often he told him to ‘shut up’. Somehow it didn’t feel the same.

“Whatever,” he said.

Jaskier sang lowly, voice pitched at the edge of human hearing. Geralt wasn’t a human, of course, and could hear it clear as day. It was a folk song he’d heard before, a tragedy about a young woman who’s love left and she drowned herself.

It didn’t seem fitting. Jaskier was so lively. Geralt prayed he hadn’t fucked up enought that he’d dampened the bards spirit. 

“Do you know The Chandler’s Wife?” Geralt asked when Jaskier’s song was done.

“That one, with the” Jaskier clicked his fingers three times, mimicking the snapping or tapping that happened in the song.

“Hmmm,” Geralt confirmed, nudging the contents of the pot.

Jaskier began to play. It was a bawdy song, with tapping substituted where innuendo would be. It was simple and cheerful and short, and by the time it was finished they both had steaming bowls of stew. 

“Of all the songs you could have asked for,” Jaskier said, blowing on his stew. “I never would have picked that one.”

“Lambert’s favorite,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier chuckled. “Makes sense, seems like his sort of song.” He took a large spoonful of stew and groaned in delight. Geralt very emphatically did not pay attention to that sound in any way at all.

“I expect you miss them,” Jaskier said.

“Some,” Geralt didn’t want to talk about it, so he focused on shoveling stew in to his mouth instead. Jaskier got the hint. He just settled one tentative hand on Geralt’s shoulder for a second, then went back to eating. He may as well have pressed a brand to Geralt’s skin.

That night, in their separate bedrolls in mostly dry and fire warmed clothes, Geralt could still feel Jaskier’s palm against him. 

There was another reason, Geralt knew, for his over-grumpiness. It was guilt. Mostly he was alright, but hearing Jaskier chatter excitedly about Oxenfurt and all the things they could do together there...ate at him. 

Jaskier had said he didn’t want to be left. Gotten rid of, had been his phrasing. And Geralt was going to. This rain had just been proof, though. Next time it could be pneumonia or hypothermia. The boy shouldn’t be out here. 

It didn’t help Geralt sleep much better. Jaskier had also used the phrase ‘abandon’. 

-- -- *-- --

The next village had a monster problem. 

“Drowners, what do they do?”

“They drown people, Jaskier.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “No, I meant, what do they look like--”

“Ugly.”

Another eye roll. “And how do they do it. Do they spin like an alligator? Do they sink claws in and pull...?”

“The second one,” Geralt said, sharpening his sword. He figured they were far enough from Lettenhove that whatever political turmoil Vesemir had unleashed wasn’t going to catch them too soon. 

“I can’t wait. Do they have scales? Fins? Are they slimy like frogs?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, finally paying attention. “What do you mean ‘you can’t wait?”

“I get to see you in action! Heroic witcher risks his life for helpless townspeople, it’s all very...Galahad.”

“Galahad?”

“Yes Geralt, he’s only the most famous hero written about in the last three hundred years,” Jaskier said. He was gesturing broadly, the way he always did when talking about literature. Geralt settled in for a rant. 

“You know, ‘my strength is as the strength of ten becasuer my heart is pure,’?” That was Jaskier’s quoting voice.

“Never heard it,” Geralt grunted.

“That’s okay, it’s about this hero who’s good and saves everybody. You’re better than him anyway because you’re real.”

“I’m...better than a mythical hero.”

“I mean...yeah,” Jaskier said like it was obvious. “Everyone knows flaws make a character better. You’re totally hot with a heart of gold, score. Very classic. But also,” Jaskier turned to him grinning. “You’re emotionally constipated and smell like onion.”

“You said heroics a few days ago.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, that’s what’ll go in the songs. Best of all is that you’re a witcher. Nobody likes witchers but that can change. You’ll be a tragic hero!”

“Tragic?”

“That hair is, do you ever brush it?

“We’re getting away from the point,” Geralt said, resisting the urge to swipe his fingers through his hair. “You aren’t going to see me fight.”

“What, you can’t just leave me at camp!”

No, no he absolutely couldn’t just leave Jaskier at camp. There could be assassins, wolves, anything.

“We’ll get a room at the inn.”

“Really? Oh Geralt, a real bed would be so nice, there’s been this crick in my neck, but you’re not leaving me in an inn room either.”

“You could perform.”

“Excellent bait, but no.”

“Jaskier, please. You need to stay in town,” Geralt was pleading. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been pleading. Probably when he was trying to convince Vesemir not to marry him off for the betterment of witcherkind.

“I want to see you fight!” 

“It’s dangerous!.”

“You fight tons of these, right? I’ll stay super far away.”

“You could still get hurt, something goes wrong and you’ll get hurt! Humans are...soft.”

Jaskier tilted his chin up defiantly. Because they were the same height this wasn’t exactly necessary, but it gave Geralt a better view of his simply devastating eyes which was...not helping.

“I have the perfect plan,” Jaskier said. Were there silver flecks in his eyes? In this light Geralt was almost certain there were.

“I’ll stay back,” Jaskier was saying. “Any distance you want so long as I still get a reasonably good view. And I’ll wear the basilisk doublet.”

It was a good idea. Jaskier would stay back, the doublet would keep him safe. 

Geralt might get another chance to be smiled at byJaskier.

Doublets. Doublets, doublets doublets. Think about the doublet. 

“That would only keep your chest and arms safe.”

Jaskier smirked and patted a hand on Geralt’s chest, causing his slow heart to speed up just a little. “Are you going to let a drowner get to me? Get to my head, Geralt? My pretty face?” Jaskier pouted and Geralt’s stomach flipped over.

“Fine,” Geralt grunted. “You can come along.”

Jaskier looked very fine, all buttoned up in his basilisk leather doublet, and he was surprisingly quiet. This area of the forest was silent. and the ground was soft and slightly damp underfoot. They were near the Pontar river, which they would follow the rest of the way to Oxenfurt.

Here and there Geralt could see signs of human activity, but thankfully no humans in the area. Signs of woodcutters, likely the ill-fated ones who’d discovered the drowner’s pond in the first place, were scattered about. 

They came within view of the pond. More swamp, really. It was so covered in green algae that it looked like some sort of oddly paved floor. It was as still as glass. Geralt took Jaskier’s--surprisingly strong--shoulder in one large hand and steered the boy to a log that he deemed was sufficiently far to be safe. Then he drew his sword.

Drowners weren’t hard to fight, and here in this little pond there were just two, skinny and hungry. Geralt felt relief flood him as he realized that he wouldn’t even need his potions. He didn’t want Jaskier to finally understand what a monster he was. Geralt was enjoying putting off that realization as long as possible. He was also enjoying being a noble hero, likened to this Galahad character, who sounded alright if a bit boring. 

Geralt rolled his shoulders. He didn’t need to, but it looked nice and Jaskier was looking. The first drowner was close, now, trying to sneak through the algae, but Geralt’s vision was much better than its. He waited until the wretched thing lunged. 

The slash of the drowner’s long claws missed Geralt narrowly, but he hadn’t been worried. He pivoted, working on years of instinct. This was who he was. Here he was on much safer ground than with courting and castles. He was a witcher, and fighting monster’s was what he was trained, and to some extent built, for. 

The first slash didn’t kill the drowner, instead lopping off the arm that had so recently threatened to claw his eyes out. Then, with a clever twist of his wrist he sent his blade back the other direction, lopping off the head. It had taken all of a second from the point of the drowner’s lunge. 

It’s companion was slinking up, ready to attack as well but Geralt didn’t need time to recharge. His senses honed in, he felt his pupils dilate to take in the low light coming between the trees and he leapt.

No normal man could have made the leap that sent him over the drowner’s shoulder and onto the shore behind. It hadn’t been the full length of the pond, but rather a diagonal leap that gave him just enough time as the creature spun around. Geralt brought his sword down and cleaved the thing in two.

“Holy shit.”

Geralt looked up, not even breathing hard.

Jaskier was still in his spot on the log. Unlike Geralt, he was breathing hard. There was a flush across the tops of his cheeks, pretty and pink, and his eyes were wide. Even from his spot across the pond Geralt could see the dark pupils and the blue of his irises. 

Gerals severed the heads and warned Jaskier that he was removing the brains for his potions. His response was a squeaked ‘okay’. 

Damn. Had he scared the lad? He didn’t smell scared. Geralt wasn’t sure what Jaskier did smell like. 

He took the brains quickly and packaged them, then slung the heads of the drowner’s from Roach’s saddle. 

Thunderbolt, Jaskier’s horse, had been left at the inn. Inaccurately named, the creature, despite his large size, was docile, gentle, and prone to startling. 

Geralt dipped his hands in the scummy water and dried them on his pants to at least get off the worst of the gunk.

“Well?” he asked Jaskier.

“Wow,” the man said, stepping closer. “That was quick, too.”

Geralt grunted. “Only two.” He didn’t bother mounting up, leading Jaskier and Roach out of the forest and back towards town. 

Jaskier’s heart still sounded like it was going a little fast.

“Frightened?” Geralt asked. The lad smelled like adrenaline and...oh.

“No, just...exhilarated I suppose. I’ve never seen a battle like it.”

Jaskier smelled aroused. Now that Geralt had realized what it was it was all he could smell. The scent clogged his nose and set his brain in a pink, fuzzy cloud. Did Jaskier think...? Would he want..?

Except, of course not. Everyone knew you could get sort of adrenaline high. Plenty of young warriors got a little...stiff after a battle. And being nineteen, Jaskier probably got, got in that situation, with a light breeze. 

He was looking up at Geralt like he’d personally hung the moon, though. No one had ever, as long as he could remember, looked at him that way. There is a certain kind of beauty that comes with being kind to someone, Geralt knew. He hadn’t often seen it. Eskel had scars across his face that were frightening even to some other witchers but his friendship and care towards Geralt always blurred those over.

Now, in this fetid, swamp of a forest, Jaskier was developing that special beauty to Geralt as well. 

He was loud and talked all the time, even now that he seemed to have regained his wits he was chattering about what he’d write. His voice sounded less harsh in Geralt’s ears, though. Because Jaskier thought Geralt was special, and that made him special in return. 

They made it back to the inn, with a brief stop at the alderman’s house, muddy to the knee, although that wasn’t new. Geralt was also somewhat bloodspattered, which was horrible and wasn’t winning him favors with the townsfolk. 

“Got a room?” he asked the innkeeper, a bent old man that Geralt could probably lift on one finger. As is the wont of many smart inkeepers, there was a taproom on the first floor of the inn, and he was industriously cleaning mugs. 

“One,” the man said. “One room, one bed. No prostitutes, them ladies’ gotta do business elsewhere.”Geralt nodded and handed over the coin. 

“Bathouse in town?” he asked. They followed the old inkeeper’s directions to the edge of town, near the river. 

“I can’t wait for a good bed,” Jaskier said. “But I think I’m looking forward to this bath even more. I think my dirt has dirt on it, and my hair is disgusting. Yours too, will you let me wash it?”

Geralt wasn’t listening, also looking forward to the bath. He hummed in response.

“I hope it’s hot,” Jaskier continued. “No, hotter than that, I hope it’s boiling. I want to feel like a carrot in a stew pot when I get in.”

“You’d be a turnip,” Geralt said without thinking.

Jaskier sniffed. “And you’d be an onion.”

Geralt almost chuckled at that. The only reason he didn’t was that, at this moment, it was probably almost true. They both smelled pretty ripe. Jaskier had been correct, too, about there being layers to the grime. Geralt could almost peel himself. Like an onion.

“Anyway, I think I’d be something special, like a dash of pepper or, oh! I’d be a tomato.”

That caught Geralt off guard. 

“What.”

“A tomato, when they’re cooked just right so they almost burst when you cut into them and the juice explodes all over your mouth.”

Geralt wasn’t going to think about any juices of any kind exploding all over anyone’s mouth. Especially not Jaskier’s mouth, with it’s pink lips and clever, wicked tongue that darted out from time to time to wet them. 

“Don’t you think so, Geralt, aren’t I a tomato?”

“Hmmm.”

Jaskier did it again! It was liable to take Geralt’s sanity, the sight of him wetting his chapped lips like that. Maybe if he didn’t speak so much, worse, if he didn’t bite those lips so much, they wouldn’t be so chapped. For some reason Geralt had an insane desire to smear ointment across Jaskier’s lips with his own fingers. 

They would feel so soft.

Geralt paid the bath house attendant and they followed directions to a separate area in the low, stone building, where they could strip off and have a sort of sponge bath. This was of course so that they didn’t get dirt and monster guts in the bath, and was done with each in their own little three-walled wooden stall. Geralt had to call for a second bucket of water to get the guts from his hair. 

Sufficiently scrubbed, he stepped out into the main baths. Only then did he realize the crucial fault in his plan. They were open plan baths. Jaskier was beside him wearing nothing but a towel. Geralt, likewise in a towel, began to sweat. 

He kept his eyes firmly forward and cursed his excellent witchery peripheral vision because he could see...see Jaskier. Dark chest hair, soft and slightly damp. The way a droplet of water trailed from the back of his hair and down his neck, wetting tender skin.

Fuck. 

Jaskier walked towards the bath as if nothing was amiss. Of course, nothing was amiss, they were just two traveling companions. Having a bath. For Melitele’s sake they were married, even.

Geralt saw Jaskier’s foot hit a wet patch and the young man’s steps faltered, sliding a little. Geralt caught him with all his witcher speed, feeling Jaskier collide with his chest. Those blue eyes again, and yes, definitely silver in them. 

Jaskier was blushing, whether from proximity or steam, Geralt didn’t know. He leaned in. Jaskier’s tongue wet those inviting lips again. 

“You missed a spot on your cheek,” Geralt said, drawing back. He hadn’t been sure it wasn’t just a freckle, but it was definitely a bit of dirt. Jaskier sighed.

“Better get in and wash it off, then.”

Why did he sound dissapointed?

Geralt looked away as Jaskier released his towel and slid into the water, doing the same and waiting a second until he was absolutely sure it was safe to look. Jaskier had his head tilted back to rest against the floor, where the bath was sunk into the ground. Geralt sat next to him on the little ledge and let the warmth hit his muscles. It wasn’t boiling as Jaskier had hoped, but it was warm and lovely. The day’s fight hadn’t set any ache into Geralt’s muscles, but the days of sitting tensed up about Jaskier had, and he let them drift away.

Next to him Jaskier hummed contentedly and Geralt couldn’t help but agree. They lingered, not speaking, in the warm baths until they were truly pruny. Geralt neatly had to drag Jaskier out, but couldn’t risk Jaskier becoming too drowsy and drowning. 

They toweled off and redressed and were back at the inn in time for supper and for Jaskier to play. 

Geralt sat in the back of the small taproom, glowering about at anyone who looked like they might get close. He would have gladly gone up to their room and not bothered but Jaskier was performing. He couldn’t leave the bard there, where anyone could attack him, or ply him with too much alcohol and rob him or worse. Besides, he was curious.

Jaskier was capable, in an odd sort of way that was so far different from what Geralt was used to, but he was good at things. There was nothing he tried that he seemed to be terribly bad at. Geralt wasn’t a good judge of music, but he wanted to see if this applied to performing.

As he’d suspected, it did. Jaskier was masterful. Not only was his music top notch, but all his energy, the liveliness, the live wire electricity of him was directed when he performed. Normally, all that energy seemed to make Jaskier’s thoughts and actions a little disorganized, almost mess. Here, in this dingy little tavern, it made him radiant. Every eye was watching, every gaze enthralled, at least for a short time. If Geralt’s medallion hadn’t lain still on his chest he would have called it magic. 

It was incredibly sexy. This was Jaskier in his element, fierce and confident and wearing the doublet Geralt had given him. 

That struck a strange little shiver down Geralt’s spine. A piece of Geralt, prancing about, tied to Jaskier. The gift of the wolves of Kaer Morhen shimmered and twisted with his movements, the black pearl buttons catching dim light. Every eye was on Jaskier, some more salaciously than others, but Geralt couldn’t have cared less. He wouldn’t have cared even if someone had kissed Jaskier there and then. Geralt had no claim to Jaskier like that, they were only married in name. But they were married, and somehow Jaskier so proudly wearing that doublet meant more than a kiss ever could.

A little part in the back of Geralt’s brain wondered if he could have a kiss and Jaskier wearing the doublet, but that was silly.

Geralt went out to see Roach briefly when the performance was over. The applause was too much for his ears and his head, but ran back in when he heard the shouts. 

Three men had Jaskier against a wall, looking furious, and Jaskier looked angrier than they were. 

“Let him go,” Geralt growled, hand going for his sword...which was upstairs in their room. 

Fuck.

The men turned to him, all holding knives that were only knives because no one let swords get that jagged. 

“Your whore here,” one of them said with a shrug towards Jaskier. “Was telling us all how we shouldn’t talk shit about you witchers.”

“Yeah,” sneared another man with rotten teeth and even more rotten breath. “Got all righteous.” He stepped forward, raising his knife. “Said we ought to be thankful.

Geralt felt his muscles tense, gearing for a fight he really, really didn’t want to have.

“I think we oughta show you our ‘gratitude’,” said the third man.

“Or I can show you the door to the next world,” a voice purred. It was Jaskier.

“What is poking into your kidney, or thereabouts,” the bard continued. “Is a fish knife, I believe. I picked it up off the table. It’s pretty sharp, so I wouldn’t recommend moving very quickly. I would recommend, if you like to keep living, dropping your weapons, all three of you, and just walking away.”

The man’s compatriots looked at Jaskier in confusion. Jaskier pressed the knife in just a hair’s breadth further. 

“Do it,” growled the man currently held hostage. Three knives clattered on the floor. 

“Very good,” Jaskier purred in a voice that was both menacing and sent electric signals all the way down Geralt’s spine. “I can see you’re the brains of the outfit. Now apologize to my friend.”

“Wha..?”

Jaskier twitched his knife hand. “Apologize. To. My. Friend.”

“I’mverysorrymisterwitcher,” the man said, all in one breath. 

“Good, and?”

“And...and thank you for getting rid of the monsters?” said the man, hesitantly. Jaskier let down the knife. 

“Scram,” he said. The three toughs fled.

“A fish knife?” Geralt asked, trying not to focus on how spine tinglingly sexy that had been.

Jaskier shrugged. “I don’t keep weapons on me usually. Shall we go to bed?”

Bed turned out to be an overstatement. It was pretty much a cot, and a very slim one at that, but neither of them were going to sleep on the rough floorboards so they squished in together. 

Jaskier snuggled up to Geralt with contented little humming noises and laid his head on his chest. In the corner, in the moonlight from the window, Geralt could see the basilisk leather doublet where it lay on Jaskier’s pack. It would be a shame, he thought, wrapping his arms around Jaskier to keep him from tipping entirely out of the narrow bed. To part from his husband in Oxenfurt. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tag List!

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar@aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstillam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @werevampiwolf @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander @1stbonesfan @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtee @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @west-moor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @little-piece-of-tamlin @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @so--many-fandoms @kirk-spock-in-the-impala @oniongrass @flowercrown-bard @maya-the-yellow-bee @thecomfortofoldstorries @wellthisstinks  @flowercrown-bard @obsessedchildsworld @debellatis @zotinha456 @tumbleweedtech @goblin-loves-shiny-things @birdsflyhome @holymotherwolf @the-shenny-of-azkaban  @enkelikauneus @silvermirror1997 @just-a-himbo-and-his-feral-bard@iamaqt314 @itsthelittlethingsnlife @oneshots-galore @inikokoru @gryffinqueen

People who I tried to tag but can’t seem to: @ailorian @thenameislion-dandelion  @darkangel91939 @saphiramalbec

Supposed to be tagged and weren’t? Is your tag listed but not actually linked? I’m having some trouble, so let me know!

[latinatasharomanoff]

Sylki Fic-Rec Masterpost

Hey, it’s me again--and that is ‘Captain of Highly Unpopular Ships in which One Character is a Diva and the Other is a Survivor’ for you, sir! 

I’ve put together a small, but thoughtfully curated list of fan-fiction recommendations for folks who cannot wait until 2022-23 to watch the next season of Loki. My top 5 include complete, in-character works that honor the themes of the show in a way that resonated with me under STELLAR writing. If you want to check out my IronWidow masterpost, go to that insanity here. 

Happy reading!

1. Into the half light (and through the flame) by BrightBlackTrees 

“Loki is the black sheep of the prestigious Odinson dynasty. His life has been a whirlwind of indulgence without consequence - but now his adoptive father has firmly thrown down the gauntlet and threatened to cut off Loki's inheritance if he doesn't clean up his act. Begrudgingly, he allows himself to be checked into a private rehab facility. He just needs to make it through the 12 week program sober, and then normal service can resume. However, one of his peers, Sylvie, takes an instant disliking to him and seems set on reading him for filth at every opportunity. Joke's on her - he's into that shit.”

2. Homecoming by catalystcomet

“To Thor’s surprise, Loki reached out and hugged him. A simple gesture, one they had once been able to share so easily, so long ago. Thor wrapped his arms around his brother and held tight, grateful for the opportunity to hold him again. He caught sight of a tear, glistening in the light of the setting moon, as it slid down Sylvie’s cheek.

“I’m so glad to have you home,” he told Loki as they pulled apart.

Loki stepped back and took hold of Sylvie’s hand. “And we are glad to finally be home.”

3. Mirror My Malady (Transfer My Tragedy) by Kapua

"You okay?" he asks quietly, and she lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug.

She's not okay. Not really. But she lets him lead her back to their bed anyways, lets him kiss her until it chases away the looming sense of imminent disaster, tries to lose herself in the feel of him beneath her fingertips. She grips him tight enough to brand half-moons from her nails into his skin, maps constellations across his skin with her mouth in an effort to remind herself that they're here. They're together, and she's not alone, and the loneliness inside of her is a lie.”

4. Touch by smallsthehero

“An alternative scene for the Nexus event on Lamentis in which Loki and Sylvie are given a bit more time to explore the feelings that are blossoming between them.”

5. Something Real by professnerdiness

“I haven’t seen you here before,” he said at last.

“I used to come often, but I haven’t been back in years.”

“Did your tastes shift away from what is offered? Or…did you move away?”

“Neither,” she said, leaving it at that. “Lately I’ve been looking for something in my encounters but…I’m not sure what it is. I just know I’m not finding it. And not for lack of trying. Tonight, I thought I’d try searching here.”

“Perhaps I can help you figure it out.”

Honorable Mentions:

- Foundations by Polkadotdotdot

“Powerful lawyer Loki Laufeyson has 90 days to secure the demolition of The Lamentis Building in Brooklyn, New York.

Sylvie Dottir has 90 days to stop him from destroying a beautiful landmark and the local community where she runs her vintage bookstore.

It's a shame they can't see how similar they are...”

- No Prisoners by preserumping

“Sylvie knew she hated her neighbor from the moment she laid eyes on him.”

- Loving Strange Birds by Earth2StarChild

“Victorian England - Sylvie Lushton is a parlor maid desperate for work so when she finds a advertisement for a position at a quiet country home with only a single bachelor to tend to it seems to good to be true, and of course it is.”

- slow (how you wanted it to be) by PinkCanary

“We need to have sex,” Sylvie says, with absolutely no build-up at all.

To his credit, Loki only sputters for a second, backlit in the dim light of the New York Sanctum’s kitchen. “You have a way with seduction. I’ll give you that.”

- RE: ARRANGEMENT by neonheartbeat

“When Sylvie, a high-end escort working in the heart of London, gets notified through her agency that the infamous Mr L wants to meet with her, she's highly suspicious at first.”

[diwatera]

LGBTQ+ Movies I Watched Recently (Part 2)

Happiest Season (2020) dir. Clea DuVall

Short Summary: Abby plans on proposing to Harper when they visit Harper’s family for the holidays. Her plans get derailed when she learns that Harper hasn’t come out to her family yet.

Why you should watch it: Not gonna lie, Mackenzie Davis drew me to this movie; I’ve been in love with her ever since San Junipero came out. Add Kristen Stewart, Aubrey Plaza and Dan Levy to the mix and I’m sold. If you want a sapphic romance with a happy ending, this one’s for you. 

Été 85 (2020) dir.  François Ozon

Short Summary: Alexis recounts his six-week love affair with David during the summer of ‘85. 

Why you should watch it: If you love 80s aesthetic and music, you definitely should watch this. The movie made me nostalgic of that decade and I wasn’t even alive back then! It’s a whirlwind summer romance reminiscent of Call Me by Your Name but with a more devastating twist.

Getting Go: The Go Doc Project (2013) dir. Cory James Krueckeberg

Short Summary: An obsessed college boy pursues his internet crush through the pretext of making a documentary about him.

Why you should watch it: The script and the acting are the one-two punch of this film. The writing is incredibly genuine, and both of the actors’ performances made the lines feel even more natural. I’m not the biggest fan of mockumentary-style films, but this one felt like it was a recording of my own life. Hyper-obsessive college grad with a Tumblr blog? Might as well have called out half the population of this damn site.

Pihalla (2017) dir. Nils-Erik Ekblom

Short Summary: Miku and Elias find themselves, and each other, during a summer in the Finnish countryside.

Why you should watch it: I’m a sucker for gays in the countryside™ and although this one is not quite up there with God’s Own Country and Call Me by Your Name, it still makes for a good watch. Miku as a character and his relationship with his parents was chaotic and fun. His relationship with Elias felt really natural and dreamy. 

You, Me and Him (2017) dir. Daisy Aitkens

Short Summary: Olivia, a mature responsible lawyer, wants to have a baby, but her girlfriend Alex isn’t ready for the responsibility. Things get even more complicated when their flirty neighbour, John, joins the picture. 

Why you should watch it: It is one of the most feel-good lesbian romcoms I have seen in a while. But I warn you, there are some dark parts that can really sneak up on you. Yeah, it’s hilarious, but damn it made me ugly cry, too. Oh, and if you want to see David Tennant as an alpha male douchebag, here’s your chance. (CW: **spoiler alert** p̶r̶e̶g̶n̶a̶n̶c̶y̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶s̶ )

Giant Little Ones (2018) dir. Keith Behrman 

Short Summary: Franky and Ballas have been best friends since childhood, both on the swimming team, both incredibly popular. But after an incident during Franky’s birthday, they quickly fall apart and Franky falls from grace.

Why you should watch it: I think the film captures just how tumultuous coming-of-age stories are. Franky is going through his own journey of self-identity, and I’m happy that the movie didn’t rush in with labels. The conversation Franky has with his dad at the end also hits hard.  (CW: physical assault, allusions to sexual assault)

Our Love Story (2016) dir. HyunJu Lee

Short Summary: A fine arts student meets an attractive bartender, and the two women begin an intimate relationship.

Why you should watch it: It’s a very intimate love story that isn’t rushed or dragged out for too long. We definitely see Yoon-Jo and Ji-Soo’s relationship bloom from start to end, but it’s not mind-numbingly boring to watch. Raw and unembellished, I definitely recommend this to anyone looking for a realistic portrayal of wlw romance.

Die Mitte der Welt (2016) dir. Jakob M. Erwa

Short Summary: The film follows Phil and his relationship with his family, his best friend, and a newcomer at his school, Nicholas.

Why you should watch it: This is technically a second watch for me, and I’m glad I rewatched it, because I was able to catch some glaring red flags that I missed the first time. I love this movie in spite of all the heartache it caused me. The story, especially the deal with Phil’s family, struck a chord in me. And the shots! Visually stunning as well! 

Les Amours Imaginaires (2010) dir. Xavier Dolan

Short Summary: Marie and Francis’ friendship is put to the test when a beautiful boy called Nicolas comes between them. 

Why you should watch it: Watch it for the visuals -- the colors, the costumes, the cast. Seriously, the actors included here may as well be kept in the Louvre: Xavier Dolan, Neils Schneider, Monia Chokri, hell, even a cameo from Louis Garrel! Dolan said it himself that this is a shallow film, but it’s worth the watch just to see Neils Schneider wearing heart-shaped glasses.

Closet Monster (2015)  dir. Stephen Dunn

Short Summary: A creative and driven teenager is desperate to escape his hometown and the haunting memories of his turbulent childhood.

Why you should watch it: Right off the bat, I am going to say that this film is dark. I tried watching it back in college but tapped out within the first ten minutes because something traumatic happens. Then I tried again about a week ago, finished it this time. It’s actually a very moving film. It’s violent and gory in some parts, but also ridiculous and wholesome in other parts. IT HAS A TALKING HAMSTER NAMED BUFFY! BUFFY WAS THE STAR OF THIS MOVIE FOR ME. (CW: gay bashing/sexual assault)

Straight Up (2020) dir. James Sweeney

Short Summary: Todd and Rory are intellectual soul mates. He might be gay but she might not care.

Why you should watch it: The dialogue in this film is undeniably sharp and witty. Loved the fast-paced back and forth between the two main characters as they discuss relationships, sex, gender, and more. James Sweeney and Katie Findlay’s chemistry just pulled you into the screen. It was funny, it was sweet, it was heartwrenching, it was great! (CW: allusions to sexual assault)

Latter Days (2003) dir. C. Jay Cox

Short Summary: A promiscuous gay party animal falls for a young Mormon missionary, leading to crisis, cliché, and catastrophe.

Why you should watch it: I saw this in santiagonex’s top 20 LGBTQ+ films with happy endings, and I honestly thought it was gonna be a feel-good watch. Instead, I got a rollercoaster melodrama filled with early 2000s gay culture, religious guilt, buttcheeks, and Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Needless to say, I got more than I bargained for. (CW: self-harm, conversion therapy)

The Old Guard (2020) dir. Gina Prince-Blythewood

Short Summary:  A covert team of immortal mercenaries are suddenly exposed and must now fight to keep their identity a secret just as an unexpected new member is discovered.

Why you should watch it: Okay, I was debating whether I should include this here, because it’s not necessarily an LGBTQ+ film as much as it is an action film with queer characters. I decided to include it, because JESUS! I have never seen such respectful and well-written representation of queer characters and relationships. Joe and Nicky are the most unproblematic couple in history. PERIOD. Pray for sequels, everyone. This is the kind of representation we deserve in mainstream media. 

. . .

Click here for more LGBTQ+ film recs

[incorrectsibunaquotes]

oo okay I know you like patricia and alfie, so how do you think they would get together? and do you have any hcs for if they dated?

YES Palfie supremacy ☺️

I think the show missed several opportunities to explore their romantic potential, and honestly I feel a little ✨gaslit✨ by the writers because are we really supposed to ignore half the hints at at LEAST Alfie having a one-sided crush on Patricia, if not her reciprocating. Anyway, I’ve gone into all that before, but here’s some of my headcanons and different ways they could have gotten together if the writers weren’t cowards.

Also I want to make it known, I love platonic Palfie just as much as romantic Palfie. I love their friendship, I just think there could have also been more.

Season 1: Patricia and Alfie could have gotten together as early as season 1 and I’m gonna be honest, when I first watched the show in 2011, I thought that was where they were headed. As they bonded over their nightmares and shared trauma, they could have easily been slowly falling for each other. Alfie would realize that maybe Amber was just not right for him (because she’s literally not lmfao sorry Amfie shippers) and that this girl who’s been a constant at his side since he was, like, seven is never going to leave him in the dust. That despite her hard exterior and outward teasing of him, Patricia— and honestly, in season 1, Patricia alone— actually had his best interests at heart. Patricia, of course, is slower to get the memo that she is in fact very enamored with Alfie, but when she realizes how safe and heard he makes her feel, there’s just no doubting that she likes him. They have each other’s backs and their faith in one another is completely unwavering. They also shock Jerome into cardiac arrest when they walk into breakfast one morning hand in hand. So that’s a bonus.

If they dropped the ball in Season 1, then in Season 2, they wouldn’t get together. However, pretty much all the same stuff that happens in canon happens in this hypothetical. Alfie likes Piper, but what is really happening is that by thinking for several days that Piper was Patricia, it just unearths how much Alfie really, really likes Patricia. And always has. Meanwhile, Patricia is so caught up in the whirlwind of Eddie, that she can’t see that Alfie really cares about her. But things with Eddie are moving so fast and while she really likes him, there’s just so much she can’t share. And when Eddie starts getting jealous of Alfie, she’s aware there may be more to her own subconscious feelings than she’s currently willing to share. So things go as normal, with each of them trying to ignore the unspoken bond and feelings they share.

In Season 3, we start off the same. Peddie broken up, and Amber heading off the fashion school after her heroic sacrifice. I’ll be honest, I really thought they were gonna go the Palfie route this season. At the start of the season, I would have staked my life on it. Luckily, I’m not a gambler. Anyway, Patricia and Alfie continue to grow closer as a diversion pair, while the other three Sibunas take on the other Sibuna work. They’re a well oiled machine and they have so much chemistry. I think they’d end up getting together shortly after the ceremony, maybe during a celebratory Sibuna party because they think they’ve saved the day. Like, truth or dare and KT asks Alfie to say if he has a crush on anyone, and he unthinkingly (or drunkenly) says “Patricia”. (Eddie is pissed lmfao). So they’re together throughout the whole second half of the season, and it’s much harder to capture either of them as a sinner because there’s no uncertainty. However if/when they get taken, they’re lethal. Pranksters in love with no conscience to speak of? Literally iconic.

I’m just saying there were so many missed opportunities, and I feel like we never talk about it

[lokisasylum]

Saw this tag last night and thought it was pretty cool, but was passing out from exhaustion from the vaccine so I couldn’t do it.

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

1. No Ordinary Love [BTS, yoonmin - Still in the works, but I wanted to add it because I really like the Prologue]

When I entered the club that night… I wasn't expecting anything to happen beyond a casual conversation and perhaps sharing a few drinks.

I knew very well how delicate the situation stood between us after a disastrous breakup years ago, followed by a bittersweet reunion that ended anything but friendly.

No, I wasn't there to beg nor did I want him to take me back. Jiminie had his life and I had mine.

All I wanted was someone to talk to… and he was there for me.

Can you blame me for that?

2. Forever, You Said. [BTS, jikook, vampire au]

All my life I wanted nothing more than to get away and live my life the way I want. So why… does it suddenly not feel enough? Why do I feel like I'm missing something? - Jungkook 

3. Lunatic High [BTS, fantasy au]

The sound of his own harsh breathing echoed loudly in his ears, only matched by the sound of his erratic heartbeat as he ran half blindly through the field. 

4. Heal My Heart [BTS, jikook; historical au]

"Did you come here to yell at me too?"

Jimin rolled his eyes, but couldn't stop the smile that was already forming on his lips at the sight of the young knight sulking in the corner of the room like a child.

"Of course not. I’m your physician not your squad leader or Seokjin-hyung for that matter." The elder reassured him while placing the bowl of water, rags, ointment and bandages on the nearest table. "So obviously I’m here to treat your wounds… just like I always do." He added in a smaller voice, more to himself than to Jeongguk.

5. A Promised Scenery [BTS, vmin; canon]

It was 4:00 AM, but they hadn't gone inside when they said they would half an hour ago.

Or rather they had meant to.

But the minute that their hands were clasped so tight, like they never wanted to let go, and their eyes met in a whirlwind of emotions, shy smiles and embarrassed laughter. That moment was the first time where the world stopped spinning for them.

6. You're my Tear/You're my Fear [BTS, jikook; songfic]

A broken home.

A sad song.

The curtain rises, but its the same old story from before. Different scenarios, but always the same ending.

7. Yoongi's Confession [BTS, yoonmin; canon]

Our entire relationship, our love, our life can only be compared to a violent car crash on an empty road at night under the pouring rain. 

 Lots of dark moments, heartaches, blood, sweat and tears. 

 It’s how it started... and ended.

8. Love Cravings [BTS, vminkook; a/b/o]

Jungkook groaned as his phone rang for the 20th time that night when he had finally gotten into his car.

All he wanted was to get back home, to his warm bed and SLEEP like he deserved. Was that too much to ask?

9. Dirty Habits [BTS, jikook; labeled as “late valentines smut” LOL]

Jungkook stumbled through the front door of his apartment, nearly tripping on the ‘Welcome Home’ mat that never quite made you feel as welcome as it was intended to. 

10. So Trust Me [BTS, vminkook]

--Words of love, encouragement, good health, best wishes, and strength continued to flow in waves every minute into his cell phone. Lifting his spirit and filling his heart with joy little by little though not as fast or as overwhelming as it normally should.

It’s been a hard year, not just for him, but for everyone.

Even with all the happiness and beautiful memories being created around him, there was still sadness lingering in his heart. But he wouldn’t let it show, not yet, not here.

11. The Reason [BTS, vminkook]

“Jimin-ssi, keep your defense up!!” Jungkook barked out without breaking his stance as he watched the other male stumble backwards on to the snowy ground with a loud thud.

Taehyung watched from the side, leaning against the wall next to the glass sliding doors to their apartment. Worry etched on to his features behind the large scarf half covering his face to protect him from the cold weather. It’s not the first time he’s come to watch his two lovers spar, but as to why the two insist on doing it at such an early hour in the morning where it’s the coldest its beyond him.

12. Peppermint Kisses [BTS, vminkook]

Something was up in the dorm and Jungkook didn’t like it one bit.

And that something was related to two particular members of Bangtan.

The 95z.

13. UNSTEADY (Prequel to All or Nothing) [BTS, jikook; canon]

I watched him lie through his teeth again today during practice. But it wasn’t just today, there had been many other times where I had watched Jimin do the same; skipping meals, sleepless nights, and when nothing else worked he’d wear himself out with excessive practice hours in the studio by himself.

But I’m not blind, I know it’s on me… yet he still insists on taking the fall by himself for what happened that day.

14. The Sleepover [BTS, vminkook]

Taehyung was the first to stir awake that morning with a long groan. His lashes fluttered weakly against his cheek as he tried to fight off both sleep and nausea from his system.

The hangover making its presence known with a vengeance.

15. All or Nothing [BTS, jikook; canon]

The door to his and Hoseok’s shared room slammed so hard that he could have sworn the thing would come off its hinges any moment.

How dare he?

How fucking dare he?

16. Beautiful Tragedy [BTS, jikook; soulmate au]

When I was four my mother used to tell me stories about Soulmates and how they were always bound to find each other no matter what. Because they were destined to be.

Born and made for each other.

No distance was too far, no language became a barrier, no obstacle too high or low to overcome. No hardship was too much to bare. Because soulmates were two halves of the same soul who's primary purpose was to find their way back to one another and therefore spoke their own language in their hearts.

17. Private Show [BTS, jikook; canon]

“You’re late.” A voice scolded from somewhere in the still dark room.

His hand immediately left the doorknob to reach for the light switch, revealing a figure leaning on the farthest wall, against the mirrors. His pink hair hidden by a cap worn low which also hid his face, a jean jacket over a black buttoned up shirt, dark ripped jeans and boots.

It was Jimin.

18. Sin For You [BTS, vmin; AU]

He was singing our song again at our favorite karaoke bar.

Our secret song… the one nobody knows about. That keeps us connected even at times when we had been involved with someone else.

19. It's all in your mind [BTS, canon with some subtle jikook]

It felt strange to be back home after being away for so long while filming the second season of Bon Voyage, and with a new comeback sometime in September, the schedules were sure to be tight for the rest of the year. So everyone at the dorm tried to make the most of it by getting organized and rest.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I mean... it said favorite opening LINES, in PLURAL.

WHAT HAVE WE LEARNED TODAY, KIDS?

That I need to work on my entries better =_=

Repeated patterns I may have noticed? Hmm... that I usually start the opening scenes with someone walking into a room (usually angry and throwing shit LOL), or describing sounds/smells/feelings.

And that in most cases its JK walking into said rooms and literally walking into some unknown chaos 😌😅 (said chaos being Jimin).

Tag... I don’t know if any of my favorite authors are here on tumblr, much less if I’m following any of them because lately I’ve been checking out authors who announce their work via twitter.

But if any of my moots are authors, go for it.

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hello lovely!! I’m a sucker for Sherlock comforting John after nightmares or just ptsd episodes, and was curious if you know of any? And/or any fics where johns old shoulder injury is bothering him and Sherlock helps :) I just need all the caring fluff ☺️

Hey Nonny!

Ahhhh!! Yes, I have quite a few Nightmares/PTSD fics, and I’m going to use this opportunity to update my past lists since I have a nice collection of more! As for the shoulder injury, I believe Maintenance and Repair by patternofdefiance has Sherlock doing that, but I can’t recall. I’ll start a separate list offline for Shoulder Injuries perhaps. Hmm. Actually, you might find some good Caring Sherlock fics on these lists:

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 2

John Whump / Sherlock Takes Care of John Pt. 3

Scars

Scars Pt. 2

Now, for the main event!! Hope you enjoy, and as always, Loves, add your own!

NIGHTMARES, PTSD, PANIC ATTACKS & MENTAL/EMOTIONAL TURMOIL Pt. 3

See also:

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil

Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attack, & Mental / Emotional Turmoil Pt. 2

NIGHTMARES

Study in John by chappysmom (K+, 2,158 w., 1 Ch. || Post-ASiP, POV John, Introspection, Friendship, Nightmares, Caring Sherlock, John’s Limp) – After the events of "A Study in Pink," John lies on the couch in Baker Street and thinks about the whirlwind events of the day. What is he getting himself into?

Sleepless nights by El loopy (T, 5,467 w., 3 Ch. || Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares/Insomnia, Panic Attack, Worried Sherlock) – Sherlock has a nightmare and John wants to know what it was about. Set during season 1. Three-shot.

What Did I Do Wrong? by Starlight05 (T, 7,880 w. || Hurt Comfort, Angst, John Whump, Hospitalization, Worried Sherlock, Emotional Turmoil, Nightmares, Sherlock Being Dumb) - After John almost dies on a case, Sherlock disappears. So John is left to figure out what he can do to get his best friend back. Meanwhile Sherlock, guilt-ridden and willingly alone, is doing everything he can to stay away.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets, Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

PTSD / EMOTIONAL TURMOIL

A Room of One's Own by whitchry9 (K+, 2,174 w., 5 Ch. || S2 Timeline, Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Coma, John Whump, Worried Sherlock, POV John, Angst, Friendship/Bromance, Hospital) – When a severe head injury lands John in a coma, somehow he ends up in Sherlock's mind palace. It's actually pretty nice there, and John is entertaining the notion of staying there, rather than returning to his broken body. But Sherlock isn't taking it as well, and John can feel him breaking around him.

Museums and Laboratories by RhododendronPonticum (T, 3,004 w., 1 Ch. || Romance, Angst, Obsessive Sherlock, Anxious Sherlock, Anxiety/Panic Attack, Separation Anxiety, Doctor John, Co-Dependent Sherlock) – If Sherlock's kitchen was his laboratory, then his bedroom was his museum.

A Home for Us by sussexbound (M, 30,581 w., 12 Ch. || Scars, Bedsharing, Grief, Doctor John, Hurt/Comfort, Post-TRF, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sherlock POV, Pining Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation, Heavy Emotions, Clingy Sherlock, Hallucinations, Disassociation, Emotional Turmoil) – He has been on the road for two years, and he is exhausted. He’s almost accepted that he will never see London (John) again—almost. But then there are nights like tonight, where he is weak, and all he can think of is the warmth of the flat they once shared, the crackle of the fire in the hearth, the teasing smile playing at the corner of John’s lips, the boxes of half-eaten Chinese takeaway balanced precariously in their laps. He aches at the memory of it, at the realisation that it is something he may never experience again.

Impossible to Feign by achray (M, 49,204 w., 12 Ch. || TRF Rewrite / Reverse Reichenbach, Suicidal Ideations / Discussions, Drug Use/Abuse, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, John Accepts his Sexuality, Anxious Sherlock, Meddling Mycroft, Depression, Hallucinations, Secret Agent John, BAMF John, Reunion, Make-Up Sex, Ambiguous Ending) – Sherlock leant forward, his long fingers curving round to grip John’s.“I won’t let him win,” he said, eyes hard. “I will do whatever it takes to get you out.”

Anchor Point by trickybonmot (E, 49,856 w., 80 Ch. || Truman Show AU || Psychological Drama, Suspense, Slow Burn, Dark Characters / Fic, Alternating First/Third Person, Protective John, Anxious/Worried Sherlock, Tender Moments, Love Confessions, Hand/Blow Jobs, Cuddling, Jealous John, First Kiss/Time) – The world tunes in nightly for Sherlock, the ultimate in reality TV: Sherlock Holmes, a real person with a legendary name, unknowingly lives out his life in a staged setting contrived by his brother. Things get complicated when a retired army doctor joins the show to play the part of Sherlock's closest friend. This fic borrows its concept from the 1998 film, the Truman Show. However, you don't need to have any knowledge of the movie to enjoy this story.

Lunar Landscapes by J_Baillier (M, 57,046 w., 21 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || S3/TAB Fix-It, Slow Burn Angst, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Confessions, Drugs, Pain, Medical, Injury, Sherlock Whump, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Romance, Secrets,  Tragedy, Trauma, BAMF John, Doctor!John, Drug Addict Sherlock, Injured Sherlock, Grieving John, Idiots In Love, Protective John, POV John Watson, PTSD Sherlock, Sherlock is a Mess, Medical Realism) – An accident forces John to face the fact that Sherlock's downward spiral had started long before his flight to exile even left the tarmac.

Repairing the Broken Things by BakerTumblings (M, 75,252 w., 15 Ch. || S4 Compliant, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Trauma, Hospitals, Big Brother Mycroft, Misunderstandings, Realizations, Severe Accident, John Whump, Pneumonia, Medical Procedures, Bed Sharing, First Time, Healing, Happy Ending) – "I'm calling today to notify you that there's been an accident."

Not Broken, Just Bent by Schmiezi (E, 87,585 w., 43 Ch. || Pining, Love Confessions, Rape/Sexual Assault, Torture, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Villain!Mary, Suicidal Ideations, Main Character Death, Sherlock First Person POV, Parentlock, Sherlock’s Mind Palace, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Love Making, Possessiveness, Depression, PTSD, Kidnapping, Virgin Sherlock, Eventual Happy Ending) – "For a second, I allow myself to remember teaching John how to waltz. There is a special room in my mind palace for it. A big one, with a proper parquet dance floor. For a second, I go there. I remember holding him, closer than the World Dance Council asks for, excusing it with the fact that we are training for a wedding, not for a competition. For a second, I feel his hand on mine again, smell his sweat, hear the song we used. For a second, I allow myself to love him deeply. For a second, only a second, that love reflects on my face." Fix-it for S3, starting at the end of TSoT. Evil Mary.

Just To Hold You Close by sussexbound (E, 70,841 w., 18 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Sherlock POV, ASD Sherlock, PTSD John, Demisexual Sherlock, Bisexual John, Cuddling/Snuggling, Platonic Cuddling, Enthusiastic Consent, Bed Sharing, Love Confessions, First Kiss/Time, Sexual Tension, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Cuddle Negotiations, For a Case Until It Isn’t, Hair Petting, Sexual Negotiation, Anxiety, Trust Issues, Slow Burn, Panic Attacks, Frottage, Hand/Blow Jobs, Referenced Self Harm / Abuse / Suicidal Ideation, First Kiss/Time, Anal) – When a woman is murdered and the last person to see her alive is recently invalided army vet turned reluctant (and prickly) professional cuddler, John Watson, Sherlock Holmes is pulled into a world of intimacy and intrigue he never could have imagined. John is a conundrum and mystery: frank yet reserved, tender yet angry, open yet afraid. Sherlock is instantly drawn into his orbit, and begins to feel and desire things he never has before.

The Summer Boy by khorazir (T, 94,706 w., 6 Ch. || Post S3/Post TAB/Alternate S4, Friends to Lovers, Asexual Sherlock, POV Sherlock, Flashbacks, Bullying, 1980′s Kid Sherlock, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Inexperienced Sherlock, Grief/Mourning, Pining Sherlock, Case Fic, Sherlock’s Past, Awkward Conversations, Anxious Sherlock) – About half a year after the fateful events at Appledore, Sherlock and John embark on a private case in Sussex. For Sherlock, it’s a journey into his past, bringing up memories both happy and sad that he has locked away for almost thirty years. For John, it means coming to terms with the present – and a potential future with Sherlock. Part 1 of the The Summer Boy series

Northwest Passage by Kryptaria (E, 95,157 w., 27 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Canadian AU ||  BAMF!John, Canadian John, PTSD, Anal / Oral Sex, Rimming, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Drug Rehab, Falling in Love, Pining Sherlock, Love Confessions, Sherlock’s Violin, Panic Attacks, Switching, Anxious / Protective Sherlock, Hugs for Comfort, Suicide Mentions, Healing Each Other) – Seven years ago, Captain John Watson of the Canadian Forces Medical Service withdrew from society, seeking a simple, isolated life in the distant northern wilderness of Canada. Though he survives from one day to the next, he doesn't truly live until someone from his dark past calls in a favor and turns his world upside-down with the introduction of Sherlock Holmes." Part 1 of Tales from the Northwest

Against the Rest of the World by SilentAuror (E, 151,714 w., 20 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Post-TRF, Hiatus Fic, POV First Person Sherlock, Present Tense, First Kiss/Time, Big Brother Mycroft, Escaping from Capture, Soft Sherlock, Toplock, Insecurity, Infidelity, Travelling, Introspection, Pining Sherlock, Depression, Fantasies, Yearning for the Past, PTSD Sherlock, Suicidal Ideation) – Sherlock has been away from London for nine hundred and twelve days and counting, and has no idea what sort of reception to expect when he finally returns.

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

[a-windsor]

I posted 2,036 times in 2021

32 posts created (2%)

2004 posts reblogged (98%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 62.6 posts.

I added 28 tags in 2021

#the lost world - 6 posts

#nyssara - 4 posts

#accurate - 3 posts

#omfg - 3 posts

#spoilers - 2 posts

#amazing - 2 posts

#the dream - 2 posts

#this - 2 posts

#sara lance - 2 posts

#nysara - 2 posts

Longest Tag: 96 characters

#look up your state or city’s lgbtq bar association and find a friendly estate planning attorney!

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Reading synopses of the Arrow: Dark Archer comics to see if I want to incorporate any of the canon into my AUs:

18 notes • Posted 2021-02-03 12:53:26 GMT

#4

Rewatching old media is like “which of my het ships are actually valid?” And “which ones was I just in love with the lady?”

18 notes • Posted 2021-04-10 01:18:43 GMT

#3

Who else is just sad about Nyssara this Friday night?

19 notes • Posted 2021-07-03 00:18:54 GMT

#2

Arrow/LOT Fic: Hurtling Through Time, 10/?

Arrow/LOT Fic: Hurtling Through Time, 10/?

Title: Hurtling Through Time

Fandom: Arrow/Legends of Tomorrow

‘Ship: Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Sara and Nyssa are finally in the same place(s) at the same time(s). Rewrite of the second half of Season 2, where Nyssa al Ghul joins the crew. (follows An Inevitable Something)

Read it here: AO3 or FF.NET

Please reblog! Tumblr likes to eat my posts with links...

29 notes • Posted 2021-01-18 01:52:42 GMT

#1

Arrow (Exile) Fic: Sanctuary, 1/1

Title: Sanctuary

Fandom: Arrow

‘Ship: Nyssa al Ghul/Sara Lance, very, very, very early Thea/Sin

Rating: PG(ish? They ARE assassins. And Sara and Thea have potty mouths)

Summary: Thea needs to be somewhere else, and Nyssa said she was always welcome.(New Exile!fic. Post Whirlwind)

Read on: AO3 or FF.NET (coming soon, I guess)

PS: Pls reblog because Tumblr sucks with links and such.

35 notes • Posted 2021-01-09 19:55:46 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: Haven (14/50)

Summary: They say Resembool is a haven, and they’re right. Lush pastures, quaint country town, farmers’ markets on Saturdays: a bucolic paradise.

But it’s more than that. Resembool is a haven for the runaways, the deserters, the people who don’t want to be found…

The Resembool community knows there’s something odd about Hohenheim, but they’re not going to let that stop them helping him out. This is Resembool after all, a place where no one has to hide and neighbours help neighbours, be they building a fence, chasing a sheep, or trying to save the country from an evil they inadvertently helped release centuries ago…

Or: A series of slices of life in an AU in which Hohenheim never leaves, and several broken state alchemists find hope and home in Resembool.

Rated: T

==

Haven

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [AO3]

Summary: Trisha isn’t feeling very well…

Characters: Trisha, Hohenheim

Pairing: Trisha/Hohenheim

==

It started a couple of days ago with a mild headache, and she hadn’t thought anything of it, but this is the third day and the painkillers aren’t helping, and now she’s spiked a fever as well. There’s a burning sensation in her chest, and it’s hard to breathe deeply. She has to keep sitting down to get her breath back whilst she’s cleaning the kitchen. 

Trisha is going to have to accept that she’s sick. There’s a bug that’s been going round, spreading around the country out of the conflict in Ishval. She knows that the military are worried about an outbreak at the front lines. 

She takes a deep breath and winces at the pain in her lungs, and stands up again. That was a bad idea. Her head’s spinning with dizziness. Or maybe the room’s spinning around her and she’s standing still. She clutches the table with white knuckles. 

“Van!”

The colour starts to drain out of the room and it looks as if the walls are melting as they continue to spin around her. 

“VAN HELP ME!”

Everything’s black. 

X

Hohenheim was already out of his chair having heard Trisha’s first call; when he hears her scream and then a couple of seconds later the thud and crash, he’s out of his study and into the kitchen as fast as his feet will take him. 

Trisha is collapsed on the ground, a chair knocked over beside her. 

“Trisha!”

She’s burning up with fever, and her breath is shallow and laboured as he picks her up off the floor. 

“Mom!” The boys rush in from where they’ve been playing in the garden. “MOM!”

Blind panic floods through Hohenheim’s veins, and whilst half of the souls pick up on his frantic state and scream in sympathy, the other half retain a voice of reason that he’s incredibly grateful for. 

Get her to bed, try and cool her fever, and get a doctor. 

“Dad?”

He gets to his feet, Trisha cradled in his arms, and turns to the boys. 

“Run over to the Rockbells and get Aunt Sarah or Uncle Yuriy.”

They don’t need telling twice; they’re halfway down the hill by the time he’s carried Trisha up the stairs and got her comfortable on the bed. She stirs as he’s patting a damp washcloth over her chest. 

“Van?”

“It’s ok, I’m here.”

“What happened?”

“You fainted, love.”

“Van, I don’t feel very well.”

“I know.” He wipes her brow. “You just need to rest.” It seems like the best advice he can give right now without a doctor looking at her. The medical professionals in the back of his mind are all working together to try and provide a diagnosis and prognosis. It’s something respiratory, something viral… He tunes them out and gets Trisha some water.

“I’m scared,” she says softly. “I’ve never felt ill like this before.”

“It’ll be ok.” He has no idea if it’ll be ok or not, and he has never been as grateful to hear Yuriy’s voice as he is half an hour later. 

Yuriy confirms what Hohenheim has already suspected - this is the fever that’s swept out of Ishval. He can’t say he’s surprised, but he’s a little surprised that Trisha has succumbed to it. She’s always been so strong, never knocked down by the usual seasonal illnesses, never picking up the colds and stomach bugs that the boys have brought home from school. He never would have expected something like this to knock her flat, but then, he never gets sick himself thanks to the buffer of immortality, so he doesn’t really have a field of comparison. 

“You’ll need to keep the boys away from her for a week whilst she’s still infectious,” Yuriy says. “I know I don’t have to worry about you catching or carrying it. They can come and stay in isolation with Mom and Winry; I think that might be easier than having them in the same house and not letting them in here. I’m sure she’ll pull through. We should be getting a new delivery of anti-virals from Eastern City in the morning and I’ll bring some over.”

Hohenheim nods, not really taking it in. 

It turns into the longest week of his life. Trisha is feverish and delirious, barely conscious most of the time and not coherent even when she is conscious. The anti-virals help a little, but she doesn’t show any signs of getting better. 

It’s the middle of the night when she wakes up into proper coherent consciousness for the first time, looking over at him blearily where he’s settled in the chair beside the bed to keep an eye on her. 

“Van?” Her voice is so quiet and hoarse from lack of use. “Van, I’m so scared.”

He has no idea what to say to that, because he’s scared too. He can’t lose her, not when she’s been the brightest part of his life for as long as she’s been in it. He doesn’t know what he would do if he didn’t have her anymore.

“Me too,” he admits finally. He gets up, settling on the edge of the bed and taking her hand, squeezing tightly. She returns the pressure, but her grip is so weak. 

“I don’t want to go to the hospital.” 

(Sarah came by to check on her earlier in the evening and made the grim diagnosis - if she was no better in the morning they would have to organise getting her to the specialised ward in Eastern City. No one else in Resembool has had to go. Everyone else has started to show signs of recovery by this point.)

“I’m scared that I won’t come back.” Trisha blinks away her tears. “Van, I’m so scared.”

“I know.” He leans in, wanting to embrace her but not wanting to put any pressure on her aching chest. “I know.”

There’s a whirlwind in his veins, a storm of emotion as the souls express their own fears and laments. He leans in to kiss her, resting his forehead against hers. 

“It’ll be ok. I promise.” He has no idea how he’s going to keep that promise, but he’ll do something. He has to. 

Hohenheim is groggy when he wakes up, as if he didn’t sleep properly at all. He’s at a weird angle, curled up on the bed beside Trisha. The first thing he notices is that he can’t hear her laboured breathing, which has been a constant in the background these last couple of days. 

“Trisha!”

But she’s ok. She’s sleeping peacefully, and her breathing seems clear and easy. The colour’s come back into her cheeks and her fever’s broken. He kisses her cheek and leaves her to get some rest.

Maybe the anti-virals just took some time to work after all, and it’s all going to be all right. Yuriy says the same when he comes to check on her later in the morning, expressing surprise but gratitude that she’s pulled through the worst of it and won’t have to go to the hospital. He deems it safe for the boys to come back next day, and Trisha’s just so happy to be feeling better and to be able to see her babies again that no one really questions her miraculous recovery.

Something’s eating at the back of Hohenheim’s mind, though. Something doesn’t feel quite right. The souls are buzzing and vocal; it’s the same feeling as when the alchemy heals him automatically. 

He slept with his hand interlaced with Trisha’s.

Did they heal her, too?

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you so much.”

[prettyboybarzal]

tattoos together (2) // tyler seguin

(PART ONE) 

pairing: tyler seguin x reader

summary: it’s been three years since the fourth of july on the cape with tyler and you’ve finally made the trip down to dallas for a visit. some things have changed, some remain the same... 

(2016 dallas stars and 2/3 of tyler’s dogs, apologies if some details aren’t accurate about the stars season. i was too lazy to do my research.)

word count: 5k+

author’s note: here’s part two of this fic!!! more to come... please leave me feedback or whatever and reblog/like. thank you for the reaction on the first part! love u <3333333

warnings: more alcohol, more tattoos, prob cursing

June 2016

“Do you really have to go? I mean, you literally just saw him when he was visiting Boston in April.”

When the comment falls from your current boyfriend’s lips, you’re glad that you have your back to him because the eye roll that came after was not pretty. You had to wonder how many times Dan was going to get insecure about your friendship with Tyler before he gave it up. Tyler wasn’t going anywhere, in fact he already had. But, apparently, the distance between Boston and Dallas still wasn’t enough for your fragile boyfriend.

“That was two months ago, and it was only one night,” you point out. You shove a sweatshirt into the suitcase and look up at him. “Besides, I’ve never visited him in Dallas.”

“Okay, but two weeks?” he asks. “It seems like an unnecessary amount of time to visit him.” You don’t respond. This is a conversation the two of you have had too many times and it’s exhausting. But, Dan continues, “It’s just weird to me. I mean, he bought you first class tickets to visit. I wouldn’t do that for someone I wasn’t dating.”

“Tyler has been my best friend since 2011. He’s been with me throughout my undergraduate degree and most of my Masters. He’s been there each time I’ve been left heartbroken by insecure guys, like you’re being right now,” you state. His eyes widen at the tone of your voice. You take a step closer, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s basically a member of my family and he was devastated when he couldn’t make it to my graduation last month.”

“Can you just let him have his moment and celebrate with me?” you ask. “You have me every day and we spent a week celebrating in Cancun. Let him celebrate with me for two weeks and then you get me back.”

Dan’s face softens. He reaches out and tugs you forward by the waistband of your sweatpants. You fall into him, fitting yourself between his legs as his hands trail up your sides. He captures your face in his hands and says, “Fine. As long as you promise that I get you back, I don’t care.”

“Of course,” you state. He tilts his head up to kiss you and you oblige. It’s short and lacking in passion. When you pull away to grab your toiletry bag from the bathroom, you find yourself wiping his kiss from your lips.

Dan is the second guy you’ve dated since Tyler left and he’s outlasted the other one, but you know he’s not your forever. You’ve only been together for six months or so and the fire has already started to burn out.

Besides, you have big plans that don’t really involve him, ones that you haven’t even disclosed to him yet because you’ve been holding out on speaking them into existence until you’re with Tyler again.

Maybe it’s unfair to string Dan along like this, but you figure he’s a nice enough guy that if things really don’t go your way… At least you’ll have him. And, seeing as the past three years have been shit, things don’t like to go your way.

You share one kiss with your best friend and, suddenly, you’ve thrown off the balance of the universe.

Instead of waking up late on the Fifth of July to make breakfast with Tyler and steal another kiss or two, you woke up at 7 a.m. by a call from your mother. Your dad, who’d always been in good shape, had gone on his usual morning run and suffered a heart attack just half a mile from your house.

The next few days were a whirlwind of hospital food and neck cramps from sleeping by his bedside. Soon enough, the kiss with Tyler was long forgotten, pushed back to a corner of your mind that you weren’t willing to access any time soon.

Tyler was a little ticked. Timing had never been right between the two of you and he finally got the kiss he’d been working so hard for, only for it to be forgotten about hours later. But, he also loved your dad like he was his own.

Tyler showed up on the afternoon of the fifth with lunch for your entire family and ended up staying well into the night, past visiting hours, with you. The next few weeks were much of the same. He even managed to get a few hours alone with your dad when everyone else was at work. The two of them watched baseball on the little TV in the corner for hours on end.

The night before his departure from the city, you went to eat Chinese food on his floor one last time. You hardly made it through your chicken lo mein before sobbing until you couldn’t breathe. Tyler had to remove the cartons from your hands for you before pulling you into his chest and holding you against him like a human weighted blanket.

Adjusting to life without Tyler was harder than expected. You never realized just how much time you spent with him until he was gone. You threw yourself into your classes and started spending more time at home with your parents, especially once your dad was back home.

FaceTime was a daily occurrence until it wasn’t possible because of hockey season, but you didn’t go more than an hour without a text from Tyler and that made it a little bit better.

The two of you counted down the days between his visits to Boston for games and he always managed to get tickets for your entire family to come. You made it a point to grab dinner the night before or the day after his games. Then, he jetted off home or to the next city and the countdown began again.

It’s not that you didn’t want to make the trip to Dallas, in fact you’d had flight itinerary to go on three separate occasions. After your dad was healthy again, the problem with visiting was entirely school related. On the off-chance of freedom during the summers, subsequently his off-season, you were wrapped up in internships and job interviews and family vacations. He begged you to let him visit, but you made sure he spent the summer with his family in Canada.

Your graduation in May meant you had a period of downtime and Tyler wasn’t letting it go unused. The night of graduation, Tyler sent you the itinerary for a flight out of Boston in June to visit him for two weeks with a text that read: Happy Graduation, smartass.

Your flight landed around noon in Dallas and, after collecting your bag from baggage claim, you stood outside the terminal waiting for Tyler. It didn’t take long for him to find you, dodging around groups of tourists and airport employees to get to you.

As soon as he’s close enough, your suitcase is on the floor and your feet are in the air. Tyler nuzzles his face into your neck, taking in the scent of your perfume. The feather light touch of his lips against your skin stirs something in your stomach that you try to shove down as he murmurs, “I can’t believe you’re here.”

After he places you back on your feet, you brace both hands against his chest and trail them up his neck to his cheeks. You hold him in place, studying every inch of the face you’ve been missing. He watches your eyes trail over his face, his lips in a soft smile. From an outsider’s perspective, the two of you probably look like a couple reuniting after far too long a part.

“Every time I see you, you look older.” Your fingers trail over his jaw line and the stubble decorating it. Tyler barks out a laugh. “Honestly, I’m pretty sure FaceTime adds a few pounds because you still look like baby Ty whenever you call me.

At this, Tyler shoves you away.

“I’m kidding!” He rolls his eyes at your exclamation, grabbing your suitcase from the floor to tug it with him out the doors of the airport. You chase after him, lacing your fingers in his free hand as he walks. The movement is muscle memory. It feels so normal that your mind doesn’t even go to the man waiting for you back home.

You gaze down at his arms, both filled with tattoos now. The whiteness of his t-shirt is a stark contrast against the dark tattoos on his arms.

“You look great, Ty.”

“Thanks,” Tyler responds, lifting your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles. He’s about to drop your hands back to your sides, but instead lifts them to look at your wrist. A warm smile finds its way to his lips when he sees the stars on your skin.

The moment doesn’t feel platonic, but it is. It needs to be. And there aren’t supposed to be butterflies after all this time, but they’re back. After all this time, they’re still coming back.

Tyler pulls you out to the Dallas sun and drops your hand when your feet hit the pavement. You follow him to his car, sliding into the passenger seat as he stores your bag in his trunk. When he climbs in beside you, your fingers instinctively reach up to his cheek and poke at his smile lines. He chuckles.

“How was your flight?”

“It was fine,” you answer. “First class was a little extra, I won’t lie.”

“You deserve it,” he states. “You’re a two-time college graduate.”

“You say that like I’m a Stanley Cup champion.” Tyler laughs. Using your best sportscaster voice, you say, “YFN YLN, two-time college graduate, spends her bye week in Dallas, Texas with one-time Stanley Cup Champ, Tyler Seguin.”

“How lucky am I?”

“I have something important to tell you,” you announce as he pulls out of the parking lot. He glances at you, waiting for you to continue your thought. “Let’s just get home first.”

He tries to get it out of you the entire way home, but all you want to do is catch up, so you make him wait.

When you get back to his house, which is bigger than it seems through FaceTime, Tyler pushes the door open and lets out a holler which is met by the sound of paws on the hardwood floors. His two dogs round the corner, butts shaking at the force of their tails. You drop to the floor immediately and embrace them. Tyler watches in amusement, his heart fluttering at how right this feels. It feels like all the pieces of the puzzle are together.

After allowing the dogs to get a good sniff in, you stand upright. You kick your shoes off and walk into his living room, taking in the décor and the furniture. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t impressed, but you also knew his sisters and his mother. There was no way they’d let him leave a place like this undecorated.

Tyler follows you, watching the way you look around and wondering if you like what you see, if this is a place you could see yourself coming home to. But, he’s itching to know what you have to tell him. He clears his throat, calling your attention back to him, and asks, “What’s your news?”

“I haven’t told anyone,” you say. “Not even Dan.”

“Really?” Tyler asks. He hates the way your admission makes him feel cocky, like a winner. Take that Dan. “Go on. Tell me.”

“I just accepted a job at a publishing house in LA!”

“What?”

“I’m not full-time yet,” you inform him. Tyler is grinning like he’s just won the lottery, but he doesn’t speak so you continue, “It’s going to get my foot in the door, though, which is huge. I’ve been coming up empty in Boston and I’ve always wanted to live out in California.”

Tyler steps forward and wraps his arms around your waist. You sway as he squeezes you, taking in the warmth of his body and the silence of the room. When he pulls away, it’s just enough to look down at you. His hands stay on your waist. Platonic.

He drops his forehead to press against your own, like he’d done that night in July three years ago, and says, “I am so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” you whisper. “I’m excited, but I’m nervous.” Tyler steps back and falls onto the couch. You join him, sitting sideways to face him. “It’s so far from home.”

“Trust me, I know about being far from home.”

“I know,” you state. “I just feel like it’s different for you. I don’t mean to minimize the situation, but you have a team. You spend every day with those guys like they’re a family for you. I’ll be moving to California alone and it’s not like I can just adopt my coworkers as my family. They have families of their own.”

Tyler doesn’t really know what to say, but he tries.

“YN, if anyone can move somewhere and start fresh… It’s you,” he says. “This is an awesome opportunity and you don’t have to stay there forever. It’s just a stepping stone. Besides, California is beautiful and warm and I’m already excited to visit you when we’re on the west coast.”

“I needed to hear you say that,” you admit. Your cheeks feel hot and your certain that there’s a dark red blush on your skin. Tyler notices it and can’t stop the smirk that comes to his lips. “My parents have been waiting to hear about the job offers and my decisions. They’re super excited for me. But, I needed you to give me that vote of confidence.”

“You came to the right place.” He drops his hand to Marshall’s head and scratches, detaching his eyes from your face so his next statement doesn’t feel as loaded. “I’m your biggest fan. You could tell me that you’re moving to Mars and I’d still back you up. You can literally do anything.”

“Thanks,” you murmur. Your eyes are still watching him as he vigorously scratches the dog’s head. He doesn’t look back up at you. Cash jumps up and places his paws on your thigh. You lean down and place a kiss on the top of his head. The moment you share with Cash catches Tyler’s attention. He watches you stare at his dog before he finally asks, “What are you going to do about Dan?”

You sigh, dropping your head into your hands and respond, “Break up with him.”

“Just like that? No long distance?”

“It’s not my cup of tea,” you state, glancing up at him. “The long-distance thing is doomed.”

“You do it with me.”

“You’re different.”

Tyler smirks to himself before standing up off the couch. He grabs your bags from the floor and slings them over his shoulder. Then, he turns back to you and extends his hand.

“Let me give you the grand tour.”

Tyler tugs you along with him, hand-in-hand, through the halls and into each room. The dogs follow closely behind, stopping short each time you step foot into a new room. They’re obsessed with Tyler and you can’t say you blame them.

“You can stay in here, if you want,” Tyler states, motioning the guest room. “You know I don’t mind sharing a bed with you, but I’m not sure Dan would like that.”

The last stop is his bedroom. He pushes the door open to reveal a light grey room with a king size bed in the middle. His walls are bare except for some Stanley Cup memorabilia, including his old Bruins jersey framed and hung over his dresser. He drops your hand as you walk through the threshold.

Tyler plops your bag on the floor at the end of his bed before dropping himself onto the mattress to watch you scan his room. He asks, “What do you think?”

“I love it. Who decorated?” you ask. You poke the head of a Tyler Seguin bobble head and giggle as it nods at you. Tyler chuckles.

“Well, I gathered all the things to put in here, but my mom was the one who organized it all,” he explains. Then, he stands up and walks over to the television stand across the room. He picks up a black picture frame and waves it in the air. “This is the best part though.”

You walk over and take the picture frame from his hand, smiling fondly at the memory. You’re sandwiched between Tyler and Jamie Benn in the picture. It was taken the first time he came back to play in Boston after his trade. He’d been talking about Jamie for weeks, teasing you by saying he’d already replaced you. You told Tyler to bring Jamie to dinner, so you could see what all the hype was about.

Turns out the hype was warranted. You loved Jamie as much as Tyler did.

“My two besties,” Tyler muses at the photo. You laugh. “Speaking of Chubbs, he wants to grab dinner and drinks with us tonight.”

“Thank God!” you exclaim, placing the picture frame back on the dresser. “That’s the reason I even came here.”

Tyler’s jaw drops in shock and, moments later, his hands are gripping your waist. He flips you onto to bed, tickling your sides until your eyes are watering from laughing so hard. He grabs your hands and pins them above your head. It’s then that you realize what a compromising position you’re in with him settled between your legs.

If he’s thinking about it too, he doesn’t let on. Instead, he lowers his face so that he’s just inches from your lips and says, “Take it back.”

“Did I bruise your ego?” you tease. He raises his eyebrows, not backing down. “What if I meant it?”

“You didn’t,” Tyler pushes. “So just take it back.”

You stare at him with a grin, but he stares back with his mouth in a tight line. You try to pull your wrists from his grip. It only gets tighter. Then, you stop struggling and allow your arms to fall limp against the mattress. He smirks as your eyes flit across his face, down to his lips, then to his bicep where you see part of his star peeking out.

This isn’t platonic, you’re sure of it, but you like how it feels.

You glance back up at him with a mischievous smile and state, “We can’t stay like this forever. Eventually you’ll get tired.”

“Then I’ll just lay on top of you until you run out of air,” he answers. It’s like he’s thought through it all. “You underestimate me. I have a fragile ego and I don’t take insults lightly.”

“You’d think I would’ve learned this by now.”

“You’d think,” he repeats. You sigh. “Say it.”

“I didn’t mean it,” you murmur. He smirks and releases your hands, rolling onto his back beside you. You stand up, out of his reach, and say, “I really just came here because you bought me the tickets and I didn’t want them to go to waste.”

Jamie Benn played a huge part in the friendship you had with Tyler. When Tyler introduced you to each other during his first season with the Stars, you and Jamie just clicked. He was sarcastic, a little bit mean, but all teddy bear underneath the layers. Think of him like an ogre.

He was brought along every time Tyler hung out with you during their roadies to Boston. At first, you figured it he just wanted you to get to know his new Dallas friends. But, after a while, it felt like maybe there was another reason Jamie came. It felt like Jamie was a buffer.

When Tyler was playing in Boston, there were no boundaries between the two of you. You held hands all the time (Tyler was obsessed with your fingers). He found ways to kiss you whenever he could (usually on the top of the head because that was what he felt was most platonic). You even shared a bed on nights you had sleepovers (which made sense at your place where you only had one bedroom, but Tyler had a whole guest room for you. What was the whole point in sleeping with him then?).

As soon as the kiss happened, and the discussion about it didn’t, Jamie was always around. Tyler stopped playing with your fingers, he only ever kissed your cheek hello and goodbye, and you never had sleepovers anymore. It was like Jamie was his own personal conscience come to life.

“Are you still with that guy?” Jamie asks, taking another sip of his wine. You nod in response, mouth too full of wine to answer. Tyler had slipped away to the bathroom just before your food arrived and it took Jamie all of one minute to start his interrogation. “Dan, right? How does he feel about you being here with Ty?”

“He’s a little insecure about our friendship. Well, maybe more than a little, but it’s something he just needs to deal with. Tyler’s not going anywhere. He’s outlasted even my college friends.”

“Insecure because of that kiss?” Jamie asks. You choke on the wine in your mouth, but quickly grab your napkin to dab at the corners of your mouth so he doesn’t register your reaction. He does register it, though. Jamie is all knowing when it comes to what goes on between you and Tyler.

“No, not insecure because of the kiss,” you answer. “He, uh, doesn’t know about the kiss.”

“No?” You shake your head. “How come?”

“I just never thought it was something that needed to be discussed,” you state. “Nothing ever came of it. Tyler’s here, I’m there. It was just a kiss. It’s not something I need to talk about with him because it meant nothing.”

Jamie doesn’t respond, opting to watch you scramble over your words instead. He knows you’re full of shit. That kiss meant everything to the both of you. Tyler admitted it to Jamie himself and, although you never have, Jamie finds you incredibly easy to read.

Tyler comes back to the table, bringing the conversation to a screeching halt. He sits down, blissfully ignorant to the fact that Jamie has shattered the bubble of friendship once again. No one says anything. Tyler just takes another swig of his wine and smiles at you.

When the check comes, all three of you fight over it. Jamie grabs at it first, then Tyler, and when you reach forward to take it, they bark at you.

“You’re broke,” Tyler remarks while Jamie simultaneously murmurs, “Yeah, right, YN.”

The fight for the check is quickly reduced to the two of them. Until, finally, Tyler grunts, “Chubbs, I’m trying to impress her. Let me pay.”

Jamie’s entire body shakes with laughter at the sight of both of your red cheeks.

The check is paid and the two of them whisk you off to a local hole-in-the-wall type of bar. The bartender knows them and even points out a signed photo of himself with them when you sit at the counter. He announces, “My favorite Stars players!”

“Don’t tell Esa,” Jamie warns the bartender who chuckles in return before grabbing two drinks for the boys.

“What’ll you have, sweetheart?” he asks with a sweet Southern drawl to his words. Your eyes scan down the drinks on tap before settling on a locally brewed ale. It’s brought to you with a wide smile and a wink.

The next two hours fly by. People come and go, occupying the seats around the three of you and occasionally asking for selfies with the two superstars. With each drink, the line drawn between you and Tyler that separates your friendship from a relationship starts to blur. It isn’t until you relocate to a booth on the other side of the bar that you realize what’s going on.

Tyler’s hand settles on your thigh and he honestly doesn’t even realize what he’s doing because it feels so natural for him to touch you again. Dan is out of sight, out of mind for him. Apparently, the distance between Texas and Massachusetts is enough for Tyler to forget.

You’re hyper aware of the way his calloused palm feels against your skin, unable to stop your mind from wandering when you recognize how large his hand is against you.

When you look up, you meet Jamie’s eyes. He gives a quick look at the palm on your thigh and then raises his eyebrows at you. Subtly, you slide out of the booth to “use the bathroom”, but not quick enough to avoid hearing Jamie warn Tyler, “You gotta stop.”

The bathroom is one single stall. You get in there and look at yourself in the mirror in an effort to pep talk yourself. Either you needed to set some boundaries with Tyler for the next two weeks and squash the tension, or you needed to just deal with the overly touchiness of your friendship without being a shitty person to Dan.

Boundaries never needed to be a thing back in Boston. How are you even supposed to make them now, especially after 5 long years of friendship?

Do you even want to?

Maybe just having Jamie around would be enough to delay the conversation.

As if he knows you’re feeling guilty, Dan’s contact pops up on your screen while you’re on the way to the bathroom. You glance up at the boys. Tyler notices your hesitation in approaching the table and watches as you turn away to press the phone to your ear.

“Hey,” you greet. “What’s up?”

“I haven’t heard from you,” he states. “How are you? Are you having fun?”

“Yeah, we grabbed dinner with Jamie and now we’re just catching up over drinks,” you answer. You swing your body back around to glance at the booth. Both boys are staring at you until Jamie diverts his attention back to Tyler and says something. Tyler glances at him quickly, nods, then looks back at you. “How’s your night?” 

“Boring,” he grunts. “I miss you.”

“I’ll be back soon!”

“Not soon enough,” he complains. You chuckle at him, but don’t reply. “I really wanna keep you on the phone, but I know the boys are just waiting for you to hang up. I’ll let you go. Have fun. Tell them I say hello.”

“Will do,” you lie. You won’t tell them because you know that neither of them really care if Dan says hello or not. “I’ll text you later tonight.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, Dan,” you respond. Before he can say anything about the way you dropped the ‘I’, you’re hanging up the phone and shoving it into your back pocket.

Back at the booth, Tyler has his back against the wall on the other end of the bench. His arm isn’t even within reach of your thigh and Jamie looks like a proud Dad when Tyler doesn’t immediately reach over to embrace you.

Around 9:30 p.m., the three of you leave to wander the streets around the bar. It’s a pretty busy area, filled with bars and restaurants, so people are bustling around the streets either just starting their night or ending it. You walk beside Tyler, inches apart from each other so that you’re close enough, but not too close. Jamie walks behind you two, preoccupied by his phone.

The back of Tyler’s hand keeps brushing along yours and it’s driving him crazy that he feels like he has to stop himself. After Jamie’s scolding at the bar, he knows he can’t keep touching you like this, even though he wants to. He falls back a step and pretends to ask Jamie something. Really, he just needs to step away from you for a moment.

You continue walking ahead of them alone. It’s so warm out, comfortable, and the streets are beautifully lit with string lights. There’s music floating from the nearby bars that you find yourself humming along to. You walk two blocks like that, the two of them just a few steps behind you.

Until, suddenly, the wind is knocked out of you as a pair of arms come around your waist. Jamie Benn be damned.

“Let’s get more tattoos!” Tyler exclaims. He pulls you into his chest, bringing your ass against a part of him you try not to think about. The light from the tattoo shop beside you shines on the pavement. You glance behind you and find his eyes fixed on you. “In honor of your big accomplishment.”

Jamie catches up to you two, stopping short to glance at the shop before looking back at Tyler’s arms around your waist with a knowing smile. You slip out of Tyler’s arms under his watchful gaze and announce, “We’re getting tattoos. Are you in?”

“I think I’m out on that tonight,” Jamie says with a chuckle. “But, I’ll come watch.”

Tyler grabs your hand and tugs you into the shop. Almost immediately, the tattoo artists recognize him. They jump up to greet him and Jamie, praising the two of them for the hockey season. Once they’re settled, Tyler informs them of the decision you two have made to get a spontaneous, drunk tattoo. And, crazily enough, they agree to the last-minute appointment.

“Tyler, what are we even going to get?” you ask. You flip through one of the books of art they have displayed at the counter. Everything is so intricate, beautiful, but they’re not tattoos meant for your body. You like the small, delicate tattoos.

“You picked last time,” he reminds you. “I wanna pick this time.”

“Don’t pick anything stupid,” you warn. He chuckles, sliding his arm around your back to pull you closer to him. He lowers his face to yours and presses the tip of his nose against the tip of your nose.

“I would never,” he says seriously. He stands straight again, pulling his arm away as you settle back onto the floor. He pulls his phone from his back pocket. “I’m going to Google some ideas.”

“Tipsy Tyler and Google are helping you make this decision?” Jamie asks with a grin. “You’re very trusting of him.”

Tyler rolls his eyes and sits on the leather couch in the front of the shop to browse the internet. He knows what you like, so he doesn’t ask many questions for your input. Nothing flashy, nothing big, something that screams YN, he thinks.

While Tyler scrolls through his phone, Jamie leans both of his elbows on the counter beside you. He flicks through the art book and points out ones that he likes, making small talk about what types of tattoos you usually look for. He drops his voice to a whisper, “I can’t believe you and him are going to get a second set of matching tattoos.”

“They don’t match.”

“Yes, they are,” Jamie argues. “Your tattoos are like pairs of socks. They go together.”

“I never match my socks.”

“I have an idea!” Tyler pipes up. Everyone’s attention is back to the boy with backwards hat. He stands up from the couch and walks over, Pinterest on full display. You giggle at his method of finding your tattoo. He hands the phone to you and leans against the counter as you look at it. “They’re California poppies.”

“It’s pretty,” you remark. The tattoo is a thin black line creating three California poppies in a small bouquet. It’s delicate, pretty, and totally you. You look back up at Tyler with a smile. “Well, what are you going to get?”

“One small California poppy,” he answers. Jamie chuckles beside you, thinking how absolutely nuts it is that Tyler is going to get a flower etched onto his skin for a girl. You send a quick elbow to his stomach, but Tyler’s oblivious to the moment shared between the two of you. “I have a spot near my shoulder that needs to be filled.”

You decide to get the tattoo on your ribs, which means you’ll have to take your shirt off. Jamie immediately excuses himself to sit on the couch up front. Tyler just stands there dumbly, unsure of what to do with himself.

“Do you want me to go sit with Jamie?”

“Nah,” you answer. You pull the shirt up and over your head. Tyler swallows, forcing himself to keep his eyes above your neck. “Oh, relax. You’ve seen me in less than this before.”

And it’s true. One time you got so drunk that Tyler picked you up from a bar after a girls’ night out and you stripped out of your clothes as soon as you entered his apartment. That was four years ago now and ages before the kiss.

You lay on your side, leaving your ribs on full display and tuck your hands under your head. Tyler grabs a chair and sits beside you, finally at eye level.

“I honestly thought you weren’t going to pick something this pretty,” you admit. Tyler chuckles, leaning back in the chair to scratch at his stubble.

“Only pretty things for you,” he says softly. You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head at the sweetness of his comment. You close your eyes as the tattoo artist draws on your skin with a pen, marking up the spot where your newest art will go.

Tyler watches you, eyes soft and wide. He rests his elbow on the arm of the chair he’s sitting in and drops his head into the palm of his hand, staring shamelessly and without a care that you might open your eyes to see him admiring you.

“Are you going to fall asleep?”

“I might,” you answer. Your lips turn up at the corners just before you pretend to start snoring. Tyler laughs at you and your eyes pop open to the sound. They close again after you get a good look at his giggly face.

When the artist starts inking your skin, Tyler walks around the table to get a better look. He watches the black ink stain your skin and he feels the same way he felt when you got the stars three years ago. He wants to run his fingers along the lines, trace the ink. And, secretly, he wants to kiss it. 

[champagnesuperhoeva]

Seasonal depression is on its way back, so why not analyze another scene from Red Dead Depression 2???????

I’ve been meaning to do another screeching ramble about one of Red Dead Redemption 2′s many incredible scenes, but just couldn’t put my finger on which one. So I threw a rock and hit the Saint Denis bank robbery, that’s the story

strap in, motherfuckers, it’s time to regret the concept of empathy

It is such a missed opportunity that we weren’t able to chaperone the girls as they went about putting on their various bullshit personas to gather reconnaissance. I want to see Tilly reading a newspaper with glasses, a fake nose and a mustache

Something Red Dead Redemption 2 spoiled me on is just how much ROI they squeeze into every last line of dialogue. Not a single word feels generic or hamfisted. Every sentence, every twitch and blink, adds up to a greater whole. The more I watch, the more I unearth. There are several AAA titles that frequently get painted with the ‘Good Dialogue’ brush like Uncharted that don’t hold a candle to Rockstar’s work here. 

Take Hosea grilling Dutch here, for example:

Dutch acquiescing to Hosea’s justified criticism is depressing in its hindsight. Sir Spam der Linde is an arrogant blowhard that could give Dr. Gregory House a run for his money...and yet he still mumbles and bows his head when being told he needs to get his shit together. Compare this to earlier in the game, when he was snipping at both Hosea and Arthur for all their doubts and questions. Double that for the camp interactions you can find where Dutch and Hosea argue about the Blackwater Heist. 

Is reality finally sinking in a little for our manic pixie dream man? Does he just have a hard time bullying Hosea, who’s around 5,000 years old and doesn’t give a fuck? For every answer you get, you get another question...and I fucking love it. This character -- and the series at large -- toes the razor-thin line between transparent portrayals and thicc layers of intrigue. This kind of carefully sewn subtlety is sorely lacking in not just videogames, but mainstream media in general. Sometimes I still can’t believe I got to experience this game.

This little scene is just one of many ingredients to make you wonder that, if the bank job had turned out all right...if Dutch really would’ve started changing for the better. 

Arthur clutching his belt buckle like he clutches my neck in my dreams

So the plan is made and the cowboys are off to Sand Penis, and I bet nobody in the history of the world has made that joke before

Just the build-up to the bank sends goosebumps up my arms. 

Even with apprehension in the back of your mind, it’s hard not to get sucked into the whirlwind of adrenaline here. You have each member playing their part, from Abigail as the helpless damsel to Charles and Bill as crowd control. Great back-and-forth dialogue as characters anticipate what’s about to happen (with some delicious doubting from John). It’s like a group project, except you don’t want to slap your partners!!!*

*except micah ‘I Haven’t Scrubbed My Nailbeds In Fifty-Three Years’ bell

Fun fact: if Dutch hadn’t said ‘one last time’, the bank robbery would’ve been a success. Should’ve browsed TVTropes.

The direction of this game remains impeccable. 

This is a simple shot of a few dudes riding their horse...and it’s made just that much grander by the camera angles, slung low to the ground to create a stronger sense of scale. With the tense drums in the backing track and the sudden quiet that’s befallen our beloved anti-heroes, this provides the perfect finishing touches to one of the most memorable and stressful parts of the game:

The runway.

We start off this display of cowboy couture with Dutch Fam Der Linde, well-known in the West for wearing crushed velvet while hiking the open trail. Dashingly long coattails make up the bulk of this iconic look, with a sexy pop of red to round it all out. A complimentary red bandana lined with a hint of gold brings out the buttons, chain and belt buckle. Very regal. Much fucky. Still want to slap him for future crimes, so 9/10

A surprising comeback from the man who invented skid marks. Lavender pinstripes add a splash of character on an otherwise minimalist black ensemble. Complimentary silver bow on the hat and dark bandana makes me uncomfortably wet, so 9.5/10, would leer again

A classic suit with just a touch of more. A wide velvet collar with matching velvet cuffs create a refined softness, contrasting the gold buttons and dramatic coattails. Shoes shiny. Skin moisturized. Even his everyday ponytail looks fancier than ever. 15/10, if Javier kicked over my sandcastle I’d thank him

What are those????????? I think Bill got pranked by Uncle while out shopping for robbery gear. That, or he confused one of Susan’s tablecloths for a three-piece. The topmost layer of dust is so thick it could be peeled off and donated to charity. 3/10, could probably still pass for a picnic table

Shameless. Unacceptable. Walking around like a bootleg Egoraptor with a crinkly suit that looks like that oil-stained pizza napkin you keep forgetting to toss. Why did I take a screencap that makes it look like Dutch is jacking him off. Micah’s even jutting his beer gut out in an ominous foreshadowing for the Guarma chapter. ThereIsn’tANumberLowEnough/10

Arthur strolling in with that slow, confident walk that gets me pregnant in both legs, someone please fetch the plan B

Dutch calls a Hosea an artist and is most certainly one himself. He speaks with the affect of a poet, even as he’s holding a pistol in people’s faces and making them shit themselves in slow-motion. This man redefines stage presence. Why would he want anything less than the best, when this is the final hurrah of his iconic, infamous career:

THE RUNWAY: PART TWO

Bill out here just confusing everyone’s laundry for low-level loot. 5/10, may or may not be susan’s granny panties

charles: “is my iron giant cosplay valid robbery wear”

dutch: “no, charles, iron giant cosplays are not valid robbery wear”

dutch: “gorons from legend of zelda aren’t valid either”

JAVIER IF I GIVE YOU A 10/10 WILL YOU LEAVE

Here’s a little detail I didn’t notice (even after several viewings of this scene): Charles over in the corner looking like a dweeb.

Notice how awkwardly he holds that rifle: two-handed and with his knees bent, suddenly looking like he’s never handled a weapon before. This is such an odd contrast from the unapologetic badass we know. Remember, this is the same man who can wield a sawed-off shotgun one-handed like it’s nothing. One of the most adept physical fighters in a gang full of cutthroat motherfuckers. 

This detail on top of his dorky robbery gear? It’s actually a peek into just how out of his element he is. 

Charles has been with the gang for less than a year at this point. Even then, he’s usually helping with tracking, hunting and scouting. Whenever he goes off with Arthur on a mission, he’s always the first to suggest a peaceful route. This is not someone who’s used to robbing people for a living and it shows in the most adorable way. What you see here is a man putting on a persona of what he hopes looks like a bloodthirsty robber.

This whole scene is a fucking blast. Herding the upper-class elite into the far rom, figuring out the combination key under codenames, listening to the banter of the squad in the background. It doesn’t help I’m a slut for baroque-styled architecture and half my attention was on the pastel decor. Yeah, yeah, I know we have three thousand dollars on the line, but look at that gold filigree

These outlaws move like a finely oiled machine, not a detail out of place...which makes the ensuing mess all the more tragic.

...and this post is getting too long, so I’m going to post the second part separately. Ain’t I a stinker?