#those f-ing errors

[jcollinswrites]

Hi Hi!

First, I want to say that I love love love your game so much! All the romance options are absolutely lovely in their own way - I love A already, and they've only said like 2 things, lol! It's soooo fun to explore different reactions and situations based on the MC! I MUST romance everyone with all of the different MCs, for science . . . (and again, they're all really interesting).

I did want to give you a heads up that I got an error while playing the Set Priest MC. It said 'Chapter2 line 6881: Non-existent veritable 'hairtexture'

I had played with a Mut Priest MC previously and didn't have this error, so I'm not sure if it's just for Set Priests?

Thanks again for the amazing game!!! ❤️❤️

Omg haha you are one dedicated reader ❤️❤️❤️ I try to write the exact amount of content for every background, I play no favorites when it comes to MCs and ROs, so you'll be able to enjoy all of them in equal measures ✨ I will even write more flavor text later and add them to already existing scenes during editing, but I'll have to read the different origins from start to do that because I tend to forget a lot of the details lol.

The error message I think is related to this problem and it's because of something in the website's base code that's causing it. The people running the site need to write up a new project from scratch to fix it, so it will be a bit slow, but it's crucial, and it's happening. Until then, the only thing we can do is save and hit restart which is tedious I know, but the people in charge are working on it full time :')

[ronearoundblindly]

Big Pharma

Steve Rogers x doctor!Reader

Written for @stargazingfangirl18's Birthday Bonenanza--HAPPY BDAY, SIRI!--using the scenario prompt ~quick, frantic, secret sex in an almost public place + babe's hand over your mouth to keep you quiet~ and the dialogue prompt "goddamnit, will you just f***ing let me do this for you?" with free use kink for good measure. Why not?

Summary: The extreme drug cocktail you devise to save Steve Rogers has one major side effect.

Warnings for smut 🥴, sorta dub-con because it's like sex pollen, F E E L S, Steve being the most chivalrous gentleman while railing you (do it for your country, babes 🫡), completely unintentional dirty talk from Steve but 😮‍💨 we'll allow it, Tony being Tony, and--as always-- terrible puns. (There are no mentions of any medical instruments, except an IV, which is not used.) MINORS DNI. This is a mature gift work; see my Light Masterlist for all-age fanfic that is fine for minors. WC 2k

The constant photoflash burns into your retinas obnoxiously, and you’re not even the subject of the paparazzi.

Captain America is alive—all thanks to you—though he could easily have been six-feet under by now. The mysterious infection was so bad and spread so far, the drug regimen you administered constitutes one of the Avengers’ biggest Hail Marys to date, but it’s working. That’s all that matters…to the world. Behind the scenes is a different story.

As Captain Rogers turns to the next hand he must shake, his sharp blue eyes find you, twinged with a familiar fear.

This stupid event scheduled by Stark to boost morale, to show Cap is just fine and back in fighting form, has gone on too long. It’s happening again.

You worried Rogers might not make it when suddenly Stark showed up hours earlier than the initial, planned press conference—because, of course, there’s meet-and-greets, quick interviews, and these damn handshakes. He’s only gone so long between treatments for the last week.

You nod at Cap and make your way in the small crowd back to Stark. You tell him you’ll need a room, somewhere private to put in the IV, and at least thirty minutes to administer the huge dose. Rogers’s super-metabolism makes it necessary to use approximately forty times the prescription average for antibiotics and steroids. In theory, the side effects are well worth his speedy recovery.

Well, the only side effect.

Stark looks horrendously annoyed. “Can’t you just shoot him up with it and be done?” He doesn’t need your lecture repeated though. “Fine, there’s a greenroom thing over there, but you’ve got fifteen minutes at most, you hear me?”

“Twenty-five, Mr. Stark. He’s not a water balloon.”

“Twenty or he can wheel the damn thing around with him.”

You gulp in nervousness, but the problem isn’t Stark’s attitude. Rogers isn’t going to like rushing this. He feels shame enough already.

“I’ll make it work,” you assure the stubborn playboy. If he only knew…

“Good. A team player. We value that here.”

You have no fucking idea how ironic that is, you scream internally, but you follow him to a door off a back hallway, a room that shares a wall with the space all those people are gathered, and thank Stark.

“Oh good, he’s heard the dog-whistle of treat time,” Tony quips, and you swivel to see Cap trailing behind you.

He’s already made his excuses to step away, too. It must be bad.

You’re sure to pull out your props of a saline drip and tubing from your bag while Tony can still see, but you drop the act the instant the door clicks shut.

Cap take one step forward to flip the lock, immediately unzipping the fly of his iconic leather suit.

See, the only side effect of the drugs is Rogers gets hard, often, and can’t find relief from his efforts alone. Through trial-and-error, the clear solution has been help—discretely—from the only medical professional allowed around him until his condition improved.

Of course, he fought it. Of course, you wanted to preserve his dignity. Of course, you tried to keep it as perfunctory, methodical, and uninspired as possible, but the thing is, that didn’t last.

The more distant and cold the experience, the faster he became desperate and wanting again, and now you have just twenty minutes to make sure Captain America can hold out for hours.

Steve, you remind yourself. He prefers you not use respectful address when engaging is what he deems entirely disrespectful behavior. 

You need to get him off in essentially no time at all, so you’ve decided: go big or go home.

Bag tossed to the floor, you unbutton your pants and shimmy out of everything from shoes to panties, letting the longer tail of your dress shirt barely cover your modesty.

Steve looks dumbfounded. It’s bad enough he has to run to you for a handy every few hours, but this?

“Doc, no,” he breaths.

“I understand the procedure,” you say calmly, echoing his harrowing consent from that first night he needed you.

Steve’s brow furrows in strain. “We shouldn’t…”

‘We’ are way past ‘shouldn’t,’ buddy.

“Can’t ask you to…“ but he also knows time’s a wasting.

He’s already fisting himself, struggling to be the gentleman he never stopped being, which at the moment is a huge problem because both of you need to get through the day—you without losing your job and him without popping a boner on national television.

It’s your job to break him and break him right now.

“Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?”

There’s a flat smack on the door.

“Do whatever the lady wants and then get back out here,” Tony yells from the other side. “Put us all out of our misery,” he ends with a grumble.

That is by far the most helpful thing Stark has said in the last week, so you mouth “see” and begin undoing your blouse from the bottom, giving Steve his first peek of you. His hand speeds along his length, adam’s apple bobbing in concentration.

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you,” you whisper. You walk to the far corner of the room, put your hands up, shirt rising over your bare ass, and face the wall. Your voice is soothing, pleading even. “Just take what you need.”

In some ways, you feel responsible for his predicament. You are the prescribing doctor, he isn’t in a relationship where a partner could assist, and he insists no one else know. He doesn’t deserve to be poked and prodded more than necessary, and you can’t give him any other meds in combination. None of it is his fault same as none of it is yours. You only intended to heal him.

Truthfully though, none of this is just about his release anymore, much as you’d like to dismiss your feelings.

You can’t deny, however, that each time the air gets a little thicker with tension, the body language a little more intimate. Steve has kept his eyes open, clutched your free hand to his chest, rolled his hips open, and thrust up into your fist. The greater the satisfaction of his climax, the longer he retains control.

“When this is over…I swear,” he grits out, getting closer word by word until his deep voice is right by your ear.

He tugs your shirt up to dip his fingers between your legs. “Been smelling you for two days. Can’t do anything until—” Steve growls, feeling how slick you’ve become in anticipation “—you’re ready for me.” 

His concern washes away when two fingers easily breech you to the knuckle and are immediately replaced by the blunt head of his cock dragging between your folds.

You didn’t expect him to give in so fast. You didn’t expect him to have known this aroused you. The idea he might want to continue, to go further, races down your spine, following the opposite path of Steve leaning into you. His forehead presses your occipital as yours presses the wall. The heat of him makes you arch in luxurious proximity.

Steve fucking forward to enter you in one smooth motion makes you forget to be quiet, but before the whole shout of ecstasy escapes, his hand covers your mouth.

“Shhh, Doc,” he breathes at the base of your neck. “Be good for me.”

That only gets you moaning into the seam of his gloves.

His hips start a staccato rhythm, a second of loud friction for each second of silent, fulfilling pressure.

Steve slips his still wet fingers under your shirt and beneath the cup of your bra to swirl a smooth pattern over your nipple. Instead of voicing your approval, you shove yourself back into him faster.

You notice the muffled chatting of Tony and someone else outside while your eyes roll. The slap of your skin against the Cap suit becomes the loudest thing in the room, but that’s not what Steve minds.

He pulls out and spins you around, pausing to see the cream you’ve created at the base of him drip to the carpet below.

Deep sea eyes meet yours through golden lashes.

“If I can’t hear you…” Steve hoists you up to his waist, threading one arm through the bend in your knee, spreading you wide and diving in swiftly.

Your body curls forward automatically to grasp at him and smother yourself in the leather of his shoulder pad. This pace is much faster, purposeful, utterly unravelling you. The position delivers more range of motion, all of the buildup and less of the noise, with the added benefit of his tool belt nudging your clit repeatedly.

Tony pounds on the door. “‘Bout done in there, guys? Let’s go.” How apt, the unknowing jester.

Steve pants, open-mouthed, against your temple.

You smile but can’t stop your own ruin.

A groan gets buried in your disheveled hair. “Are you…close?” His hips snap brutally. “Are you—“ he sounds wrecked “—you gonna…come on my—uungh.”

You tip over the edge, clutching him tight and fluttering for him in every way. The detonation of your orgasm burns red behind your eyelids like camera flashes, a dirty snapshot for you alone.

“Mercy,” Steve begs, gripping your ass to rut into you, desperate to join. His neck tenses as he spills inside you, pulse throbbing in time with his cock. 

He leans against you and the wall, his steady weight stilling your shaky legs. Slowly, your feet are guided to the floor and Steve steps away to wipe away any evidence of his ‘therapeutic treatment.’ His breathing settles much faster than yours, and by the time he’s tucked back in with his suit righted, you’re simply sliding down the wall to catch up.

He hurries over to the small vanity and mini fridge—usually ‘guests’ for speaking (or interrogating) wait here—to bring you supplies.

A box of tissues is set by your side.

“So…” he hands you a bottle of water “…maybe…dinner tonight?” 

You set the water down in favor of cleaning yourself, glancing up to offer a reassuring dismissal. “This morning was your last dose,” you remind him. “It should be over soon.”

Steve may not need this anymore, may never need you again, but he doesn’t miss a single beat.

“I’d like—I want to take you some place nice, but…” He chugs his whole water then quickly unclasps the glove on his left hand, rolling up his sleeve, veins jumping over a thick forearm.

“I don’t know what food you enjoy.”

Arguably, he knows a few other things that you enjoy.

There’s another impatient bang at the door.

“I—“ Your heart soars with the soft sincerity of his face, no trace of fear left behind, no hesitation. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

Steve stands, smoothing a hand over his hair. “I’ll lock it behind me…and, um, thank you, Doc.”

It’s the first time he hasn’t apologized this whole week.

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Steve flashes you a dopey smile and shakes his head. “See you out there,” he chuckles.

You can’t be seen when the door opens just enough for Steve to step out, but he makes a show of rolling the suit’s sleeve back down like he really did have an IV infusion, selling the lie like a pro. He keeps Tony talking while shutting you back into your debauched bubble.

Through the wall, you still hear “could you have gone any slower?” followed by a curt, “yes,” and have to stifle a laugh.

“What’d you do, blow a vein?”

You’re picturing an incredibly ironic look on Captain Rogers’ face.

“Just be grateful she puts up with us, Tony…” and their voices disappear down the hall.

His treatment may be finished, but Steve wants you to stick around. He wants you.

Would having dinner with that man really be so terrible? No. Not at all. Even the ‘worst’ of this situation has been a great fucking experience. You don’t want to give that up yet.

It seems you’re both addicted now.

[Main Masterlist; Steve Rogers One-Shots; Ko-Fi]

[collapsedglasshouses]

AN ANGEL FOR NOAH || Noah Sebastian x OC [Part 11]

DIVIDER ART WORK BY @cafekitsune

PAIRING: Noah Sebastian x Jules [she/her]

MASTERPOST

SUMMARY: Actions are followed by consequences... Noah and Jules will learn that the hard way.

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of death and mental health issues, swearing, more angst, have i mentioned angst?, angst

A/N: Oh my f-ing god, I can't do this anymore. In honor of the BMTH tour starting today, I thought updating this story was fitting. This is the second to last part of An Angel For Noah... I'm too cruel to my characters, what am I doing... I hope you like the new part. If so, consider reblogging it! Thank you! Also, this isn't fully proofread, i'm sorry :c (im not, my head was too full to notice any errors)

TAGLIST: @trvshdxddy @blackveilomens @crimson-calligraphyx @measuredingold @cncohshit @signs-of-ill-portent @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @ada-clarence @wild-child-7747 @thebadchic @thescarlettvvitch @cookiesupplier

Keep in mind, this takes place in an alternative universe. Even though I write about real people, the way I write them has nothing to do with how they are in real life.

When Jules awoke, the light burned in her eyes. She barely managed to keep them open. It was a severe contrast to the warmth of Noah’s embrace that she was able to feel for an entire night. It took her a couple of seconds to notice where she was. But when she did, the realization hit her like a brick wall. She knew what was about to come and immediately felt nauseous. She wanted to go back. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and find herself back in Noah’s arms.

As she sat there in the white nothingness, she felt like she was dying over and over again. This was the end. Jules felt a lot of different feelings. There was a heaviness in the air, and everything around her looked too clean and empty. She couldn't shake off the mix of emotions inside her.

She thought about the night she spent with Noah, and it made her feel sad and happy at the same time. Sad because she knew they weren't supposed to get close like that, and happy because those moments were special.

Thinking about what happened, she felt a bit sorry for breaking the rules. She wished she could go back and change things, but it was too late now.

Missing Noah hit her hard. She wanted to be close to him, share more laughs, and just be with him. Even the bad moments were now everything she craved as long as she could see him again. The memory of his touch stayed with her, and she wanted more of those stolen moments.

In the midst of all these emotions, there was a warmth inside her that was hard to explain. It was more than just doing her guardian job; it was a deep connection that went beyond the rules. Noah had become a big part of her story, sometimes even reminding her of her living self.

As she sat there, she knew their connection was special but also risky. It made her feel love for a human, guilt for breaking the rules, and a deep sadness for what might not happen.

While waiting for her punishment to arrive, she couldn't ignore the feeling Noah left in her. It was a mix of love, guilt, and loss—a strong and special connection that painted the white room with the colors of a love that went beyond what was supposed to happen.

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and immediately knew who it was.

“Jules.” Keaton spoke softly “We need to talk.”

Jules sighed as Keaton walked around her and sat down in front of her. He was still calm, as usual, but his eyes, usually filled with gentle reassurance, held a weight that mirrored the weight on Jules' heart.

Jules nodded, her eyes brimming with uncertainty. She had a feeling what was about to happen.

Keaton’s presence, normally a very welcomed feeling for Jules, now felt bittersweet. It took him a second to find the right words. “I know this is hard.”

Jules just looked at him with a plain expression. She knew he wanted to comfort her, but she couldn’t quite believe he actually knew how hard this was.

“I hate to be the one to do this to you, but-…” Keaton began but Jules was quick to interrupt him: “But you’re still doing it, Keaton.”

Keaton blinked for a couple of seconds. She was testing his patience with that sentence. “You know, you can’t really blame me for the consequences you have to face now, sweetheart.”

She noticed his slightly angered undertone, but she was to numb to properly correct herself. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she couldn’t face her own mistakes. She couldn’t face her own bad decisions.

“I didn’t think you would go this far, Jules.” Keaton than claimed, causing Jules to raise her eyebrows. “You knew what was going on?”

“Not really… But I had a feeling when we last saw each other.” He explained, his tone becoming calmer again. Jules just nodded, waiting for her punishment with pure anxiety creeping up her veins.

“I know you formed this deep connection with Noah, but I wouldn’t have guessed how deep it really got.” Keaton explained, while Jules swallowed hard. It had in fact got so deep, she craved him with every cell of her body, holding on to bit of life she felt when she was near him.

On the other hand, the weight of guilt settled on Jules’ shoulders. Everything was about to slip from her grip.

“Keaton…” She finally cried out and let her head fall into her hands. “I just can’t.”

“I know, Jules. But you have no other choice.” – “I… I can’t let him go, Keaton. I can’t pretend those feelings do not exist.”

Keaton sighed, his gaze softening, while he took Jules’ hands into his, revealing her red eyes. "I understand, Jules. Emotions are powerful, even for us. But we have a duty, a purpose. The connection you formed with Noah is extraordinary, but it has consequences. This cannot continue. As you may know, there are no guardian angels happily together with their persons."

“Did it ever happen?” – “Of course, it did. It happens all the time, but it always leads to the same things.”

Jules felt a lump forming in her throat. "What are the consequences?"

Keaton hesitated before explaining, “You have little to no options, but we can give you these… One, you cut all ties to Noah. You will never see him again, nor be his guardian angel.” Jules’ eyes widened as she listened to her former guardian angel.

“Or…” Keaton sighed, already having this gut feeling Jules would choose to make her existence a living hell, “You can continue to be his guardian angel… But with strict restrictions. You won’t be able to make yourself attach to the physical world ever again… You won’t be able to make yourself visible nor move anything. You can’t just jump in front of cars or whatever.”

“And?” Jules asked when she noticed Keaton hesitated to continue.

“Noah’s memories are going to be wiped in each case. He won’t be able to remember a single bit of what happened between you two. He won’t remember anything.”

Jules felt a surge of panic at the ultimatum. The prospect of losing Noah was unbearable, yet the alternative was equally painful.

"I can't lose him," she pleaded, her eyes pleading for an alternative.

Keaton's expression saddened, and he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Jules. I truly do. Take your time making your decision… You're allowed one last meeting with him. Make it count."

Gratitude and desperation filled Jules' eyes. "Thank you."

With that, Keaton stood up from his place and walked away, leaving Jules alone with her emotions. Jules couldn’t shake the heaviness in her heart. A profound sense of sadness and brokenness washing over her. The weight of the consequences for breaking the rules weighed heavily on her shoulders, casting a shadow over the warmth she had felt with Noah. Keaton's comforting words didn't fully erase the ache in her heart.

The realization that their connection had to end, or at least be severely restricted, left her feeling a deep sense of loss. The warmth and happiness she had experienced with Noah now seemed like distant memories, clouded by the unchangeable future.

Her heart ached with the knowledge that she couldn't be with him the way she wanted. The thought of not being able to see him, share moments, or guide him as freely was like a painful knot in her chest. The love that had blossomed within her felt like it was slipping away, leaving a void that echoed with the sadness of an inevitable goodbye.

Despite Keaton's comforting presence still lingering on her, Jules couldn't shake off the feeling of being broken. The once vibrant connection between her and Noah was now at risk of being severed, and the prospect of living with the consequences of their actions haunted her. She felt a deep sorrow, not just for herself but also for Noah, who would lose the memories of their time together.

In the white room, surrounded by the aftermath of their choices, Jules couldn't escape the overwhelming sadness that settled over her, like a storm cloud ready to unleash its tears. And then she made her decision…

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of Noah's room, eventually woke him up. With his eyes still closed, he reached to his left side but was met with emptiness.

His eyes immediately shot to his side where Jules had been laying the whole night. She was gone. He wasn’t surprised. He knew this was coming but he tricked himself into thinking it wouldn’t happen so soon.

For a moment, he laid there, grappling with the absence.

He couldn’t just let this go. He needed to see something to do so. So, when Noah stood up from his bed, he had a clear plan in mind.

The next couple of hours where filled with research. He hadn’t even had clear key words to search. All he knew was her first name and where it happened. Jules and New York City.

Noah was determined to find the answers he was looking for. He needed to know where her body was. He needed to see her grave to close this chapter.

He sifted through articles until he stumbled upon the one detailing the tragic incident that had taken her life. The life of his Jules. The weight on his chest intensified as he read about the accident, the pain evident in the words of the article.

Unable to contain the swirl of emotions, Noah ran a hand over his face. This became realer and realer with each passing second. She was dead, he was very much alive.

Suddenly, there was a knock on Noah’s door, causing him to flinch slightly. Quickly, he tried to close his tabs as he answered.

Nicholas entered his room and saw how Noah closed the last tab.

"Did I interrupt your private time or what is going on?" Nick joked while Noah noticed his own weird behavior.

"Uh… Believe me… It would be easier to explain if I said yes, so… Yes." He weakly smiled at his best friend.

Nick on the other hand just blinked. "I just wanted to ask if I should bring you a coffee."

Noah looked as his best friend for a second, trying to read him. He had known him for years. And right now he realized how much he had stressed him over the last couple of weeks. Nick had no idea what was going on, he was worried to his core about Noah. He knew Noah wasn’t doing well lately but he had never acted so sporadic as he did at the moment.

"I'm sorry, Nick." Noah exclaimed without answering his best friend's question.

Nick's eyebrows rose for a second, surprised at Noah’s statement. "For what?"

"For dragging you into something you weren’t supposed to be part of." Noah explained. Nick sighed and closed the door behind him, before sitting down on Noah's bed for a second.

“You know… The last couple of weeks kinda scared me, Noah.” Nick confessed to him with a worried expression.

Noah looked to the floor and started to think. Guilt began to creep up his veins. He knew, he could be difficult to handle but the last couple of weeks had been slightly too rough, even for him. He had been acting so out of character. All he wanted to do right now was telling Nick the truth, but he knew that it would make him sound even more insane than he already looked like. So, he said nothing…

Nick, in the meantime, tried to make Noah look at him. He knew something was going on in Noah’s head that he just didn’t want to tell and as much as Nick wanted to know what was going on, he didn’t try to ask.

“Can I do anything to help you?” Nick still asked his best friend, who seemed to be lost in his thoughts.

Noah swallowed hard. He had something he dearly wanted to do, but he wasn’t sure if he should ask is friend for such a weird request. It took him a minute to sort his thoughts. He knew, he needed to get closure as soon as possible, but was worried Nick would snap if he continued to be this way.

“I actually have a request.” Noah quietly breathed out, causing Nick to lean forward.

“I wanna go to New York City.” Noah than said. Nick blinked for a couple of seconds.

“Are you serious?” Nick asked, his eyes slightly widened, not knowing how to process Noah’s request.

“Dead serious.” – “You know, its like… On the other side of the country and we’ve just played their like… a month ago.”

Noah nodded.

For a second, Nick just looked at Noah. He didn’t even know what to expect anymore. Feeling the urge to rise from his seat and leave, he wanted to distance himself from the situation. However, a subtle tone in Noah's request managed to get through, planting a seed of responsibility within Nick. He knew he had to reconsider and acknowledge the significance that this matter held for Noah.

“Okay.” Nick exclaimed.

“Okay?” – “Yeah… Let’s look for the flights… Just the two of us.”

There was a subtle hope in Nick's heart that Noah's sudden desire to do something meant a positive change. He decided in that moment, if Noah wasn’t going to get better, he would take matters in his own hands. He needed to get Noah back.

For now, he just wanted to spend time with him, getting to know the situation that was going on better, even without Noah telling him.

They didn’t know exactly how they managed to do it but about ten hours later the two found themselves in the middle of New York City. It had been stressful and they had had little to no time to pack things, but right now they stood in their hotel room, both with a filled backpack and no clear plan in mind where to go.

At least, Nick didn’t know where to go.

“And now?” The bassist asked his best friend, who looked from left to right to find a good way to start their journey. It was already getting dark.

“Maybe… We can search for a restaurant after getting settled into our hotel room?” Noah requested, sounding as aimless as his best friend.

The small New York City restaurant they found themselves in, about an hour later, gave off a cozy ambiance. The lights were slightly dimmed, there were a lot of plants and a rustical brick wall with a lot of band pictures on it. The ambience was rounded off by the soft sound of 80s rock music. Noah and Nick sat across from each other at a corner table, the flickering candlelight casting a warm glow on the wooden surface.

For at least fifteen minutes, both of the boys just straight up stared at the menu. Noah was sure if another five minutes would pass without a dialogue, he would be able to memorize the dishes fully. They would be able to hire him at this point.

So, Noah decided to change that.

“You remember the last time we ate here?” He asked his best friend, whose eyebrows rose at his question. Nick wasn’t sure why Noah began to small talk with him. He knew Noah hated small talk more than anything.

“Sure… It’s been a year or two.” Nick quietly answered, before putting down the menu card. Noah followed his example and swallowed hard. The boys stared at each other for a second, before they silently agreed to just forget about the weird situation for a second. They both needed an evening of normality before the chaos would start again.

So, as they chose from the menu, they started sharing light banter about their favorite foods and recalling memories from past visits to New York. There was a fleeting sense that everything was returning to normal—the friendship, the shared laughter, the simple joy of enjoying a meal together.

Soon, the waiter approached, and they placed their orders. A basket of warm, crusty bread was set before them, accompanied by a trio of flavored butters. The clinking of porcelain and glasses blended seamlessly with the music in the background.

But the later it got, the less Nick could ignore the fact that they were in a city, on the other side of the country, for no apparent reason. In the midst of this apparent normalcy, Nick looked across the table at Noah, concern etched in his features. He could sense that something weighed heavily on his friend's mind. The subtle shift in the air hinted at the unspoken tension.

"So, Noah," Nick began, his tone gentle yet firm, "what's really going on with you lately?"

Noah's eyes momentarily flickered, caught off guard by the directness of his best friend’s question. He hesitated, his fork pausing mid-air above the salad. The comfortable illusion of normalcy shattered, revealing the underlying tension of unresolved emotions.

The restaurant seemed to hush for a moment, as if holding its breath, awaiting Noah's response. The ambient noise dimmed, leaving only the distant hum of the city beyond the window. Noah almost started to panic. He just couldn’t tell Nick. As much as he wanted to, he knew he couldn’t.

Nick's gaze remained steady, filled with genuine concern and a readiness to listen. The question lingered, inviting Noah to share the burden he carried.

“Nick… I can’t.” He breathed out, noticing how he wasn’t hungry anymore. For the last two hours he had just let go of his concerns, but now he was thrown right back into the chaos that was his life at the moment.

Nick held his gaze, hoping he would change his mind, but when he realized Noah was more silent than ever, he began to nod. “Okay.”

“It’s not like I don’t want to tell you… But so many things happened over the last weeks. I got to know so much about me. I need to get through this alone, Nick.”

“I hope you know, I’m here for you. Always, Noah.” – “Always.”

The next morning, Noah woke up at 6:17 am. He just couldn’t sleep anymore. Rolling from one side to the other. His thoughts were racing. He needed to get this done. He couldn’t wait any longer. So, not even an hour later, Noah quietly stood up, went to the bathroom and changed into his jeans and a simple black sweater, trying not to wake Nick. He didn’t need him to know where he was going.

But his plan failed, when he came out of the bathroom again.

“Where are you going?” Nick asked Noah, his eyes still laced with sleep.

Noah’s heart began to race. He didn’t really know what to say to his best friend, so he simply tried a random excuse. “I wanna go for a walk.”

Nick's eyebrow twitched upwards. He didn't believe him. “Where are you really going?”

Noah sighed. He didn’t answer, just staring at the floor.

“I’ll come with you.” – “No!”

Nick flinched at Noah’s tone. It got more and more confusing with each passing second. Noah looked broken, only a shell of what he used to be. Nick knew something was destroying him internally, so he wouldn't let go of this.

“I’ll can wait in the distance, but I’m not letting you go alone, Noah.” Nick answered his best friend, while slipping out of the bed to get dressed. Noah pressed his fingernails into his hands with such a force, he was scared he would bleed. He was starting to panic. He didn’t want Nick to worry anymore but in fact everything he was saying, caused Nick to be concerned even more.

“Why won’t you just let me go alone?” Noah asked carefully, a slight stutter in his voice. He sounded nothing like himself anymore. All he could think about was his mission to convince his mind that he couldn’t have Jules.

Nick stopped in his tracks and turned to look at Noah. It took him everything to not shout at Noah. He was getting frustrated. Noah had never acted like this. He knew he got worse. Noah had told him what made him go back into therapy, even though he left out the detail about Jules.

“I’m scared you will hurt yourself.” Nick almost whispered and blinked away the tears that started to form in his eyes.

Noah finally looked at his best friend with guilt. He wished he could tell Nick, but he knew he wouldn’t have believed him. So, he stayed quiet.

“Okay.” Noah whispered out “You can go with me, but you have to wait.”

Nick nodded, not really sure what he was agreeing to. But soon they had packed their stuff and took off.

They took a cab to a more remote area. Nick had no idea where they were and couldn't remember ever having been in this area of New York. After exiting the car, Noah walked with determination while Nick just trotted behind him, confusion in his eyes.

Soon they reached an area surrounded by a wall. Nick quickly realized it was a graveyard. Even though he was even more confused, he kept quiet while Noah handed him his backpack with the request to wait for him at that exact spot. Nick nodded and gave Noah a last confused but reassuring look before his best friend took off.

The graveyard had an eerie calmness, with the rustling leaves and the distant sounds of traffic being the only disruptions to the silence. The air was heavy with a mix of sorrow and nostalgia. As Noah entered the quiet space, the atmosphere changed, and Noah could feel the weight of memories settling on his shoulders.

His steps echoed softly on the gravel path. The gravestones stood like silent monuments, bearing countless untold stories of the people buried there. Goosebumps formed on Noah's skin as he walked among the rows. Graveyards always made him uneasy; they were a stark reminder of the fragility of life.

As Noah ventured deeper into the graveyard, the air seemed to thicken with an invisible heaviness.

The gravestones varied in size and design, telling stories of different lives. Noah's gaze shifted, and then, in a clearing, he saw it – a fresh grave adorned with vibrant flowers. The colors contrasted sharply against the muted tones of the graveyard. It looked so new, and reality hit him like a wave.

Jules. It was her grave.

Noah felt a knot tighten in his chest. He had buried too many people in his short life, but this was different. This was someone he hadn’t known in her lifetime, but someone he had connected with in ways he couldn't explain. When he got closer, he saw her full name, her birthday and the day she died. There even was a photo of her, leaning against the gravestone. The realization that Jules had left this world not even a year ago hit him with a profound sadness. She had simply slipped from his fingers.

He stood there, silent, taking in the scene. The brightness of the flowers seemed to mock the sadness radiating of the grave. Noah's mind swirled with conflicting emotions, and he couldn't shake the heaviness that settled over him. This was a painful reminder that Jules, his mysterious guardian angel, was not just a figment of his imagination but a person who had lived, loved, and left way to soon.

A profound sense of loss settled over him. It wasn't just about the person he had known briefly; it was about the life that had ended, the dreams that had ceased to unfold. He felt an ache in his chest, a pain that echoed with the weight of missed opportunities and the cruel randomness of fate. In this exact moment he realized something really important. He didn’t want to die. There was so much to live for. There was still so much to do for him.

As his tears started streaming down his face, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Without turning he instantly recognized the soft touch on his shoulder.

“Jules.”

“Noah, we need to talk.”

LAST PART

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern Au) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 24

"Your dress is here"

Yennefer read the text message from Geralt and immediately started tapping out a reply, "Send me a picture, please"

The dress was for her friend's upcoming wedding. She had been assured that it was not going to be one of those hideous bridesmaid's dresses that everyone usually picked. Most of them were either lackluster, or just plain outrageous.

Hopefully her friend kept her word. She would find out any minute now.

What the h*ll was taking Geralt so long to send the picture?

She was just about to text Geralt and tell him to hurry the f**k up, when her phone pinged.

"F***ing finally!", she muttered as she opened the message. Her hand flew to her mouth when she saw the photo.

There was Jaskier, sitting at her bedroom window, like a classical painting of a dramatically posed forlorn maiden. Or a woman on the cover of an 80's mass market paperback romance novel.

He was wearing her bridesmaid's dress.

He looked good in the light yellow chiffon...

And the dress was gorgeous, so win-win.

Okay, she was saving that one.

Yennefer texted, "You could have at least done his hair and makeup!" She chuckled when moments later, she received a photo of Jaskier with badly applied lipstick.

That picture definitely had blackmail potential!

"That shade of red is too dark. Now put my dress in the closet and get out of my room."

"And tell Jaskier not to touch my stuff!"

Geralt and Jaskier carefully put the dress on a clothes hanger and hung it in the closet. It was then that Jaskier spied a pair of Yennefer's yoga pants. He grabbed them, and started pulling them on.

"Take those off," Geralt warned.

"Oh, hush--holy sh*t look how good my a** looks in these!" Jaskier exclaimed as he turned and looked at his backside in the full length mirror on the wall.

Geralt rumbled nervously, "Put those back and let's go already! She literally just said for you not to f**k with her stuff!"

Jaskier grinned as a thought occured to him, and he stripped the pants off and held them out to Geralt.

"I bet your a** would look good in these too!"

"No."

"Come on, haven't you ever thought about wearing them, even once?"

"No."

"Come on, Geralt. You know you've got the legs and a** to pull these off! Aren't you even a little bit curious about how you'd look?"

Ok, maybe he was just a little curious. Yennefer would wear those things around the house, claiming they were super comfortable. And now that he thought about it, they were basically just a stretchy version of the trousers he usually wore, right? But then again, they were Yennefer's yoga pants, and this could all go so terribly wrong... Best to err on the side of caution and not wake up dead.

"Yennefer said for you not to touch her stuff.", Geralt replied.

"But she didn't say anything about you not touching her stuff."

Geralt hesitated as his brain whispered: he's got a point, you know.

"But..."

"Your butt. In these!" Jaskier countered, giving the yoga pants an encouraging shake. Geralt looked at Jaskier, who was all smiles and excitement, and his last functioning braincell put up an Out to Lunch sign and f**ked off.

"Gimmie those!"

Geralt: *struggling to pull up the yoga pants*

Jaskier: "Lose the undies"

Geralt: *uncomfortable "hmm"*

Jaskier: "They're adding extra bulk, and you've already got enough of your own."

Geralt: Hm!

Geralt grumbled, but decided to follow the suggestion. No sense in accidentally ripping Yennefer's pants and having to explain what happened. It was several more minutes of struggle, with Jaskier alternately laughing, and offering unhelpful advice and comments, but Geralt finally managed to squeeze himself into the gray stretchy pants.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

"I told you," Jaskier laughed, "your a** looks great!"

Geralt regarded himself in the mirror. The pants were so very, very form-fitting. The fabric was very thin and stretchy, and Geralt realised, with growing dismay, that you could just about see a nice outline of everything. He felt so d*mn exposed.

But they were very comfortable...

Hmmm.

10/10 for ease of movement, but 0/10 for the feeling of being bucka** nekkid.

"Come on, give us a strut," Jaskier said, demonstrating as he did a ridiculous little walk by the mirror, wearing Yennefer's black yoga pants.

Geralt did a tentative strut, following Jaskier around the room. He felt ridiculous at first, but then decided f**k it, let's have a little fun, and let loose. He almost threw his back out twerking, but it was worth it to see Jaskier keeling over with breathless laughter.

A dance competition ensued, but there was no clear winner because neither of them could stop laughing long enough to focus on making up any kind of scoring system.

Doped up on confidence and serotonin, Geralt only hesitated a little when Jaskier said "Let's go give the neighborhood and eyeful!"

Geralt: Hm...(Hesitant)

Jaskier: Come on, it'll be fun!"

Geralt: Hmm

Jaskier: Just once around the block! Come on, Geralt! You go jogging all the time in those tiny 80's gym shorts. They are so short, I don't know how you aren't falling out of a leg with every step! At least these have full coverage, and actual legs!

Geralt: I don't know... What if there are people out there and they see me?

Jaskier: Oh, no! Not people! Gods forbid they see you jogging in athletic wear that has an inseam of more than 2.5 inches!

Geralt glowered, but gave in. Jaskier was right. The vintage shorts he usually wore to jog in actually did have an inseam of only 2.5 inches, and he'd never cared that other people were out and about when he went on his runs.

Geralt: ...

The next thing Geralt knows, he and Jaskier are jogging around the block in their respective borrowed yoga pants. Geralt is starting to relax, the apprehension wearing off as he focuses on jogging.

He doesn't even care anymore that he isn't wearing a shirt. The woman jogging in the opposite direction didn't appear to mind either, judging from the appreciative glance she throws him as she passes.

Jaskier, jogging along beside him, spots the approaching woman, and sees a perfect opportunity. He slows down to get behind Geralt to give the woman room to pass, and quickly takes out his phone. He watched the woman's eyes surreptitiously follow the bouncing balls as she jogged past Geralt, then sneak a quick peak at the rear view.

He caught her eye and gave her a cheeky wink.

Yennefer was just on her way back to the Conclave meeting after stepping out to get herself a quick drink, when her phone pinged. It was a message from Jaskier. She sighed, wondering what a**hattery he was going to inform her of now.

She stopped dead in her tracks.

Yennefer stared at the photo.

It was Geralt, or more specifically, his backside, and he was wearing a pair gray yoga pants.

It took her a second to realized that those were her gray yoga pants he was wearing.

They were stretched so tight, they looked like they had been painted on. She could see every finely sculpture curve.

Yennefer was impressed with how well they held up under the strain of containing that absolute unit of an a**, and those thighs... She couldn't even be mad.

She teased Geralt about it when she got home, showing him the picture and complimenting him on his assets.

She even changed Geralt's caller ID image on her phone to the photo of him in her yoga pants.

But it wasn't even the entire picture. It had been strategically cropped. Now, anytime he called her, what popped up was the picture of just his a** in those gray yoga pants.

[miasudare]

Ayo those are some little bros (yes I am aware Cil's eye is in fact on the wrong side, I'll fix it in the comics)

Name: Cil (Pencil)

Age: 16

Male he/him

Asexual (Still hasn't figured out romantic attraction)

He mostly grew up with his brother (PJ) and his dad around. He loves his big brothers so much and relies on them. He is currently living with his father for 6 years. He visits his mother most weekends and likes to wander around at Tips Head when Petal is busy.

Cil is known for talking a lot. His teachers and most of his family gets headaches from how much he taks but he never seems to get tired. He usually hangs with whoever he finds. He doesn't have best friends, since everyone is his friend. Well if you don't count Cray of course. Those two? Would kill for each other. There weren't much kids around his age in the neighborhood so, Cray was Cil's only friend for a while. He also holds a strong sense of grunge. Cil likes to hang around, play games and do sports. But one thing is his mortal enemy. Germs. Cil is germaphobic and can't stand being dirty. Maybe that's why everyone hands him the cleaning tasks in the house..?

Cil's in the sewing club, as in a way to show his adoration for puppets Error used to make. He likes to sew puppets with PJ too. It's a bonding activity in the family I suppose. Other than that, he likes to listen Gradient's stories and make fun of the people his big brothers hate.

His room is very tidy. He also cleans PJ's room time to time. Cil carriers disinfectant and wet wipes to clean the places he uses(sitting, touching).

☆Believes in resets (spoiler lol)

☆Hates people that talk behind his family and friends. He wouldn't hesitate to ruin someone's life to protect his loved ones'.

☆Cil is blind on his right eye (yes I drew it f---ing wrong)

☆Him and Pallete likes to pull pranks on PJ.

☆To him, everyone is innocent and was taught wrong by others. "No one borns as a bad person"

Name: Cray

*In wait

[f1]

How much Mick Schumacher cost Haas last season in crashes

'We keep f***ing wrecking them... or should I say ONE driver does!': Mick Schumacher is SAVAGED by Haas boss Guenther Steiner in new tell-all book... as he reveals axed German's crashes last season cost them £1.7MILLION! By Nathan Salt For Mailonline Published: 01:35 EDT, 14 April 2023 | Updated: 01:36 EDT, 14 April 2023 There is no love lost between Mick Schumacher and his former boss at Haas Guenther Steiner and the executive has now savaged the young driver in his new book.  Schumacher was dropped by Haas at the end of the 2022 season and has since taken a backwards step to become a reserve at Mercedes behind Lewis Hamilton and George Russell. The 24-year-old son of legendary former F1 driver Michael found life tough at Haas, particularly with avoiding the barriers.  Steiner has now revealed exactly how much Schumacher cost the team in crash damages.  Steiner's new book, entitled Surviving to Drive, details how Schumacher's crash during first practice at the Japanese Grand Prix cost Haas $700,000 (£550,000) alone, with the overall bill for the season coming in at a staggering £1.7million.  The arrival of Schumacher at Haas in 2021 was seen as a major coup given the star power attached to his family name but it soon turned into a loveless marriage between the young driver and Steiner.  Speaking of the costly mistake in Japan - which saw Schumacher spin off at Turn 7 at Suzuka in tricky weather conditions - Steiner remains livid. 'It happened on the f*****g in-lap,' Steiner wrote, in an excerpt of the book, according to the Express. 'On the in-lap! Sure, it was very wet out there on the track, but nobody else managed to write off a car while they were driving back to the pits. 'We lose a car after five minutes and now have to build another. I cannot have a driver who I am not confident can take a car around safely on a slow lap. It's just f*****g ridiculous.  'How many people could we employ with $700,000? And I have to now find that money.' Haas had taken a strategy to invest in youth and lined up with Schumacher and Nikita Mazepin a few years ago - but have since pivoted back towards the experience of Kevin Magnussen and Nico Hulkenberg. 'The first time a driver writes off a car in a season due to human error, you have to forget about it. It's just one of those things and at the end of the day, s**t happens sometimes,' Steiner added. 'The second time it happens you think "hang on, something's not right here."' Share or comment on this article: How much Mick Schumacher cost Haas last season in crashes via Formula One | Mail Online https://www.dailymail.co.uk?ns_mchannel=rss&ns_campaign=1490&ito=1490

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

i think what annoys me the most though are the backhanded compliments to harry. i don’t understand why louis must always say things like that, it’s so unnecessary. like why are they still trying to pit them against each other? that is actually one of the things that made me no longer believe they are or were a thing, because i don’t think louis would talk about harry that way if they were. and the interviewer pretty much revolved everything around harry which makes no sense. also, the overall tone of the article was super judgemental and biased imo.

Oh anon - there's a lot here and I'm going to start with the idea that it's possible to write an unbiased profile of someone. That's like suggesting it's possible to write an unbiased piece of music - a category error. The point of a profile is for the author to communicate something about how they see the subject. It can do a good job, or a bad job. (There is a whole side point about the fucking Murdoch press - but take that as read).

Louis has a few choices: he can answer questions about Harry in profiles, he can refuse to answer questions about Harry and have the profiler write several paragraphs about that refusal, or he can not do profiles. I totally understand why he takes the approach he does.

I really disagree that there are backhanded compliments in there. I think everything Louis says about Harry is pretty supportive and positive:

“Only Harry knows what he means there, it’s hard to speculate, but we all came from relatively humble beginnings, and now we are where we are.”

and

"Well, it’s not a surprise is it? We were always aware that Harry fit that mould, and it’s been an amazing thing to watch. Envy? At the start maybe, when I was trying to find my feet, but it’s never healthy to cross-reference your own success with others is it? These days I’m learning to elevate myself in those moments when I have to. I didn’t know how to do that before, but now? Now I know I f***ing can.”

(That second one is also an excellent example of a pivot - because he's well media-trained).

[cherryblossomshadow]

[Image ID and source: Tweet from Simon Rosenberg (@/SimonWDC) reading: Red wave 2024 update:

70+ polls in the averages, 31 right-aligned groups have released polls since August

Polymarket, Elon 2024 escalations

Late last week they worked the natl polling average, moved it down, started spinning early vote hard 👇 1/

.

Part of their new efforts to drive the natl polling average down is addition of a TIPP daily tracking poll. Predictably, and perhaps comically, it showed the race - all of a sudden! - breaking to Trump after 6 weeks of a remarkably stable race and a bad media week for Trump 2/

/end ID]

.

More tweets from the thread:

Last Wed I did a polling roundup. Polling continued to be remarkably stable. 538 natl average actually ticked up for us that week. We were +4 and stable in Econ/YouGov, +5 in Marist, +4 in Morning Consult, NYT, +3 CBS, ABC. Steady as she goes. 3/

Yes, some state polls had moved a bit towards Trump. But things were all within margin of error, things bounce around and Rs had been pounding the state averages, particularly NC and PA. Majority of recent polls in those 2 states R-aligned 👇4/

Even after "movement towards Trump" here is the @/WashingtonPost battleground state polling averages this morning. The Post has a tighter screen on what polls they accept. It shows Harris at 270+ and winning. 5/

Then last Wed a switch turned on and right aligned polls started flooding the natl polling average - Emerson, Fox News, Quantas, RMG, TIPP's daily tracker. Senate Rs dropped a natl poll to help out, as did whatever ActiVote and Atlas are. 538 moved from 2.6 to 1.8 Harris. 6/

To be clear - the independent polls last week were +3 to +5 Harris. A steady, stable race. Then boom - red wavers dropped series of polls 2 to 5 points to the right of indep. polling and the averages moved.

This is exactly what they did in 2022. 7/

https://www.nytimes.com/2022/12/31/us/politics/polling-election-2022-red-wave.html

https://web.archive.org/web/20240929092855/https://www.nytimes.com/2022/12/31/us/politics/polling-election-2022-red-wave.html

Since TIPP is now the tip of the red wave 2024 spear, let's take a look. "Talent on loan from God" - Rush Limbaugh's catchphrase. Here's a fun story from their site: "Harris’s Fiery Campaign of Rage Exposes Her Unpresidential Temperament" 8/

Some other recent TIPP goodies:

"The Left Is Still Obsessed With 2020 Election Deniers"

"U.S. Government Pushing Climate Lies On Schoolchildren"

"Night And Day: Trump’s Command Of Economy Exposes Harris’s Novice Approach" 9/

The American right hacked the polling averages in 2022 and are doing it again. 538 told us that even a bad PA TIPP poll should be included in the averages, and that it only moved PA 1/10th of a point. No biggie - except Rs have released 16 polls in PA this month. 10/

The simple fix is to create a new category of polls, R-aligned, and keep these polls separate from legit, independent polls.

Rs have exploited the "throw it in the averages" approach again - 70+ polls, 31 different orgs.

We have to do better 👇11/

Another explanation for flood of natl polls last week - Rs started seeing movement from Trump due to his deranged behavior.

When a bad video for Moreno dropped RMG rushed into OH with his best poll of the cycle.

They flooded NC in days leading up to Robinson implosion. 12/

Perhaps the most important point of all - Rs would not be spending so much time and effort working the polling averages if they believed they were winning. 13/

Could Rs really be doing this?

Rs have been lying about last election for 4 years

They tried to overturn the election in 2020-2021 and attacked the f-ing Capitol

Fox News is a right wing political org that has fraudulently pretended to be a news org for decades Yes /14

On cue, a high-quality independent poll drops this morning with data consistent with other recent independent polls, showing Harris ahead, no slippage, and far more likely to win. 15/

If you're wondering why polling averages are suddenly showing Trump winning despite all the bad news he's gotten lately- it might have something to do with this:

Basically, Republicans are ratfucking the polling averages by churning out huge numbers of partisan polls, and the polling aggregators/analysts like 538 aren't doing due diligence to compensate for it.

Now, what is the purpose of this?

Well, in the immediate-term, it creates a narrative that Trump is winning, boosting morale of his supporters while demoralizing support for Democrats and Harris.

Beyond that, if polling averages show that Trump is winning ahead of election day-which we can pretty much guarantee they will, because see above-then they will use that as "proof" of fraud if Democrats subsequently win.

Basically, they are engineering a pretext for their next coup attempt in front of us.

The only numbers that decide anything are actual votes. So ignore the polls, and VOTE.

[honeyleesblog]

Astrological Predictions and Character Analysis for Individuals with a May 29th Birthday

Horoscope and character for those brought into the world on May 29 They appreciate hunting, voyaging, and a wide range of experiences and diversion. His psychological capacities are conspicuous, and his inclinations are various. They are inconspicuous individuals, with an affection for writing and craftsmanship. Simultaneously, they show likely abilities, particularly in callings connected with the monetary and business field. They likewise exhibit military abilities. Cautious, insightful, their way of behaving is alterable, which can change into outrage or crabbiness, as well as anxious fretfulness. They can offer a decent and dedicated kinship, with a ton of good judgment and intrinsic respectability. They are individuals extremely joined to cherish. They foster through their background, and their personality gradually takes shape. They tend to strict life or philosophical longings. When they move past their peevishness they become patient, held, joined to everyday life. Nonetheless, they are not exceptionally content with the marriage, since they are annoyed by errors and battles. They can experience the ill effects of lung and blood sicknesses, anxiety, and hand issues. What compromises them: They are individuals who are excessively secure with themselves, which causes misconceptions and debates; they could in fact unleash devastation on themselves. A lady brought into the world on this day is pretty, personal, respectable, however frequently dismisses the obligations of her home. He is keen on the expressive arts, particularly music and painting, as well as public activity. Astrological Predictions and Character Analysis for Individuals with a May 29th Birthday 

 On the off chance that your birthday is on May 29, your zodiac sign is Gemini May 29 - character and character character: cautious, good, genuine, erratic, melancholic, muddled; calling: fireplace clear, pediatrician, tailor; colors: brown, green, naval force blue; stone: onyx; creature: hummingbird; plant: pear; fortunate numbers: 2,23,39,46,56,57 very fortunate number: 31 Occasions and observances - May 29 Argentina: Armed force Day. Venezuela: Day of the Old. Uruguay: Meat Day. Territorial celebration of Lombardy (Italy) (in memory of the triumph of the Skirmish of Legnano). Global Day of Joined Countries Peacekeepers. Peru: Public Representative Day. Twelfth day of Ridvan, holy day in the Badi (Bajai) schedule. May 29 Superstar Birthday. Who was conceived that very day as you? 1901: Cornelia Otis Skinner, American essayist and entertainer (d. 1979). 1902: Stepin Fetchit, American artist and entertainer (d. 1985). 1903: Countee Cullen, American author (d. 1946). 1907: Elly Beinhorn, German pilot (d. 2007). 1908: Hannes Alfvდ©n, Swedish physicist, Nobel Prize champ in physical science in 1970 (d. 1995). 1908: Mel Blanc, American voice entertainer (d. 1989). 1909: Benny Goodman, American jazz guide and clarinetist (f. 1986). 1910: Inge Meysel, German entertainer (d. 2004). 1912: Julius Axelrod, American neurochemist, 1970 Nobel Prize champ in medication (d. 2004). 1912: Hugh Griffith, English entertainer (d. 1980). 1918: Guadalupe "Pita" Love, Mexican artist (d. 2000). 1919: Renდ© Barrientos, Bolivian legislator, military and president (d. 1969). 1919: Alberto Larraguibel, Chilean warrior and horseman (f. 1995). 1920: Antoni Badia I Margarit, Spanish philologist, teacher and scholastic (d. 2014). 1920: George London, Canadian show vocalist (d. 1985). 1920: Franklin Schaffner, American movie producer (d. 1989). 1922: Hal Lenient, American sci-fi essayist (d. 2003). 1922: Joaquდ­n Gamboa Pascoe, Mexican attorney and lawmaker (d. 2016). 1923: Anna Proclemer, Italian entertainer (d. 2013). 1924: Armando Peraza, American performer of Cuban beginning (d. 2014). 1925: John Cocke, American PC researcher (d. 2002). 1927: Clint Walker, American entertainer. 1928: Gustav Leonhardt, Dutch performer and author (d. 2012). 1928: Agnes Varda, French movie producer. 1929: Mario Nდºnez Iordi, Uruguayan performer (d. 2011). 1929: Nდ©lida Roca (70), entertainer and Argentine star (f. 1999). 1929: Fernando Inciarte, Spanish logician got comfortable Germany (f. 2000) 1930: Juan Genovდ©s, Spanish painter. 1930: Robert Ryman, American painter. 1931: Antonio Gamoneda, Spanish author. 1932: Rosa de Castilla, Mexican vocalist and entertainer. 1934: Alexei Leonov, Soviet cosmonaut. 1934: Alketas Panagoulias, Greek footballer and mentor (b. 2012). 1936: Keir Dullea, American entertainer. 1937: Emiliano Rodrდ­guez, Spanish b-ball player. 1937: Armando Valladares, Cuban author and dissenter, nationalized American. 1939: Michael J. Pollard, American entertainer. 1939: Calorie counter Quester, Austrian dashing driver. 1943: Antonio Burgos, Spanish columnist and author. 1943: Vდ­ctor Laplace, Argentine entertainer. 1943: Narcდ­s Serra, Spanish communist lawmaker. 1947: Fernando Martდ­n დ?lvarez, money manager and leader of the Genuine Madrid football club (d. 2006). 1948: Salvador Puig Antich, Spanish progressive and last killed by abominable stick of the Franco system (d. 1974). 1951: Fernando Lugo, Catholic cleric and Paraguayan president. 1951: Stephen Tobolowsky, American entertainer. 1951: Ferran Deluge, Spanish essayist in the Catalan language. 1953: Colm Meaney, Irish entertainer. 1954: Virginia Urdaneta, Venezuelan theater, film and TV entertainer. 1955: Clincher Headon, English drummer, of the band The Conflict. 1955: Brian Kobilka, American physiologist and natural chemist. 1958: Marie Fredriksson, Swedish artist and musician, of the band Roxette. 1958: Miguel Lდ³pez-Alegrდ­a, American space explorer of Spanish beginning. 1963: Helen Sharman, English space explorer. 1964: Wynonna Judd, American artist of down home music. 1964: Andrea Montermini, Italian hustling driver. 1964: Tom Morello, American guitarist, of the groups Audioslave, and Fury Against the Machine. 1964: Germდ¡n Palacios, Argentine entertainer. 1966: Stephen Malkmus, American artist, of the band Asphalt. 1968: Zacarდ­as Moussaoui, French professional killer, one of the ruffians of the planes in the assault of September 11, 2001. 1969: Pablo Mackenna, essayist and Chilean radio and TV have. 1970: Verდ³nica Lozano, Argentine TV have. 1971: Idina Menzel, American entertainer and vocalist. 1972: Mike Amigorena, Argentine entertainer. 1972: Manny Ramდ­rez, Dominican baseball player. 1974: Major L, American rapper (f. 1999). 1974: Power Bovolenta, Italian volleyball player (f. 2012). 1974: Konstantinos Chalkias, Greek footballer. 1974: Cee-Lo Green, American vocalist and artist, of the band Goodie Horde. 1974: Shin Ha-kyun, South Korean entertainer. 1975: Liberto Rabal, Spanish entertainer and movie producer. 1976: Radoslav Nesterovic, Slovenian b-ball player. 1976: Magnus Norman, Swedish tennis player. 1977: Akwდ¡ (Fabrice Maieco), Angolan footballer. 1979: Fabian Ernst, German footballer. 1980: Steven Gerrard, English footballer. 1981: Devendra Banhart, American vocalist musician. 1981: Blake Bashoff, American entertainer. 1981: Gianmaria Bruni, Italian dashing driver. 1982: Eddie Griffin, American b-ball player. 1989: Ailee, American vocalist of South Korean beginning. 1989: Hyomin, South Korean vocalist. 1990: Eury Pდ©rez, Dominican baseball player. 1990: Yoona, South Korean vocalist. 1993: Sota Fukushi, Japanese entertainer. 1994: Madeon, Do-It-Yourself and French maker 1997: Eunha, South Korean vocalist

[tangiblejournal56]

11/11/11

“He waited for the mask to drop off, but at the same time he did not question her right to wear it.” -F Scott Fitzgerald

Reading, & that line made me miss Max with a resounding pain.  How he never forces me to open up & be vulnerable, but always lets me know the option is there.  How badly I want to smell the aromatic, thick scent of his french press coffee, to see him walking his long limbs around the kitchen, nude but for those impossibly small briefs, leaving very little to the imagination.  His messy hair, that blurry, dazed look still half-asleep.  Sitting down next to me with his Celine or Dostoyevsky or Henry Miller.  Pushing his glasses up, his lip extra pouty when he’s just risen, his eyes so incredibly blue, so clear & unmuddied.  I can’t wait to live with him, for this warm little world we create when we’re together to be the rule & not the exception.  To see our two desks set up, his an old contraption of metal with his computer, lamp, writing materials, notebooks.  Mine a big wooden medical examiner’s table, covered in art supplies & journals, paint & markers & sketchbooks.

I miss him.  I asked him if the day I get back we could spend it all doing Jamie/Max stuff - restaurant-ing, Barnes & Noble-ing, & watching movies at his house.  He’s really looking forward to it as well.  The fact that he’d admit to missing me shows just how much.

The First 20 Songs From My iPod On Shuffle

“Eau de Toilette” - Emily Haines

“Modern Romance” - Yeah Yeah Yeahs

“Persevere” - David Dondero

“I Can’t Answer You Anymore” - Elliott Smith

“Pity & Fear” - Deathcab For Cutie

“Never Had No One Ever” - The Smiths

“Error Operator” - Taking Back Sunday

“Cinders & Smoke” - Iron & Wine

“Watashi wo Toru Toki wa Watashi Dake wo” - Johnny Greenwood

“Hype” - Tegan & Sara

“A Girl In Port” - Okkervil River

“D’Eranger Led Pierres” - Carla Bruni

“Time Stands Still” - All American Rejects

“Magnificent Seven” - The Clash

“Moonshiner” - Bob Dylan

“Falling Without Knowing” - Tilly & The Wall

“Time to Pretend” - MGMT

“The Hazards of Love 1” - The Decemberists

“My Heart Belongs to Daddy” - Eartha Kitt

“Bling (Confessions of a King)” - The Killers

[jcollinswrites]

News number2 about the errors

Okay so it turns out that I was wrong and after some more reports and investigation, the person who's running the website came up with an explanation. Which I did not understand lmao. But the point was, it's not a browser cache error. It's something about the website's coding, and now they have to rewrite certain parts, which will hopefully fix these errors! But it's a massive amount of work for them, and it will probably take like 2 weeks.

So until then, keep hitting restart... There is no other way for now.

Some better news: they are also going to make a local save system, which means you won't have to be always logged in to save. This might happen sooner than the error fix :))

[lady-hibiscus]

It was defensive manuevers, and the team leader of Taxangolia was getting tired of telling his superiors he didn't know why.

"Tell me!" The Hive-Mother roared again, and drone XAJWS792818-B could feel the order vibrating through his synpases.

With a weary sigh, he tried again. "I don't know, Holy Mother-"

"We are a WAR COLONY millenia ahead of Terra in technological capability! How the *untranslatable Taxangolian slurs* are they beating us?"

She was right. Terra had only mastered plane-shifting a year ago, just in time for the quincentennial Galactic Olympics. When Hive-Mother was a simple larvae, those Terrans hadn't even mastered their own planet yet!

"Holy Mother," XAJWS792818-B said placatingly, wincing. "I don't know how the Terrans have mastered invasion, but I promise to you we shall defeat them in the finals tonight."

"You better! Your stinger is on the line if Taxangolia takes any place but first. Understand?"

XAJWS792818-B fell silent, aware his Mother could read any and all drones's thoughts. But they have defeated the Trisolarians, the Arrakans, the-

"Would you like your death prematurely?"

"No, Holy Mother," XAJWS792818-B said quickly, flying away as soon as she gave the dismissal hormone.

"I'm going to need more nectar," he hissed at his intern. "And get our team in the conference hexagon, because we need to win this."

TWELVE ROTATIONS LATER (Taxangolia rotates twice an Earth minute and is the size of the moon)

XAJWS792818-B stared down at his team. "Our hive has won every other game, Taxangolians. It is down to us to win this one. To crush those miserable Terrans, who are shit at every. other. game."

XAJWS238422-Y raised her leg. "But, 18-B. They beat the Arrakans-"

"DO I LOOK LIKE I GIVE A *further taxangolian slurs*??!!"

22-Y put her leg down, sadly aware she had been insulted in every field possible and called enough slurs to make a sailor blush. "Has our research team got any more intel, then?"

"No. Those humans were classified as an F-tier absolute NON-THREAT within milliseconds of their joining the Galactic Federation! They could barely make it to the games only TWO HUNDRED light years from their own planet!" I swear, some empires would kill for a spot so close. Some of them are cheapskates.

"Maybe we revert to plan DWSFHWI-4?" 21-X suggested. Rinse the entire gamesite with biogenetic attacks coded to the Terran DNA, retrieve the target (a Terran 'feline').

"The *slur*ing felines share 90.2% genetic material with Terrans, and you know the rinses have a ten percent chance of error! They're still in beta, for the Holy Mother's sake," 18-B hissed.

"Overwhelm them with numbers?"

"We've already hit the weight quota for this year's team, and that's 22,000 of the skinniest Taxangolians we could find."

"Sneak in through their oxy vents?" Snicker, Terrans need gas to live.

"They have those double-barred with copper sulfate. We'd get a higher mortality rate WALKING IN." To those horrifically advanced 'guns'. I thought their population was only ten bils anyway. How did they find so many armed inhabitants?

"Disguise as a Terran, a few hundred of us?"

"You solve a goddessdamn CAAPCHTA, CPCTHA, *slur*. What the fuck is even a 'traffic light'?"

"Well. In previous recordings," 44-Z pointed out, "The attackers never even got into the fortress. The overwhelming missile system kept them out."

"But we are nothing like the other civs that took them on!"

A worker poked his head in. "Eighty rotations to showtime, team leader."

"*MULTIPLE SLURS*"

Humans have always had a tough time winning medals at the Galactic Olympics, but there is one game that they’re weirdly, freakishly good at.

[marzipanandminutiae]

I don't actually think bobbing was that expensive in the 1920's. Considering it was just a line from ear to ear, it could probably be easily accomplished by a roommate. I do think, however, it was very frustrating for socialites, because there wasn't much you could show off. Anyway, my grandmother grew up in the 1930's, and she said most of the haircuts were obtained by parents putting bowls over their children's heads and cutting.

I'm guessing this is relevant to something I say from time to time- that the popularity of bobbed hair in the 1920s led women to spend more money on trips to the hairdresser (and, for some of them, on hair products for maintaining waves, etc., although of course things like that have been commercially available for centuries). I usually bring this up as a point against the idea that the trend itself was somehow inherently liberating for women, rather than the broadening of socially-approved OPTIONS for self-expression.

(Take a shot every time some pop history discussion of the 1920s is like "women were freed from the shackles of long skirts and long hair!!!!!" Seriously.)

Now, I do want to contest the idea that the 1920s bob was "just a line from ear to ear." It certainly COULD be, and I've read letters and diaries that talk about women bobbing their friends' or relatives' hair at home. But more often, as with even simple-looking modern hairstyles, there was a great deal more skill involved to create the fashionable look.

(Breakdown of some popular bob types, 1924. There is definitely some layering involved in at least some of these, of a sort that would be very difficult for an amateur to do at home.)

Curls would give you a bit of room for error, maybe, but we've all seen those TikTok Hair Fail compilations floating around the Internet. Hair-cutting is usually harder than it looks.

See also: the F. Scott Fitzgerald story "Bernice Bobs Her Hair," which features a character not even DIY-ing it, but going to a professional (men's) barber and still having to visit a beauty salon to get the result fixed.

I don't know what hairdressers' prices were back then, so I'm sure the upkeep wasn't bank-breaking for everyone (or so many women wouldn't have done it). But it is still spending more money than women spent earlier trimming long hair at home every several months- or having a maid whose wages they were already paying do it.

I will also add that the bowl method being used for children doesn't mean it passed muster with adult women. You definitely won't get Next Best Thing To [insert Jazz Age celebrity of choice here] cutting around a mixing bowl, and that's what most women who embraced the trend were going for.

tl;dr- While women in the 1920s could, and sometimes did, cut and maintain bobbed hair themselves at home, the complexity of the styles did generally necessitate the services of a professional. Which meant a new regular expense that earlier hair fashions didn't usually involve.

[needydanger]

Red Wine | What Turns a Man On

18+ SMUT

pairing(s): levi ackermann x f!reader

content: 69′ing with captain levi

a/n: sorry for any grammar errors!  -scar <3

You held your fancy wine glass in an elegant manner; bringing it up to your lips. However, that classy facade fell short when you downed the entire glass as if it were water. The point of tonight was to mingle with Marleyan soldiers that were betraying their own country in favor of Eldian freedom. 

In your head, tonight was a competition to see who could get drunk the fastest. And you were in the lead by a major feat.

“Seriously, Y/n?”, Connie questions. You glare at him.

“What?”

His judgmental gaze turns into a dramatic pout, “Without me?!”

Soon; you, Connie, and Sasha were drunk. Your booming voices and annoying laughter caught the attention of everyone in the room. “Ah..who let the idiots have wine?”, Levi groans to Hange.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Y/n this happy.”

You were lively. Mingling with everybody. You even got Jean and Eren into the mix. They became competitive with each other, and drank until Jean's face was on the table. “HA! Y/n, look! I won~”, Eren smiles at you.

You were the most fun anybody has had in ages.

It went too far, though, when you accidentally spilt red wine on Zeke’s white suit. “What the fuck?!”, he gasps. You look at the spreading stain on his pants with wide eyes. “I..I am so sorry!”

Zeke realizes it was you and softens. In a quick motion, you grab a napkin off a dinner table, dunk it in a glass of water, and attempt to wipe out the stain on his pants.

Zeke can’t help but just watch as you mindlessly rubbed away at his crotch. 

You knew a few things..

But social cues were not one of them. In sincere truth; you really were dense when it came to stuff like this.

But that didn’t matter when everyone is watching in shock.

You decide that the stain is never coming out and grab your wine glass, “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay.”, Zeke shrugs it off. You take note of the sly smile he had. You felt relieved. Maybe he wasn’t that upset about it after all.

You’re suddenly grabbed by the hair, and everyone watched as you are unfashionably escorted out of the room.

You’re thrown against a wall—immediately scolded.

“Do you have a death wish?”

The voice makes you look up with bambi eyes. “Captain?”

You stumble back when he approaches you and end up on your ass like an idiot. He grabs your hair again, “It was okay for you to drink, but to make Zeke hard like that in front of your comrades?”

His grip tightens and you wince, “Are you truly that dumb?” 

You shake your head profusely, “H-Hard? No he wasn’t!”

“Why do you think he was smiling like a kid in a candy shop?”

You yell, “How the hell am I supposed to know that would turn someone on?!”

Levi lets go of you and debates his next steps. He gets down to your level and uses his gloved hands to spread your legs wide open. Your dress barely covered over your underwear, and it made you blush intensely.

“W-What are you doing?!”

He takes the wine glass in your hand and splashes it in the same manner you did to Zeke. He takes his right glove off to reach for his handkerchief, and starts rubbing your inner thighs.

You immediately slap a hand on your mouth. His hand danced from your inner thighs to your pussy. Rubbing endlessly on your clit. 

“O-Okay! I get it now! You can stop, I’m sorry!! I won’t ever do that again.”, You grab ahold of his arm.

“Why, are you turned on?”, he asks condescendingly, pressing his middle finger slightly into you. The barrier of the napkin and your underwear saved you from any more embarrassment.

“Yes!”, you angrily blush. He scoffs and you almost regret telling him to stop. “If you need any more help knowing what turns a man on so you don’t embarrass yourself like that again, let me know. For now, just go home. You’re done for the night.”

Before Levi leaves your view completely, you wobble over to him. You grab a hold of his hand and ask, “I, uh..can you tell me what turns a man on?”

You’re now in Levi’s room.

On his bed, more specifically.

You’re sitting awkwardly on the edge and he’s in the chair across from you.

“Men can get hard from physical touch. Sexual or not. What you did was the perfect example.” You sink into your shoulders. Ugh. “However, there are some perverted men that can get hard at just the sight of something they find attractive.”

“So they get hard over everything, basically?”

Levi nods, “Depends who we’re talking about. Most of it is all in here.”, he taps on his head, “Thoughts are powerful. Get a man started on just one dirty thought, and their mind will run freely.”

You sigh into your palms, “Now I really feel like an idiot.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t know”, he shrugs. 

Sexual Education wasn’t exactly a hot topic in Paradis. There was only 1 school where you grew up, and they taught you mostly about titans; how to kill them and how to survive. 

“What about you?”

“Hm?”, Levi looks up

“What turns you on?”

Silence. 

You feel a sweat bead ready to fall from your forehead. Did I mess up again?

“Why does that concern you?”

“Um, so I don’t make another mistake?” Goddamnit, Y/n. You can at least sound sure of yourself. 

“I already told you what turns me on.”

You blink. Eh? You think back to what he said merely minutes ago, and go through a process of elimination. Okay, well, Levi isn’t a pervert. Sure, he’s a man. But he won’t die without sex...

“Thoughts and touching?”

He nods. 

“Hm.”, you think. What else can he be into? Well, cleaning is one thing.. “Role play?”

His brow raises, “Elaborate.”

“Like..sexy maid outfits and making someone call you captain in bed.”

He tilts his head, “I never thought about that.”

You giggle nervously, “Haha, well. I guess I was wrong.”

There’s awkward silence in the room. Levi is looking at you stare at everything else in the room except for him. 

“What turns you on?”

You burn up, “Touch.”

“Anything specific?”

You look off to the side, “Hair pulling and..what you did earlier, I guess.”

When you turn to look at him, you’re met with his belt. “So, all those years that I’ve been pulling your hair..?”

You nod up to him, “It’s turned me on.”

He’s peering down on you with a clenched jaw. The way his eyes are literally boring into your soul makes you feel small. What exactly was going on in his head? How did it get to this point?

He breaks eye contact with you and just clenches his fists. Hm? You stare directly in front of you and see the bulge in his pants. Oh. 

“Captain.”

“Yes?”, he doesn’t look at you.

You take your hand and gently rub up and down his clothed cock. Levi snaps his neck to look down at you.

“Is this okay?”, you ask coyly. Those damned bambi eyes..

There was no more being clueless. You knew exactly what you were doing now. What you wanted, and what he wanted. 

Levi places his hands on the bed so he can kiss you. It’s slow and passionate.

His tongue got familiar with yours in ways that made you feel butterflies. So this is what it’s like to get excited by just a kiss.

The two of you pull away for breath. “Yes, it’s okay.”, he finally answers. You put your hand back on his cock. This time, unzipping his pants and rubbing him through his boxers. 

He lets you do whatever you want. 

You put your hand down his underwear and can’t believe how nice it feels. “You’re huge.”, you say honestly. His lips fall agape before he kisses you again. You loved to be dominated by him, but you still wanted to follow through with what you were going to do before. 

You roll over on top and push him back. He’s confused when you straddle him with your head facing his feet. It didn’t register in his head what you were about to do, until he felt your lips on the tip of his cock. 

He fists the sheets, getting filled to the brim with arousal. You kissed the tip, licked it, sucked on it, playfully tapped it against your tongue. You wanted to make him lose his mind. 

Levi is face to face with your open legs. You feel a tug on your underwear and cry out when his tongue on you. In you.

You pop off his dick with a moan. Was he seriously going to eat you out at the same time? “Don’t stop sucking until I cum.”, he orders you.

“Yes, Levi.”

He lands a solid smack on your right ass cheek. The sound that leaves your mouth is actually embarrassing. It’s a mix between a scream and a moan.

“Is that how you address your superior?”

You bite your lip, “S-Sorry, Captain.”

He smiles and kisses your clit, “That’s a good girl.”

The compliment is enough to have you deep throating his cock.

The position is a never ending cycle of stimulation. With his tongue working wonders on you, you can’t stop moaning on his dick. He returns that vibrating feeling back on your most sensitive areas—moaning into your pussy.

It’s enough to make you cum on his face.

You stop sucking on his cock so you can enjoy this euphoria. “Agh!! Fuck.”

He lets you ride on his tongue like a desperate whore. The aftershocks of your orgasm are toe-curling.

You collapse to the side and shakingly crawl back down to his legs. He watched as you put your mouth back on him, looking up into his eyes.

“Fuck, y/n.”, he grips onto your hair just how you said you like it, “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

Again with the compliments. You’re now determined to make him cum like it’s your life purpose.

“Take it out of your mouth, I’m going to cum.”, he says softly.

Instead, you suck as hard and fast as you can. He moans in surprise, “S-Stop!”

You use your hands for the rest of his length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. He pulls your head back so you’re looking up at him, “If you don’t stop, I’ll cum in your mouth!”

You give him the dirtiest look he’s ever seen. Your cheeks are red, you have tears brimming in your eyes from your orgasm before, and there’s saliva running down the corners of your mouth. Wow..

“Don’t worry. I’ll swallow it all, Captain.”

Soon, he’s spilling down your throat. “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”, he groans. You swallow every drop and don’t pull off until there’s nothing left. Once you both had a chance to collect yourselves, he kisses you.

Your eyes widened.

You can taste yourself on his tongue. And you’re sure he could taste himself too. It’s such a lewd feeling. Was it bad to like it this much?

You’re now both lying down against the pillows with the sheets over your body.

“Ah..I’m so tired.”, you sigh, giggling. 

“Go ahead and sleep. I’ll wake you up in time for tomorrow.”, he pushes your hair back out of your face. 

“Okay.”, you reply softly.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Error 404 Brain Not Found: Bonus Scene - Part 7

Geralt had thwarted Jaskier's every attempt to get him with water balloons, eggs, and various nerf darts, citing that his Witcher reflexes were just too good.

Jaskier knew Geralt wasn't bragging. It was just a fact. An annoying fact that often runined his fun. Some pranks just weren't as fun when your target kept effortlessly dodging the bit that would make it funny.

Jaskier had decided to test just how good Geralt's reflexes were. He challenged him to Slappsies.

Jaskier failed miserably at slapping Geralt's hands. By the time he even thought about moving his hand, Geralt's hands were already safely out of the way and Jaskier was hitting empty air.

Then it was Geralt's turn.

A few rounds later, and the backs of Jaskier's hands were as red as a smacked ar*e.

*disgruntled bard noises*

*smug 'hmm'*

"Yeah, well...let's see how you do if you have to start with your hands behind your back!"

*sound of massive Witcher paws smacking the backs of human hands at the speed of mach Jesus*

*pained squealing*

Jaskier, inspite of being a rational adult, had paused to check the floor, just to prove to his brain that his hands hadn't just been slapped off his wrists.

No. They were still there, and functioning normally, if a little tingly. Okay, maybe it was time to try a different test before he ended up having to make a career change. Or learn to play all his instruments with his feet.

Which wouldn't be a bad thing. Some people had a thing for feet. Jaskier was absolutely not a kink-shamer!

Jaskier had to come up with a test that 1) wouldn't make a mess that Yennefer would yell at them about, and 2) was much more challenging than the old catching-a-falling-ruler, or Whack-A-Mole.

"I bet you can't take a block of cheese off a rat trap without setting it off!"

"I can, but I bet you can't!"

"Please! I've got very nimble fingers. All the ladies say so! And there's no way you can do it with those clumsy sausage fingers. I've seen your f***ing text messages. Every other word is misspelt!"

Geralt looked at Jaskier.

Jaskier looked at Geralt.

A trip to the hardware store was made, and shortly after, Jaskier was frowning as Geralt casually plucked a cube of cheese off the rat trap without setting it off.

Geralt 'hmm'ed in a smug tone.

Jaskier scoffed, "That doesn't look so hard. Even I can do that!"

Geralt nodded towards the trap, "Hm!" (Go ahead then!)

Jaskier went about very carefully resetting the trap. His hands shook slightly as they set the fiddly mechanism. It was a delicate operation that required a light touch...

Trap, for no apparent reason: *snap*

Jaskier: *shrill scream*

Geralt: *snort*

"Shut your gob!"

Jaskier got the trap set, studied it for a few breaths, then went for it. He crowed triumphantly, holding the little cube of cheese in his fingertips and pretending like he hadn't been sh*tting himself the whole time.

"Hah! I told you I could do it! I have very nimble fingers. I work very hard and put in long hours of practice to be as good as I am at fingering."

"I can finger for hours and not miss a beat. I've been told by various members of the nobility, and even commoners, that my fingering is the best in the Continent!"

"Hmm!"

"Mouthing off? Excuse me, but just the other day, the f***ing Prince of Redania told me that he quite enjoyed my fingering, f***youverymuch!

Geralt's brain had to take a moment to process the very idea that Jaskier was not making any kind of innuendo.

He was completely serious, and it was mentally throwing Geralt off. This was unnatural. The Universe was out of balance.

"And he said my tongue was quite talented, too! He was begging for more! You can ask Madeleine, she was there!"

"Then show me how good you are with your tongue," Geralt rumbled, feeling like he had to make the jokes now.

Jaskier blinked, then tried to hide a cheeky grin. "I don't know, Geralt. Sounds like a bad idea. I mean, what if Yen walks in?"

Geralt realxed. Ah, that was better. The balance had been restored. He lightly smacked Jaskier on the back of the head, saying "Stop bragging about your fingers. If I could play guitar, my fingering would be four times better than yours. And since I'm a Witcher with superhuman reflexes, just imagine how good I am with my tongue!"

"Ow! Why don't you prove it, Mr. Super Witcher Reflexes? I bet you can't knock the cheese off the trap with your tongue!"

Geralt baited the trap, set it on the table, and then crouched down to eye level with it. There was a tense moment of silence where he and Jaskier eyeballed each other distrustfully.

"You better f***ing not touch me or the trap!"

"I won't!"

"You just stay over there! Don't move, don't say anything, don't even f***ing breathe!"

"I'm not going to do anything, you suspicious b**tart!"

Geralt grunted, then slowly extended his tongue. It touched the cube of cheese, barely brushing it...

He must have twitched, or breathed too hard, because the trap went off with a snap!

One second, the tip of Geralt's tongue was touching the cheese, the next second, the hammer was snapping down across his tongue.

Geralt stood up with a loud ululation of anguish, the rat trap dangling from his tongue.

Jaskier went from gasping in shock, to laughing until his sides ached. He couldn't help it. Geralt was making this distorted screaming sound and doing jazz hands while he danced round, the trap hanging from his tongue.

Jaskier was too busy clinging to the kitchen counter, tears streaming down his cheeks as he howled with laughter as Geralt gained enough brain function to start yelling "Fffukhhhh! Fffukhhhh! Helm me!"

Geralt pawed at his tongue, trying to remove the trap with fingers that were suddenly clumsy.

Jaskier swallowed his laughter and came to the rescue.

"Holy f**k, are you alright?" he asked as Geralt prodded gingerly at his tongue. It felt swollen and numb, yet painful at the same time.

Geralt stood there, looking pitiful for a moment, then said in a small, lost voice, "I fink I neeb uh popfikool."

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that. Maybe you should try enunciating?"

"Ahthhoww!"

"Say 'I was born on a pirate ship'!"

Geralt glared angrily at Jaskier

"Do it and I'll give you a popsicle!"

*put upon sigh* "I wath born on a piol-a' sh*'"

Jaskier: *ugly cackling*

Geralt: "now gib me mah ffukhim popfikool!"

"Sorry, we're all out of the F**k Him flavored ones. Do you want blue or green?"

Geralt: *unamused glower* "Boo."

The popsicle was handed over, the trap was disposed of, and Geralt prayed the swelling would go down before Yennefer got home at the end of the week.

[severusish]

People breaking into the mind of Severus Snape with varying degrees of success, as Tumblr GIF error messages:

Dumbledore trying to be sneaky and finding nothing (except for the one time where Snape let him):

[Image: A search bar that says “What is Severus Snape hiding behind his Occlumency shields,” followed by an error message that says “Sincerely, we found nothing.” Snape’s mind is the error message, and the search bar is the person trying to break in.]

Voldemort being blatantly obvious about it, and finding f***ing nothing:

[Image: Same format as image 1. A search bar that says “Is Severus Snape loyal to Dumbledore,” followed by an error message that says “Nothing turned up. Bummer.”]

Literally anyone trying to pry into Severus Snape’s mind, Aurors included, and, you guessed it, finding zilch, zero, nada:

[Image: Same format as image 1 and 2. A search bar that says “Legilimens!,” followed by an error message that says “Welcome to the void. There is nothing here.”]

Harry Potter, using the sheer power of anger and spite, and somehow achieves the one thing that Voldemort couldn’t, and on top of it all, he finds one of the most important things that Snape wanted to hide:

[Image:  A search bar that says “what is severus snape’s worst memory,” followed by GIF that includes the scene from HBP where the Maurauders gang up on Severus. The text in the GIF says ‘Snape. Expelliarmus.’]

Edit: as @zephyrphnomeny​ pointed out, Harry used Protego when Snape used Legilimens. I had completely forgotten about that so thank youuu xx

(Also just think of what would have happened if Voldemort and Dumbledore and taken a page from Harry’s book and done the same thing. Imagine either of those wizards using Protego against Snape though I can’t -)

Pls give credit if you re-use my edit or my post thank youuuu