#{{please stand in an orderly queue}

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 6

Prompt: Meal/Food

Words: 1000~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

I gave you short and sad yesterday, but today you get short and sweet!

I don't know if y'all have seen that video of the soldiers getting yelled at for ordering pizza delivered to their camp, or that post about the lady that grew up way out in the country and only got ice-cream from a truck when it got very very lost. but this entry is inspired by both of those.

Enjoy!

Soap was slumped into the couch in the officer’s recreation room, watching Gaz swear at the telly as he ran his horse into the train for the umpteenth time and had to restart the mission again. Between Gaz fervently damning all of John Marston’s ancestors and the secondhand xbox 360 doing its best impression of an overboiling pot, the sounds of an escalating commotion beyond the door was almost completely negligible, and Soap was willing to play deaf to the few shouts that eked their way in. 

What he couldn’t ignore was Price busting in through the door muttering about idiotic fools. Now Price muttering to himself was perfectly normal, par for the course, nothing to take note of, what was decidedly abnormal was the Fab ice lolly that was dripping over his fingers while he did it. 

“Cap?” Soap’s vaguely disturbed truncated question stole Gaz’s attention away from shooting the train goers and, upon turning around, he too was immediately captivated by the incongruent sight of Captain John Price glaring at them while struggling to contain a rapidly liquifying lolly. 

“While on gate duty, Private Johnson dared Private Gilligan to stop an ice-cream van that was going by and the fucker actually did it. The front’s a madhouse.” Price reluctantly gruffed out to the two goggle eyed Sergeants staring him down. 

In the next moment Price was alone in the room with a screen heralding 'DEAD' in bold red letters. 

Gaz and Soap shoved at each other as they raced through the halls to the front of the base, joining a crush of other like minded soldiers. True to Price’s word the front gates were pure mayhem, save for the strangely orderly queue leading up to the Mr Softee van proper. Every soul with any kind of rank was abusing it to their best advantage to force every other unlucky sod to stand down and move back in the queue. Soap and Gaz were in luck as talking to the older lady leaning out of the van’s window was Warrant Officer Evans. The Sergeants sidled up to the queue and followed their fellow’s leads by staring down Corporal Winslow until she obediently let them cut in front of her. Evans walked away from the van with a cherry screwball and the Sergeants stepped up to the window.

“I’ve only one cone left, lads,” The woman running the van warned them, leaning down and speaking up to be heard over the orderly chaos behind them and the tinny repeating jingle blaring from the top of the van, Gaz shot a possessive look at Soap and the Scot waved him on.

“Could I get a ninety-nine flake, please?”  Gaz got a smile for his nice manners and the woman turned to Soap,

“And for you, Lovie?” Her voice was kindly, but blunt with a no-nonsense manner,

“Ah’ll ha’e an oyster delight, an’ a strawberry swirl wi’ caramel sauce in a doubled cup wi’ an extra spoon, please.” Soap answered, feeling like he now knew why the van’s queue was so orderly. Likely the woman, Florence, her name tag read, had just refused to serve anyone that hadn’t politely queued up. 

“Lovely,” Florence bustled about in the van, handing the treats out the window as she finished them, “That’ll be nine pound fifty,”

Before Soap could think through how best to juggle his ice-creams into one hand to dig his wallet out of his pockets, Gaz had already paid and casually walked away, licking at his cone and casting smug looks back at Soap as he scrambled to catch up. 

“Ye didnae ha’e tae pay, Ky,” Soap complained, “Ah’ve mah own money,”

“Then be faster, Tav,” Gaz teased, “I’m a tenner poorer now, I’ll be out on the streets by Monday, livin’ out of a box.” 

“Get tae fuck, ye loony. Least ye’d ha’e y’ur own room” Soap laughed,

“You’ve a good point," Gaz nodded along, "Could be worse. Could be shared barracks,”

Soap felt something cold slither over his fingers and picked up his pace with a curse, the ice-cream was melting in sticky trails over the sides of its wrappings.

Why did the running track have to be so far away. 

With Gaz jogging amiably along in his wake, Soap hustled over to where Ghost was shouting constructive abuse at the rookies panting their way around the course.

“L.T! Ah got ye some’hing,” Soap smiled as Ghost’s lovely calf brown eyes swung their glare unto him, passing over the oyster delight and peaceably ignoring his Lieutenant’s unchanged expression of flat ire. 

He pulled the extra cup off the bottom of his and extracted the second spoon from his strawberry swirl, popping it into his mouth to clean the taint of caramel off it, then handing both over to Ghost. 

Ghost extracted his oyster delight from the napkins mummifying it and dumped it into the bowl, stabbing the oddly flat spoon through an edge to make sure the utensil wouldn't fall out while he one handedly rolled his balaclava up past his nose. All this being accomplished in an unwavering deadpan manner. 

Soap watched Ghost take his first spoonful of ice-cream, then started in on his own. Getting a kick out of the grabbag of baffled, jealous, or resigned expressions that warped the rookies faces as they paced by them and caught sight of their superiour’s new preoccupation. He knew that it would take Ghost a good ten minutes to finish his treat, his teeth too sensitive to the cold to eat it any faster. Unlike Gaz, who had scarfed his and was now panting his way through a self-inflicted ice-cream headache. 

“Thanks, Johnny.” Ghost’s quiet rumble whipped Soap’s attention away from Sideshow Garrick and the Scot beamed up at him.

“O’ course L.T! Was nae bother, dinnae fash yersel’,” Soap assured with a smile, bumping his shoulder against Ghost’s, 

“Of course it wasn’t a bother,” Gaz griped, “I paid for it!”

Ghost raised an eyebrow at Gaz, then faced front again repeating, “Thanks, Johnny,” in the flattest tone he could manage. Carefully hiding the smile that hooked at the corners of his mouth when Gaz’s exaggerated spluttering sent Johnny cackling.

Thank You for Reading!

This one also required an absurd amount of research as I tried to figure out what the hell British ice-cream trucks could feasibly sell, and if scots have some slang word for them, they do. They apparently call an ice-cream cone a 'pokey hat'. A delightful discovery that I had to share as it didn't make it into the story.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[thetidesthatturn]

An Unlikely Encounter

Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Synopsis: it is your first time attending a Greta Van Fleet gig by yourself, what happens next was only ever a figment of your wildest imagination.

Warnings: smut, drinking, language

18+, MINORS DNI

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

3.5k word count

“Ok, the doors are opening up. Please enter the building in an orderly fashion!”

Your heart pounded against your ribcage. You were sure that if the room were quieter, the sheer magnitude of thumps would rattle off the walls into thundery echoes. The screaming around you transformed into white noise as you tried to steady yourself amongst the movement.

The doors opened.

Pushed and shoved from all angles, you managed to find yourself quickly enough to propel forwards into a sprint. You weren’t the fittest of people, occasionally enjoying a trip to the gym here and there, but that didn’t stop you from treating this moment like you were an Olympian going for the gold. This was most certainly not your first Greta Van Fleet concert, but it was your first time being at the front of the standing queue. As you hit the barricade and came to a stop, your breath hitched in your throat. Did I really make barricade? You thought as your eyes widened. Holy fucking shit.

The supporting acts seemed to fly by in some dream-like state, and you were still spiralling at the mere thought of being metres away from the band by the time the crowd erupted into a symphony of screeches and wails. As you came to, you could hear a classical overture playing sweetly. You recognised the melody as it morphed from one familiar tune to the next, growing louder to emphasise that the curtain would soon drop. You stared up in anticipation as the overture reached its climax and watched eagerly as four figures emerged. They immediately launched into “The Falling Sky” and Josh’s powerful vocals filled the arena, drawing each and every person in like a siren’s deadly song. You were so enchanted by this that you didn’t notice who had made their way across the stage and was standing directly in front of you.

Jake fucking Kiszka.

There he was, like a shining deity before you. Sweat glistening on his bare chest, his hair softly swishing with every movement, his calloused hands meticulously strumming each chord. Was this a dream? Was Jake Kiszka actually standing right in front of you? Before you could even realise what was happening, your eyes met. You felt a searing warmth spreading across your cheeks, a shy smile playing on your lips. He smiled back, then his eyes moved away as he turned to travel across the stage and meet his brother at the centre.

What the fuck.

In all the times you’d been to see the band, you had never ever made eye contact with one of the boys. Let alone Jake. Jake plagued your thoughts frequently and refused to leave your dreams. His beautiful face that seemed to be carved by literal angels lingered in every corner of your mind. You force yourself back to reality, silently reminding yourself to be present and enjoy the evening, and you do. The atmosphere is electric, you sway along with thousands of fans and scream out the lyrics until your throat stings. Towards the end of the show, as Josh makes his way along the barricade, you reach out and his hand brushes yours. As you make contact, he looks you up and down and winks before making his exit.

What was that about? You think to yourself curiously.

As the night draws to a close, and the band is finishing up their encore, you close your lips around your fingers and send a piercing wolf whistle towards the stage. Jake’s eyes clap onto yours, sending shockwaves through your entire body. He blows you a kiss and your vision slowly fades to darkness.

~

You’re snapped back into reality when the bitter cold air hits your lungs. Somehow, you’ve made it outside the venue, and you’re stood alone clutching your bag and phone. A text buzzes and lights up the screen, which makes you jump and then subsequently tut with annoyance at the reaction. It’s your best friend. She usually comes with you to Greta gigs, but she’s been held up with work recently, so it’s your first time attending alone.

How was it? So fucking gutted I couldn’t make it. She writes.

Amazing… incredible. And weird. You type back, your fingers moving at a snail-like pace from the icy temperature lingering in the air.

Weird? Explain. She questions.

Before you begin to respond, you take in your environment. It’s 11:30pm, and you’re stood outside, alone, in Wembley, in the freezing cold. It’s probably a good idea to head back to your hotel room and finish this conversation somewhere warmer and safer. As you make your way down the street, you spot a small bar with pretty fairy lights shimmering in the window.

I wouldn’t say no to a drink right now you think to yourself, as you stop outside and peer in. It looks inviting, and warm.

What’s the harm in stopping by for one drink? You muse.

As you open the door, you’re met with the comforting scent of aromatic bitters, mixed with aged oak, and fresh citrus. You breathe in, as you rub your hands together in search of warmth. The bar is quiet with a few people dotted about in booths, making conversation. Soft jazz plays in the background as you make your way over to the bar. You perch yourself up onto a stool and the bartender approaches you to ask what you’ll have.

“Sailor Jerry’s and coke, if you have it” you say with a polite smile. The bartender nods and begins making your drink. He brings it over and you tap your phone onto the card reader.

“Thanks” you say, bringing the glass to your lips and taking in a sip of the sweet, golden liquid, savouring the burn of the alcohol as it slips down your throat. Your attention is quickly diverted though, as you hear a commotion of male voices at the door. Their boisterous laughter cuts through the ambience of the bar like a knife, which is quickly calmed by a very loud shhhhh from one of the taller men in the group. You can make out four figures but decide to pull your attention back to your drink and think about replying to the text message from earlier. As you begin to start typing a response, you feel the stool next to you being pulled away.

For fuck sake, can I not be left alone in peace for one evening without some random bloke bothering me? you think to yourself, rolling your eyes, ignoring the presence next to you and focusing on your phone screen.

The stranger leans in, close enough for you to feel his breath tickle the strands of hair covering your ear.

“Just my luck that I’d find you here, you left pretty quickly after the show was over”.

You look up, a frown forming across your forehead as you begin to reject the man’s advances and tell him you aren’t interested. As your eyes find his, time seems to slow almost to a stop. He grins and cocks his head to the side, an eyebrow rising ever so slightly as he waits for your response.

There’s no way this is happening. This can’t be happening.

You become aware that you’re staring silently, with your mouth hanging open. It feels as though you can’t take in enough breath. You clear your throat, not able to speak but wanting to at least do something.

After what seems like a million years pass by, you finally muster up the word “Hi”, a shy smile playing on your lips.

“Do I get to know your name, pretty lady?” he asks. You feel your stomach flip.

Did Jake Kiszka just call you pretty lady? Ok, calm down, calm down.

“Y/N” you say, admittedly a lot more confidently than you actually feel. “And I believe you must be Jake”.

“A pleasure to meet you, Y/N.” Jake responds, holding his hand out to you. You place your hand in his, and he brings it up to his lips, softly kissing it. The contact sends electric bolts through your nerve endings and into your very core.

“The pleasure is all mine” you breathe.

“So, how come I haven’t seen your beautiful face at our shows before?” He asks, shooting you a playful grin.

“I’ve never made barricade before” you reply honestly.

“What took you so long?”

You pause, not really knowing what to respond. What did take you so long?

You sigh “I always came along with my best friend and my boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend. We never actually booked standing tickets, but I was going to be here by myself this time so I thought, fuck it, I may as well try to get as close as I can.”

He sits back in his chair, studying your face.

“Ex-boyfriend?” He asks after a few moments. You feel yourself blush, which he definitely notices.

“Yes, ex-boyfriend. I called it off recently” you hesitate, before adding “It just wasn’t working, so… yeah.”

“Lucky for me” he retorts, his eyes fixated on you, drinking you in. He looks over at the bartender who swiftly walks over to take his order.

“I’ll have whatever she’s having, and of course she’ll need another”.

You look down at your half-finished drink and knock it back, sliding the empty glass over to the bartender.

~

Thirty minutes later and a few drinks in, you and Jake are chatting away like old friends. You’re so surprised at how easy he is to talk to.

“Do you live round here?” He asks.

“Uhh, it’s complicated” you respond, looking down at your drink and stirring it absentmindedly, watching the ice slosh around in the amber liquid.

Jake raises his eyebrow.

“Technically no, I live further South. I’m staying at a hotel across the street from the arena tonight. But I’m moving in with my best friend who lives here in London, since my ex and I-” you trail off.

Jake puts his hand on your thigh, and you feel your breath catch in the back of your throat.

“Do you still live with him?”

“No, he moved out a few weeks back. But I need to get out, too many memories there.” You squeeze your eyes shut, wincing slightly.

Unconsciously, your hand meets Jake’s, still placed on your thigh. You feel a warmth creep between your legs.

Fuck, it’s been so long since I’ve felt like this. So long since I’ve been… touched.

You bite at your lip and try to shoo the feeling away, but Jake leans in and uses his free hand to brush your hair behind your ear and leans forward to whisper.

“Sounds to me like it’s his loss, pretty lady”.

A soft moan escapes your lips, it’s barely audible but Jake is so close to you that he most definitely heard it. Your eyes dart up to his, your faces so close now that there’s only inches between you. His grip on your thigh tightens as the warmth between your legs spreads.

~

The next thing you know, you’re in the back of an Uber, Jake’s hands in your hair and his lips crashing into yours. Jake is cool, crystal water and you have an insatiable thirst that only he can quench. Jake’s hand slides up under the skirt of your dress, his fingers barely grazing your throbbing clit. You stifle a moan, your hands exploring his bare chest. The Uber pulls up outside your hotel, and Jake whisks you out and in through the doors. You lead him up to the third floor and fumble around in your bag to find the key card. As you find it, Jake grabs hold of your wrists with one hand and lifts them above you, pinning you to the door. With his spare hand, he lifts your thigh up and around his waist and grinds into you, the outline of his erection pressing right where you need it to. You cry out with pleasure, which Jake evidently seems to like.

“You sound so fucking beautiful when you moan like that” he purrs, retrieving the key card from your restrained hand and pressing it against the reader. As he opens the door, he pulls you up onto him so that you’re straddling him with your legs wrapped around his waist. He brings you over to the bed and sets you down onto it.

“Do you want me, pretty lady?” He asks.

“Fuck… yes! Please!” You shout, the agonising need to be fucked coursing through your veins.

“How long has it been since someone took care of you, baby?”

“Too fucking long” you whine.

“So, you’re telling me this pretty baby hasn’t been fucked for a while? When’s the last time he made you cum?” He taunts, planting hot, breathless kisses along your throat.

“He never made me cum”.

Jake stops in his tracks, runs his hands up and into your hair, and guides your face to his.

“He never made you cum?”

“No, I can’t.” You say, embarrassment flooding across your face. “I can only make myself cum”.

Jake laughs and you frown at him, not understanding what’s remotely amusing about what you just said.

His eyes blacken with lust. “We’ll see about that” he croons, snaking his hand up your thigh, inching dangerously close to your throbbing, needy clit.

“This only works if you trust me, can you do that?” He asks. You nod, but he shakes his head.

“Words, pretty lady. I need you to use your words. I won’t go easy on you, but you need to tell me if things get too much. Ok”

“Ok” you breathe “do anything, please do what you want, I’m yours”.

“You’re gunna wish you didn’t say that” he laughs, and with that, he bunches the waistband of your thong in his fist and rips it off in one clean movement. His middle finger runs through your wet pussy, collecting your heat as he trails upwards, and uses it as lubrication to rub agonisingly pleasurable circles across your swollen bud.

“Oh, fuck yes” you cry, your hands grabbing at your breasts over the velvet of your dress.

Clearly affected by your outbursts, he slips two fingers inside of you and begins pumping them, curling them up to reach your sweet spot. Your hands find their way under his shirt, and your fingernails dig into the flesh on his back.

“Fuck! Please, don’t stop!” You beg, your eyes rolling back into your head.

“You don’t need to beg me, baby. I’ll take care of you” he soothes, whilst doing the opposite with his hand. He’s fucking you so hard with his fingers, his pace causing a pressure to build up in your lower stomach. You know that feeling, and it’s usually only felt when you are in your own company, with your trusty wand vibrator in hand, but this time you are teetering on the edge of an orgasm at the hands of Jake fucking Kiszka.

That thought alone, and the knowledge that he is currently inside you, is enough to tip you over the edge. Your mind plunges into bliss as you pulse around his fingers. No man has ever made you cum before.

You hazily begin drifting down from your orgasm, but instead of letting up, he begins to pump into you even faster, still curling his fingers up and into your bulging G spot.

“Please, stop!” you cry out, beginning to feel overstimulated.

“I told you to trust me” he snaps, restraining your wrists with his free hand.

You’re writhing under his touch, the pressure building and building within you. The feeling is unfamiliar, but you do trust him.

“Come on baby, cum for me again, I know you can” he coos.

His gentle coaching paired with the enormous pleasure jolting through your body sends you headfirst into a crashing wave of ecstasy. You cry out as you cum harder than you ever have in your life. You throw your head back as you begin to see stars. Jake pulls his fingers out of you and rubs them viciously against your clit as you continue to gush out onto the bed sheets.

“Fuck, fuck!!!” You shout, completely consumed and lost in your orgasm.

Jake lifts his hand to his mouth and licks you off his fingers, savouring the taste of you like it’s his last ever meal.

“I fucking love a squirter” he moans, climbing on top and pressing his hard cock into you.

“Tell me what you want baby” he asks.

“I want you to fuck me” you breathe.

“You ready for more, princess?” He taunts.

“Yes, fuck yes. Please, Jake.” You plead.

He hooks his arm underneath you and pulls you up, so you’re sat upright on top of him. He lifts your dress over your head and exposes your bare breasts, your nipples hard and pebbled. He takes one into his mouth and begins to suck on it gently, which causes you to whimper.

You pull his shirt off and begin unbuttoning his pants. He yanks them off and you delve into his boxers, sliding your hand down his shaft. He groans, a pearl of pre-cum forming at his tip. He runs his fingers through your folds to gather your slick and uses it to pump himself a few times with this before lifting you up and pulling you down onto him. His hard cock slips inside you with ease, and you both wail with immense pleasure. He begins fucking into you hard and fast, his hands finding your throat and choking you slightly, his teeth burrowing into your collarbone. Your mind goes hazy as you sink deeper and deeper into euphoria. The bed frame pounds against the wall as Jake drives his length into you, his free hand stroking across your clit.

“Jake, I’m gunna fucking cum” you sob, tears falling down your cheeks.

“Cum for me baby, cum so hard for me. I’m so close angel”. You can see he’s teetering on the edge himself, his face plastered with pleasure, but he wants you to get there first. His selflessness and desire for your own pleasure sends you tumbling into orgasm number three, that same rush of endorphins flooding through your veins as you clench hard around him and cover him in your arousal. He curses loudly as his cock twitches inside of you, and he’s cumming right alongside you. The symphony of curses, moans and groans light up the dark room with their beautiful song.

You find yourselves intertwined in a heap on the bed, panting and sweating, tangled up together as you float down from ecstasy. He cups your face in his hands and kisses your forehead gently, in a way that makes you feel like the most special person in the world.

“Wow” you whisper, your heart rate returning to a steadier pace.

“You are fucking phenomenal” he praises softly, stroking your hair.

You lay there for a while, in silence, letting Jake hold you.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course” Jake replies, caressing your cheek

“Why me?”

“Huh?” He looks at you, confused.

“Why me? You could have had any girl tonight, literally any girl. Why did you choose me?”

He sighs. “To be honest with you, I don’t do this a lot. I know that might seem hard to believe, given my profession…” he hesitates “I actually recently got out of a long-term relationship myself too, and the last thing I’ve wanted to do is date or sleep with someone else. But when I saw you in the crowd tonight, it sounds stupid, but I knew I had to get to know you. I knew you were special.”

You blush, not knowing what to say back.

“Is it weird if I tell you I’ve had a crush on you for like, the longest time” you giggle.

“Fuck no” he laughs, before adding “you’re only human” with a wink.

~

You stay up talking for hours, about where you grew up, how many siblings you have, what your life ambitions are and all the other deep shit that you share when getting to know someone. He laughs, you laugh. At around 3am, you realise the time.

“Shit, it’s so late!” You gasp.

Jake laughs and places his hand over yours. “I guess time flies when you’re having fun”.

“I suppose you need to leave; I have no idea what a rock star’s schedule is like but I’m sure it’s busy!” You say, unable to hide the sullen undertones in your voice.

“We actually have a week until the next show, so we were planning on hanging around here and doing some tourist shit. Josh really likes London, something about it being ‘good for the artist’s soul’, whatever the fuck that means…”

“Oh, that’s cool” You mumble, not really knowing what else to say. You want to ask him to stay, but you’ve only just met the guy.

“Do you mind if I crash with you tonight?” Jake asks, smiling softly at you. It’s as if he read your mind…

“No not at all!” Yeah, good going, make it super obvious how happy that made you, you sound like a giddy schoolgirl!

He chuckles, moving forward and enveloping you in a tight embrace.

“Good night, Y/N. I’m so glad I met you today” he breathes into your ear.

“Good night, Jake. I’m glad too.”

[catscraftsandcommentary]

Plan to hug all the witchers in the Accidental Warlord AU

(Once again, I am shamelessly stealing @inexplicifics's universe for a joyride)

The Cats are easy. Just plop down at their table at lunchtime and go "so is it true that Wolves are more snuggly than Cats? It's not? Show me!" Congratulations, you now have 50+ ultra competitive Cats attempting to cuddle you, I hope you didn't like breathing.

Wolves and Griffins would probably both accept "can I hug you/can I have a hug?" ESPECIALLY if you add "I'm having a bad day." Nothing like protective instincts.

(Eskel and Gweld are natural huggers. Give them several minutes to let go.)

The Manticores and Cranes would probably also give hugs if asked, especially if you spent some time getting to know them first.

...actually, Cranes would probably LOVE to participate in a hugging experiment to compare what makes the best hug, who gives the best hug, etc. And help you track who you've hugged.

(If you get in a pinch with the Manticores, just ask Sasha to introduce you as "this is my friend, he/she like hugs." Hell, even being upfront about "I'm trying to hug everyone in Kaer Morhen!" would probably make them laugh and agree.)

Bears are not natural huggers, but I think if you got to know them - spent some time crafting quietly with them, complimented what they're making, etc - they might be more open to it. Short, casual hugs would probably be best. Like "hi! *quick hug* How's your project going?" And then just sit with them.

Vipers are tricky. They're suspicious, they're not naturally affectionate, they get very stabby when startled or threatened. Julita can help (I definitely think she'd find the idea of hugging every witcher both fun and worthwhile), partly because the Vipers already know her, and partly because Letho comes down like a ton of bricks on anyone who hurts her. So befriending her could get you a few hugs (especially Letho, Auckes, and Serrit), being honest about "I'm trying to hug everyone, and here's why" might get you a few more.

Some of them may not want hugged or touched at all, and that's okay. You can do other things that would do the symbolic function of a hug - something to show that you care about them and want them to be happy. I suggest making them some kind of food, since witchers love good food - hell, get Julita's help to bake something.

Ivar would be hard to hug. Julita could hug him - I wouldn't be surprised if he sees her as something of a granddaughter or grand-niece - and Ciri and Jaskier could also probably hug him, but strange humans? Suspicious.

(Which is sad, because I think he could really use a hug.)

Probably the best thing would just be to give it time, and show that you aren't waiting to trick everyone.

Also, if you get in a competition with Jaskier to see who can hug everyone FIRST, just accept that you're going to lose. He's the man that fought - AND DEFEATED - a continent of prejudice for the witchers. Hugging him is the very LEAST of what they'd do for that man.

(I am now picturing him standing on a table and yelling "I need a hug from everyone! One at a time, please form an orderly queue!" And all the witchers just laughing and going along with it. Or possibly scooping him up and passing him witcher-to-witcher along each of the long tables. He is both laughing and VERY rumpled by the time he gets back to Geralt and Eskel, who smoosh him between them.)

[footprintsinthesxnd]

The Good Die Young

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Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+. Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this. Special thanks to the lovely Fern @desert-fern for proofreading this chapter for me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melbourne, January 1943

Jovial music filled the air, dancing over the way of American soldiers as the ship docked in Melbourne. The local band was playing music standing, their big bass drum booming loudly over the noise of the crowd. Women, children and boys too young to fight and men too old to fight lined the streets, cheering, flags waving frantically as the soldiers disembarked. Jake had never seen such a welcome. It was a welcome sight after the horrors of Guadalcanal.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Johnny barked, letting out a loud shout as he joined in, waving to a group of young boys on their bikes following behind the trucks.

The trucks lurched and groaned under the weight of the troops as the convoy pulled to a stop outside the large red cricket stadium. The men were ordered to disembark, collecting the few possessions they had and their kit bags before forming orderly queues and following the Commanding Officer up the steps towards the light. The men bumped and shoved each other, each one vying for first in a race unknown to them all. Jake was slammed into one of the metal railings, hissing as his ribs made contact with the cold, rigid bar, sending sparks through his chest

Jake shielded his eyes from the bright sunshine as he entered the vomitorium, his eyes landing on his fellow Marines, all taking their seats on small beds on the bleachers.

“Welcome to Camp Murphy,” the CO began, talking through the megaphone that he’d somehow acquired. “Stay with your Company, pick a bed and drop your belongings. Chow is in an hour. You are not permitted to leave the stadium without a pass or unless you are instructed to do so by a senior officer.”

Jake found an empty bed and threw down his kit bag, sighing loudly and stretching his aching back. George sat down on the bed next to him while Frank, Johnny and Edward all followed suit. Johnny fell face-first onto his cot with a loud groan, pulling the pillow over his head to block out the wall of noise that surrounded them all. “I could sleep for a year.”

Frank let out a muffled laugh, pulling the cigarette from the corner of his mouth. “So you’re telling me that later when we all disperse into town in the cover of darkness, you won’t come with us.”

Johnny peeked out from behind his pillow. “Will there be alcohol?” He asked, his voice small and filled with a childlike wonder.

“Obviously,” Frank retorted, causing the others to laugh as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Then count me in.” Johnny sat up, rubbing his eyes as if he’d woken from a long sleep.

Once the MPs had cleared out of the main cricket ground, the Marines flooded the streets of Melbourne, most headed to the local bars, some went into shops and a few even went down to the movie theatre. The boys of How Company found the nearest pub and vowed to drink to their heart's content. Jake joined in watching as Johnny and Frank poured every possible alcohol into a glass and downed it in one, their faces contorting comically at the bitter taste. George sat in the corner nursing his beer while Edward was talking to the pretty young barmaid. Jake finished his beer and stood slowly, “I’m going to have a wander around, see what’s about?” The comrades barely acknowledged him, too consumed in their next round of alcohol.

“I’d go with you but I think someone needs to make sure that none of them die.” George joked, motioning to Johnny and Frank as they continued sampling the spirits.

“That’s probably for the best,” Jake agreed, nodding at his friend before turning to make his way outside.

Jake took a deep breath as he stepped out of the stuffy, smokey bar, the clean air filling his lungs and the warm afternoon sun on his face caused a smile to grace his lips. It had been warm in Guadalcanal, hot even with a humid sticky feeling that caused you to sweat buckets, even at night and the incessant buzzing of the mosquitoes ever-present, but here the warmth was different. Somehow it reminded him of home, the sunshine filling his body with vigour and warmth that it hadn’t had since the day he shipped out to the Pacific. He began walking aimlessly down Main Street, his feet carrying him along the line of shops, passing fruit stalls, clothing shops, and the hardware store. Jake almost felt like he was at home, he’d often give his mother a lift to town, helping her carry the groceries back to the car. As Jake rounded the corner, he came face to face with a young woman on a bike, the brakes screeched to a halt and the young woman fell forward off her bike. Jake lunged forward, catching her before she collided with the pavement.

“East there ma’am, you should watch where you're going.” Jake smiled down at her as she glared up at him. Easing herself quickly from his arms, she huffed and straightened her dress. “Get your hands off me, Yank!” She exclaimed, her accent British and her mannerisms causing Jake to laugh at the light blush that formed on her already rosy cheeks.

“You’re very welcome, ma’am, anytime.” Jake gave her a mock salute and his sarcastic tone infuriated her more when she groaned. Jake hadn’t noticed the papers that litter the street until she bent down, scooping them up quickly as the wind began to flutter them away.

“Here let me help you,” Jake bent down helping gather up the loose papers. Looking down at the paper he noticed the familiar layout and fonts.

“You work for a newspaper?” He asked a crooked smile forming on his lips as he handed the papers back to her.

“And what is it to you?” She glared at him again. Jake couldn’t help but notice that despite her aggravation towards him that she was very striking.

“Well I used to work for a newspaper back home before I joined the Marine Corps,” Jake explained, noticing a small flicker of a smile gracing her lips before it disappeared again.

“Well good for you but you’ve made me late. Good day, Soldier.”

“It’s Corporal ma’am, I recently got promoted actually.” She squinted at him, her forehead wrinkling in confusion as if the information was meant to mean something to her. Jake watched helplessly as she climbed back onto her bicycle, securing the papers in the basket before peddling away without a second glance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The bar was crowded, smoke filling the air as the ambient glow cast shadows over the men in uniform who filled tables and chairs throughout the vicinity. A bartender with rolled-up sleeves moved from one end of the counter to the other, sliding drinks along the wooden top. Some of the men occupied the wooden stools along the counter, while others crowded around the darts board. A cacophony of laughter filled the dark corners of the room. Jake smiled jovially, balancing the beers on the wooden tray as he approached the group.

Several of the men were singing loudly and out of tune to ‘An Angel in Disguise’ while one of them played the piano. Each man had his arm around a pretty girl, all smiling enthusiastically up at the soldiers.

“This rounds on me,” he called out, earning a cheer from his fellow Marines.

“I knew I like this guy,” Johnny spoke up, taking a sip of the golden liquid and wiping the foam moustache away with the back of his hand.

“Alright Short Ass, stop being such an ass kisser,” Johnny called out, puffing up his chest in a desperate attempt to make himself taller. Frank just shook his head, a crooked smile gracing his lips.

“Hey Cowboy, did you see those girls at the bar, they keep looking our way?” George mused, coming to stand beside his friend. Jake turned casually, his eyes raking over the many figures until he made eye contact with her.

“Shit!” Jake hissed under his breath, averting his gaze in a desperate attempt to avoid further conflict.

“What?” George asked, standing on his tiptoes to try and see what Jake had.

“It’s the girl from earlier, the one I bumped into and know she wants to murder me.”

George threw his head back in a fit of laughter. “You’re fuckin’ with me right? You’re scared of her! Jake, you’re a fucking Marine and she’s just a woman.”

“Exactly!” Jake exclaimed, “They are very dangerous if you get on the wrong side of them.”

“Alright, that’s it. I’m not having you being terrified of a girl.” George stood up, abandoning the beautiful woman beside him who looked rather put out and strolled towards the woman at the bar. Jake couldn’t bear to watch, turning away from his friend to try and preserve what little dignity he had left.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(Y/n) grinned through red lips at her friends, Fern and Johanna, who were desperately trying to recount the US Marines arrival from that morning. Fern’s lips moved a million miles an hour while (Y/n) humoured her, sipping her whiskey neat as she kept up with the story. Fern, Johanna, and (Y/n) had been friends since she first moved to Melbourne and couldn’t find her way to the local newspaper. They had been willing to volunteer and the rest was history.

“Have you noticed that group of Marines over there, they keep looking at us,” Fern whispered, trying to point towards the group of soldiers without making it too obvious. “That blond one certainly has eyes for you.”

“I like the dark-haired tall one,” Johanna mused, biting her lip seductively.

(Y/n) turned round to look and let out a small groan, burying her face in her palm as she spotted the blond Marine. “Not him, anyone but him.”

“Come on, stop being so picky. There is a bar full of extremely attractive Marines and you're still being picky.” Fern protested, placing her glass on the bar to grip her friend's shoulders. “Just give them a chance. Please.”

“Fine,” (Y/n) signed, throwing her head back and downing the rest of her drink.

“Good because one of them is coming our way.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It turned out that George was quite charming and although he informed them he was off the market, he did encourage the three girls to join their group for the evening. Everything was going smoothly so Jake took it upon himself to try and talk to the mystery girl that had been occupying his thoughts.

“So… how are you feeling, Sweetheart?” Now even Jake would admit that he was probably coming on a little strong but with the amount of alcohol he’d consumed he honestly wasn’t surprised.

“I was doing just fine until you appeared,” she retorted, glaring at him. Jake nodded slowly letting out an amused chuckle as he watched her friend elbow her and hiss something in her ear.

“I'm doing just fine, thank you,” she corrected herself and sent Jake a pleasant smile.

Jake nodded, “I'm pleased to hear that.”

As the evening progressed, the longing looks and fleeting touches between the pair grew to an unbearable tension. Jake could feel the sweat trickling down his back and began to pull at the collar of his uniform, desperate for the feeling of the soft evening breeze hitting his sweat-drenched flesh. He let out a soft huff as he felt a hand tapping his shoulder, he was pleasantly surprised when he came face to face with his mystery lady.

“Do you play?” She cocked her head to the side, letting her hair fall gracefully from her shoulder as she thrust several darts towards him, cocking her eyebrow as she waited for a response.

“Sure,” Jake replied, puffing up his chest. “As long as you don't mind losing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If I win, the next round for the entire bar is on you.”

Jake’s eyebrows furrowed slightly but his poker face remained stoic.

“Alright, but if I win I get to take you on a date,” a mischievous smirk sprung across his lips as he looked down at her. She blushed, averting her gaze to her shoes.

“You want to take me on a date? Why?” (Y/n) couldn’t understand why he of all people wanted her, why did he find her so interesting.

“Well, aren’t you just the most beautiful woman in all of Melbourne.”

She blushed furiously, “Well I don’t know about that,” her voice shook and she struggled to meet his eyes.

“To me you are.”

He was shamelessly flirting with you, all the Marines flirted with the women, you also knew that a lot of them just wanted sex and nothing more but Jake seemed different. Yes, he was charismatic, handsome and charming but he had a sort of edge to him that others didn’t. He was different and there was something behind those blue eyes that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

She nodded her head slowly, “Okay, you’ve got yourself a deal, Corporal.” He took her hand in his, running his thumb over her knuckles.

“Well then little lady, you got yourself a deal,” Jake stood slightly taller now, eyes shining brightly as he grinned at you as if he’d already won the bet.

Luckily for you, Jake did win. The more you thought about his offer of a date throughout the evening the more you realised you were rooting for him to win, throwing the darts with little force, using your left hand instead of your right, you’d never been one to let others win but Jake had awoken something in you, even when you felt like he was the worst man on earth.

To say Jake was feeling smug that he won would be the understatement of the century, his face erupted into a wide grin, eyes shining brightly. He slung his arm around her shoulder, “Well Little Lady, looks like you owe me a date.”

“It looks like I do,” (Y/n) stood up swiftly, “but I must be going now, I have an early start tomorrow.” (Y/n) found herself hurrying quickly to the door, desperate to get away from Jake before she did something she might regret. She felt him running after her, hearing the odd complaint as he pushed past other Marines to get through the crowd to her. (Y/n) reached the door, hurrying out into the cool, evening air, she let out a breath she didn’t even know she had been holding, feeling her hands begin to shake a little at the restraint she had shown. (Y/n) didn’t know what to do, she had never felt this way about anyone before.

“HEY! HEY!” The all too familiar voice called from behind her, loud footsteps echoing on the quiet street. “Hey wait up.”

(Y/n) stopped abruptly, turning herself round and hurrying towards Jake. She grabbed hold of his shirt, yanking him harshly towards her and cashing their lips together. Jake let out a surprised squeak that caused her to smile into the kiss before he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her impossibly close. (Y/n) had always thought it was ridiculous to think people saw fireworks when they kissed but the fireworks that erupted inside her stomach provided the theory right. Her hand wove its way into Jake’s short hair, tugging it gently.

When they eventually pulled apart Jake’s lips were swollen and smudged with red lipstick, his chest heaving from his effort.

“Goodnight, Corporal,” (Y/n) whispered, her lips brushing against his once more before she pulled away, her legs carrying her quickly down the now-silent Main Street.

“Hey, when can I see you again?” Jake hollered after her, his voice echoing down the dimly lit street. “You promised to go on a date with me.”

She turned sharply on her heels, her red lips creeping into a wicked smirk. “I said I’d go on a date with you, I never said when though.” She laughed as she turned back around, continuing the short walk to her house. Jake groaned in frustration. How could one woman have such an effect on him?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist: @a-reader-and-a-writer @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @callsignmaverick5 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @luckyladycreator2 @abaker74 @elenavampire21 @classyunknownlover @okiegirl24 @flashyourgreeneyesatme @airedale17 @shadowolf993 @flyboyjake @topguncultleader @callmemana @t-nd-rfoot @desert-fern @cherrycola27 @green-socks @jstarr86 @starkleila @alexxavicry @roostette @floralfloyd @soulmates8 @depressed-friend-blog @mayhemmanaged @shanimallina87 @shadowsintheknight @bcon24 @books-are-escapes @dakotakazansky @iceman-kazansky @softly-writes @solo2leo

[malcolmcooks]

HEY

I dont wanna make a flop poll but I'm really curious about bus queue ettiquette in different places

I grew up in England where people would generally let the elderly, pregnant women, and others who are less able to stand get on first, but other than that, its pretty much a free for all, resulting in pretty much a pile-on instead of an orderly queue

in Scotland, however, at least where I live now, its generally agreed upon that it worst on a first come first serve basis - as the bus gets near people will tend to form a queue in the order that they arrived at the bus stop, but will usually still offer for those who are less able to stand to go ahead of them.

there is one guy whoever who is a fellow regular on my bus who insists it should be ladies first - and I think this may be the case in other places

SO

please tell me in comments/reblogs what the ettiquette is, if any, in your area, and REBLOG so I can relish in the clout of getting notes get a decently good sample size of poll options before making an actual poll 👀

[lxgacies]

I want the legacy I leave behind to be

               immortalised in the stars

                               and engraved in their hearts

indie sims 4 themed multimuse rp | played by aj | home : muses : rules

[illicreatxm]

New Faces, New Tats | Rosie & Dodger

@a-simple-rper

Even though she wasn’t smiling, there was clear excitement in Rosie’s eyes. This was it. She was finally doing it. She was finally getting her first tattoo, and she was so excited about it because she was finally doing something for herself. Finally doing something that made her her, without looking to her parents for permission.

It felt wonderful.

Walking into the tattoo parlour, though, she couldn’t help but feel a little nervous and out of place. This was her first tattoo. A friend had recommended the place, but… she was literally going to be inked by complete strangers.

This was kinda terrifying.

[angrelysimpping]

October Prompt Day 19: Ghosts

GN Harper (they/them); GN Reader (you/your); again, Ivory Wraith is fucking with ya; set in the asylum; doctor/patient; implied past abuse

Words: 475

“You’re progressing well, but that’s all the time we have for today.”

That’s your queue to leave. If you stay, Harper will call in the orderlies, and you’ll get escorted out. If you’re lucky, that’s all that will happen. 

Harper quirks a brow, their smile never faltering as you fidget in your seat, fingers twisting into the hem of your patient gown as you try to make up your mind.

“Are you-”

“I-I’ve been having nightmares,” you cut in, trying your best to keep your voice steady.

Harper cocks their head to the side. “Oh?”

You keep your head down, eyes trained on their shoes as you try to keep the slight tremor in your hands from spreading to the rest of your body. “E-Every night. I, can I talk to you about them? P-Please, Doctor?”

If you’d been looking at Harper’s face, you’d have seen how their smile widened at your words, a faint pink spreading across their cheeks. 

The silence stretches on and you can’t bring yourself to look up, terrified of seeing disappointment in their eyes. 

Harper stands, and you can’t help the small flinch at the sudden movement, squeaking out an apology that the doctor only acknowledges with a hum as they walk past your seat. Poking their head out of their office door, they exchange a few hushed words with the orderlies.

Harper shuts the door. “Tell me about your nightmares.”

You relax, but only a little, taking a deep breath as you try to soothe yourself. 

“There’s a pale figure. Red eyes, long hair. They follow me, haunting me. L-Like a ghost, almost. Says I stole something from them b-but I d-don’t, I don’t remember taking anything, from anyone. I don’t-” you cut yourself off, taking another shuddering breath. 

“Is that all?”

You shake your head no frantically, eyes screwing shut as you try to think. “I s-see them,” you whisper. “I see them when I wake. On t-top of m-me. H-Hurting me. I-” your throat constricts, tears burning in the corners of your eyes. 

“Remember your exercises.”

Your eyes snap open, finding Harper only millimeters away from you, bright eyes boring into yours. 

Your exercises. Right. The things Doctor Harper had taught you to do when your emotions were spinning out of control. 

You lurch out of the chair, arms wrapping around the doctor. They chuckle, hand coming to rest on the small of your back. You press against them, tucking your face into the crook of their neck and breathing deeply. Harper always smelled clean. Clean and sweet. And something else. Something that you couldn’t place but it made you feel warm all over.

“How about I run a sleep study for you, hm?”

You nod, taking another deep, shaking breath as you start to calm down. Doctor Harper would take care of you, they always did.

[lxgacies]

@a-simple-rper​ liked to meet... janine

“Hey, guys! Oh my gosh, it’s reached that time of the week! The fashion police has arrived and we are totally gonna go cure people of their poor fashion sense.”

Phone held up to get the perfect angle as she vlogged, Janine had an almost perfect smile on her face as she walked down the street. Live streaming her fashion critiquing events had become somewhat of a hobby, and now as thousands of fans tuned in to watch it had become more of a profession than anything.

She didn’t realise someone was walking in her direction (she was too busy looking good for the camera) until the person bumped right into her, making her stumble. “Hey! Watch where you’re—” She stopped short at the sight of the person, a grin growing on her face.

First victim? Spotted.

[finelinevogue]

Imagine if you’d been dating Harry for ages and all the fans love you and him together cause you’re always super nice and love talking to the fans too (maybe you’re slightly famous like an actor or work in fashion or something?) and you’re kinda in the background when Harry is meeting fans before the show, offering to take photos and chatting with them all🥺

okay so let’s pretend hslot has a meet and greet before hand… that’s the dream right? ;

“Love, y’sure you’ll be alright?” Harry asked as you stood off to the side of the room, nearer the drinks and snacks bar stand.

“Yes, H. I’ll be fine!” You replied.

Harry was worried about leaving you alone, although still in the same room as him, when his fans came in for their meet and greet. There wasn’t masses of them, but still enough for if they wanted to gang up and shout at you, which you’ve insisted many times to Harry is a silly notion, that they could successfully do so. You were in the media industry, a photographer no less and you’d met Harry on the shoot for Another Man - having been his designated photographer for the day. He swore he loved you at first sight. Since that shoot you were constantly with each other and the fans fell in love with you more and more each day, however there were still the ones who despised you - that’s what, or rather whom, Harry was worried about tonight.

He looked so good tonight, you could barely focus on anything else. Harry was in his outfit for stage and he was wearing pink trousers, cream-white boots and a gilet style jacket made out of glittery tassels. He was so beautiful and his skin was glowing so gorgeously, from spending the last week or so in LA. You were coordinating with him and were wearing a pink blazer with matching pink pants and then a cream-white bralette underneath the jacket with the same cream-white boots as him. You both couldn’t look more like a couple if you tried. Lambert had taken so many photos of you both, happy that you’d managed to unexpectedly coordinate so well with each other.

It was a soulmate thing, you told him.

It was around 40 minutes until showtime now and the fans should be arriving any moment now, for their opportunity to get photos with their idol.

“Just don’t like leaving y’alone.” He sighed, wrapping his arms around your neck so he could hold you closer. Your arms rested on his inner arms, feeling the warmth of his skin so smoothly as he swayed you from side to side.

“Well i’ll be by the snacks if y’need to find me.” You laughed and so did he, making you feel better that he was feeling a bit better too.

“M’kay.” He said softly and leant down to give you a soft kiss to the lips, cupping you chin lightly so he could pull your further into him. He tasted so good and fresh and he felt so hot against you. He pulled away with much reluctance and smiled when he saw your strawberry-tasting lipstick now slightly smudged. “Did I mention how hot you look tonight?”

“Only a few times.” You smiled and bit your lip as his eyes gazed over you, soaking up every detail of you, your body and outfit. You knew you looked pretty damn good, because you felt so good too.

“Only a few? Well that’s not good enough, is it?” He asked rhetorically, straightening your blazer slightly so the collar wasn’t crooked.

“You can make up for it later.”

“Oh, i’ll make sure of it lovie.” Harry raised his eyebrows and kissed your cheek, before Jeff told him to go stand over by the wall where photos would be taken. He left you be, with a childish pout to his face, and did what he was told.

It was another minute before the fans piled into the room, being told to form an orderly queue within the lines they’d marked out. You took a water bottle and drank from it as the first girl walked up to Harry, the poor thing shaking like a leaf. You watched as Harry comforted her, hugging her only slightly. Everyone here was obligated to wear a mask and also be vaccinated with a negative test result. If you weren’t vaccinated you couldn’t meet Harry, regardless of whether your test was negative. There were very strict rules, but it was for the safety of everyone - including touring staff who were more vulnerable.

A few of the other girls did their solo photos, before asking for a group one too. They were all coordinating in their outfits, but just different colours so they made a rainbow. Harry thought it was genius and made positive comments on all their outfits. You could tell it had made their year, let alone their day.

Once the first group was done they were told they could refresh themselves with some snack, before they would be escorted to their seats because they were in their own pit area. You smiled with your eyes at the group of rainbow girls approaching the table, moving out of the way so that they could grab what they wanted.

“Y/N?” One of the girls asked, the one wearing lilac actually.

“Hi, hello!” You waved awkwardly, not sure whether this was going to be the confrontation Harry had warned you about.

“Can we get a photo?” They asked politely, which made your eyes widen. You’d never been asked for a fan photo before, even when out in public with Harry. You’d always preferred to stick to the shadows unless instructed otherwise, just because you hadn’t always appreciated how good you looked, but now you were feeling great so you didn’t have a problem with it.

“Sure, yeah.” You nodded as the girl brought her camera up to snap a few selfies with you. You smiled through your mask and stuck up a peace sign - just like Harry had taught you to do.

“Thank you so much. You look amazing, by the way.” They complimented your outfit.

“Thank you! So you do lot! You’re giving me heavy TPWK vibes.” You pointed to them and they laughed, agreeing that that is in fact what they were going for.

“Can I get a photo too, sorry?” The green girl asked and you had to admit that they probably looked the best, but maybe you were just biased because that wad your favourite colour because they reminded you of your boyfriend’s eyes.

“Don’t be sorry, ‘course y’can.” You smiled and they came to stand closer to you. You took a few selfies with them and then the blue one asked too. It wasn’t long before you’d taken selfies with the full rainbow. “Shall we have a group photo?”

“Oh my god yes please!” They all cheered at the same time and you called over one of Harry’s security guards to come take a picture for you.

You all huddled together, you in the middle of them. You were stood in between green and yellow, so your pink outfit sort of ruined the flow of colours but they didn’t seem to mind. They especially didn’t seem to mind when Harry sneaked up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your head. He squeezed you tight and everyone’s faces were super happy when the next few photos were taken.

“What’re you playing at?” You asked him, taking your arms off the shoulders of the girls and turning your head around to face him since he wasn’t letting go of your waist.

“Was told to come tell you to stop being a bother so these lot can go and find their seats.” Harry smiled his cheeky grin, knowing that he phrased that in a less than pleasant way.

“A both—”

“Y/N was no bother at all.” Green girl came to your assistance, protecting you against Harry’s playful accusation.

“Yeah we asked to take the photos.” Red girl stepped in next, blushing when they realised that Harry was actually staring at them with a smile on his face.

“Alright. Just this one can be trouble sometimes.” Harry tickled your waist, which made you squirm and laugh.

“Oi i’m not trouble, y’prick.” You whacked him in offence, just joking and the fans could tell because they were all laughing at you two. You noticed that one or two of them were filming you both, or taking photos, and so you tilted your head back onto Harry’s shoulder as he held you tight - feeding the fans the content that they so desperately wanted.

“Thank you so much Y/N. I love you Harry. Thank you Harry.” They all spoke bc over each other as they were escorted out of the room and off to their seats, Harry being told he had ten minutes until stage.

Harry just held you tight, kissing you at every opportune moment until the sounds of Golden called him away.

[lxgacies]

@mirror-image-rp liked to meet... eleanor

Eleanor raised an eyebrow at the person in front of her. “If you wouldn’t mind moving, please? I have groceries to buy and studies to return to, and you are currently in my path.”

[illicreatxm]

@astrologicallyperfect/@sxpersquad @a-simple-rper

When the whole squad looks good

[nem0c]

“We’re stranded! We can’t get out! We’ll starve! Hooligan! Go back to your own country! Help!” “Don’t worry,’ Jerry called as the copter climbed. He picked up the megaphone. “The restaurant opens soon. Please form an orderly queue. It will assist everyone if you behave in an orderly manner!”... As the helicopter thrummed out of sight, the ladies murmured among themselves and their lips curled in disgust as George Formby sang about the tip of his little cigar, but they formed a long, disciplined queue outside the restaurant. Eight days later they would still be standing there, or sitting, or lying where they had fallen. Through the glass walls of the restaurant they had been able, every day between three o’ clock and five o’ clock, to see the waitresses laying out the little sandwiches, scones and cakes and later clearing them away again. If a lady signalled a waitress the waitress would wave, smile apologetically and point at the notice which said that the restaurant was closed. One plump middle-aged housewife in a blue paisley suit hugged her handbag to her stomach in disapproval. The George Formby songs, rather scratchy now, were still going. “I feel filthy,” she said. “It’s wicked...” “Don’t start a fuss, dear.”

Michael Moorcock, A Cure for Cancer

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-1: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“In the vast expanse of space and time eternal, it is my honour to walk the same planet with you and share the same time.”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *CG Image used with permission from 蓝咕咕 ☆ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

There were workers currently putting up a huge ad of Warson's new seasonal line-up in an orderly fashion at the side of the vast Riverside Avenue.

Upon the streets were men and women alike, speeding towards the subways where they then took all sorts of complex routes to reach every corner of the city.

❖☆———————————★❖

Some people pick up their cup of coffee, closing their computers that have been on for an entire night. Whilst some stand in line outside stores, having already joined the long queues in the wee hours of the morning. Meanwhile, some begrudgingly walked up into the buses headed for school.

Today was one of the most mundane of days to ever grace Guangqi City; yet, at the same time, it was also one that held an extraordinary significance to me.

I currently stood before the Warson Group's HQ, staring up at this 56-story high Fashion Empire.

❖☆———————————★❖

Facing the glass panels, I did some last-minute touch-ups to my hair and fixed it before pushing the revolving doors open.

MC: Hello. I'm (Y/n), a new employee of the Design Hub who's starting work today.

The lady at the front desk smiled and nodded her head in understanding, swiftly entering a couple of things into her tablet.

Receptionist: I'm currently contacting the person in charge of the Design Hub. Please wait for a while at the rest area.

MC: Alright, thanks.

I headed to the rest area and was just about to look for an empty seat when I saw a familiar figure leaning against the sofa.

MC: … Gao Cheng?

The figure jolted before timidly glancing backwards. The same timidness morphed into surprise the moment he saw that it was me.

Gao Cheng: Eh?

Gao Cheng: What are you doing here? Did you receive an offer from Warson as well?

MC: Yep!

Gao Cheng: That's great…

He breathed a sigh of relief, his tense shoulders relaxing as he did.

MC: We'll be colleagues from today onwards! I'll still often have to bother you about layout problems in the future.

Gao Cheng: Yeah, sure… that's no problem at all…

His face was tinged a slight red as he nodded enthusiastically.

Receptionist: Sorry for keeping the two of you waiting. Here are your temporary work IDs.

The receptionist walked towards us with a smile as she said that.

Receptionist: Please take the 6th elevator from the left. Your destination will be the 34th floor. The person in charge of the Design Hub will help both of you finish up your onboarding process.

MC / Gao Cheng: Thank you.

❖☆———————————★❖

It just so happened that it was currently rush hour, so the lift lobby was crowded with employees waiting for their turn at the elevator. We waited for several more rounds before we were finally able to step into the lift that went directly to the 34th floor.

❖☆———————————★❖

We were both utterly awestruck by the scene that greeted our eyes the moment the doors opened.

The high-ceilinged lobby connected the upper and lower three levels of office areas. Light filters through the glass walls, filling the hall with its brilliant glow.

The gentle, yet exquisite, natural lighting gave the entire space a very transparent feel. There was a huge transparent display case being showcased in the middle of the floor. It was filled with classic works from the various major luxury apparel brands.

The open office area was filled with people rushing back and forth, the very epitome of a busy scene. Countless classic and avant-garde works were created and brought to life here. And then they'll take to the world, influencing the lives of everyone out there.

Gao Cheng: So this is Warson's Design Hub… I'm astounded...

??: Sorry to keep you waiting.

Mya sauntered over to us in her black heels.

She smiled elegantly at us, seemingly a tad different from her strict persona from the contest.

Mya: I know that we've already met each other many times, but let me reintroduce myself.

Mya: I'm Mya, the Deputy Director of the Design Hub. Welcome to Warson.

Mya: Your contest pieces have made a lasting impression on me. I look forward to seeing your future work.

MC / Gao Cheng: Thank you!

Mya nodded, her smile turning down a couple of degrees.

Mya: Follow me, both of you. There are some things I have to tell you.

We visited the whole of the Design Hub with her as our guide.

Mya: There are 4 teams of Fashion Designers in the Design Hub: A, B, C, and D.

Mya: All groups are independent and are of equal standing. Each of them is in charge of different high-end ready-to-wear apparel lines.

Mya: The high-end custom-made-to-order line is under Director Sariel Qi himself.

Mya: All Fashion Designers of Warson are categorized under these categories: Assistant, Junior, Mid-Level, and Senior.

Mya: Your rank determines how important the work that gets assigned to you is.

Mya: Based on your abilities and prior experience, both of you fall under the rank of Junior Designer.

Mya: You're in Team A, led by Zheng Lin. Gao Cheng, you're in Team B, led by Bob.

MC: So we're not gonna be in the same team after all?

Gao Cheng looked sadly at me, sighing lightly.

Mya: Of course, your rank is not fixed.

Mya: You can take the assessment that’s held twice per year to determine whether you’ll get promoted by a rank, or even demoted.

Mya: Please adhere to these rules while you’re working with us.

Mya: Firstly, Warson does not like employees who do not keep to deadlines. Submit work late thrice, and we’ll ask you to kindly submit your resignation within an hour.

Mya: Secondly, don’t you dare try submitting plagiarized work; that will spell the end of your career.

Mya: Thirdly, all Designers are allowed to study and observe the collections displayed in the showroom at any time, but please keep things neat and tidy.

Mya: And lastly, Director Qi doesn't like being disturbed outside of work hours.

Mya: So, please do not try searching for his contact details in the employee address book.

Mya: Of course, you shouldn’t be able to find it now.

Mya: Feel free to approach your direct superiors if there are things you don't understand.

Mya swept her eyes over our faces and we quickly nodded in response.

Mya: Come on then. I’ll bring you to your respective teams.

❖☆———————————★❖

We followed Mya, walking through the corridors, passing by the pantry and meeting rooms on both sides of the hallway before finally arriving at the office area.

The office area was similar to the lobby, designed with many glass walls.

Mya: This is Team B's workspace.

There was a group of people gathered around the large round table in the centre of the office, seemingly in some sort of discussion.

The man facing the door was holding onto a design draft, speaking with confidence, a matching smile on his face. The people around him nodded along to him as he spoke.

Mya knocked on the door before raising her hand and pushing the huge glass door open.

I curiously peeked in, only to be greeted by a certain familiar figure.

… I can't believe it's him.

❖☆———————————★❖

Basked under the light, Sariel was decked out in a slim-fitting light-coloured suit, leaning against the back of his chair with a design draft in hand.

His eyes were squinted in concentration, his expression one of focus, and his lips pressed into a thin line.

His bangs hang softly upon his forehead, the brilliantly white light bringing a warm, yet soft edge to his features.

He looked rather indolent. However, after thorough scrutiny, one could also see the faint unhappiness reflected within his eyes.

Sariel turned his head over, glancing in my direction. Perhaps I'd been staring at him too blatantly.

❖☆———————————★❖

Our eyes met for a split second. His pale golden orbs widened ever so slightly, but they soon returned to their normal coolness.

Sariel: You. Come here.

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-20) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-3)

[illicreatxm]

@a-simple-rper @astrologicallyperfect/@sxpersquad

[weshallc]

Happy St. Andrew’s Day. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

Thank you so much to everyone who has been reading Bonfire Night! I haven’t put it on the usual fic sites as I knew I would mess about, and Tumblr folk are a patient bunch. I am going to rejig it so it stretches from Bonfire Night to Christmas (probably New Year at this rate) looking back over 2020.

Thank you for the lovely comments and support from @h4t08 @fourteen-teacups @thatginchygal  @bbcshipper @roguesnitch @lovetheturners and new regular @aimee-jessica and @olafur-neal

I really don’t know what I have been doing with my time apart from washing my hands, measuring distances of 2 metres, sewing masks, swearing at the news, collecting Scotch egg and pasty recipes and building a pantry to hoard all my Brexshit preparation supplies.

Enough about me, so as it’s St. Andrew’s Day I thought I might give this another spin. 

BERNS NIGHT (Revisited, just for fun)

Call the Midwife AU (Crown Jewels/Paddy and Bernie/Poplar-on-Tweaven)

CHAPTER ONE: FAIR FA’ YOUR HONEST, SONSIE FACE

“Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face, Great chieftain o' the pudding-race! Aboon them a' ye tak your place, Painch, tripe, or thairm : Weel are ye wordy o'a grace As lang's my arm.”  Address to a Haggis by Robert Burns 1786.

“Will You Reconize me? Call My Name or Walk On By.” Don’t You (Forget About Me). Simple Minds 1985.

Monday 25th January 2016

“His knife see rustic Labour dight, An' cut you up wi' ready sleight, Trenching your gushing entrails bright, Like ony ditch; And then, O what a glorious sight, Warm-reekin', rich!”

The room was swept in darkness apart from the light of the wolf moon and the north star penetrating the cold window panes. All eyes were facing towards a wooden table and the elderly man stood behind it. He was in his 60s and wiry, small for a man, but with a silver mess of what once must have been a bonnie head of fire red hair. The body may have looked weak, but the intensity in his bright blue eyes cut through the dimly lit surroundings.

As he spoke again, his voice filled the room, cutting through the anticipating silence. It was a voice that could take a knife and slice right through a soul. The knife in his hand in turn sliced through the offering in front of its high priest. Years of performing the same action with such a passion resulted in precision. The faithful entranced by the spectacle all gasped as one as the incision was violently made. No one daring to speak. Suddenly the trance was lost as artificial light rudely brought everyone back to the present with a blast of the pipes.

“All done then, Reverend Mannion? Can I serve the Haggis now? Don’t want it getting cold now, do we, not at £15 a head.”

“Aye, Violet, the ceremony is over. It’s time for eating and drinking, something the bard would have approved of, rightly so.”

The kilted clergyman winked at an auburn-haired girl in the crowd and tipped his whisky tumbler toward her. She raised her own glass and winked back. Her companion at her table was much taller with dark hair styled in a tidy no-nonsense bob.

The tall one leaned toward the small one and asked, “If it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

“What?”

“The Haggis if it’s already dead, why does he have to kill it?”

Her friend opened her mouth to speak, but she saw a tender hand take hold of Chummy’s arm and explain it was all just ceremony, it was tradition.

“Like all that malarkey at our passing out parade, the day we got our badge. That wasn’t about police work, was it? It’s just tradition.  It’s what the English do well.”

He had been doing really well up until then, but a golden raised eyebrow made him alter his stance. “It is what us Brits do best.”

The raised eyebrow whispered to the police constable. ”Peter, Chummy really doesn’t think a haggis is a real animal, does she?”

He was not the sort of man that would turn heads, but he had a kindness in his eyes and an openness in his face she thought some would see as attractive. If only Camilla wasn’t his superior, and they didn’t work such long hours together, what might have been?

She knew her friend well and sensed more queries would follow. Not sure as a Scot brought up on Tweavenside and now living in London she could provide satisfying answers. Picking up their empty glasses and heading to the bar was a strange sort of refuge for a vicar's daughter and inner-city missionary.

There was a queue, well sort of a queue. In London a queue was made up of people standing in an orderly line and the person who had been stood the longest getting served first. In Poplar-on-Tweaven it resembled more of a rugby scrum and the person who shouted the loudest being ignored, Anyone who called the barmaid by name was bunked up the order. She wasn’t familiar with busy bars, but she was bright enough to work out the system.

“Val, when yer ready hen.” The request came from someone not sure that was their own voice they had just heard yelling those words.

All her life she had been immersed in the wonders of the Bible and was still amazed at how so many miracles had been performed. She had heard all the CPR arguments regarding resurrections and all that, and was still not convinced. But, she now knew how Moses had parted the Red Sea, he had known the barmaid’s name was Valerie.

“What can I get you, chick?”

“Here! I was first.” A grumpy voice struck up.

“Oh Al, you are always first. Let me serve this lass and then I will sort you out”

“Promises, promises.”

“Yeah in your dreams, pal.”

She was starting to feel uncomfortable she hadn’t meant to jump the queue. Maybe she should go back to the table and let Peter get the drinks. A man’s voice interrupted her thoughts, it was quieter than Al’s but held an authority. It wasn’t a Tweavenside accent, but it had a northern softness.

“You serve our impatient friend Valerie, I will see to this young lady.” Then turning to his new customer, “What can I get you, pet”

“Erm a whisky and lemonade and erm a pint, please.”

“Which whisky and a pint of?”

She wasn’t sure; she nudged her bottom onto a vacant stool for security.

“Are you with the law?” The tall bartender nodded towards Chummy and Peter,

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“OK, so that’s a Grouse and diet lemonade, just a dash and a pint of Buckles Best and for you?”

He stepped back a minute. “Your Reverend Wilf’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” Bernie suddenly felt more sure of herself. She was never completely certain of who she was when back in Poplar.

“Bernadette?” The stranger was grinning now, his brown eyes glinting under the harsh bar spotlights, or were they green?

“Well, that’s my Sunday name most people call me Bernie, even Dad.”

“Well, since I’ve never seen you in here on a Sunday or any other day. I will call you Bernie. I am Patrick Turner, most people call me Paddy, a few Doc.”

“Oh no, you won’t have seen me here on a Sunday or any other day. I live in London now and before that, well, I am not a big drinker.”

“What can I get you then?” asked Paddy loitering near the coke and lemonade pumps.

“A gin and tonic please, better make it a double it’s quite busy, save me coming back.”

Paddy smiled. “Premium gin?”

“Yes.”

While the optic was emptying into the glass, he asked, “You must have known this old place when Evie ran it?”

“Yes, I know Evie and J..Jenny”

“Oh yes. Jen was here when the wife and I took over she was a great help. We get a text every now and again, doing well for herself now, all loved up.” He winked at her as he ended the sentence, causing her to panic slightly.

“I was sorry to hear about your loss.” She wished she hadn’t said it.

Val had seemed to deal with ten customers to Paddy’s one, and now there was just the two of them alone at the bar. He looked at her in a sort of a non-direct, sort of direct way. Under that infuriating fringe she wanted to reach out and push back.

“Loss is as much a part of love as is healing,” he replied with a hint of melancholy, but without irony.

She was stunned and tried to find a corresponding Bible verse, but she drew a blank.

She focused on what was real and what was present. Her dad had taught her to do that. What was in front of her at this precise moment was a glass of gin and ice and a twist of lime. He was now unscrewing a bottle of Mediterranean slimline tonic.

She yelped, “No!” as he lay the bottle alongside the glass.

“Sorry most people add the tonic to the gin and I cannae bear it drowned.”

“Wouldn't dream of it, surely that would be very presumptuous of me.”

“Aye well, most people I've met are very presumptuous.”

“Maybe you have spent too much time in London. if you don't mind me saying, Bernie.”

“Well, to be fair, we don’t spend a lot of time sitting on stools and propping up bars in my part of London.”

“More's the pity.”

“Can I bother you for a...”

Paddy popped a black straw into her tumbler.

“I will make sure when you come home next time none of my staff will be presumptuous.”

“Oh, I doubt you will remember me, Paddy. I only come up to see my Da. I can't imagine you will be seeing much of me in the future, hardly likely that I would ever be considered a regular.”

“Now who is being presumptuous?”

Bernie went to put the straw between her lips but paused, realizing the stranger was still watching her. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. As heat rose in her cheeks. She suddenly felt awkward on the stool, squirming to find some sort of comfortable position. The stranger smiled in a way she could not understand; it wasn’t smug or suggestive, but as if there were sharing a joke, but she wasn’t sure what the joke was.

She hopped off her seat, for a brief moment realizing her arse was in the air and prayed he had altered his gaze. Focusing anywhere but behind the bar, she grabbed her glass and bottle in one hand, put the whisky against her elbow and waist, the pint in her other hand, turned and swiftly moved toward her thirsty friends.

Shelagh Bernadette Mannion don’t you dare look back and see if he is watching you he is recently widowed with a son, Da said. He is, what do they call them now, a bloomer or something like that. God has shown you his path for you and it certainly does not include the Crown Inn, Poplar-on-Tweaven.

He is still watching me, I can feel it.