#when i tell you i have been searching everywhere for that song…..

[akinas-shave-ice]

HUGE WIN FOR ‘WE WILL FIND A WAY’ FANS TODAY

[jujutsukaisenwriting]

JJK Characters Realizing They Start Falling for You [Pt.1]

Yuji Itadori:

He always saw you as a bro but suddenly, your jokes and your laugh started being cute instead of the usual funny

He wants you to always see him at his best and he now starts paying double attention to everything he does in front of you

Blushes intensely and avoids direct eye contact, dying of both embarrassment and desire to stare in your eyes forever

Starts being super attentive to small things, like always making sure you are comfortable

Touched your hand “on accident” but immediately admits he kinda likes it

Smiles widely at you letting him keep your hand and brushes your knuckles with his thumb gently

Feels like the luckiest guy in the world (and texts Fushiguro about it almost immediately)

Megumi Fushiguro:

Starts missing you when you are not around

Everything seems…less annoying to him, even the stupid jokes that Yuji makes

Catches himself contemplating whether he should just hit you with a casual “hi” text (and tries to find reasoning for that)

Wants to share every movie and song with you

At one point, just starts randomly carrying your stuff, walking you home and etc

During one of such walks, asks if you might be interested in going on a date?

Smiles confidently and a bit shyly upon hearing you say yes

Gojo Satoru:

If you think he was clingy before, think again

He will just be... everywhere you go, popping out of thin air with his signature grin.

He will never admit it but he simply misses you dearly and wants to be by your side.

Also, trust issues: he is scared that once out of your field of view, he'll be... forgotten.

Saves the last sweet for you and puts his jacket on your shoulder when walking you home in the evening

Accidentally tilts his head to breathe in your scent and looks away, smiling

His whole world just concentrates in you, all of a sudden, but he doesn't mind at all

Nanami Kento:

He didn't plan any romance while working as a sorcerer but lately, he's been paying more attention to your presence. In fact, he starts looking forward to you being near him and it causes his mild annoyance.

He hates to admit the fact that you have become something much more meaningful and important than a colleague.

Starts smiling more around you and overall feels more relaxed. His small smile goes amazingly well with his sharp features.

His love language is acts of service so he starts bringing you sweets and pastry, takes some of your tasks and fills in paperwork for you.

Offers you a ride home one day and on the way, suddenly suggests to have dinner together.

"It's just a meal"

At one point during this dinner, just takes your hand and doesn't let go ever since.

Sukuna:

His jokes and wits become less cruel and more... gentle? If he knows what this word even means

He has always been in search of something his whole life, killing people and curses and gaining more and more power. With you around, he just wants peace.

Starts accidentally seeking touch with you: like touching your hand, playing with your hair, wrapping his arm around your waist.

Also, starts making these jokes that you two are together. Their amount intensifies when other men approach you.

One day, just states that you and him are spending the evening together. Doesn't tell you the details though and feels a tingle of unknown excitement.

"Of course it's a date, silly. I want you to be mine and I won't take no for answer"

[arjwrites]

crawl home to her- dean winchester x fem!reader

summary: heaven or hell, dean will always crawl home to you.

warnings: brief mentions of hell, references to drinking, fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

a/n: i got a bit carried away with this one and it ended up a little longer than anticipated hehehe i had too many ideas. this song is so sickening and is so dean-coded in the very best way. i hope you enjoy <3

arj's 100 follower event

xxx

Dean awoke in a permeating blackness, blinking his eyes, unable to tell at what point they were open or closed. His first instinct? To draw in a deep, sharp breath. His lungs resisted him, hesitant to stretch and swell as if they had been sitting stagnant for months. They offered him no help in forming words, a call for help. It took him a minute to gather his bearings, but the next thought that came to his mind? You. And from that moment, his body took over. As he kicked his way out of the pine box and clawed his way through the cold and heavy earth, he felt almost animalistic. He didn’t know where he was, he hardly knew who he was, but he knew he had to crawl home to you. Wherever you were. 

As Dean emerged from the ground, he gasped for air- clean, fresh air. It swirled around inside of him, exacerbating the emptiness of the cavern of his chest. He grappled with the earth around him, arms reaching out in a desperate fervor to pull him safely from the grave. There were sensations everywhere, almost screaming at him, so loud and foreign as if he hadn’t experienced them in… he didn’t know how long. The tickling of the damp grass against his arms, the hot sun beating down on his back, the heavy breeze settling behind him. It was you, he thought. It had to be your way of welcoming him back earthside- planting soft green kisses to his skin, wrapping him in healing warmth and light, and lifting him up to carry him home with the wind. He let his body push him to his feet, feeling every flex and release of his muscles individually, excruciatingly. 

 It was agonizing for Dean to will one foot in front of the other, trudging aimlessly in search of civilization. Maybe it was the exhaustion, or maybe it was the hunger, but he could see you right there next to him, clear as day, coaching him through each step of his journey. You floated along next to him like an angel, filling his emptiness and setting direction in his footsteps. 

He thought back to the day your paths had been undoubtedly intertwined forever. You and Dean had known of each other for a while- hunters always did- but never exchanged more than a few cordial hellos in passing. That was until a vampire hunt in a small town drew the attention of more than just himself and Sam. When you showed up on the hunt, he couldn’t help but be enamored by you. The way you made hunting, something so dark and painful, into something so graceful, so elegant, so beautiful. 

When he was able to convince you to stick around and celebrate after finishing the hunt, Dean felt both his heart leap and his stomach sink. As he drove, he kept glancing up into his rearview mirror to catch a glimpse at you, following behind him in your own car. He wracked his brain, trying to come up with conversation topics like he was rubbing together stones trying to create a spark. He was so excited to have you around, yet so nervous- an accusation he defended against when Sam taunted him on the ride over to the bar. 

“I don’t get nervous, Sammy. I- I don’t know, man. There’s just something about her. Can’t put my finger on it.” 

His eyes flickered back up to the rearview mirror as he spoke, catching you singing along to whatever song you were listening to. His heart fluttered- he wanted to know you, to memorize your favorite songs, to hear his inner thoughts spoken in your voice. In the here and now, where he was trekking through the woods, he smiled at the memory and let it instill in him a surge of motivation. He picked up his pace, humming your favorite song as he went, half to keep him grounded in the moment and half to help his mind wander back to you. 

Still thinking back to that first day, he remembered getting to the bar and admittedly, letting his nerves get the best of him. He threw back shots and tipped back beers in the hopes of quelling his anxieties, suppressing the parts of him that weren’t useful and drawing out his confident, personable self. Sam had left early, as usual, leaving the two of you alone, sat at a table in the corner of a crowded bar. The surface was a graveyard littered with empty bottles and glasses, very few of which belonged to you. You had been nursing your drinks, sipping slowly as Dean downed and gulped. So when he got a little out of hand, you were there to carry him home. 

When Dean woke alone the next morning, he was sure you had been a dream- too perfect to be real life, or his real life, anyway. His head pounded as he glanced around the unfamiliar motel room, noticing the single bed and feminine belongings that clued him he wasn’t in the room he had rented with Sam. He sat up, grasping at his head, trying to piece together where exactly he was. There was no way he had gone home with you. He remembered the way he had acted the night before, and how sober you had still been. You must have dumped him with a random girl to take him off your hands. His heart sank to his stomach- if he had messed up his chances with you, he wouldn’t forgive himself. 

Before he could linger in this fear for long, he heard two separate laughs nearing the front door. When it swung open to reveal you and Sam, chatting and clutching coffees and paper bags of breakfast food, Dean let himself flop back down to the bed in relief. Wishing him a good morning, you tossed him pain relievers and a water bottle, setting a coffee and a breakfast sandwich down on his- no, your- bedside table. You briefly recounted the night before for him, noting how you had brought him back here when Sam didn’t answer his phone. You didn’t dwell on his actions, didn’t poke fun, didn’t complain or criticize. Your presence was light as a feather, your body and voice floating around the room as you tidied things up or nibbled at your breakfast. Sam shot him a knowing glance that would later be supplemented with verbal approval. I like her, Dean. Don’t mess this up. 

Back in reality, Dean had finally emerged from the woods, stepping from the dense tree cover onto a dusty road. There wasn’t much to see- no buildings or signs of civilization in any direction. The breeze picked up and whistled through his ears in the form of your voice- keep going, Dean. So on he went. 

As he walked, sometimes his image of you would flicker and fade like a ghost and his thoughts would plunge back down to Hell. There were a few moments along his path where he would pause to hinge at the hips and dry heave in a desperate attempt to purge the memories from his body alongside the dust in his throat. It made him sick, what he did in Hell. At a few points, when he got too caught up in his thoughts, he’d come to a full stop. In those moments, he didn’t care if he lived or died. His heart ached for you, but he didn’t deserve you anymore. You were the only pure goodness in the world that he had ever known, and now, he was tainted beyond repair. But then would come the breeze. This time, it smelled sweet- miraculously, as there was nothing but dirt road and baking heat to scent it. It was beckoning him, calling him home. It was washing him of his sins. You didn’t care, you never would. Always kind, always forgiving. That was his baby. Sweet as can be.  The journey ended in your arms. At times, he thought it never would. He thought he was trapped, imprisoned on a long dirt path, being taunted with the promise of you like a carrot on a stick. But he found a car, found a map, found his way home. You didn’t believe it was him at first- why would you, when a long list of monsters seemed so much more plausible? But if Dean’s first act of repentance had been his passage home, his second act was proving himself to you. That it was him, here and now, real and resting in your fingertips. All Dean knew was Hell. It was real, he had lived it. But when you reached out your arms to embrace him, Hell was just a word that dissipated into space the moment it left his lips. This must be Heaven. You must be heaven.

[wrestlingwithlife]

Task Force 141 Boys with Cowboy (Head canons)

Decided I’d write some head cannons for Cowboy!Reader with our main boys either that haven’t written about yet or have but are so cute I wanted to reiterate <3

Task Force 141 x Cowboy!Reader

—————————————————————————————————————

Soap :

#1 hype man fr 🗣️🗣️

Absolutely obsessed 😍

Will literally find any excuse to get Y/n to talk just to hear his accent

After watching Ghost get man handled by him he actually begged Y/n to spar with him

Looks up southern stuff to say to Y/n

“Y/n, will you take me to a Honkytonk? 🥺”

He tries his best but at this point he’s just doing it to get a reaction

Stumbled across the song “F***** by a Country Boy” and thought all country music was like that

Couldn’t look Y/n in the eye with hearing it in his head for a solid week

Never sleeps better then when his head is in Y/n’s lap

Literally will sleep like a rock

Soap is usually the one who falls asleep on Y/n

He didn’t realize how cuddly Y/n actually was until after one fateful night

Soap had came to watch old murder files with the southern male one night

Y/n fell asleep on Soap’s shoulder, slumbering silently

When Soap went to lean forward to grab his water he was yanked back into Y/n

Y/n bear hugged him to his chest and refused to let him go

Soap cherished that moment for the rest of forever

Added ‘Save a horse ride a cowboy’ to his Instagram bio

Has def stolen Y/n hat and tried it on

Y/n didn’t have the heart to tell him about the hat rule

But he’ll handle it eventually~

Absolute thigh guy

Has been caught staring so many times

Does not care

Continues to stare 👀

Has asked Y/n to crush him between his thighs

Y/n thought he was joking

He was not

#relatable

Ghost :

Absolutely whipped

Won’t even deny it if someone calls him out

He’s all about that Honkytonk Badonkadonk🤠

When Y/n says a word or phrase he doesn’t understand he just nods along until the male walks away, in which he will whip out his phone and immediately search it up

When Y/n mentioned there were times he missed his horses he made it his personal mission to find horses for him to pet

Ended up finding a place nearby that did horse therapy

He and Y/n both went and they absolutely loved it

The horses absolutely adored Y/n and smothered him with love

The southern male was happy to reciprocate

Ghost took a picture of it and now it’s his Lock Screen

Ghost was nervous the horses weren’t going to like him

Most animals don’t like his mask

Was elated when he realized the horses didn’t care about it

They really started to love him when Y/n showed Ghost how to feed them

Ghost was in heaven

He grew particularly fond of an old shire mare

She was all white and covered in scars but she was so impossibly gentle for her massive size

The worker said they called her Big Mama and she’d was a retired logging horse that had been rescued from going to slaughter

She adored Ghost and followed him everywhere

The workers explained she had a knack for taking the more nervous horses and animals on the ranch under her wing and making them feel a safe

Ghost almost cried when he hugged her 🥺

Now where Soap liked to sleep on Y/n, Ghost prefers to have Y/n sleep on him

Was laying in bed with Y/n one night while scrolling through his phone

Y/n was already snoozing 😴

Ghost went to put his phone on the nightstand only to get yanked back

Bro was shocked

Y/n snatched him back, burrowing under his arm

Almost cried again ��

Price :

Absolutely adores Y/n southern culture

Has a little notebook where he keeps stuff he learned from Y/n written down 🖊️

Occasionally uses southern slang around Y/n but unlike Soap he’s completely serious

Except the word Ain’t

He refuses to say that

When he finds out Y/n feels homesick he does everything he can to help

Gets Y/n all his favorite things

Favorite candies, books, flowers, even got Y/n a cow stuffie when he talked about missing his animals

Y/n put it next to his horse stuffie he got him last week

Price is a good cook but he doesn’t usually have the urge to do it that often

But when Y/n talked about a dish from his home town he missed??

Price spent two day’s learning how to make it and getting the stuff

Whipped that shit up like freaking master chef

The cowboy was elated and gave Price the most bone crushing hug

Snuck a little cheek kiss in there too 💋

Price’s cheeks turned pink so fast

I’m just going to say it…

Has drunk made out with Y/n before 🤯

The two got absolutely turnt on whiskey and just went for it

They never spoke about it after that but when they get close they still think about it

Price misses how the American male tastes

Something definitely awoke in him the day that he watched Y/n ride that mechanical bull

In a game of ‘Fuck, Marry, Kill’ Y/n would Marry Price a hundred times over

I mean, me too 😍

Tried southern Cajun food that Y/n made once and his heart almost stopped

It tasted good and then all of a sudden everything was on fire

Did better at holding his spice then Soap tho so 10/10

Y/n’s go to after solo missions

Y/n will stumble into his office all tired and instead of pulling up a chair just plops on the floor and leans his head on Price’s leg

Price just plays with his hair while he finishes paper work

He’d be lying if he said his mind didn’t occasionally wander with how close Y/n was to his nether regions 😜

Gaz :

Trails Y/n like a puppy 🐶

I mean this boy hangs off his every word

If Y/n ever has to run an errand off the base you best believe Gaz will be going with him

Also looks up southern slang to understand Y/n better

Also listened to “F***** by a Country Boy” and couldn’t look Y/n in the eyes for a solid week

Always offers to help Y/n when he works out

Sometimes gets distracted when he’s spotting but no one can blame the poor boy

Acts of service is def his love language ❤️

Demands to know the names of every animal Y/n owns

Made a playlist of songs that Y/n mentioned he liked

Listens to it constantly

Likes to ‘help’ Y/n cook

Really just hands him stuff that Y/n asks for

Handles the spices the best out of any of them

When it’s just the two of them going out for whatever reason he’ll just grab onto Y/n somehow

Holding a hand, the hem of a jacket or shirt, or intertwining their arms

Y/n is happy to reciprocate

People will come up to Gaz while Y/n is distracted and compliment how cute of a couple they are

Just thanks them and doesn’t deny it ever

Sleeps in Y/n’s bed more then his own

Y/n will be working at his desk and Gaz will just wander in in and plop onto his bed to sleep

If Y/n takes to long Gaz will sigh loudly till he gets the hint

Always fights Soap for Y/n’s lap on movie nights

Besides Price he’s probably got the best sense of self control

He ain’t perfect though

Is Y/n isn’t watching him he is LOCKED ON

Always locked onto those cheeks 🥵

His mind does tend to wander

Y/n could ask Gaz to fake his death and run away with him and Gaz would do it in a heartbeat

[byechristopher]

⠀

I hate you, too.

– CHRIS STURNIOLO SMUT.

Author's note: okay so, I was listening to Les – Childish Gambino, and this idea came to mind because uhm, I love Chris, I love parties, I love angry, messy, toxic sex. So, sue me. I got carried away so, super long. Do not copy/steal my work. :)

Warnings: this, once again, is pure filth. Super long, didn't proof-read so fml, angry & rough sex, toxic sex, slapping, choking, semi-public. Just a mess. Minors dni!

The lights are so damn bright in here, I can see blue, red, purple, all kinds of colors, everywhere. Not that I'm really complaining, this place is so dark that I can barely see anything – only when the lights flash. I can see people everywhere, their silhouettes, dancing, kissing, drinking.

I quickly pour myself a drink, making sure I'm keeping it safe in my hand; I haven't been in a house party in ages. But I remember how messy they get, I know everyone will pass out at some point. I'm trying to search my friend group with my eyes but it is almost impossible – how big is this goddamn house?

"Hi! You made it!" a friend screams when she sees me and I smile. I try to greet everyone but my eyes meet someone's face that I really didn't want to see here. My ex.

"What is he doing here?" I groan, turning to glare at my friend.

"I'm sorry, babes, he literally just came. I texted you. He's friends with the host, Jake, I didn't know." she has an apologetic face and I check my phone to realise she did text me about it. Fucking hell.

I can feel his blue eyes on my body, burning it like daggers on fire. I try to avoid him as much as possible and the fact that he looks this good, doesn't make it very easy. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his jeans and I can't help but steal a few glances. He's already looking at me. He's smirking.

Fucking asshole.

"Hi, pretty." he is next to me now, dangerously close to me, as I take a sip of my drink.

"What do you want, Chris?" I roll my eyes.

"That's not how you treat your ex." he scoffs, looking around playfully before looking at me again. I turn my head to look at him, too.

"Let's not open that topic here." I try to push him away, his body doesn't really move.

"I agree. Let's talk about the car sex we had a few days ago." he smiles and you would think he's talking about the most innocent thing. His hands still in his pockets, he looks cool and unfazed by my angry glare.

"Shut the fuck up, Chris. Don't you have anywhere else to go, anything else to do?" I yell. Now I'm facing him, my body turned towards him.

"I'd like to do you." he comes closer to my ear and I sigh, downing my drink before turning my back on him. I am afraid I won't be able to hold myself back this time either.

"Well, I don't."

"Yeah?" his chin is touching my shoulder and I can feel his jeans pressed against my butt, "so if I touched you now, you wouldn't be wet?" he hums.

I am not wet. I am dripping. But that doesn't mean anything, right.

"You're not allowed to touch me anyway." I dodge his fucking question.

"Well, you weren't saying that when you were pressed against the car door." he chuckles, "you're wet, then." he whispers but it's enough for me to hear.

"Not for you. Maybe for your friend, Jake." I smirk, knowing this will stop his attack. He's always been extremely jealous. So have I.

"Fuck you." he almost growls in my ear, but the smirk still stays on. He turns me around and as soon as he says that, one of our favourite songs starts to play. Les by Childish Gambino, "fuck you.. can I have this dance?"

I can't help but chuckle a little, which I try to hide immediately. The timing, the line he used from the song, this songs specifically, him. Fucking Chris.

I quickly grab him and drag him in the center of the room that we're in, he holds onto my hand tightly and brings me closer, pressing my back against his chest. We dance to the music, he's not moving much but I can tell he's enjoying the little show I put on for him. My butt is pressed against him then whole time and I can feel the bulge in his jeans. Good.

I turn around and continue to dance with him, my hands traveling to his back to grip his shirt and pull him as close as possible. The part in the song that we love the most comes on and he cups my cheeks, pressing his forehead against mine as he looks into my eyes. We're both singing the lyrics.

"Oh, girl, I wanna know, are you ready to cry? 'Cause I'm no good, no good.." his playful smile never leaves his face.

"Oh, girl, I wanna try, I'm an awful guy and I'm always away.." my lips curl up into a playful smirk as well, my hands sneak under his shirt and I dig my nails into his lower back.

"And I'm tryin' to say, I'm a piece of shit.." he stops singing and the next second, he's kissing me. I fucking hate myself for kissing him back as hungrily as I did.

He grabs my hand and makes me follow him – nothing else matters, as the song says. Only us. We practically run up the stairs and I see a wooden door, he seems like he knows this place. My friend did tell me he's friends with the host.

He opens the door and then locks it once we're inside the room. It's a bathroom, not very big and the light is so dim, I'm not sure if it is there to match the party's vibe or if this dude just doesn't like actual lighting in the house. We don't waste anytime – Chris picks me up and sets me down on the counter next to the sink, my dress rides up just enough for him to move closer, pushing my legs apart with his body. We can still hear the music from here.

I take his shirt off immediately, throwing it somewhere behind him before wrapping a finger around his chain, pulling him closer for yet another hungry kiss. He grabs the hem of the dress to push it up, my skin meeting the cold counter but it is soon replaced by Chris' large hands. He squeezes my butt, pushing me forward so that his bulge rubs against me. He sneaks a hand in between us, his fingers rubbing my soaked panties.

"Is this for Jake, hm?" he grabs my bottom lip in between his teeth, biting it roughly.

"Maybe." I moan, leaning forward to take his nipple in my mouth, flicking it with my tongue.

He moans, "why are you here then?" he puts pressure on my clothed pussy and let go of his nipple, throwing my head back.

"Fuck off." I groan, moving my hips so that I'm rubbing myself on his fingers.

"You're dying to have my dick inside of you." he whispers, chuckling.

"And you're dying to have me in any way you can." I push him away, jumping off the counter and quickly pulling his jeans down together with his Calvin Klein boxers, "isn't that why you keep following me around, hm?" spitting on my own hand, I grab his dick, rubbing up and down while staring into his eyes the whole time. They're filled with lust, anger, passion. He moans.

"Fuck off." he groans this time, his head falls on my shoulder as I jerk him off, both of his hands grab the counter on each side of me. He thrusts into my hand.

All of a sudden, he slaps my hand away and turns me around, making me press both of my hands on the mirror in front of us, pushing my lower back down so that I arch my back and spread my legs. His hands are on my breasts now, pushing my dress now so that they're free for him to see and touch. With one hand he pushes the dress up to reveal my ass as well, the dress now only covering my stomach and a small part of my back. I don't dare to move, I only watch him as he pulls my panties down – he spreads my ass and spits, not that he needed that, I'm already dripping.

"What the fuck are you waiting for?" I groan, pushing my back against him.

"Beg for it." he slaps my ass a few times as he smirks.

"Chris, fucking hell. Fuck me already." I say but he's not pleased. He slaps my skin again and I groan, gently hitting the mirror out of frustration. His cock rubs against my clit and I lose it, "fucking.. Chris! Please, fuck me. I want you inside me." I whine. He smiles. Thank fuck.

He finally pushes inside of me and my eyes roll to the back of my head as I look at him in the reflection of the mirror. He pushes his cock all the way inside me and grabs my hair in a ponytail, wrapping it around his hand to push me back every time he thrusts in.

"Fuck.. fuck.." I moan, licking my fingers before dragging them down my body to rub my clit, always looking at him, as he fucks me roughly. My fingers touch his dick every now and then, it makes him moan a little louder. He leans forward to sink his teeth into the skin of my shoulder as he watches me cry out in both pain and pleasure – with his free hand, he grabs my hand that was rubbing my clit, bringing to his mouth to lick the juices off my fingers. I almost cum.

My breasts bounce with every movement, he thrusts into me and I push back against him. He pulls out of me and I curse under my breath. He turns me around and places me on the countertop again, wrapping an arm around my waist as he guides his dick so that he can start fucking me hard again. I grab a fistful of his hair, tugging it harshly when he pushes into me; it makes him lightly slap my cheek before wrapping his fingers around my neck, choking me. I gasp and slap him back, grabbing his throat with my hand, too.

"I fucking hate you." I moan, his eyes staring into mine.

"Yeah.. turns me on.. love it." he moans and smirks, and that's all it takes for me to come closer to my high.

"Chris.. Chris.. I'm gonna.." I whine and he lets go of my neck, hugging me close and pressing his forehead against mine as I let go of his neck as well.

"That's it, baby.. fuck.. will you cum for me? Hm?" he says and that's closest thing to affection that we showed tonight. I nod and moan loudly, holding onto him as tight as I can. I cum, trembling, and he does the exact same thing, moaning my name over and over again.

We stay like this for God knows how long – he's still inside of me and I almost pass out in his arms, his hand rubs my back soothingly.

"You okay?" he whispers, as if it was a crime to be affectionate with each other again. We used to be together after all.

"Yes.. you?" I whisper back, the feeling of not wanting to let go of him just yet comes back and I try to push it away as fast as I can.

"I am okay, yes." he mumbles and after letting me know, he slowly pulls out of me, earning a wince from me, "sorry." he mutters.

"Do you want me to take you home?" he says and I sigh. This is wrong.

"It's best if you don't." I whisper, looking at him and I can see the vulnerability in his eyes too.

"That's true." he nods and fixes my dress, pushing his boxers and pants up right after.

"I still hate you." I mutter. I don't want him to leave.

"Yeah." he wears his shirt, he grabs my chin and leaves a sweet kiss on my lips, "me too."

And with that, he leaves.

⠀

[rowretro]

𝙇𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧'𝙨 𝘿𝙖𝙮

(thank this song for my return sober<3 and ofc riki!!!)

✧Warnings: Nothing I know of- tell me if there's any warnings

✧Synopsis: Having a crush on someone can stir up your emotions, one moment, bubbling with love, feeling stupid the next, mind invaded with that person, love signals everywhere, it would feel as though you're in a music video. Y/n is almost convinced he's the one, though she didn't think to ask for his name, she's to shy, after all he's way out of her league. Little did she know, Riki too felt the same, Too shy to approach her.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Y/n waited patiently, sat on a moss-coated wall her sparkly nails, tapping against the silver case of her phone. it's been a whole 35 minutes since her dear friend Eunchae went in for a date, she was so convinced it would go wrong that she dragged y/n alone just in case. But all y/n could see was her friend smiling and laughing like never before, no red signals. Heck it must be some kind of lover's day, so many couples surrounding her, it's almost sickening. Don't get her wrong, she's all for love, true love, the kind one'd die for, the kind where you can trust someone, the love makes you seem like an idiot.

Y/n pulled out her phone, head down as she connected her Bluetooth earphones, scrolling through Spotify looking for a song she feels like listening to in her playlist. Just as she looked up from her phone, picking a song, she almost fell on her back, gripping on the wall as she stared the small, glowing insect fluttering before her. She had no idea where it came from, the glowing blue butterfly, with black lines painted on it's wings, to created such a intricate design. She turned her head in it's direction, as it flew through a few couples.

Riki parked his car, stepping out of it as he searched for the coupon on his phone. His summer holiday has been nothing but boring so far, a dreading, uneventful month of being woken up early by his Hyung's, doing chores, eating junk and playing video games. Which is why he was out here, yawning, as he pulled up the Papa John's app on his phone. It was a Tuesday after all. As he looked up from his phone, he cussed under his breath, almost falling back against his car's front, as he saw the blue morpho butterfly up close, its wings fluttering away from him. His head turned, a frown adorning his face, but it soon disappeared when he locked eyes with a girl.

Her black hair cut somewhat short, layers flowing out and framing her face, dark eyes somewhat wide, stars reflecting from pupils. Y/n didn't fail to notice those pretty moles of his, one under his eye, just like hers, his lips plump, but his eyes, lovestruck. Never has she ever seen a man like this in these local streets. She frowned as the cars drive past, obstructing their view. Riki groaned, standing by the traffic light. His eye's narrowing at the red light, as he mentally threatened it. His eyes widened as he saw the red stop man move, his hands forming a heart.

Y/n frowned kicked the rock before her, annoyed. One pretty boy, and the polluted roads lost him. Pollution really does do harm after all. She frowned as she stared at the rock she just kicked, it was shaped like a heart. She sighed rolling her eyes, god and his odd ways of sending humans a message through coincidences. She froze in her seat when the bubbles that the kids blew, suddenly formed in the shape of hearts. She's just going crazy. Just in a small distance, between the never ending bubbles, the biggest sign cane walking toward her.

The male himself. Riki had no idea what he was doing, or what he was going to do, but perhaps his hesitation with something as simple as approaching a stylish girl, is what's keeping him from having a fun-filled bright summer. "Hey uhm could you walk me to Papa John's? I'm new here so..." New here? bullshit. He had been here since he was 14. "Uhm it's just there.... where you were earlier...." Y/n said as she mentally facepalmed. Fuck. was he asking her out? "I know.... so would you mind?... I can treat you to some pizza for the burden." He asked again , hopeful and internally screaming, though outside he played it off cool, shocked by how calm he was being.

"Gladly!" She said with a smile. Eunchae can always call her. Plus it seems she's having a blast anyway. Y/n can turn down any pretty boy. A Lee Suho? Han Seojun? but this pretty boy, was worth all her time. So says the world around her, and so says her heart. A small date wouldn't hurt. Riki smiled, staring down at the shorter girl, a smile making it's way to his lips, he so badly wanted to hold her hand in his, talk to her take her on plenty dates. Hopefully he will<3

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

[littledemondani]

Hello first time here at your page

I am a sucker for revenge, so how about we give to Fuckboy Eddie a good taste of his own medicine, i want to make this bitch cry a little

Does this makes me evil ?

warnings: 18+ mdni, brief alcohol use, mentions of public sex, fuckboy!eddie, fem!reader, no use of y/n, possessiveness, slight angst, fwb to lovers

it’s not evil at all! he deserves to cry.

//

you’ve teased him about it relentlessly for weeks now. every time you bring up your coworker, josh, and how he’s the only reason you’re able to get through the agonizing 8 hours of work at your current workplace, eddie’s brows pinch and his tone gets snappy.

“awww, you’re jealous,” you’d say, looking at him with a slight pout.

“not even close, sweetheart,” he’d always reply back, shaking his head.

“whatever you say, munson.”

he’d then roll his eyes and look anywhere else but at you.

tonight, though, tonight he realizes he’s been full of shit the entire time.

the two of you are at a bar in downtown indianapolis, the same bar you met him at a little over a year ago, and you’re currently dancing with some dude.

eddie watches as you sway your hips to the beat of whatever hit pop song is blaring through the speakers. mystery guy trails his left hand down your front and over your abdomen. you make no efforts to stop him as he inches closer to your cunt. he leans down and whispers something in your ear, you nod along, then he takes your hand and leads you towards the back of the bar where the restrooms are.

eddie feels nothing but rage. he tells himself he should go after you, because he knows exactly where you’re headed and what you’re off to do. he’s done that same move more times than he can count, not just with you, but other girls, too. hell, he did it a few days ago after one of his gigs. but he knows deep down he can’t go barging into the restroom and beat that guy’s ass. the two of you aren’t dating. you’re not even exclusive to each other. he’d be going back on the conditions he set himself. so, he sits on the barstool, downing the rest of his beer and then starting on another.

twenty minutes later and you come out of the restroom, your lipstick smeared a little, hair slightly mussed up, and mystery guy’s cum dripping from your cunt onto your panties. you search the bar for eddie, expecting to find him with another girl but surprised to see him standing against a wall by himself. his arms are crossed against his chest.

“there you are,” you smile as you walk up to him. “i looked everywhere for you.”

he takes you in, his brown eyes scanning you up and down before he scoffs. “yeah, i’m sure you did.”

you frown at that, but decide not to push it.

“ready to go?” you ask instead.

he nods and leads the way out of the bar into the cool, november night.

it’s silent on the walk to where his van is parked, and you’re starting to wonder what the hell is up.

“are you mad at me or something?” you blurt out.

“what? why would i be mad at you?” he questions, though his tone isn’t helping him in any way.

“well, i don’t know,” you shrug, stopping just before you reach his van. “that’s why i asked you.”

he sighs deeply, almost as if he’s annoyed you’re even asking in the first place. he’s not annoyed with you. he’s annoyed with himself for feeling the way he does about you and not doing anything about it.

“i’m not mad at you,” he finally says, looking over at you. “i-i just —. forget it.” he opens the passenger door to his van and motions for you to get in.

you know exactly what he’s upset about. you could tell from the moment you walked up to him. you saw him eyeing you dancing with mystery guy and watching you leave to the restroom with him. you saw him glancing at you in your post-sex state.

“you know,” you say as you step closer to him. “you’re not the only one who can have fun, eddie. you fuck different girls all the time and i just ‘have to’ suck it up because ‘you know what this is.’ but when i decide to have some fun for myself, you get mad and treat me like this?”

you’re glancing up at him, nostrils flaring with anger and eyes glaring daggers. eddie opens his mouth to say something but you’re quick to interrupt him.

“if you’re mad that i fucked some random dude in there then i have some news for you. you know what the fuck this is, eddie,” you throw his own words back at him. “if you want things to be different then just fucking say s—.”

eddie cuts you off with his lips, pinning you up against the door of the van. you deepen the kiss, your hand finding purchase in his hair as you tug harshly.

“you’re mine,” he groans against your lips. “all of you. every fucking inch of you.”

“and you?” you ask, breaking the kiss to glance up at him through your lashes.

“yours,” he says with a slight tug at the corner of his lips. “i’m yours.”

[unfortunately-obsessed]

My Love Will Never Die

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader. Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, burnout, established relationship. Title based off a Hozier's song. Ao3 link.

Summary:

« You've done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you've done, I never changed my mind. »

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly. You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only mentally. Your muscles ache, pain spiking up on your lower back worse than any damage a sharpened knife could cause. Feet so thoroughly hurt by heels they're numb, if not for the casual sharp sting.

It is Gotham. The sky is grey, the city sucks up you out of life each passing moment.

Rain splatters against your umbrella. You stand just before the front door of Wayne Manor, mindlessly fidgeting with the wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.

One year. You've been married with Bruce Wayne for one year already? Doesn't feel like it.

Time flew before your eyes, the start of it all just below your eyelids. Every first so toothachingly sweet, burned into your brain. Press nails against skin until it sharpens.

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly.

You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

Not worthy of the surname Wayne, to be called “lady of the house”.

Time is a cruel kind of lesson.

"Ms. Wayne." Alfred's voice, invariably courteous, calls. You almost wince at the door opening. He stands before you, maybe a little unnerved by your state, but if it's displeasure or worry on his face, you can't tell.

He masks terrifically well. You're always alarmed by this.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

At that, you do wince.

"Yes, Alfred." Your brain haven't even processed his presence yet when you walk past him. He takes your coat and bag. "Just got lost in thoughts for a moment."

"Pondering the mysteries of our universe at the front step?" Ah, you do love the edge of sass in his voice. You meet his eyes, a shy-like (unlike you) smile cursing your face. "Shall I fetch for tea? Supper will be served in one hour's time."

Some months ago, you might have looked forward for it. If Bruce couldn't welcome you after work, he at least would make sure to eat dinner with you.

Deep in your stomach, rot. You swallow dry.

"No, thanks," you say, taking a deep breath. Desperately– desperately talking through the knot in your throat. "I just want to hit the showers and sleep," you say, all sincerity.

You smile politely. He doesn't pushes you.

It is easy to backslide. To make oneself likeable, less volatile, more agreeable. Until you can earn love and care.

(Oh. It's getting bad again.)

"And Bruce?" You ask halfway through up the stairs, despite yourself. My love for you is bigger than words. I search for you everywhere.

The silence that hangs would be enough of an answer. Alfred is merciful, though. "Still working, ma'am."

Isn't it painful? Loving someone just from outside their life?

Wayne Manor is a haunted house. Constantly burning, touching the skies with horrible black smoke. Sculpted coffered ceilings, furniture of expensive dark wood. Bristol, yet you can see the city and all its skyscrapers by the right window.

Wayne Manor, aka Bruce Wayne's first grave.

Every corner, a memory.

"Of course," you mutter to yourself, emotion pooling in the eyes.

Love is about the failure of language, so you fall silent and disappear into the halls.

~*~*~

The sheets are clean like you know they would be.

Heels are the first to go. You kick them off, grumbling in satisfaction. Earrings next, then lipstick messily scrubbed off in any sheet of paper.

Hairpin and belt lost to the ground. Bra? Disappeared.

Yet, despite being absolutely exhausted, you stop just before the bed. Ice at the nape of your neck like a garrote, a promise. Knot in your throat to hang on.

King-sized, silk sheets, cloud soft. Each breath is a stutter of a muscle, the blood running in your veins a statement that you are, in fact, alive.

Isn't it such a lousy fear? The fear to sleep and have yet another nightmare. Oh, to be worn out mind and body and still unable to touch a bed.

The sheets are clean, white-pure. Sours you mouth.

Messy and childish fear. To see the future, where he dies by your feet using the damned cowl. Feats unnamed, life unhonoured.

Death smiles to Batman.

(Ah, Bruce. I would break my own fingers for you. Tear the tongue out of my mouth.

But there are limits.)

You can't even remember half those nightmares. Hands shaking, clattered flesh, de-boned corpses–

You don't want to ruin the sheets. You don't want to ruin your life.

~*~*~

It might be 5am.

He nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and exhausted, chest to your back. Skin painted with purple and red, scar-tissue mapping constellations, saying eat.

Eat you do. Bite one step removed, soft-mouthed kissing blue veins and rough hands. Until you lips become raw and numb.

His weight sinks the mattress, acting like a gravitational pull. Bruce's body, which furnaces can't compare, protectively embraces you.

He's so warm. It's 5am and you both are lying together, legs intertwined, his face buried on your shoulder. You listen to his breathing, slow and controlled, in the comforting quiet of unrealized-hours.

I wish the past had been kinder on you. How the world is cruel and how you refuse to be.

Soft sunlight hums through the damasked curtains, birds start to sing. You are wide awake, and he is too.

You'd seen him die down in your mind, every night. He lives your nightmares, putting on the suit. You're not bound to him by fate, not a soulmate, with no divine intervention; hallowed by gums aching and reverence– that is to say: the door is open, you can walk away.

Because one day, he won't come back.

You know it. He knows it. He has the arrangements prepared for the occasion.

And nowadays, he can't afford to leave the cave if not for going downtown.

The life of a hero is very unthankful.

"Do you hate me?" he asks you, voice rough to be an knife's edge. It's been long enough since you last felt him this close, low in your ear.

Bruce assures you through touch. Calloused thumb rubbing your wrist. Affections ebbs in his palms, love even. A work in progress.

In all your inner turmoil, you can see yourself getting quite tired of it all. The late nights crawling up walls, knowing he won't come back until morning– the stitching of wounds, his blood in the Persian rugs– but to imagine oneself as his enemy? As in, hating him?

"No," you murmur in a steady heartbeat. A detour cross your mind, of eustress: he gets tired too. And, then you say for good measure, "Never."

People don't really think how tiring tragic the life of a hero is. But there's this exhilarating moment where all that exists is Bruce's breath in your skin.

"Do you love me?" he asks because he can't take any chances. Oh, you can bet a kid that grew up traumatized will need reassurance. Constant, gentle reassurance.

White stripes of scars in his knuckles and forearms below your fingertips, drawing into your memory again and again.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only physically. But he tugs with your heartstrings everyday, bruised like he'd been squeezing it. The more it lingers more you realize you've been packing up emotions for weeks, now.

"What a silly thing to ask," you say. Not an answer. Neither are breathing for a second, there. You teeth clatter like a damn trying to bust.

Ah! There's a lot of messed up stuff happening all the time. You coil in yourself, perhaps considering. Bruce's touch shudders.

And there is something to realize. You'd rather die drowning for love than in thirst of it. Repeat to yourself, to him, I will never leave you. In healthiness and sickness–

"On purpose. Always–"

Love, who is brutal, who is stored in the viscera–

"–I love you."

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[lianaloverr]

Friends

Colby Brock x Fem!reader

ᜊ

Summary: It’s been 4 months since you broke up, and Colby just can’t seem to move on..

Warnings: past relationships, Colby cheating in said past relationship, Cussing, Angst

Word count: 1.4k

Hii guys! New banner, new story. This is my first story where I’ve really switched the pov’s around, so I hope you enjoy! btw, on Colby’s pov, (first) means first person.

The song "Friends" by Chase Atlantic is about the feeling of longing for a past relationship that has ended.

Y/n’s pov:

It had been 3 months since you guys broke up. You and Colby dated for a year and a half and it was torture. you put everything into that relationship, and in return, Colby did nothing. And after you found out he cheated with multiple different girls, you got into a heated argument.

This ended with you getting slapped in the face and Colby leaving. A day after, you packed all of his stuff he left at your apartment and gave it to his bestfriend, Sam. Sam was a little confused at first because he got on the phone with Colby the night of and nothing seemed wrong. When you explained, Sam was furious. he asked if you were okay and you said yes, but you lied.

You were hurting inside, Colby never seemed like the type to hit. He proved you wrong.

Colby’s pov (first):

God, I miss you, is what I wrote in my 1000th text message I knew I wasn’t gonna send. I can’t grasp the feeling of her gone. “Hey Colby, whatcha doing?” Sam says, barging in my room. “Nothing” I reply coldly. Sam gives me a look, then speaks. “Are you still thinking about her? It’s been 3 months.” Sam states. I hate how he can just read my mind.

“I know Sam, I just miss her so much.” I reply. “Well;” Sam stops his sentence to sit down. “You fucked up, and you can fix that if you really try. Instead of just sitting here crying and wishing she’ll come running back.” Sam finishes. “Sam, that’s the most realest thing you’ve ever said.” I say, half joking. But I wasn’t it was, it was what i needed to do.

𝟣 𝗆𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗁 𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝗋

Y/n pov:

Your at an influencer party hosted by your mutual. It was pretty cool. They had drinks and games everywhere. You stuck around with your other mutual Tarayummy. She asked you a question that made you rethink your entire life.

“Do you think Colby’s gonna be here?” you immediately froze. You didn’t think of that. You could barely the thought of seeing his face after all this time. He broke you so much. After the breakup, you started cutting, and haven’t been able to stop since. You knew if you could make peace with him, but you couldn’t.

You could stand face to face with the guy who ruined you. Also, when he told his fans that you guys broke up, you were sent death threats from is fans because they thought you broke up with him. You genuinely wanted to, but you held on for hope, and you’re still trying to find it.

Colby’s pov (first):

I just pulled up to this influencer party with Sam. I have no idea who’s hosting it, I just got a random invite to my phone. I see people out in the front yard wasted. Some of them throwing up. I feel bad for the guy who lives here.

When I walk into the house, I just see people having fun, something I haven’t done in a while. Then it crosses my mind, what if Y/n’s here? Thinking of that immediately made me jump. Just the thought of her being there made me so happy. I’ve longed to see her again. After the breakup, she blocked me on everything. I wasn’t able to be the “stalker ex”. I haven’t seen her face in forever, so knowing she could possibly be at this party brings me joy. Maybe I could finally apologize.

Searching for her felt like I was looking for a needle in a haystack. But it didn’t make me feel all that lazy, there were well over 100 people at this party. all i wanted was to find her, and tell her how much i miss her. I miss us. I’ve been stuck in the same place of too long, and all my friends are waiting for of me to move on. But I can’t.

Y/n’s pov:

All night you hoped you wouldn’t see him. You couldn’t do that again. Even if you wanted to get back with him, he never took the relationship seriously. You concluded he wasn’t ready for one.

While walking down the halls you see someone that made you rethink your life again. It was Colby. You were starstruck but quick enough to turn around in hopes he didn’t see you. “Damn.” you thought, you ain’t going through secluded area anymore. Proven to be bad luck.

“Y/n.” you heard a soft voice coming from the end of the hallway. While in the middle of thought, you just decide to talk to him, whats the worst that could happen?

“yes?” you respond quietly. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” he says, on the verge of tears. When he says that, all you could do was stare. The person you were so in love with, and who just left you with no hesitation, can’t move on. You honestly weren’t surprised. Colby has always had attachment issues, but never had a problem going out to parties and having bitches in his bed.

Colby’s pov (first):

I’m still searching for Y/n. This house is too big to be looking for one person. out the corner of my eye, I see Tara. I always knew her and Tara were close so if she was here, Tara would know where she was. “Hey Tara,” I start. “Oh hey Colby! Long time no see.” she smiles and pulls me into a hug. “Yeah it has, but anyway;” I rush to get her off of me. She just looks at me a little irritated and confused, but she listens. “Have you seen Y/n? Is she here?” I ask, eager to know. “Woah slow down buddy, I don’t even think she wants to see you.” She tells me.

“What do you mean?” I frowned. “I don’t know, when i mentioned you to her she just went pale and walked off.” she explains. “Dude, you must’ve really fucked up.” Tara laughs. “Yeah I did, and i’m trying to fix it. Where did she walk to?” I ask, once again. “Uhhh she went overrrr…” she scans the room. “Oh! She went over to that empty corridor over there.” she finished. I didn’t even thank her, I just rushed to the corridor in hopes of finding her.

I stop at the entrance and I see her. She’s walking down kinda fast. As soon as she sees me, she turns around to walk the other way. This broke my heart, she really doesn’t want to see me. I build up the courage to say

“Y/n.” I call out. She stops dead in her tracks, I bet a million things are going on in her head. “yes?” she responds quietly. My heart skips a beat. “You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to talk to you.” I say, on the verge of letting a river out of my eyes. She turns around then, and I can see that beautiful face I fell in love with, that i’m still in love with.

Y/n pov:

“What do you want to say?” you question, but not very curious because you knew he was gonna give you some bs story. “Y/n i’ve missed you so much. Ever since I left and didn’t get to apologize, I broke-“ “Are you fucking serious?” you ask.

He looks at you with confusion. “You had 4 months. 4 month to try and reach out to me. I know I have you blocked on everything but you could’ve came to my apartment, or you could’ve tried Sam’s phone.” you state. “I-I know I could’ve, but when the time came I would’ve did that.” he lies. “But you didn’t. You left me, no goodbye or anything and you expect me to hear you out? You killed me, everything in me. I can’t go through that again.”

“Wait Y/n please let me explain-“. “No, if listen to you more, i’m gonna punch you in the face. You have to move on. You have to understand I was wronged in that relationship, I just can’t do that a second time.” you say, with tears spilling out your almond shaped eyes. At this point Colby was crying so hard. “Y/n please-“. “Goodbye Colby.” you conclude, and walk out the corridor.

I hope you guys liked it! I really enjoyed writing this but it all happened while something crazy happened. Helped me keep calm:)

Masterlist

[thewertsearch]

Let's kick things off with a mega-giga ask compilation!

I've spent the last couple of days working through the backlog, and I've been able to answer some quite old asks that were spoilers at the time they were sent.

@kintatsu asked: So, I was rereading your blog, and got to the post where you determine that John's 13th birthday was a Monday, and complain on his behalf that he couldn't really relax due to having the whole schoolweek ahead of him. Well, I checked, and the previous day was the first Sunday after the first full moon after the equinox, i.e. Easter Sunday. So it might have been a holiday week.

John entered the Medium shortly after Easter Sunday, and he did so by biting into an apple. Forget about the god tiers – his most powerful transformation is clearly Catholic Beast Mode.

Anonymous asked: The thing about knowing your Aspect, I think, is that it's the Aspect you most GET. I GET Space and Light, I understand them completely, they are suffused in my bones and my blood, they are writ large upon my brain and every base in my DNA. What aspect do you just GET?

To be honest, I don’t think I know enough about any Aspect to ‘get’ it.

If I had to choose, then I'd probably feel the most natural affinity for Life and/or Doom – and if was forced to pick one, I’d say I'm very slightly more drawn to Life, just based on vibes.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: I think the horrorterror’s plan (or the closest thing we can comprehend) is CHAOS-by which I mean LIFE. Skaia is order. If it can want, then it wants its players to follow the script it has written-the Alpha. It wants propagation, the snake to eat it’s own tail, blah blah blah. That is order. That is perfect servitude. That is NOT life. The gods, meanwhile, want chaos. It wants its servants to live. It does not tell people to do anything. It simply gives them the facts, and says “here is what you should do. You can not, you can do whatever the hell.” It wants romance, conflict, CHAOS. that is life.

And if this theory is accurate to the canon Life aspect, then I feel justified in my affinity for it. It falls fairly closely in line with my own philosophy.

@necrowyrm asked: When searching your blog I always type "thew" before Tumblr autocompletes your URL. That has become who you are to me.. Thew, Glorious Liveblogger, navigating the treacherous seas of Homestuck

Sally ‘Thew’ Ertsearch, reporting in. 🫡

Anonymous asked: there's actually another arthurian joke to do with dave's land/quest. have another look at the disc platform that bro stabbed. how would you describe the shape of that turntable?

Ayy, Dave's a Knight of the Round Turntable! Honestly, that'd be a pretty great name for his theme song.

@caliquill asked: kanaya vs rose would be absolutely hilarious but. kanaya IS the original "I Can Fix Her" girl for a reason.

Anonymous asked: the only real requirement for a name suggestion to be picked was that the firstname was 4 letters. but by really cool coincidence strider and lalonde are 7 letters, and egbert and harley are 6, and if you add those together its 4/13! similarly, both the trolls names were required to be 6 letters (i think hussie mixed and matched them actually, some of the firstnames were suggested as surnames and vice versa) so theres a similar case to be made for 6/12. but just doubling the same number i think holds less water than adding together two different numbers

Number symbolism is just very flexible in general. All Hussie really had to do was introduce a few 'important' numbers, and the fandom could start finding them everywhere!

Anonymous asked: This may be the wrong place to ask, but have you deleted your post of analyzing the Let the Squiddles Sleep song? I can't seem to find it anywhere.

Here it is. Hopefully you're able to see it now!

Anonymous asked: Will the Mega-Ask-Compilation and Liveblog Recap also happen? ~LOSS (19/2/23)

The former is currently taking place. The latter was planned, but after skimming my blog for a bit, I realized I didn't have as much to say about it as I thought I did. Plus, it's been ages, so I'm really excited to look at some new pages. We can leave the old ones for later - I'll probably do some sort of blog retrospective eventually.

Anonymous asked: i figure the trolls' battlefield went through a full set of dnd dice/platonic solids, plus maybe some other notable johnson solids like a truncated icosahedron (aka a soccer ball or buckminsterfullerene), before becoming a sphere. maybe the outer ring went through stages like simple torus, mobius strip, borromean rings or other fun knots, before becoming a mobius net. (not really sure what a mobius net is, mathematically, but that's apparently what the thing around the final form of the kid's battlefield is called.) or maybe something weird happens with that many prototypings, and the battlefield turns into a tesseract or a klein bottle or a menger sponge or a mandelbulb.

If you so much as look at the Battlefield created by the Gigasession, your brain will leak out of your ears.

@manorinthewoods asked: <3Dave, >3>John, >3oJade, <>Rose (by process of elimination) ~LOSS (5/6/23)

I don’t think either of the girls have worn a playing card symbol. The leaf on Jade’s Wardrobifier does kind of look like a spade, but John’s already got that quadrant on lockdown.

Anonymous asked: Reading stuff about skaia on this blog reminded me of madoka, and made me consider that skaia might be like kyube and the other incubators and sburb is skaias way of keeping the unerverse from decaying

Reading this ask makes me realize that Rose is a near-perfect mark for Kyubey.

There’s only one way to save your session, Seer. Form a contract with me, and become a magical girl.

Anonymous asked: man. i dont know what i expected to happen when you found it. but for The Baby Is You to be liveblogged in less than 20 words during a post was not the way i expected it to go

I know it’s not technically part of Homestuck canon, but it really feels like Homestuck canon to me - at least to the same degree as Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, and I liveblogged that.

Anonymous asked: begging (lightheartedly) for you to add posts like LOLCAT and "this guy's an orb" to one of the liveblog tags. they're pretty funny, and it's nice to see off-the-cuff reactions like that, haha. imo it'd be a shame for new readers to miss those kind of posts

Done! I sometimes forget to tag posts like that, because I usually just fire them off and forget about ‘em.

@captorations asked: “Give me a set of rules, and I'll analyze the hell out them, every time.” hello fellow doom player. hope you like the color green

Based on ~ATH’s association with curses, as well as Sollux’s programming hobby, I think there’s a decent chance that Doom relates to coding in some way.

Coding is all about rules, so perhaps Doom, is, in fact, the aspect of rules and logic. I'm not sure why such an aspect would be named 'doom', but it's been obvious for a while that these aspect names aren't always literal.

Anonymous asked: I’d just like to clarify some terminology because it seems relevant, but Aradia isn’t a red blood, she’s a rust blood

[The blood colors all have canon names: Aradia = rust blood Tavros = bronze blood Sollux = gold blood Nepeta = olive blood Kanaya = jade blood Terezi = teal blood Vriska = blue blood (I like cerulean better tho) Equius = indigo blood Gamzee = purple blood Eridan = violet blood Feferi = fuchsia blood and Karkat has no official blood name, but people usually call him mutant blood or candy-red blood - C ]

Oh, there are official names for each color? That’s going to be helpful to disambiguate each blood caste, especially when we really start digging into troll culture and biology.

Anonymous asked: I do believe the top-left ship on the wall - no, Karkat doesn't have red eyes. […] It's probably Vrisrezi, yes, but it could also be Vriskat.

Yeah, I’m still not sure who this ship is supposed to represent.

They have Terezi’s eyes, but the hair and symbol look like Karkat’s. Plus, Nepeta hates this ship, which would make sense if it’s between her crush and someone other than her.

Honestly, my best guess is that it was meant to be Karkat, and the red eyes were just a mistake on Hussie’s part.

Anonymous asked: something I never thought about… is the blue blood sourced from equius or did he get a stock.

Aradia has real blue indigo blood in her veins, and it almost certainly belongs to Equius himself. He could have got it from a donor, but I personally doubt there was anyone else he could ask. Equius feels like he'd be an outsider, even to other indigo-bloods.

Anonymous asked: vriska would be a good strider

Vriska Serket raised by Bro Strider would be the most terrifying character imaginable. I don't even want to contemplate what that upbringing would do to her.

Anonymous asked: Any piece of lore hussie writes needs to contend with the fact that hussie is resolutely committed to the bit. Hence all the words on how different trolls are being entirely blasted aside by 'and then they're just grey humans anyway lmao'

That's the price of admission into Homestuck, for better or for worse. Hussie quite clearly enjoys screwing with us, and we have to take everything we see in the comic with a huge pinch of salt.

Anonymous asked: I'll disagree a bit on the phrasing that Eridan forces Feferi to <> him because firstly she doesn't even seem convinced that he would commit genocide and secondly she dropped him super easily once the lusus-feeding is no longer necessary. While understandable, that doesn't suggest to me someone who is obliged by Eridan's aggression to pacify him. I think she has much more agency in this relationship (or lack thereof I suppose) than that.

Feferi definitely had her doubts – but she must have believed that Eridan was dangerous to a certain degree, because that’s the basis of a moirallegiance.

Forced might not be the right word, but she certainly felt some amount of obligation to pacify him. She sure wasn’t in that relationship for the good of her health.

Anonymous asked: So, Vriska has a conversation with Karkat, where he says she seems to have blackrom feelings for Tavros, but that he doesn't think Tavros can even feel blackrom properly. Then she has another conversation with Tavros in which she antagonizes him, and he notices, but just kind of ignores it and doesn't respond emotionally. Then we see her make a huge dramatic redrom gesture and kiss him. She vacillated because he wasn't into her… incel behavior.

Yup. I’ve always held that Tavros never wanted anything to do with Vriska. He doesn't want to love or hate her - what he really wants is to live in a world where she doesn't exist.

Vriska’s refusal to accept this basic fact is one of the main reasons she’s decided to make his life a living hell.

Anonymous asked: I headcanon that troll blood is analog, but the empire culls non-digital colors because they make the troll race seem like a joke or something. Lol

If there were minor variations in blood color, the Empire probably wouldn’t want to acknowledge it, since the stratification of blood classes forms the basis of their society.

We haven’t seen any trolls besides our twelve (apart from Troll Will Smith) so we can’t compare the blood of two members of the same caste - but we can speculate. Human blood color is known to vary depending on its oxygenation level, and I imagine troll blood would reflect its current chemical composition in the same way.

Anonymous asked: Vriska must be seething while Karkat introduces the concept of quadrants to the reader. Imagine this basic and important facet of troll life, and you're just getting schoolfed it. (This message was sent on 20/10/22.)

This was a fun bit of weirdness from early Hivebent, wasn’t it? In retrospect, it's kind of hilarious that Karkat decided to infodump to Vriska about the obscure, niche topic of… dating.

@sanctferum asked: According to his formspring, Hussie's self-insert's classpect is Waste of Space. He also briefly considers Huss of Lips. This is obviously not meant to be taken seriously but. since you asked @absinthe-and-alabaster asked: i believe hussie said somewhere that FedoraFreak's classpect was "Gent of Piss" Anonymous asked: (not sure if this is technically a spoiler but) hussie has jokingly said that fedorafreak's class is a gent.

If Dad Egbert was a Player, then the Gent class would be forced into canonical existence, as the only class that could possibly define him.

Anonymous asked: If Vriska's control does require the victim to on some level want to do the thing, then Sollux's insistence that you do not under any circumstance eat the mind honey could be something he developed in response to that incident. So that if she ever controls him again, she won't be able to make him eat it.

Wow, I never considered that. That’s a very good (and tragic) take, and I think I'm at least locking it in as a headcanon.

Anonymous asked: the official extended zodiac actually has… 288 signs, if im doing my math right? and also probably hadn't yet been conceptualized when that page was posted (the earliest known evidence comes from 2015). i don't know if any thought was put into the number or if it was just pulled from their ass, but there was a running gag in hussie's q&as where he repeatedly threatened us with a 10,000 page intermission focused on 48 squiddles, each representing a sign from the alternian zodiac Anonymous asked: I believe the troll zodiac is one of the few things in HS lore that was truly retconned, there’s actually 288 signs.

Move over, 48 Squiddles. I want to hear about the 288-player clusterfuck that actually gave rise to Alternia!

@manorinthewoods asked: wheee, you got to the first god tiering! this probably opens up a load of new things to say, so, first off: do you think you need to have a full echeladder to god tier? vriska implied so.

She never outright stated that it was required, but I still think it probably is. You generally need to max out your class levels before you can prestige.

@morganwick asked: Believe it or not, you're still in the "Homestuck could have updated RIGHT NOW" phase of the comic's release schedule. The break after the Equius-Aradia kiss aside, the hiati you've heard horror stories about didn't start becoming a thing until the end of Act 5.

[this was around page 3000. still true at this page though - C]

Hussie’s sheer productivity at this stage continues to astound. Could you imagine having that much creative energy?

Maybe Hussie just drinks twenty coffees a day.

Anonymous asked: as someone who is Normal about aradia it's an absolute delight to see someone dig into her character. she's so fascinating to me. (also, fun fact, a while ago tumblr voted her the coolest character in all of homestuck. so there's that)

Aradia’s awesome, and I still don’t think her death is going to stick.

Her ghost was perfectly capable of existing without a body, so there's no reason she can’t survive her new body's destruction.

Anonymous asked: feferi hasn't just woken up, she won't be stuck asleep until 3 hours and 14 minutes into the future! timestamps, yo

Consider this the first mark on my otherwise impeccable record.

Anonymous asked: does cat have a troll/kidsona? itd be interesting to see a full 4 player session in art

[No kidsona, yes trollsona, but even a picture of her would spoil stuff from Act 6 😆 - C]

What she said. It’ll be a while until we can meet KATYAA SCRENR.

@mhafanlol2000 asked: Hey! You can just call me Fan. In all honesty I’m just some guy who likes your liveblog. He/him. I’m gonna list some fan aspects, and I want to see what you think they’d represent, and what abilities they’d give Law Dreams Might Shape Flow

Ooh, more fan aspects! These were a lot of fun to puzzle out the last time.

Law would be the aspect of command, instruction and agreement. An example power would be giving someone a simple rule they're compelled to follow, such as 'don't turn around'.

Dreams would be the aspect of ideas, motivation and symbolism. An example power would be the ability to detect people's idle thoughts - the things they're not even aware they're thinking about.

Might would be the aspect of growth, conflict and evolution. An example power would be the ability to temporarily enhance someone's Aspect abilities, at the cost of making those abilities harder to control.

Shape would be the aspect of form, encapsulation and topology. Shapeshifting is the most obvious application of this aspect, but it's appropriate.

Flow would be the aspect of persistence, momentum and continuity. An example power would be the ability to 'continue' something that has recently stopped. For example, if your PC ran out of power, they'd be able to keep it running for a while. The longer it had been previously running, the longer they could keep it running.

@martinkhall asked: I think Bro might have been raised entirely by shonen anime and My Little Pony Friendship is Magical (the version that existed only in the heads of the worst examples of Bronys). And puppets. Puppets were definitely involved in raising Bro. Anonymous asked: "He has no known relationship with any of the other parents, but was definitely getting foreknowledge of Sburb from somewhere. I’m not even sure I want to know what sort of childhood produces Bro Strider." well. i mean. he grew up with Lil Cal didn't he? the clearly haunted puppet from the sburban dreamscape of derse? it was what he dropped to earth with. i feel like that might explain at least a small part of, like, whatever he had going on.

That’s true. I don’t trust that puppet one bit, and we don’t know what it was up to before the start of the session.

I still suspect that the thing’s still just as alive as it was on Derse, and is just choosing to play dead.

Anonymous asked: I imagine you might've already been told this, but when checking out your FAQ I noticed you described PS/PQ/FS as "not exactly canon" and that you're less interested in liveblogging them because one of your favorite parts is watching all the story come together -- without spoiling anything, I find it pertinent to mention that Pesterquest & Friendsim definitely contribute to the wider "canon" even though dubiously canon themselves. Definitely "part of the story" so to speak.

Yeah, we’ll have to see what comes of this. The problem is that I’m still fuzzy on what ‘dubiously canon’ actually means.

Hopefully that will become more clear as I’m actually liveblogging these tie-in materials – which I am planning on doing. Only time will tell how in-depth the liveblog will actually be, though.

@manorinthewoods asked: In my Sundered opinion, Bec Noir is the best character design in Homestuck. I can't think of any other interesting designs at the moment, other than some which don't beat him and are spoilers anyway (like LE's). Which design do you find most interesting, out of the ones you have? ~LOSS (22/9/23)

I definitely agree that BecJack has one of the best designs in the comic. Plus, Scratch is so weirdly intimidating for a cueball-head.

Anonymous asked: My favorite part of PKWU is just how pointy Gamzee's chin is. It's so… Defined.

iT’s ToO lAtE, ErIdAn! I’vE AlReAdY DePicTeD MySeLf As ThE ChAd, AnD yOu As ThE SoYjAk >:o)

Anonymous asked: i need you to know ag canonically ripped off the sleeves on all of her shirts just to show off the robot arm

I believe it. I don't even need a source; this is just so true to Vriska's character that it's obviously correct.

@bladekindeyewear asked: If you and your ask screener decide that literary/external-media hero title examples without any details or explanation are alright to pass on unless they're too obviously revealing -- and those in and of themselves are usually in heavy dispute by classpect theorists -- I've long been of the opinion that Monkey D. Luffy and Peter Pan are the best possible literary examples of a Page of Breath.

All Pages of Breath must be associated with pirates. No exceptions.

Anonymous asked: unfun fact: the reason rose and jade dont have a lot of pesterlogs with eachother is just because their text colours were kinda eyestrainy together. thats it thats literally the whole reason!! god damn

Hussie: "I don't write Rose/Jade conversations because they’re hard to read."

Also Hussie:

Anonymous asked: you have officially passed my second favourite flash in literally all of homestuck. it's all so well hinted at beforehand but it still comes to punch you in the gut nonetheless Anonymous asked: My favourite thing in this flash is how the name of the flash isn't John: Rise Up, it's JOHN. RISE UP. it's WV sending a plead to John to not die. My second favourite thing is the way the music remixes Doctor (The theme for LoWaS). Anonymous asked: [S] JOHN. RISE UP. is one of my favorite flashes in all of Homestuck. Savior of the Waking World is some of Toby's best work What are your thoughts on our first taste of god tier? @violetsquare111 asked: So glad you liked Savior of the Waking World! One of my favorites in the comic for sure. It takes a lot of ideas from another of Toby's songs, Penumbra Phantasm, a song that… never actually got finished or officially released. There's still various renditions of it though, and the HS collection links a couple of em. (Some people have speculated that Penumbra Phantasm itself was never supposed to be a Homestuck song, and might end up being used in Deltarune, which would be cool as hell) Anonymous asked: It's crazy to think that just about 12 hours ago John was wearing silly disguises to fool his dad and now he's dying to become a god.

God time!

I do think it was the most emotional flash we’ve had, on the strength of the music alone. Savior of the Waking World goes hard as all hell.

Honestly, when WV started calling John a hero, and telling him to rise, it did start to give me some mild chills. Like, yeah – we know John’s a hero, but it feels extra special when it’s coming from someone who’s normally so irreverent.

@elkian asked: Welcome back, hope you're feeling better! I am losing it a bit over you IMMEDIATELY understanding how this coin flip sitch works, something about the narrative and reasoning doesn't match my brain so I've reread it multiple times with total understanding out of grasp and watching you dissect it halfway into the page is truly wild (delighted). Also feel like I understand it a lil better with your analysis.

Thank you! This message was actually sent the last time I returned from a pause, so apologies that I’m one hiatus late in answering it.

@royalvorpal asked: I just reread your entire blog in anticipation. Anonymous asked: This is such a good liveblog, I'm rereading it again and you are really letting me relive the pleasant parts of my middle school years. Reading this blog makes me feel like I'm back on the school bus talking to my friend about the newest update. Thank you for doing this 💛 Anonymous asked: That return page didn't have any sound, so misleading! (I jest, nice to see you're back.) ~DJ @manorinthewoods asked: Hahahah, we are BACK! Lovely, I've missed this liveblog. Most in-depth Homestuck liveblog I'm aware of, looking forward to the restart! ~LOSS (29/3/24) @popcornsalty asked: So excited to see you back!!! :D @chaosorchestrator asked: welcome back! It's good to hear that you're planning on getting back into it! I hope things have been going ok for you in the meantime! @necrowyrm asked: HAPPY 4/13 (OR AS THE ENLIGHTENED KNOW IT: 13/4) AND WELCOME BACK!!!!!!!!!!!

Thank you for your votes of confidence, and happy 13/4 to you all!

@rippledphysique asked: Just found this blog and devoured it in a few days. I am selfishly wishing you the best in health and life so that it may return one day… @elkian asked: Hey Sally! Just wanted to wish you well on the recovery, the plague is no joke and I hope you've been able to enjoy some kind improvement. And that 2024 will be kinder, as well. Anonymous asked: wishing you the best in your interim, hopefully you can get a better position where you're not prone to burning out! Anonymous asked: Hope you're doing ok!! I miss seeing your cool liveblog on my dash @kittycatttmattt asked: Poor girl… Got killed by the schedule

Thanks for all the well-wishes, as well. Really, it wasn’t the schedule that was the issue – I just had a lot going on in the background last year. That’s all over now, though!

Anonymous asked: yeah, Homestuck's back babeyyyyy - the site was crashing because of traffic and everything @calamitascalliope asked: You coming back from your break resurrected Homestuck's corpse hggfffdd Anonymous asked: i think this actually is the first time homestuck has updated since you started liveblogging lol - homestuck 2 has been inactive assumed abandoned since december 25th 2020. also happy slightly belated blogiversary btw - you've been delighting us with your journey for two years now! @heliotropopause asked: New Homestuck upd8 just dropped. Apparently. Anonymous asked: what are the odds that you start liveblogging again the same exact day that postcanon comes back from the dead? Anonymous asked: crazy news. so literally just today, october 8th 2023, hussie has officially given complete free license to the newly formed "homestuck independent creative union" (HICU) to create content and monetize it with the homestuck brand however they see fit, with zero creative or financial control from any corporations or even hussie themself, though hussie has said they're available for consultation whenever the HICU wants their input. the HICU seems to be made up of people the community largely has respect for, and the person heading all of this up is James Roach, who is one of the most widely respected individual who has been inolved in homestuck "post canon" (ie. after homestuck itself ended). nobody was expecting any of this, it's completely bonkers. hopes are looking pretty high for homestuck compared to where they were merely a day ago.

Throwback to the day I personally resurrected Homestuck.

Has anything come of this since, actually? I haven’t heard anything about this new comic – although I do scroll in the opposite direction any time I see a reference to Homestuck, so I guess it makes sense that I wouldn’t.

@corporalotherbear asked: What’s your favorite Pokémon?

Contrarian, that I am, I’ll instinctively gravitate to Missingno., if only for the nostalgia factor. Gen 1 glitches were my first real experience with pulling back the curtain of a game’s code, and taking a look at what lies beneath.

My favourite official Pokémon are Porygon-Z, Shedinja, Reuniclus and Metagross!

@heliotropopause asked: Breath/Light is an interesting one, because the ‘Mixolydian’ implies a musical theme, and I thought Time was the musical Aspect. Maybe it’s not that simple. They've all got a musical reference in the name- they are called fraymotifs, after all. Anonymous asked: The Fraymotifs are all musical references actually. E.g. Breath/Time is "Ivories in the Fire", the ivories in question being John's piano keys. A fraymotif is a battle theme. Anonymous asked: ivories in the fire is a musical theme, especifically a Rap term used by Snoop Dogg. So yeah it's connected to Dave Anonymous asked: re: fraymotifs: you pointed out "mixolydian", but that's not the only musical term there. feather "cadence", pneumatic "progression", even fray "motif" itself! hell, the building where you buy these things has an emblem with a crossed sword and music note! so i think this might be less a situation of "need to rethink time aspects association with music" and more "fraymotifs have a musical association also" Anonymous asked: if you look a bit closer at those names, (including the one "fraymotif",) you may realize that "mixolydian" isn't the only musical term referenced…. @galaxa-13 asked: You say the breath/Light Fraymotif implies a musical theme, but they all do! Fraymotif is a portmanteau of "fray" (to fight) and "leitmotif" (repeated musical phrase). Each Fraymotif name implies a musical theme.

Dang it. Yup, they’re all pretty obvious references to music.

I wrote that post the day I was trying to wrangle our family PC into running the Homestuck Collection without lag, so I was a little distracted at the time. Please direct all complaints to Windows XP.

[itsagrimm]

Wegbier

Translation: a beer for the road. It’s the drink (often a beer but other drinks like Clubmate or Almdudler for those that don’t drink alcohol are also common) one takes with them when wandering from one space to another while out with friends. And I literally mean wandering. It’s not a drinking while driving thing but a drinking while walking or using the public transport thing.

CN mentions of alcohol and drinking, theft, reader gets lifted up (hold on tight, spidermonkey!), drunk König

Summary: You are walking home with your boyfriend after a night out and cause havoc.

For legal reasons this is a joke.

König X gn reader

1,2 k words

Song that fits this: The Cure – The Lovecats

It was night. Or morning. Somewhere in between when it was hard to tell. You had missed the train to get back into town and instead of waiting for the replacing night bus, you had allowed König to talk you into walking.

“Come on!”, he called back over his shoulder. His long strides made him leave you behind ever 5 minutes and he had to turn around and wait for you to catch up.

“I don’t want to walk anymore!”, you lamented, tired from spending the last hours out with friends and enjoying the summer night at the lake.

“Leave me here, just let me sleep in the woods.”, you gasped dramatically, “That fallen tree with the moss over there looks so cosy.”

He starred into the woods, “That tree looks rotten.”

You suppressed a yawn and took a sip from your Wegbier before dragging yourself on. “Alright, nevermind. Off wandering home, we go. Through the dark hours of the night.”

König chuckled, “Since when are you so dramatic?”

“Since when are you so keen on walking everywhere?”

Another chuckle. “It’s not even 2 kilometres. You are just too used to cars. Less whining, more walking.”

“Easy for you to say, König. You take a step and you already have made about half of that distance.”

“That’s an…”, he paused and took a sip from his Wegbier before continuing while searching for the word, “…exaggeration. That’s the English word. Exaggeration. You exaggerate. For the dramatic effect.”

It was your turn to chuckle.

The evening and the alcohol had turned you into an overdramatic tipsy mess.

But it had turned König into the unfiltered version of himself, laying every thought bare with delightful simplicity.

Your visit in König’s hometown had been fun. It showed you a playful side in him when he joked around with his family, showed you places he loved, or taught you new german words until your head spun from the confusing grammar and unfamiliar pronunciations.

A more surprising thing to you, however, was the amount of walking.

To the store.

To friends.

The odd habit of having to leave the house at least once a day for a little walk like an animal stalking their territory.

And now you walked home with your boyfriend.

At least he walked. You needed a break.

“Come on! We nearly made it”, he called once again before stopping in his tracks and started laughing.

It was a gremlin laugh. One of those laughs followed up by either something very funny or very concerning.

You stared, slightly confused, and finished your beer before putting it next to a trash can for easier access to whoever collected the trash. Another habit König had taught you.

“What is it?”, you called and caught up with your boyfriend, following his stare onto the other side of the street.

“I need this.”, he growled.

“What?”

He nodded into the direction of one of the signs at the side of the road.

You squinted your eyes to see better despite the twilight and the distance to the sign.

K-Ö-N-I-G-S-S-T-R-A-S-S-E.

Your slow, tired and intoxicated brain needed a moment before finally gluing together the letters and translating the word.

Königsstrasse.

Kingstreet.

The street sign displayed your boyfriends callsign.

He laughed again and finished his beer.

“You in?”

You turned to him. “You mean, stealing it?”

He shrugged.

“Yeah. It’s fairly dirty. It will be replaced soon anyway.”

“Awww,”, you teased, “Are you, an active mercenary, trying to justify your crimes? No need, I’m in.”

He nodded as if only half listening and already planning the heist while finishing his own beer and leaving it next to yours at the trash can.

You looked around. A bit off from you there were a couple of houses, dark and silent as its inhabitants likely were deep asleep at this time. The street was empty. And above you a sole nightingale had started to sing.

Determined to get that sign, you crossed the street.

It was up high. Very high.

You jumped, trying to touch it only to miss it by a couple of centimetres.

“There is an easier way.”, König rasped, appearing out of thin air right behind you like a lynx before grabbing you and putting you onto his shoulders.

“Woah!”, you cried out in surprise, “A warning, next time please?”

“Next time? Do you think we are making this a habit, Mausi?”

You giggled at the sound of the pet name and started to feel the street sign for any way to remove the board from the pole.

“Shit!”, you cursed, “We need a screwdriver. Or a socket wrench.”

“A what?”

“A socket wrench.” You made a few cracking sounds to imitate a socket wrench while circling your hands like using… well, a wrench.

“Ah”, was all your boyfriend did while fumbling at his belt underneath you.

You grabbed the sign to steady yourself and grimaced. It really was dirty.

“Try this.”, König passed you his multi tool, “Try the screwdriver on the left side.

You mumbled a few curses while trying to see and get out the right piece of the multi tool in the twilight.

“Got it.”, you finally whispered after having cut yourself nearly twice while fumbling with the tool, “Why do you even have that with you, König?”

“To steal shit and cause havoc of course”, he replied without hesitation.

“Ah-a”, you replied while working on dislodging the sign. It took you a few tries but König hardly swayed underneath you or complained about your weight while you worked on securing the trophy.

“I have it.”, you finally declared and pulled the sign free.

“Is it heavy?”

“No, König, I can hold it. Just let me get down.”

Another of those gremlin snickers escaped your boyfriend as he stepped away from the pole and started walking into the direction of the town.

“What are you doing!”, you cried, trying to hold onto him with the multitool in one hand and the in spiderwebs and dirt covered huge sign in your other.

“I’m carrying you home. You didn’t want to walk anyway, and I’m tired of waiting for you, Mausi.”

“Fucking hell.”, you cursed while grabbing onto his head for balance.

XXX

Epilogue

It was past midday as you woke up. König was snoring peacefully next to you with the pillow over his head to keep out the light.

Still feeling sleepy but not tired enough to get up yet, you turned – and stilled.

Next to the bed was a sign.

A huge streetsign.

You elbowed König and he groaned in protest.

“What is it?”, he grumbled.

“Exactly. What is this?”

With a sheepish look he looked over you.

“Huh, Mausi. That looks like a night's out yield.”

[marta-bee]

@outofangband liked my zeroing in on Tolkien's comparing Erendis's beauty with Morwen's in the last post. I actually made a verbal slip and used the wrong name, so that post ended up seeming more focused on Morwen than I meant. But @outofangband's comment got me thinking more about Morwen's story, and that lens is turning out to be quite interesting. So let's dig in a bit more.

(Also: This, kiddos, is why you comment, on Tumblr and AO3 and everywhere else. It's the back and forth that really makes fandom worth the effort.)

It's been entirely too long since I've read the Quenta Silmarillion, and I've not read the Narn i Hîn Húrin at all, so doubtless there's people more familiar with their story than me. But briefly: Húrin was a lord in one of the Elf-friend Houses of Men. He was part of the Union of Maedhros (First Age political alliance between elves, men, and dwarves to resist Morgoth), fought in the Nirnaeth Arnoediad/Battle of Unnumbered Tears beside Fingon. Said battle earned its name, Fingon and countless others (including most of his household) is killed, and Húrin himself is captured and tortured for decades.

Morwen is his wife and the mother of Túrin and Nienor. She stayed behindi n Dor-lómin (Húrin's settlement), and after the Nirnaeth Easterlings allied with Morgoth sweep in and take over. They leave her alone, at least at first, thinking her some kind of a witch. If memory serves it was connected to her beauty, which they thought was preternatural and suspected her of having dealings with elves that made her dangerous. Túrin she sends off to Doriath so Thingol can raise him in safety; Nienor stays with her in Dor-lómin until Nienor is grown and the two women go searching for Túrin at last.

*******************

It's such a different situation in so many ways to Erendis's, so it's a bit fascinating how similar their lives are here.

After their marriage, Aldarion and Erendis lived together in Armenelos, and had a daughter. They planted the elven-tree in their garden, and the song-birds settled there. "

This got long, I'm afraid, but is a good read in its entirety. "In heart Erendis was glad [to have a daughter rather than a son], for she thought: "Surely now Aldarion will desire a son, to be his heir; and he will abide with me long yet." For in secret she still feared the Sea and its power upon his heart; and though she strove to hide it, and would talk with him of his old ventures and of his hopes and designs, she watched jealously if he went to his house-ship or was much with the Venturers."

It doesn't take a genius to understand how these stories work, and it shouldn't be surprising it didn't work out that way.

Erendis learned of these things, though Aldarion had not spoken to her of them, and she was unquiet. Therefore one day she said to him: "What is all this busyness with ships. Lord of the havens? Have we not enough? How many fair trees have been cut short of their lives in this year?" She spoke lightly, and smiled as she spoke. "A man must have work to do upon land," he answered, "even though he have a fair wife. Trees spring and trees fall. I plant more than are felled." He spoke also in a light tone, but he did not look her in the face; and they did not speak again of these matters. But when Ancalímë was close to four years old Aldarion at last declared openly to Erendis his desire to sail again from Númenor. She sat silent, for he said nothing that she did not already know; and words were in vain. He tarried until the birthday of Ancalimë, and made much of her that day. She laughed and was merry, though others in that house were not so; and as she went to her bed she said to her father: "Where will you take me this summer, tatanya? I would like to see the white house in the sheep-land that mamil tells of." Aldarion did not answer; and the next day he left the house, and was gone for some days. When all was ready he returned, and bade Erendis farewell. Then against her will tears were in her eyes. They grieved him, and yet irked him, for his mind was resolved, and he hardened her heart. "Come, Erondis!" he said. "Eight years I have stayed. You cannot bind for ever in soft bonds the son of the King, of the blood of Tuor and Eärendil! And I am not going to my death. I shall soon return." "Soon?" she said. "But the years are unrelenting, and you will not bring them back with you. And mine are briefer than yours. My youth runs away; and where are my children, and where is your heir? Too long and often of late is my bed cold." "Often of late I have thought that you preferred it so," said Aldarion. "But let us not be wroth, even if we are not of like mind. Look in your mirror, Erendis. You are beautiful, and no shadow of age is there yet. You have time to spare to my deep need. Two years! Two years is all that I ask!" But Erendis answered: "Say rather: 'Two years I shall take, whether you will or no.' Take two years, then! But no more. A King's son of the blood of Eärendil should also be a man of his word." Next morning Aldarion hastened away. He lifted up Ancalimë and kissed her, but though she clung to him he set her down quickly and rode off. Soon after the great ship set sail from Rómenna. Hirilondë he named it, Haven-finder; but it went from Númenor without the blessing of Tar-Meneldur; and Erendis was not at the harbour to set the green Bough of Return, nor did she send. Aldarion's face was dark and troubled as he stood at the prow of Hirilondë, where the wife of his captain had set a great branch of oiolairë, but he did not look back until the Meneltarma was far off in the twilight.

So: two women, left behind by their husbands to raise young daughters. Húrin's departure makes sense -- he's going off to fight Morgoth, to make Dor-lómin safe. Aldarion's seems much more voluntary and optional if not downright selfish. I'm trying to remember the almost physical compulsion he had before he married Erendis, to go adventuring again. I'm trying to be sympathetic. But it's not Erendis trying to "bind for ever in soft bonds." It's what Tar-Meneldur warned him about when he first became engaged to Erendis: that a man cannot have two wives. If these are soft bonds, it's just what Aldarion chose for himself.

But for the first time, Erendis doesn't exactly seem blameless.

All that day Erendis sat in her chamber alone, grieving; but deeper in her heart she felt a new pain of cold anger, and her love of Aldarion was wounded to the quick. She hated the Sea; and now even trees, that once she had loved, she desired to look upon no more, for they recalled to her the masts of great ships. Therefore ere long she left Armenelos, and went to Emerië in the midst of the Isle, where ever, far and near, the bleating of sheep was borne upon the wind. "Sweeter it is to my ears than the mewing of gulls," she said, as she stood at the doors of her white house, the gift of the King; and that was upon a downside, facing west, with great lawns all about that merged without wall or hedge into the pastures. Thither she took Ancalimë, and they were all the company that either had. For Erendis would have only servants in her household, and they were all women; and she sought ever to mould her daughter to her own mind, and to feed her upon her own bitterness against men. Ancalimë seldom indeed saw any man, for Erendis kept no state, and her few arm-servants and shepherds had a homestead at a distance. Other men did not come there, save rarely some messenger from the King; and he would ride away soon, for to men there seemed a chill in the house that put them to flight, and while there they felt constrained to speak nail in whisper. One morning soon after Erendis came to Emerië she awoke to the song of birds, and there on the sill of her window were the Elven-birds that long had dwelt in her garden in Armenelos, but which she had left behind forgotten. "Sweet fools, fly away!" she said. "This is no place for joy such as yours."

Erendis locks herself and Ancalimë away. When the two years passed, she shut down the house in Armenelos and isolated herself in the house "ordered the house in Armenelos be shut, and she went never more than a few hours' journey from her house in Emerië. "Such love as she had was all given to her daughter, and she clung to her, and would not have Ancalimë leave her side, not even to visit Núneth and her kin in the Westlands. [...] But the women were chary in their speech to the child, fearing their mistress; and there was little enough of laughter for Ancalimë in the white house of Emerië."

This... is not healthy. This is concerning, actually, and from the outside it seems avoidable. It's not, quite, because she's been abandoned by her husband, twice now in a way. And from Erendis's perspective there was nothing compelling Aldarion to leave. If anything, he turned it around on her and blamed her for trying to imprison him on land.

Compare them to Morwen and Nienor, whose husband and father did have a good reason to leave. I'm not entirely clear why they stayed in Dor-lómin rather than going to Doriath with Túrin, except that the story needed them to be separate. Maybe they thought Húrin would escape and come back to them there? Maybe it just seemed safer than traveling somewhere else, since the Easterlings left them alone? But her isolation comes from being surrounded by enemies, and she doesn't seem to isolate Nienor more than their security requires, at least not that I remember. Whereas Erendis bars all men from the main house, makes Ancalimë's whole life surround her in a smothering sort of "love," keeps Ancalimë separate even from her grandparents.

I keep thinking about the Hobbit narrator's line, that  "things that are good to have and days that are good to spend are soon told about, and not much to listen to; while things that are uncomfortable, palpitating, and even gruesome, may make a good tale, and take a deal of telling anyway." This is a story, and stories require things to happen. Morgoth provides a convenient villain, whatever else he is, that drives Húrin and Morwen apart. But Númenor in these early days is a land of peace, this is the golden age, things are supposed to be happy, which is precisely what they can't be if there's to be a story worth telling. It almost seems the nature of Men that if there's not a conflict near at hand they'll invent one; or that something deep inside them, their striving nature will compel them to do just that.

Psychologically, I don't want to blame Erendis because I like her so much. She's become a kind of Blorbo for me. And I do think she's got a right to feel betrayed and abandoned, even as she's materially well taken care of. However unhealthy her actions are here, and however much she's hurting Ancalimë, it's clearly coming from some deep pain. But Morwen's isolation is so easy to understand, compared to Erendis's! It's rational in its way, whereas this just seems unnecessary. That's probably what makes the story so interesting, even if I do want to shake her a bit by the shoulders, and send Ancalimë off to Núneth's house for her own protection.

What can I say? God save us for ourselves when there's no baddie near at hand. It's all so depressingly human.

[missameliep]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks for the tag @lorirwritesfanfic 😊🩷

I haven't participated in a WIP Wednesday in soooo long!

I actually have some snippets to share; I'm going through my drafts and planing to post all of those fics that are near ready.

Under the cut are snippets for: Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow); Once Upon a Summer (Desire & Decorum AU); Second Chances - Chapter 25 (Desire & Decorum AU) and The one who got away (Ride or Die).

Bonds of Sea and Fire - Part 4 (Blades of Light and Shadow)

“You cannot...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “...charm your way out of a confrontation.”  “Do you want to bet?”  Tyril scowled at the suggestion.   “I'm in!” Mal joined the conversation, jumping from the wooden crate and landing with a loud thump on the deck. “5 golden coins you can’t!”  “Do you even have that kind of money?”  “Won’t you like to find out?” He wriggled his eyebrows and smiled at her.  With a shake of their hands, the challenge was accepted. 

2. Once upon a summer - Part 1 (Desire and Decorum AU)

Amusing some of his teammates and the group of girls, Hamid was in the middle of telling a story, when someone knocked over a heavy object near the entrance. Hamid’s eyes flicked to where the noise came from and to the influx of another group of students coming inside to fill the stands, amongst them a very beautiful girl he’s never seen in school and instantly caught his eye.   Turquoise backpack hanging on one shoulder, she moved slowly, and her long curly hair bounced around her face. It was a chocolate brown hair with golden shades that seemed like the sun itself had kissed, or maybe had just been following her for the dramatic purpose of stealing teenage boy’s breaths away. Whatever it was, her beauty was so enthralling he couldn’t look away, appreciating the long hair and shapely lips and bright eyes. If this was one of the rom-coms his sisters love, there would be a bubbly pop song playing in the background while the girl glided in slow motion, and when the camera turned in his direction to do a closeup, he would be looking dazzled with mouth slightly parted while trying to catch his breath. Nevertheless, no camera could ever capture the way his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.  “So, what happened then? Did his father notice you two were gone?” Theresa Sutton’s questions ringed after what seemed like a dramatic pause in the narrative but turned into a play’s intermission.  Stunned, Hamid blinked a few times and failed to remember what he was telling them. Offering a wide grin, he clapped his hands, “Well, this will have to wait. Now I have someplace else to go and a record to beat!”  “That’s cruel, Hamid,” Donna Bowman protested with a pout, but it didn’t deter him.   Bending, he picked up the ball at his feet, and sprinted to where Yusuf Konevi, his dearest and oldest friend in England, was doing warm-ups with some of their teammates, without tearing his gaze from the beautiful girl, who was glancing everywhere from the benches at the side of the court to the stands, possibly searching for someone, and not once looked his way. Thank goodness, he was confident enough to not let this hurt his pride, and persistent enough to change that game.  Throwing an arm over Yusuf’s shoulder, he threw himself at him in a playful way.   “Hey!”  “Glad to see our star is finally joining us!”  “We’re all stars here,” Hamid said, flashing a grin, “we shine brighter together.”  The other laughed. “Smooth. I bet they’ll make you team captain soon.”   Looking over his shoulder Hamid located his target, standing alone by the stands, and asked in a conspiratorial tone, “Who’s that girl? I haven’t seen her before...”   “Which one?” the other asked before discreetly peeking at the direction he tilted his head.   “The one who looks like an angel recently fallen from heaven…” 

3. Second Chances - Chapter 25 (Desire & Decorum AU)

While her body reluctantly woke up and her brain regained consciousness, she was confronted by confusion and immense discomfort all at once, reminders of the insane amount of alcohol she ingested last night.   Her head ached as if samba percussionists were beating repeatedly their instruments out of cadence to punish her. The parchedness in her mouth seemed like she had wandered the desert for days. Trying to alleviate it, her lips parted, but her mouth had dried out and it was difficult to swallow and get rid of the disgusting taste sitting on her tongue.   The buzzing sound echoed again, attacking her ears, and she realized it was probably the mobile vibrating with incoming messages over the nightstand. Even though she wondered what time it was, the identity of the caller or texter and their reasons to be trying to reach her in what she assumed was the middle of the night didn’t pique her interest at all, if anything it riled her up for disturbing her rest. Mustering the strength to reach the nightstand to turn off the phone, she tried to roll over, but something blocked her path and restrained her motion. Not something, but someone.  In the dark she couldn’t rely on her sight, but her other senses worked perfectly, collecting information of quiet sounds of breathing behind her, the light pressure of a body against her back, and the arm she finally noticed dangling over her waist underneath the covers. And lastly, the fragrance that reached her nostrils was unmistakable. 

4. The one who got away (Ride or Die)

Once upon a time in what seems like another life, no one would spare a second glance at the shy teenager with untamed curly hair and oversized sweatshirts walking down the fancy prep school’s hallways with the nose stuck in a book. Back then she was just Ellie, the sheltered daughter of an LAPD detective with a single goal in life: get into Langston.  But then a bad boy – that was not so bad after all – waltzed into her life and introduced her to a forbidden world of illegal races, crime and betrayal. A world she was not supposed to know about, let alone desire to take part in...   Then love was added to the equation.   She fell in love, but not with this bad boy.  The thrill made her heart race faster than all those tuned cars. Every discovery about her abilities fueled the fire within and added to her confidence.   The process of unveiling these parts of herself drew her closer and closer to another bad boy – one dangerous enough to doom her entire existence. One she’d loved wholeheartedly and would’ve followed to the ends of the world if given the choice…  

Tagging a few of you who might want to share your WIPs with us: @princess-geek @rosesnink @lilyoffandoms @aallotarenunelma @jerzwriter @peonierose

Also tagging @choicesficwriterscreations

[slugtranslation-hypmic]

Hello,

Is there any way you could translate Samatoki's newest solo, Rinka/Blue Flame? I've been looking for a translation everywhere, but cannot seem to find one.

Best regards and thank you very much.

Oh my God I am desperate slug-san, please please pleaaasee tell me you know where to find a translation of Samatoki's Rinka/Blue Flame!! OTL I was so surprised a translator wasn't already linked in the wiki which is where I usually look first & then I couldn't find anything by searching on twitter or google or tumblr and I just really wanna know what his song is about!! T°T I can't believe I found a translation of Honobono's song but not of Samatoki's song?? I must be doing sth wrong.. Help :')

Hey slug-san! A follow-up of the Rinka/Blue Flame message. I've searched some more, and I think there's actually no translation of it so far anywhere.. T~T Would you be willing to translate it? A standard/literal translation with a lil clean-up like you did with Akuma no Hana would be totally alright!! Thank you so much for giving us the opportunity to engage with Hypmic in a way the official creators haven't made possible yet! :D <3

Sure. Under a cut for length.

I'm running at a speed faster than grief, going so fast I leave even the smallest bad feelings behind me. I spit on my dead-end future, spit in the dirty puddles. Now I'm clinging to the guardrail, tears tracing scribbled lines down my cheeks. I bet it looks pretty comical. C'mon, laugh at me, why don't you? Let's start somewhere around the unhappy ending. Why not? Works for me. The clear, blue sky waits for sunset; but to hell with that. I don't need that crap! Let's do whatever we damn well please, here in this vacant city. Just the thought of them makes me light up a cigarette. Look, I don't wanna tell people we gotta fight each other to get what we want. I just think we have to, because there's things out there that're worth keeping safe. There's a stray dog baying at the rain streaking down the glass, and that SOB won't shut up. Hey, fuck your umbrella. Who needs that kinda crap? Throw it away and let the rain drench you too. The beat's entrenched in my soul, a stupid requiem for this unfair world we live in, lying on its sickbed. C'mon, get in there and pay your respects to it. You don't have the time to sit around feeling sorry for yourself. You know lashing out's the answer, right? You'll be okay. And I'm not gonna tell you you're running from your responsibilities. So c'mon. Quit your sniveling and come ride with me. The brakes don't work; those emotions never get any slower. And we're burning ourselves out, but don't let that stop you from coming along with me for the ride. Ride with me through thick and thin. Ride with me all the way to the grave.

A few final notes:

Sunset is a metaphor for melancholy. When Samatoki rejects that in the third verse, he's rejecting sitting through his feelings of loss. He uses this image again later in the line I wrote as "sit around feeling sorry for yourself."

The gender and plurality of the "them" Samatoki thinks about isn't specified. While it's most likely referring to his family, the verse immediately afterward sounds like a direct reference to Ichirou and Samatoki battling to save their siblings in the TDD breakup.

"We're burning ourselves out" could also be written like "We're burning ourselves down to ash" which connects with the cigarette image.

Given the prevalence of stray dogs in hardboiled/yakuza fiction and their recurrence as an image in Samatoki's other raps, the stray dog should be understood to be Samatoki himself.

[zalrb]

PLL 1x01 Review (Per Anon Request)

"I'm loving her new video." "Maybe a little too much, huh?" Allison, I already want to kill you.

"I've looked everywhere for her. I think I heard her scream" she says calmly.

I love that the newspaper headline is "Still Missing" and not something like "The Search Continues" "Still Looking for Answers"

PIPER.

They do look like they'd be mother and daughter.

Which network is this show?

"They're calling it the anniversary of Allison's disappearance like it's a party or something" I mean, does it sound like that?

Arya looks like her name should be Effy.

They're speaking like it's been a few months and not a year.

Why do they ALWAYS play lacrosse?

"Dad, I'm still keeping your secret, OK?" she says at normal volume in the middle of the house.

"Would now be 16" L O L. These "missing" signs are KILLING me.

"And I write too" of course she fucking writes.

"You're smart" how do you know? You said 3 things to this underage girl.

This bathroom makeout is impersonal and choreographed and it annoys me because if you two are so hot for each other that you have to make out in a public restroom, then it's this hot and heavy, grope-y type thing, it's not this teehee sit on the sink while we smile at each other. Public restrooms are disgusting.

It's also weird that they chose to cut to the theme song after this flat bathroom makeout and not after Allison goes missing??

Wait, who is this blonde girl? I thought this was a flashback. Guys, straight up, I'm not going to be able to tell these two apart that well

"Remember what she said that night about secrets?" YOU ARE ACTING LIKE IT'S BEEN A FEW MONTHS.

Spencer's blazer is pissing me off.

Maybe your dad cheated on your mom as karma for you being a bitch to Mona.

Her dad couldn't even be an adult about his affair? Get a room.

None of these people are talking like they're actual people.

"They're not so close anymore either." "So they're friendly but not friends" oh my lord, I miss season 1 Caroline.

"Holy crap" *as he looks directly at Aria in front of the ENTIRE class* NO ONE IS REACTING LIKE PEOPLE WOULD.

BIANCA.

Girl, you're just standing there holding this basket.

LMAO. "Would you kill me if I smoke a little weed? Would you like to join me?" Did any of these writers smoke weed?

Aww, Torey.

She is a teenager, Ren.

YOU ARE IN THE SCHOOL. All of these characters are idiots.

"You feel like this is right for us too" you two said TWO THINGS to each other and made out in a washroom???

Oh are you going to massage her shoulder.

Yes.

Piper, go find Leo. Sure, he'll leave you to be a a head angel but he would never cheat.

I never understood the Queen Bee Mean Girl in a group mostly because in my experience, the GROUP of girls are mean and there may be a leader but it's not one girl terrorizing her entire group of friends and everyone just taking it because

it's usually the group terrorizing that one friend in the group, idk.

And since Allison is so herself, why would any of you tell her any of your secrets anyway?

So weird, they're acting like it's been a few months since the disappearance not a year and yet they act like they don't know each other at all.

Wouldn't it be enough to send a uniform for shoplifting?

"In Rosewood, you don't have room to make a mistake" bro, I need to SEE this. Why is FNL and, like, True Blood the only shows I can remember who actually do what a small town feels like well?

When do they do that dramatic walk in the hallway and act like it's a runway?

Hanna eating ice cream and watching the news of her friend's death is actually hilariously morbid.

And you're just going to watch your mother makeout with the cop?

And your mother is just going to look at you as she goes upstairs to have sex with him? Would you not send your daughter away?

The school isn't having an assembly about this death or anything?

"For Alison or for being a jerk?" I mean, he is a grown ass man, Aria.

This dramatic turn and kiss doesn't make sense right now. None of this is earned.

Does the mother care that her child is "dead"? "Aria, thanks for coming!" It's a funeral not a housewarming.

Maya is the only one who is trying to look sad.

L M A O, Aria's mom couldn't even go with her daughter to the funeral?? Jesus christ, teen shows, give them parents or don't.

These forever 21 funeral dresses are SENDING me.

Detective, they are MINORS, you will have to speak to their parents.

The "Na na na na na na na" singing in the background is so unserious.

"and I know everything, A" in UNISON??? L O L this is so bad.

[cowgurrrl]

BWFW

Pairing: rockstar!joel miller x actress!reader

Summary: You and Joel call a truce [3.8k]

Author’s note: dude I’m having so much fun writing this (PS this song is named after BWFW by Blunt Chunks)

Warnings: smoking (don’t smoke kids (drunk cigs don’t count)), Joel being an asshole momentarily, spicy thoughts (no smut), enemies to ???

Joel Miller Caught Kissing Actress After Date: Everything We Know About Her

Hollywood's Newest Power Couple?

Joel Miller Has A New Boo, And We're All A Bit Jealous

Who is Joel Miller's Newest Girl? Everything Their Waitress Told Us About Their Secret Romantic Date

Pictures of you and Joel making out against your front door are everywhere. You can barely log onto Instagram without being bombarded with DM's, comments, and tags in news articles about you two. Melanie even texted you with several headlines attached and a "Great job, kid!" Even your mom texted you about it. Granted, it was a screenshot of a Buzzfeed post, and all she sent you was a bunch of question marks, but she texted you. You try to put it out of your mind by leaving your phone in your trailer when you go to set instead of handing it off to a PA.

You decide that Joel Miller isn't worth more brain power than absolutely necessary. He has his own life, and you doubt he's thinking about you, and if he is, it's probably plotting his next reputation-saving move. The only thing you can do is work, make the best movie possible, and move on with your life until he summons you for another contractually obligated date. It's only a few months. You can make it, right?

You were asking the director about a scene, script in hand, when Ryan strolled up to you with a mischievous look. You ignore him and listen to Greta give you notes and ideas for the next movie sequence. He waits for you to be done with the conversation, like a third grader, before grabbing your arm and pulling you toward him. 

"Why didn't you tell me you were seeing Joel Miller?" He asks, and you laugh. He walks you to a more secluded part of set, hiding from eavesdropping extras and chatty interns as they set the sound stage for the next scene. 

"It didn't seem relevant to work."

"Not relevant? This is huge," he says, somehow more excited about this than you are, and you cross your arms over your chest. "You haven't dated at all since you made it big."

"Okay, that's not true."

"Really? Before last night, when was the last time you went on a date with anyone? Famous or not?" He asks. You open your mouth to answer, but your brain short circuits as you search through your memories. You're ninety percent sure that your last date was with the guy you had a showmance with before you moved to California. He was tall, handsome, and full of himself just like every other actor. You vaguely remember telling him you booked your first movie with A24, and he said you didn't have the "right look" for A24. Last you heard, he was living with five other roommates in the Meatpacking District back in New York.

"Okay, so maybe it's been a while," you admit, and he raises his eyebrows at you. "Please, don't make this a thing. I've already had enough people clawing at me for answers about it, and I'm exhausted."

"Fine, fine, but you have to promise you'll go out for drinks with me and Carolina on Friday. She's been dying to make couple friends, and I need to make sure he's good for you." 

"You don't need to do anything, but sure. I'll talk to him and see what he thinks." You say, and he smiles. Before he can grill you any further, your names are called over the intercom, announcing that they're ready for you, and you silently thank whatever god is out there for getting you out of that situation. You and Ryan walk back to the sound stage and get flanked by people from makeup who need to touch you up and frantic ADs who repeat the same notes the director already gave you. You swear if their heads weren't attached to their necks, they'd run around looking for them at all hours.

You do several takes of the same scene, yet another scene of your characters arguing, this time about what they'll do now that your character is pregnant. Ryan progressively gets more despondent as he sinks into his character, frustrating you as his scene partner and the pregnant woman you're playing. After about two hours of running the same scene over and over again, you're at your wit's end and need to do something different. Everyone on set freezes when you shove at Ryan's shoulders and force him to look you in the eyes for the first time since you started filming. The entire scene shifts as you continue to push at him, tears unexpectedly falling from your eyes as you beg him to say something. It hurts more when he walks out the door without looking back. When Greta cuts, Ryan all but runs back in the door and wraps you in a big hug.

"You're gonna break my heart if you keep doing that!" He says, and you laugh as you wipe away your tears. You watch the scene back together, and jump up and down at how much better it flows. It feels like you're watching magic. Times like this remind you why you became an actor in the first place. 

You film a few more scenes before breaking for the night. Your body hurts from carrying so much emotion as you walk into your trailer to gather your things to go home. You barely grazed the door, dinner plans already filling your head, when your phone buzzed in your back pocket. It's a text from an unsaved number, but it doesn't take a genius to figure out who it's from. 

The lipstick on the collar was a nice touch, he writes, and you sigh. 

That almost sounds like a compliment, Miller, you shoot back.

You're not even halfway to your car when your phone buzzes with another text from Joel.

Paul is really happy with how everything's going. He said he wants us to see each other again before I go back to Texas.

Good timing because my costar practically begged me to go on a double date with him and his wife.

We're already in double-date territory? How official.

Har har. How's Friday night sound?

Sounds like Paul is going to be very happy.

That makes one of us.

The rest of the week flies by with you dodging the online chatter about you and Joel somewhat successfully, but Ryan keeps reminding you how excited he is to hang out with you and your new "boy toy," as he has affectionately nicknamed Joel. You hate it, but he thinks it's funnier that way, so he just keeps calling him that. You swear Ryan was your annoying older brother in another life. 

You're curling your hair when he texts you a cute picture of him and his wife in the car with the message, "Ready to interrogate JM." You laugh and return to messing with your hair, mentally going through every possibility that tonight could bring. You're wearing a pink tank top and jeans with pink heels. Nothing super fancy, but it's definitely more dressed down than your first date with Joel. You debate on which necklace to wear and wrap the final piece of hair around your curling iron when your front door opens.

Joel calls your name as he shuts the door behind him. You almost throw the hot iron down as you step into the hallway to face him. He's wearing a black shirt with a matching black leather jacket and jeans. He looks you up and down unapologetically, and you roll your eyes.

"Who told you you could just walk into my house?" You ask as you duck into the bathroom again. He leans against the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you spray your hair to help it withstand the California heat.

"Hello to you too, darlin'." 

"Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to."

"So, what can I call you?" He asks with a smirk pulling on his lips. You grab your bag off the counter and move to leave the bathroom, but he doesn't budge. You huff as you look up at him.

"Move."

"Answer the question." He says. You think about pushing him out of the way, but he's broad and has those strong guitarist arms and probably wouldn't even flinch. You copy his stance as you rack your brain for an acceptable answer.

"Well, you could start with just my name," you say, and he laughs. "But other than that, I don't know."

"Baby?" He suggests, and you almost gag.

"Absolutely not."

"Which do you hate more? Darlin' or baby?"

"Baby."

"Alright, then, darlin'," he says, stepping out of your way. You scoff and walk past him into the hallway. "You know, you really should get a dog or somethin'. It's not safe for you to just leave your door unlocked like that."

"Oh, with all the psychos running around my neighborhood? I can handle myself but thank you for your input." You say, and he laughs as you do one last sweep of your living room to make sure you didn't forget anything. Once again, Joel opens your front door and the passenger side door of his car for you. You can say many things about Joel Miller, but one thing you can't say is that he's not a gentleman. You think it has something to do with his Texas upbringing, or it might just be a testament to the kind of woman his mother is. You don't say anything the whole way to the restaurant, saving up your mental energy to deal with him for the whole night, and he doesn't fight you on it.

When you get there, you can see Ryan waiting near the host stand through the windows, obviously ready to escort you and Joel to the table. You're surprised that the sidewalk isn't flanked by photographers, but you take it as a good sign. Joel parks the car and reaches for your hand as he locks it. You almost smack it away before remembering you're in public and take it in yours. The smooth ring on his middle finger is cool and smooth, a stark contrast to his calloused palms. Ryan lights up when you two step through the doors, and he quickly wraps you in a warm hug. He introduces himself to Joel and holds his hand out for a handshake which Joel reciprocates. 

When he walks you to the table set for four, Carolina smiles and stands to hug you and Joel in true Carolina fashion. Joel doesn't hesitate to pat her back and smile as Ryan jokes about having two of the prettiest women in the restaurant sitting at his table.

"Sorry, I'm a hugger," Carolina says as you sit across from them. Joel lays an arm across the back of your chair like this is a perfectly normal thing he does all the time.

"That's alright, ma'am. I don't mind." He says, and Carolina gives you a look.

"Ma'am? I like him already." She says, and you laugh. 

Joel settles into the dynamic between the three of you easily and listens as Ryan tells stories from set and press events. It's no small feat that you let Joel meet two of the most important people in your life, and even though you didn't tell him to be, he's on his best behavior. He doesn't try to annoy you or do anything inappropriate in front of them. He compliments Carolina, calling her ma'am even after she told him he didn't have to, and exchanges dude-bro stories with Ryan all night. Except for the arm on your chair, he doesn't make any affectionate moves which you're grateful for. 

With Ryan and Carolina there, it almost feels normal. It could also be your third glass of wine helping you relax too. Ryan makes a snarky comment about your drinking, to which you flip him off. "I'd be drinking too if I had to work with you all week!" Carolina says. Ryan feigns a blow to the chest, and she smacks his shoulder. "Did he tell you that Elizabeth started calling you Ryan's movie wife?" She asks, and you laugh.

"God, I hope she doesn't repeat that at school. Otherwise, you," you point at Ryan. "Are going to have a lot to explain to that poor teacher."

"Who's Elizabeth?" Joel asks as you take a bite of food. You hum to let him know you'll answer in a second, but Carolina beats you to it.

"Elizabeth is our daughter."

"And my goddaughter," you jump in. "She's the best kid in the world."

"Well, of course, you think that because you're not there for bedtime," Ryan says, and you roll your eyes.

"You're just mad because she's as stubborn as you are."

"That is... not entirely untrue." 

You spend the rest of the dinner laughing and messing with each other. You even catch yourself leaning into Joel's side because he's so warm and comfortable, and the wine is making you deliriously happy. When the bill is placed on the table, you all fight over who gets to pay until Carolina chucks Ryan's card at the waiter. Joel holds his hand over the table, and Ryan shakes it in a form of masculine affection. "You really didn't have to do that, man," Joel says. "Next dinner is on me, alright?" He could be saying it to save face, but the idea that Joel likes Ryan and Carolina makes something in your chest feel warm and fuzzy.

Ryan practically carries Carolina to the car so they can relinquish the nanny for the night, but you and Joel go upstairs to the rooftop bar. You reason that it's high enough to hide from paparazzi, and you also needed an excuse to get some fresh air. You both order water and perch on a couch in the corner. At first, you don't say anything. Not because you're mad at him but because you're worried you'll ruin the night if you do. However, you don't need to exchange words for Joel to see you shivering and put his jacket over your shoulders. You smile and turn to look at him.

"This is the second time you've given me your jacket."

"Want me to stop?" He asks, genuinely curious, and you shake your head. A soft smile takes over his features, and you have to look away before you get sucked in. 

"What'd you think of Ryan and Carolina?" You ask as you take a sip of water. His arm rests behind you again, and he adjusts to get more comfortable.

"I really liked 'em. They seem like good people."

"They are. Ryan and I were friends before I even moved to LA," you say. "I think they liked you too."

"Yeah?" He asks, and you nod. You meet his eyes again and hope he can see your sincerity.

"Yeah. Thanks for not being a total dick to them." You say, and he laughs. He puts his water on the table in front of you before reaching across you to dig into his jacket pocket. This close, you can smell the detergent he washed his shirt with and see the freckles faintly littering his skin. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls a pack of Marlboro Reds and a lighter out of his jacket before relaxing into his spot again. Maybe it's the wine in your system or the joy from the night still filtering through your skull, but you don't take your eyes off him as he lights a cigarette. The ember glows brighter as he takes a drag and turns away from you to exhale. His jawline is sharp, and his neck looks especially pretty as he takes a breath.

"What're you thinkin' bout, pretty girl?" He asks, breaking your train of thought, and you smirk as you lean forward. His eyes drop to the neckline of your tank top, giving you the perfect opportunity to snatch the cigarette out of his hand and put it to your lips. He watches as you take a drag, your lipstick staining the filter, and exhale with a sigh.

"Thinking bout you."

"Me?" He raises his eyebrows as you pass him the cigarette back. His thumb traces your lipstick stain before he puts it back in his mouth. "What about me?"

"About how stupid this whole situation is," you gesture vaguely around you. "About how we really shouldn't be so mean to each other." 

"You're a sentimental drunk," he says, passing you the cigarette without acknowledging it, and you smile. It really wouldn't be that hard to pull another cigarette out of his pack for you, but he doesn't. Your fingers graze his as you take it, flicking the ash to the side. He waits until you blow smoke out of your nose to mess with the sleeves of his shirt and nod. "But, maybe you're right."

"Oh, say it again." You say, and he gives you a look. You pass the cigarette back even though about half of it is burned down from you two sharing it. His long drags don't help salvage it.

"I really shouldn't have said what I said bout you sleepin' with people to get famous. That was really fucked up, and I'm sorry." 

"It was really fucked up. And unoriginal. And fucking stupid. And completely untrue," you say, and he looks a little worried. "But, thank you for apologizing." He nods and offers you the last little bit of glowing cigarette. 

"Can we call a truce?" 

"A truce?"

"Yeah. We'll stop goin' out of our way to make each other's life fuckin' miserable and move on. Maybe at the end of this, we could even be friends." He says, and you take a deep breath as you take the cigarette from him. 

"You always make peace agreements with nicotine?" 

"You're my first, pretty girl."

There's that fucking nickname again. It's better than darling, and you should hate it, but the way he says it makes your head swim. You inhale the last drag and stub it out in the ashtray next to your water as you try to get your thoughts under control again. You catch the bartender looking over at you and Joel, and an uneasy feeling crawls up your spine. You swallow it down and look at Joel.

"I'll agree to a truce." You say, smoke leaving your mouth as you talk, and he smiles. 

"Should we shake on it?" He asks. You glance between him and the bartender and scoot closer to him. His eyes flick from yours to your lips and back up to your eyes.

"I would say yes," you whisper. "But, I think that bartender figured out who we are."

"So, what should we do instead?" He asks, his voice so low that you almost miss it over your own heartbeat. You want to roll your eyes at how stupid his question is but kiss him instead. His hands come up to your jaw, and you wrap your hand around his wrist to keep him there. There are traces of nicotine and tequila on his lips, but you can't focus on it too hard before his teeth graze your bottom lip. He swallows your gasp and soothes the sudden pain with his tongue. You would push him away and yell at him if it didn't feel so good. You can’t help but wonder what his mouth would feel like on your neck or your thighs. You wonder what pretty girl would sound like in between pants and broken moans. You wonder if he’d leave bruises on your inner thighs for you to find in the morning. The thoughts startle you out of the moment, and you pull away from him, turning to kiss the inside of his wrist. 

"'M getting tired. Can you take me home?" You ask. He looks like a kicked puppy but nods anyway. He holds your hand the whole way down the stairs, through the restaurant, and to the car. You make shitty small talk the whole way back to your house like nothing happened, but you're grateful to have moved past the suffocating uncomfortable silence. He taps on his steering wheel again and changes the station when his own song comes on the radio, making you laugh. When he pulls into your driveway, you linger for a moment and look at him through the darkness. "Thank you for being so nice to my friends." 

"I really did like 'em," he says. You pick at your nailbeds as you try to find a way to apologize for abruptly ending the evening. You feel bad for some reason. You were actually having a good time together, and then you made it weird. "Can I walk you to your door?" He asks, and you take a deep breath.

"I think I can get myself inside. Thank you, though."

"Welcome." He says as you unbuckle your seatbelt and open the door. Joel's jacket shifts around you, and you suddenly remember that you're still wearing it.

"Oh, here. Let me give you your jacket back before I forget."

"Don't worry about it." He waves you off, and you furrow your eyebrows at him.

"What do you mean don't worry about it? I'm not gonna steal your jacket, Joel."

"You're not stealin' it. You're just borrowin' it, right? I bet tabloids will eat it up if they see you wearin' it," he says. "Besides, it looks better on you anyways." You laugh and shake your head as you adjust your purse on your shoulder. 

"Goodnight, Joel."

"G'night, pretty girl." He says. You shut the door and walk up the sidewalk to your front door, secretly cursing that stupid fucking nickname and how weak in the knees it makes you. His car lingers in the driveway until he sees you unlock the door and flicker the front lights at him, letting him know you got in safely. He honks twice before pulling away and driving off into the night.

You make a point to lock your door behind you and lean against it. You let out a shaky breath like it will expel his voice from your head and jump when your phone buzzes in your back pocket. When you pull it out, a bright text from Melanie stares back at you.

Two dates in a row?! You're killing it! This will be over before you know it <3

And attached to her scarily cheerful text is a picture of you and Joel kissing. It's blurry and obviously taken from far away, but it's there nonetheless. You pinch the bridge of your nose and send her a thumbs-up emoji before sending Ryan a "made it home" text and turning your phone off. The image of Joel's teeth scraping your bottom lip burns into your eyelids as you close your eyes and try to figure out where the fuck you go from here.