#edit: i keep messing around with the text. sorry. final version

[humanmorph]

THE SHIT THAT YOU HATE / DON'T MAKE YOU SPECIAL

oh gucci

[autumnsart22]

Flat Tire: Suna x fem reader

SMUT 🔥🔥

This is technically a part 3 of First time in College: Suna x reader, but I decided to make it a stand alone. You can read the other parts if you’re interested. Also, I left the ending kind of open, so I would be super happy to continue it if anyone wants me to...

P.S. I feel like it’s rare to have someone look this fine when it’s NOT EVEN FANART BRUHHHH

Suna was late to pick you up for your “date” (was it a date? He hadn’t made it particularly clear), which wasn’t a good sign. You had spent the hours after your class at 3 pacing around, trying to figure out what outfit to wear, and questioning your whole existence. Your roommate, Kiyoko, didn’t make things any better. When you had explained how you had met Suna at the frat party, how sweet he had seemed, her mouth had dropped and her eye practically popped out of her head. 

“Out of every guy you could have picked, you chose Suna Rintarou?” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. 

“What? Is he...bad?” You asked, suddenly nervous. You liked Suna, from the amount you knew about him. He seemed like he was pretty arrogant, and also kind of lazy, but he was nice to talk to. You knew you’d be disappointed if he ended up being a piece of shit. 

“He’s just...you know…” Kiyoko was clearly trying to find a way to phrase it. “He’s ditched a lot of different girls, sleeping around and then never speaking to them again, that sort of thing. Typical frat boy behavior.” 

You sighed, since it was exactly what you expected. “Well, it’s fine. We’re just going to eat, so I’ll just get it over with and then be out of his life.” 

“Ok. I just don’t want you getting hurt.” 

You waved her off. “I know, I know. Don’t worry.”

Unfortunately, six o’clock came and went, and no sign of Suna; suddenly, despite my dismissal, “getting hurt” seemed like a distinct possibility. By 6:30, you ditched your shoes and coat, crashing on your bed and starting the newest episode of Attack on Titan. Fuck Suna and his dumb pretty face. You were good with Levi. 

Halfway through the episode, there was a knock at your door, and your muscles tensed so suddenly that your neck twinged. 

“Uh, who is it?” You yelled as you rolled out of bed, stumbling to the door. 

“Su--” You opened it and blinked up at the guy outside in shock. “--na.” 

“Oh.” You raised your eyebrows. He was wearing black pants and a black crewneck, a white collared shirt underneath. 

“Hi,” he panted, completely out of breath. “Sorry.” 

You snorted. “Um. It’s late.” 

“I got lost.” 

“Did you now?” 

“And I had to go back home to change.” 

“You could have texted me!”

“...I don’t have your number.” 

You opened your mouth, but you had nothing to say to that. “Well, fuck,” you muttered, turning away. 

“Sorry. You’ll still come to eat though, right?” 

You wanted to curse him out for making you wait so long, for making you think he ditched you for the night and forgot. 

“Fine. But you’re a dick.” 

He grinned lazily, leaning in the door frame as you grabbed your shoes and jacket again, scooping up your purse as you exited your dorm. 

“What?” You said as you finally approached him, blushing as you met his eyes despite how hard you tried not to. 

“Nothing.” 

He led the way to his car in silence, and it was a strange mix of awkward and comfortable. Suna didn’t seem like the type to be super talkative, but at the same time you felt like you should be making conversation. 

When you got to his car, you took a deep breath to calm yourself down before sliding into the passenger seat. Of course, the whole car smelled like weed, but it wasn’t overwhelming and honestly kind of nice.

“So, you’re a freshman?” He asked, pulling out of the lot, and you nodded. 

“Are you?” 

“Sophomore.” 

“What’s your major?” 

“Undecided, but I enjoy photography. Not the best career path though…” 

“Wait, that's really cool.” You glanced at him, impressed. “What do you take pictures of?” 

“Anything, but people mostly.” 

“You’ll have to show me some time.” 

“Only if you forgive me for being late.” 

You crossed your arms, snorting. “Fine.” 

The car suddenly jerked, and you gasped as you heard a rush of air coming from the rear. 

“Oh...fuck,” Suna muttered, pulling off to the side of the road. “I think we just got a flat tire.” 

“How????” 

“How am I supposed to know?” 

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Do you want me to call someone?” 

“Hang on, I might be able to…” He hopped out of the car before finishing, and you sat in silence as you heard him walking around to examine the damage. A moment later, he re-entered the driver's side with an annoyed expression on his face. “Yeah, it’s flat. Shit.” 

“What are we going to do?”

“My friend has a spare tire, but it might take him a bit to get here. Are you ok with waiting?”

You shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Sorry, this is the worst night ever.” 

“It’s not your fault. We can just hang out until your friend gets here.”

Suna’s expression didn’t change, but you thought you saw his shoulders relax a little. In the darkness of the car, you couldn’t help but admire his profile as he turned off the car and shoved his hair back from his face. 

“What?” He said, turning to look at you, and you went beat red. 

“Huh?” 

“You’re looking at me.” 

“N-no.” 

“Really?” He smirked, leaning towards you slightly. 

Your heart stuttered, practically stopping at you stared into his pretty yellow eyes. Oh my god...

“I--” 

Before you could answer, Suna sat back, still smirking. A car drove past you on the dark street and you used the momentary distraction to try and get ahold of yourself. 

“So, what do you want to do?” Suna asked, and you looked over at him again. 

“You say that like we have another option besides just sitting here.” 

He shrugged, pulling a THC pen from his pocket and holding it out to you. You took it from him, hitting it twice before handing it back. 

“What’s your major?” He asked, holding the pen to his lips. 

“Political economics right now, but I’m considering switching to english since I like writing.” 

“What do you write?” 

“All kinds of things, although mostly short stories. I’ve been working on my second novel too, and the first draft is almost done. It’s really shitty right now, but hopefully once I go back and edit it…” 

You paused, suddenly embarrassed. Were you rambling? You could talk about writing all day, but most people didn’t care enough to keep listening beyond the first sentence. 

“Yeah?” Suna said, waiting for you to finish.

“Oh. That was it.” You glanced away, waiting for a subject change. 

“What’s your novel about?” He paused, laughing under his breath. “I can’t believe you wrote a fucking book. That’s so sick.”

You couldn’t help the smile that pulled at your face, and you covered your mouth with your hand. “Ok, short version--” 

“Short version? Why? We’ve got plenty of time.” 

You opened your mouth, and then paused. No one actually ever asked to hear about your writing beyond just the basic formalities, and you couldn’t believe how happy it made you feel that someone seemed genuinely interested. 

Deciding to abandon all pretenses, you jumped into a long scale explanation of the plot you were writing, all while Suna watched your face intently. 

“...And yeah! That’s basically it,” you finished finally, smiling brightly at him. “Sorry if that was super boring, I didn’t mean to…” 

“Can I read it when you finish? I’m invested.” He took another hit off the pen while watching you, and you smiled to yourself. How was this boy saying all the right things? Fuck. 

“I suppose.” 

“You suppose?”

“Depends on my mood.” 

“What can I do to guarantee you’ll let me read?” He reached over to grab your chin, stroking your cheeks gently with his thumb, and your breathing hitched. “Ha, you’re cute when you’re all red like this.” 

You snorted, but didn’t pull away. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.” 

“Really?” He leaned closer to you, until your faces were only inches apart in the darkness.

“N-no.” Your heart thundered. 

“Hm,” He murmured. “I’ll have to try to change that.” 

And then he was pressing your body back into the seat and kissing you hard on the mouth. 

 Oh my god, it was heaven. He tasted like minty chapstick and weed, and you sighed, your mind going blank. 

His long fingers tangled in your hair, dragging you closer, and a low noise came from his chest as you opened your mouth. You pulled away after a long minute, gasping, which only prompted Suna to trail open mouthed kisses down your neck. 

You leaned your head back to give him easier access, letting out an embarrassing noise as his hand slid under your shirt to trace the skin of your stomach. 

You weren’t a virgin, but you had only had sex with one person--your previous boyfriend--and it had been less than satisfactory the few times you had done it. Apparently you had missed the physical contact more than you thought. 

You sat up, and Suna pulled away, his eyes a little glazed over and his hair messed up. God damn, he was fine. 

He smiled slowly as your eyes trailed down his chest to his crotch, and he slid his seat all the way back so there was enough room for you to crawl into his lap. 

It was awkward, and you slammed your head on the roof of the car hard enough to make you yelp in pain as you tried to maneuver over to him. But any embarrassment you might have felt washed away as he burst out laughing and kissed you gently on the mouth. 

You tugged at his shirt in annoyance, suddenly pissed that it was still in place, and he awkwardly pulled over his head. 

“Pushy,” he muttered, and you flicked him hard on the forehead. 

“Dick.” 

“No need to beg, sweetheart. You’ll get it soon.” 

You swallowed hard and your thighs clenched in anticipation, even as you rolled your eyes. 

Any annoyance you had flew from your head as he slipped a hand down your pants, the other coming up to tangle in your hair. Instead of touching you where you needed him to, he traced along your inner thighs, kissing your collarbone. 

“Suna,” you mumbled, suddenly impatient as you shifted your hips, and he grinned into your skin before you felt his fingers shove the thin fabric of your underwear aside. 

“Oh go--”  Your eyes rolled back as he slowly eased a digit into you, wiggling it as he slowly widened you up. 

“S-Shit,” you gasped, your hands grasping at his shirt as he added another finger, circling his thumb at the same time on your clit. 

“You’re already so fucking wet,” Suna grunted, kissing up your neck as you began to roll your hips, riding his hand. 

“Don’t stop,” you gasped, but he grinned wickedly and immediately pulled his hand from your pants. Your eyes widened in outrage, but you stopped when he held up his fingers, covered in your juices, and shoved them in his mouth. You almost came from the sight, clenching around nothing as your heart stuttered. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” he mumbled, and you felt his dick twitch beneath you. It was hard as a rock in his pants, and you could feel it straining against the fabric. It was pretty big, if the bulge was evidence enough. 

You quickly fumbled to get his zipper open, needing to have him inside you right now. His fingers were good, but you needed... 

Suna smacked your hands away. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, and you obliged, choosing to ignore how hot you got at his commanding tone. You could unpack that later. 

It was a struggle to get the fabric off in the small space, but finally you were back in his lap, and he was holding your hips, and his (long) cock was free of his pants. You reached down, stroking it slowly and rubbing your thumb gently across the tip, spreading the precum that had gathered already. 

“Jesus christ,” Suna said, his voice strained, and he twitched in your hand. 

“Jesus wouldn’t appreciate his name being used in this context.” 

“He’d be jealous of me right now.” 

“You’re definitely going to hell for that.” 

“And you’re not? You little slut.” Suna shoved his fingers in your mouth while his other hand fumbled with a condom which he tugged from his pocket. He slid it down over his length with expert speed, clearly having done this many times before, but you shoved the thought from your mind.

Suna held your hips tightly as you positioned yourself over him, helping you as you eased yourself down onto his dick. He was larger than your last boyfriend, and it burned for a moment as you adjusted to his size, but Suna held your face and stroked your hair as you breathed through it. “You’re such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” he groaned in your ear. “Fuck, you’re tight.” 

His praise made you clench around him, the pain easing away, and you rolled your hips experimentally. The friction on your clit and almost made you cum right away, and you let out a moan into his neck as your head dropped onto his shoulder. Holy motherfucking shit how did it feel so good...

Suna buried his face in your chest as you began to ride him, shifting your hips slowly as you felt his full length hitting points you didn’t even know existed. When he ran his tongue along your nipple, you let out an embarrassing noise and fucked him faster. 

Your legs began to burn, but Suna took over easily, thrusting up into you while you held onto his shoulders. Your moans and the sound of sex filled the car, and your hand slid across the fogged glass of the window as you grasped for anything to hold onto. You were so close to coming, you could feel it all the way down to your toes. 

“You’re doing so good, baby, you feel so good,” Suna groaned, reaching down to rub your clit, his tongue circling your nipple at the same time, and with his voice in your ear, it was enough to finally send you over the edge. You clenched around him, your mouth opening in a silent scream as you came hard all over his cock.  It was easily the best orgasm you’d had during sex, possibly the best ever. Suna didn’t take his eyes off you as you came apart, relishing in how it was him who put that expression on your face, and how only he was seeing you like this right now. 

“And you said flattery doesn’t work on you,” Suna laughed, but you couldn’t even make yourself glare at him. 

“Idiot.” 

You panted as you came down from your high, but Suna still wasn’t finished. You could tell he was getting close by the way his pace picked up and how he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him as he thrust up into you. His groans were deep and sexy in your ear, making your overstimulated clit throb as your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders. 

“F-fuckkkk…” He panted, kissing you again and shoving his tongue in your mouth. He held onto your hair, tangled around his fist, forcing you to lean your head back as he created hickies all along your throat.

He finally came with a groan, his cock twitching as he held onto you tightly, head falling on your shoulder. You both stilled, panting, and you couldn’t help the slow smile that tugged at your lips. For a moment you were too tired to move as you felt his dick soften inside you, so you gently stroked his hair instead. 

“Are you ok?” He murmured, finally lifting his head to meet your eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his hair a wreck, but you were sure you didn’t look much better. 

“I’m great,” you said, smiling. “Are you?”

 Suna blinked, looking dazed for a moment, but he nodded. 

You shifted, trying to get off his lap in the most graceful way possible, but your back slammed against the wheel and the car honked loudly. 

“Jesus!” You cursed, flinching, and Suna rolled his eyes. 

“You just woke the whole neighborhood.” 

“Ugh,” you glared at him as you pulled on your pants, readjusting your shirt to cover your chest once again. 

The car suddenly lit up as headlights pulled up behind you, and you whirled to face Suna. 

“Is that your friend? Wait, where’s your shirt?!” 

He wasn’t listening, casually tugging it over his head as he opened the driver’s side door. You heard a door slam from behind you, and then a guy with grey hair and dark tips leaned down to wave at you from Suna’s side. 

“Hi. Sorry it took so long, but I have the tire.” 

“Thanks,” Suna nodded, and then gestured to you. “Kita, this is Y/n L/n. Y/n, this is my friend Kita Shinsuke.” 

“Hi, nice to meet you,” you said, but you felt your stomach drop as Kita’s eyes went to the fogged windows, where your hand print was still visible. 

“Yeah…” He raised his eyebrows. “Nice to meet you too.” 

Suna crossed his arms, looking bored. “Wanna help me change the tire?” 

The two boys left you alone as they went to swap out the flat, and you worked on trying to get your face to stop burning. By the time Suna finally got back, you felt decently less embarrassed; he probably did this all the time, so for Kita, it was definitely nothing new. He probably wouldn’t even remember your name. 

“Hey,” you looked over at Suna in surprise as he slid back into the driver’s seat and gently grabbed your face, kissing you slowly. 

“What was that for?” You sighed when he pulled away. 

He shrugged, smirking. “Are you still hungry?” 

Part 1 

Part 2

[shootthemessenger]

the delicate art of a criminal mind [a.m-r. ; b.d.h.]

ally mayfair-richards x fem!reader x billie dean howard

summary: two of the FBI’s most wanted, two convicted felons, and a policeman’s daughter make for one hell of a love story

disclaimer: strong language, sexual nature, brief adultery, short-lived angst

I’m so sorry that this sucks, I had a fucking AMAZING version of it that got deleted due to technical difficulties (me, im the technical difficulty) also this is an edited version of a story I wrote YEARS ago so if some of the names/third person editing are/is wrong I’m sorry

gif belongs to @valenthatgurl

Billie’s eyes traveled slowly down your body, mind drinking in your figure as a delicate smirk probed at her lips. “Have I ever told you how much I adore you, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from your throat or the smile on your face. The blonde moved carefully behind you, letting her hands fall against the curves of your hips where they rested gently. She liked to hold you between her two hands.

“Often.” You replied simply which only caused her to let out a breathy chuckle and press a chaste kiss to the base of your neck. Billie locked eyes with you through the mirror in front of you, eyebrow twitching in amusement as she watched you adjust your earrings carefully.

She had bought you them last week, in a small shop in Miami, refusing to show you the price tag even after she bought them. It was often that she showered you in small, expensive gifts. Afterall, she believed she had to pay you back for kidnapping you in the first place.

It wasn’t planned, necessarily. Your mother was a police chief in the small town you lived in who had been hunting after Billie and her team for months. As crazy as it seemed as you stood there so intimately with her, she was a criminal and had been for most of her life.

It started when she was younger, stashing trinkets into her backpack from stores and gifting them to her friends. Then she moved on to bigger things, clothing and electronics from the mall that she would keep just for the thrill of knowing she had them.

Then came the bank heist. She had gathered her team, team being her good friend Misty and Misty’s girlfriend, Cordelia. They forced their way into the bank and forced the money into the bags as swiftly as they could.

By the time they got outside, they was surrounded with bags upon bags of cash tucked in her team’s hands. Completely drowning under the police presence, they had no choice but to shovel into the police car closest to them and pray they were capable of getting away.

What Billie hadn’t accounted for was the fact that you would be sitting in the passenger seat of the car she rushed, waiting for your mother to return and finish, what had started off as, your ride-along for the day.

Nevertheless, she had no time to think before she was barreling down the road and hoping she could figure out what to do with you once she was out of such traffic.

In the beginning the two of you hated each other but the more time you spent together the more you fell for one another.

Eventually, you started dating and had been growing strong since then. Now you were here, the four of you had been on the run together for 3 years and had covered most of the U.S..

You were the current occupant of an old, run-down hotel in LA. Tonight, you were headed to a new club that had just opened up downtown.

Billie called it “hiding in plain sight” but really it was just an excuse to get you into the black dress she had loved so much and grinding up against her into the late hours of the night.

"I love you so much." Billie’s voice was low and raspy, the way she knew you liked. "I love you, darling." You returned.

Weird looks were shot to Billie from her two partners, they had never seen the woman be so affectionate towards someone so openly.

It was easy to say that Billie had never been affectionate to anyone until you came along.

Billie was the leader of the three; easily the brains of the group. She was cunning and persuasive and intelligent; all things you'd think a criminal would have to be to do the things that they would do. She was damn near a loose cannon and not many people risked getting too close.

Cordelia and Misty were the only friends Billie really had and she didn't mind one bit. She worked better alone.

Never get in Billie Dean Howard’s way; everyone knew that by now.

Misty was what most people would call the muscle of the group, though all three of them could easily take down someone on their own. She was tactically trained and she could easily rough someone up.

She always wore a set of thick leather gloves around her slender fingers, which meant that she was ready to start swinging anytime she might have needed to. It kept people from messing with Billie and Cordelia and it got them whatever they needed and wanted.

Cordelia, on the other hand, was more of the beauty of the group. Not that she couldn't rough someone up if it came down to it, but there was something about her that drew people in. She was incredibly beautiful and she had no problem using that to her own advantage. She could get anything with a bat of her deep brown-colored doe eyes and, of course, her habit of biting her lip didn't hurt when added to the mix.

She was irresistible, especially in the type of clothes she was wearing now; a short black dress that hugged every delicate inch of her body. She had the perfect hips to fill in a dress like that. She was the team's biggest distraction.

“Uh...B?” Misty interrupted, her eyes scanning over her phone screen. “Maybe we should just stay here tonight.” She proposed, glancing up at the blonde.

Billie cocked her eyes, hesitantly pulling away from you to sit on the end of the bed. “Why’s that?” She pulled a cigarette between her lips and lit it, watching glancing between her two partners.

"Ally is in town and by the looks of it, she’ll be in the exact same place we will.” She turned a phone around to display a text sent from her from one of her former accomplices, it read “look who i just ran into” with a photo of the woman attached.

“We need to take her out.” Cordelia piped up, moving to sit on the dresser across from the bed. “Tonight.”

Ally Mayfair-Richards was another criminal, just as the three girls were. She was the only woman or man who had ever dared to step up towards Billie’s authority. When it became two much, the three girls parted ways with Ally and decided to stick together without her.

Since then, they had all been rivals and avoided each other at all costs in fear one party would cause harm to the other or worse; they’d all get caught together.

Billie knew that all she needed was to get the cops and Ally in the same place and let the law do it's job to rid her of her rival. It wasn't like they wouldn't know her from her face, they'd been chasing her for almost seven years now, but it wasn't like they didn't know Billie’s face either.

“How are we supposed to take her out and go unnoticed? That’s fucking impossible without getting our own asses caught.” Billie huffed as Misty began to pace in thought.

It was silent for a moment until Cordelia’s face lit up, a look that had caused Billie trouble since the very beginning. It was never good when Cordelia gave that look. “Y/N!” She suddenly blurted out, face curling into a cunning smirk.

All three of you made a weird face at her, “What about her?” Billie questioned cautiously. “We can use her.” Cordelia answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, “shes smoking hot and everyone knows Ally is a sucker for an attractive woman.”

Billie’s eyes widened as she rose to her feet before narrowing at the woman across from her, “Don’t even fucking think about it.” She hissed, hand already balling at her side.

She moved in front of you, blocking you from Cordelia’s view, “Get that thought out of your thick skull because it’s not happening.”

Misty sighed, “Come on B, all she’s gotta do is a little bit of grinding and a lot of distracting and we can handle the rest.” Everything was quiet as Billie glanced between Cordelia and Misty, “No.” She mumbled harshly.

Misty huffed, “It’s our only option, B. Ally doesn’t know what Y/N looks like and by now, she’s grown so much she could easily hide from the cops. It’s perfect!”

“It’s Ally to prison or us, you choose Billie.” Cordelia added, causing Billie to huff and glance at you.

“I don’t mind.” You finally spoke, playing with Billie’s fingers gently. “I’ve always wanted to help.” You pouted, knowing Billie had a weak spot for your eyes.

After a moment of silence she sighed and stepped towards the two women across the room, “Anything happens to her and I’ll send you both to prison myself, whether I have to join you or not.” Cordelia and Misty both grinned as they murmured their enthusiasm and disappeared down the hall to their own room.

Billie turned to you as soon as the door clicked closed, pinning you against the mirror you had been getting ready in. You offered a sheepish smile to which she shook her head, “ That’s not going to work this time. Anything goes wrong and I swear you’ll never get to help us again, do you understand me?”

Her eyes watched you, fueled with fire. You gulped and nodded as she pressed her lips to yours firmly, gripping your hips with a new kind of power she had not had a few minutes ago.

By exactly eight-thirty, the four of you rolled up to the club. Lights and loud music from inside were already screaming at you and you could feel the music vibrating against the concrete. Billie was starting to get nervous, all thought she’d never openly admit it.

Cordelia turned from her place in the drivers seat and glanced at you in the back, “Alright chica, all you’ve got to do is dance. There’s a cop down the street and we’ll get him on Ally’s trail. We’ll all be keeping an eye on you. You’ve just got to keep her attention long enough. Just be sexy, that’s all you have to do.” Billie huffed in protest at the last part, her grip on your leg becoming tighter.

Once Misty and Cordelia had scurried out of the car, Billie turned to you and pressed her lips against your ear, “I’ll be watching you, little one.” She watched the shiver rack your spine before jumping out of the car and disappearing into the club.

You let out a heavy breath before getting out and making your way inside. Immediately, you were met with the sexual tension suffocating the room as bodies moved against one another.

You located Billie across the room, settled at the end of the bar and the other two women situated in a booth across the room.

You locked eyes with Billie and winked descretely before settling into an open seat and ordering the strongest drink you could find; you were going to need it.

No more than ten minutes past before you could feel someone standing behind you, a hand brushed against your hip as they sat down and you jumped slightly.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” The woman mumbled softly as she settled into the seat next to you with her arm rested on the bar. “Let me get you another drink.” She offered.

Her voice was quiet and thick as she leaned into you, a strand of her hair brushing against your shoulder.

Looking up, you locked eyes with her and caught a blush that began to spread across your face. You nodded softly, regaining composure as you stuttered something along the lines of “sure” and allowed her to lean into you as she laughed, “No need to be nervous, beautiful.”

“I saw you from across the room, no woman as beautiful as yourself should sit alone.” Mentally, you rolled your eyes at her cheesy confidence, watching closely as she licked her lips before ordering two drinks.

You were so caught up in staring at her that you couldn’t even catch what she was talking about. That was, until her fingers snapped in front of your face and you had to force yourself into reality, “Huh, what?”

She shook her head and laughed, “I asked you your name.” She repeated, leaning in so that you could hear her better. “Y/N. Yours?” You answered softly, taking a sip of your drink.

She licked her lips once again, “Ally.” Your eyes widened before you quickly corrected your face. She propped her elbow on the counter as you glanced at the clock nervously. Now that you knew it was her you were talking to, you were growing nervous.

“Would you like to dance?” You questioned, shaking of the nervousness that probed at your stomach. She simply smiled and pushed herself onto her feet, allowing you to stand. She followed you out onto the dance floor, waiting until you were situated before letting her hands find the dip in your waist and pulling you to her closely.

As you started to roll your hips into her, she leaned in until her mouth was lingering against your ear, “You really are a sight for sore eyes. You were having trouble concentrating as her lips began to trail down your neck.

“T-thanks.” You let your eyes flutter closed, almost finding yourself enjoying the feeling of her lips on your skin until the thought of Billie popped into your head and your eyes snapped open again.

Ally was surely leaving a hickey on your neck, and the eerie feeling of someone watching you was bubbling in your chest though you couldn’t figure out which direction it was coming from.

One again, you let the feeling of Ally pressed against you and the base rattling your tipsy brain take oven. “You’re enjoying this just as much as I am.” Ally mumbled from behind you, fingers digging into your skin.

You couldn’t deny it. You had Billie, you would never be able to deny the love you had for her. But in that moment you craved Ally.

And you couldn’t stop it. It was eating you up inside but you let the alcohol pumping in your veins control you and simply nodded and turned to face her.

You couldn’t help but notice she smelled like honey. As you took a deep breath, a fire ignited somewhere within you. It was very different from the strawberries and cream smell you were used to with Billie.

Your little bubble with Ally was burst as the door to the club swung open and a cope stepped in, his eyes glancing around the room as if he was already looking for someone.

You felt Ally tense beside you, before your eyes met and her face spread into a mischievous grin. “You’re coming with me.” And with that she was tugging you out the back door.

Billie felt a heaviness in her chest, one that made it heard to breathe and made her heart feel as if it was beating so hard in on her chest that it was rattling her bones.

Her eyes had turned a violent black color as her fingernails dig into her palms so persistently that she created crescent shapes in her skin.

She could have killed someone right in that moment.

She was only brought out of her state by someone clearing their throat from beside her and turned to meet her partners, who both look d so nervous they could faint.

“We lost her.” Misty squeaked out, they had all taken their eyes off the dancing girls for a split second and by the time their narrowed their attention, they were gone.

Billie’s eyes visibly darkened and Cordelia gulped nervously as Billie backed the two of them into a wall, “Find her. Or so help me God, you’re dead.”

Back outside, you and Ally slowed down next to a car you assumed to be hers. You could see the outline of two bodyguards through the tented windows.

Ally smirked, pressing you against the passenger door as her lips ghosted against yours; neither of you leaning in enough to fill the small gap.

“I-uh-“ you mumbled underneath the taller woman, who let her eyes open again and pushed back slightly. “Come with me.” She stated quickly, taking your hand into hers, “we can travel all around the world and stay in fancy hotels; honeymoon suits for just the two of us everywhere we go. I can spoil you and make you mine. I can care for you. I want to.” She was rambling.

She took your silence as a cue to continue on, “I know you just met me and there are so many things you don’t know about me. There are so many things you deserve to know about me. I want to learn about you and let you learn about me.” She talked so quickly that she was having trouble catching her breath.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth, “Ally, I can’t.”

You were thinking about Billie.You were thinking about all of the memories you shared. All the moments you shared. The moments filled with hatred, the moments fueled by love, the times you went wild in towns you’d never traveled to before and probably never would again, the words you’d exchanged, the intimate moment where the whole world melted and it was jus the two of you. There were the times you made love, when Billie really took her time worshiping you and your body. Then there were the more rough times, usually fueled by anger or Billie’s raging jealousy. Just an hour ago you couldn't have fathomed the thought of doing any of those things with anyone else. But here you were, possibly going to run away with a woman you’d not even known for a full half hour.

“I have someone and I love her, I really do. She’s given me everything I’ve ever wanted and I can’t possibly betray her. She’s my soulmate.”

"You can't. Not if it's not me. I want you...I crave you...I need you." Ally’s voice was weak and she looked like she was ready to cry. Her chest heaved as she spoke, her voice wavering. "Please."

Your eyes locked with her, lip quivering as you a pressure in your chest.

A voice broke the two of you from your staring contest, "What the hell is going on here?" You could see Ally’s jaw lock as she turned towards the woman. "What do you want, Howard?" Ally moved between you and Billie, squaring her shoulders.

"I want what you took from me." Billie furrowed her eyebrows, training her eyes on you. You started to panic; on one hand you wanted to leave with Ally. Because you were attracted to her the moment you started talking. You couldn’t explain it, like you had known her forever and you were only catching up. It was like those cliché movies with the high-school sweethearts that loose touch and then reconnect. But on the other hand, you had been with Billie for so long and you loved her with your whole heart. You loved Billie so much it scared you. Billie was the type of first love that never went away. So you just stood there, looking between the two in agony.

"I haven't taken shit from you." Ally huffed, her eyes shooting daggers at the three girls in front of her. Misty and Cordelia stood tall at Billie’s sides, their eyes fixated on Ally.

Ally’s eyes flickered to you then back at Ally and you could see Ally tense even more. As Ally turned around, you could see the tears starting to pool in her eyes. "She's your..." Ally let out a deep sigh as you nodded.

Ally was sure you could hear her heart breaking in her chest. "Darling, come here." Billie said gently, motioning you to come to her. You hesitated for a second before slowly making her way over to her. You could just barely feel Ally’s hand brush against her wrist.

Billie quickly pulled you into her arms with a tight squeeze, "Thank God, you’re okay.” She breathed into your hair. You nuzzled your face in Billie’s neck and let the tears fall.

You had chosen Billie, you had chosen your home. You knew that, even if you had left with Ally, Billie would always be on your mind. You were in love.

The sound of Ally’s car pulling away caused both of you to let out a breath. Billie pressed your lips together before the sound of rapid footsteps and policemen shouting broke your moment. Billie pulled away, her face breaking into a wicked grin. "Run."

Taglist: @mssallymckenna , @proudnlittle , @coxmicbabygirl , @sapphicpaulsxn , @its-soph-xx , @fand0m-obsess3d-g33k , @paulsonix , @madamevirgo , @saucy-sapphic , @kikaykimkim , @billiedeansbottom

[slutdery]

I know how to nibble.

make a wish series.

A series (for each member of the unit) abot their lines in make a wish (english version)

pairing | lucas x fem!reader

genre | smut

words | 2.9k

warning | exhibitionism, degradation, oral sex (f receiving), sex without protection (use condom pls!), mature content, care after sex, sex with stranger.

author’s note | my native language isn’t english, so if there’s something wrong with anything i wrote tell me and i’ll edit it.

It may sound odd for most people but it actually brought you happiness... And gets you horny, of course. Spending half of your wage on some boy you would probably never met? Your friends thought you were stupid, but for you it was something that just sounded so right to do, besides it gives you pleasure and helps the boy to keep going with his work. You followed his cam for months in a website with plenty other hot guys, but this one caught your attention from the first time and you couldn’t help but pay to see him. He had an athletic body and seems to be very tall, his dick was the most pretty one you’ve ever saw, it was big and not too thin, ‘painfully pretty.’  you would say. A notification popped up on your phone, you didn’t bother looking, cause you were doing a task on genshin. When you finished and finally got the character you wanted in one of the prays, actually all of your neighbors knew that you got Xiao since you screamed when the yellow light appeared on the screen. You were now at the kitchen grabbing some fruit on your fridge, it wasn’t a habit eating these kind of things but you managed to do it every once in a month to ‘Stay healthy.’. After some hours you remembered the notification that appeared on your phone and quickly ran to your room and grabbed your phone, revealing a message from the camboy you followed. ‘WHAT THE FUCK?’ You thought while unlocking it to see if the message was really from him, and surprisingly it was. And it surprised you even more what the text said. He was asking if you wanted to meet him, because he noticed that you were a loyal fan of his work, so he got interested in you and needed to thank you in real life. You answered as fast as you could, saying that you were sorry for making him wait and it would be your pleasure meeting him. He sent you his adress and asked if this ‘meeting’ could be now since it wasn’t too late yet, you spend minutes thinking of what you should do and finally decided to go ‘How can i say no to him?’ Later on you finally got up and started dressing yourself, after all you wouldn’t miss this chance.

🌟

It wasn’t far away from your house so you’ve decided to take a walk, besides it was good to the ‘Stay healthy’ part and you could think if this was really a good idea or not. Going into a stranger house wasn’t what you were planning to do that day, but what can you say? He’s hot and cute. The walking was lovely, many people running desperately through the streets while other were simply taking a walk like you. The chilly wind that winters bring was making you freeze to death, even with hoodie and a coat you still felt the coldness from the weather in your skin, but thank god you were almost at the wanted place. Not much time later you arrived at Lucas apartment, it was that ones that just really rich people can afford. ‘Well, of course, he might receive so much money from the cam thing since he has plenty of fans just like you. Duh.’ You grabbed your phone sending a text saying that you were already there, receiving in response a cute sticker of a kitty with thumbs up, a little seconds later he sent you a ‘901.’ and got offline again.

🌟

You waited a couple of minutes outside his door thinking for the third time if it was a good idea. After gaining some courage in your chest, you rang the doorbell.

“Coming, baby.” He yelled from a very distant room, you supposed since his voice was so far away. He didn’t make you wait for too long, opening the door and reveling a really tall guy. ‘How can someone be so pretty? Like, he’s literally the definition of the word Godly.’ As soon as he saw you he showed his seraphic smile, such a real one, made your day even better.

“Y/n, right? Come on in! Feel at home, don’t mind the mess.” He gave you space to enter as you did so, taking a whole look at the giant place. You recognized the living room from his lives, but you didn’t know the rest of the apartment was as fancy as the rooms he recorded. The pretty brown, grey and white colors all over the place, it screams ‘Rich.’ with all of their lungs. The balcony had the space of your house, completely breathtaking, you wanted to live there. ‘If maybe you didn’t spend half of your money on him, you would live in a place just like this. Dumb.’

“Hey, you zoned out. Are you okay?” He said with the hand on your shoulder ‘Since when his hand was there?’ you turned to face him, seeing all of his little features, he was indeed the most beautiful boy you’ve ever saw.

“I’m sorry, i was chocked by how pretty you’re.” He smiled at you but didn’t answered it, making you wonder if you should’ve kept that to yourself. You didn’t had much time to think, since he stopped all of your thoughts when he grabbed your wrist and guided you to his couch. He sat on it and pulled you to sit by his side. He was gentle with every move, making you comfortable around his presence.

“The reason why i called you here, it’s because i wanted to thank you for supporting me from the start. And i’m really sorry for not noticing you before. And my way to thank you it’s doing whatever you want.” He told you while caressing your palm with his thumbs, you couldn’t deny that all you’ve ever wished for is him fucking you, but wouldn’t that be too promiscuous? ‘You know what? Just say it, stupid.’ Your subconscious said to you manking you really think of the suggestion.

“Come on. Whatever you want baby.” He straightened his body on the couch to get a better view of your face, seeing all your expressions. You on the other hand still thinking about what you should say, finally having a ideia.

“Fuck me.” His closed mouth turned into a smirk, his eyes widened at the thought, it feels like you just gave him a free pass to what he wanted to do from the start. He grabbed your wrist tighter pulling you closer to him. Your gaze slipping from his eyes to his lips, they were so pretty, you were fascinated. The eye contact was amazing, that gave goosebumps all over your body just from his perfect eyes invading your soul.

“Can i ask you something first?” His hand moves to your hair caressing it. In response you nodded at him, signaling him to do the question. “Can we do it on live? Just if you feel comfortable, of course.” Your eyes widened at the thought, thousands of people looking at you two fucking. You closed your legs as you felt the hornyness hitting you, you couldn’t deny that this offer aroused you so much more than you expected it would.

“Uhm... Yes, sure. Why not?” You smiled as you saw the sparkles in his eyes, he looked excited just like you, smiling from ear to ear. He got up from the couch and grabbed your hand, helping you stood up as well, later on guiding you to one of the doors in hos apartment. When he opened the door you realized that it was his room, the one that you saw in almost every live he did or video he posted. It has neon blue lights and it was very decorated with blue and white shades, making the whole room very comfortable. He signaled for you to sit on his bed while he organized the recording stuff, you did as he said and took off your coat, putting it on the desk next to his bed.

“All done angel.” He took off his shirt while walking to reach the bed, the moment he got closer he place his hands on both of your shoulders, pushing you to lay on the bed. “How do you feel slut? Everyone will see how much of a whore you’re.” He whispered in your ear while moving his hand to the hem of your hoodie, your body shivers as you felt the sensation of his cold index finger touching your belly. He brought the hoodie up until it reached your neck, finally removing it when you raised your head to help him. Your hands moved to his neck, pulling him closer to your face, soon your lips met him in such a rough way. It seems like the two of you were desperate for each other, so needy to feel his tongues invading your mouth, while feeling his thumbs traveling through your body. His hands placed on your waist, fitting perfectly on the curve, the kiss was so hungry like he wanted to eat you alive. His hand moved to your bra bringing it down a bit just so he could see your breast. As soon as his fingers touched your nipples you let out a low moan stuffy by the kiss, still embarrassed for being shown to lots of people. You indeed liked the feeling of people seeing you but were a little shy since it was your first time doing this. He slowly pulled away from the kiss leaving pecks on your lips while doing so. His big pretty eyes looking at yours was heavenly, such a pretty face lightened by the neon light, you were swept away by his charm. He got down to the middle of your legs, he took off your skirt and ripped your pantyhose. Positioning himself there to be comfortable for both, his cold fingers passing through your belly until it reached your panties, he pulled it to the side revealing your already wet cunt. His mouth got closer to your pussy while his fingers passed slowly in your clit, making you flinch at the feeling of something finally touching you, in lazy circles he removed moans from you.

“So wet and i barely touched you, such a slut.” He kept moving his fingers but fastening from times to times, making you moan like crazy for him. You were tired of him just teasing your clit, you wanted to feel his tongue eating you out. Your hands quickly got to his head, pushing it so he could get a hint of what you wanted. When he finally understood what you were trying to do, he got his fingers down to your entrance, thrusting inside of your hole with two fingers. You groaned at the feeling of his fingers curling inside of you, hitting a very sensitive spot that made your moans even louder. His mouth finally made its way to your clit, kissing it first and then diving in with his tongue. Pleasure took control of your body as you felt his tongue on your sensitive skin, such a good feeling every time he licked it. Your moans grew wilder from the sensation of the pleasure he was giving to you, his fingers inside and his mouth eating you, you couldn’t ask for something better. He did it so well that made you forgot your ex partners, they were nothing on him. It was like he knew you for years, cause he discovered exactly how you liked and kept doing it until you got close to your orgasm.

“Uhm, keep doing like this... Yes, i’m gonna cum.” You told him while moving your hand to his hair, caressing his strands while moaning his name. You suddenly felt a wave of pleasure hit you and you relaxed your whole body and closed your eyes to let your orgasm out but Lucas stopped before you could, making you sigh and got your head up just to see him smirking at you. You were totally pissed as you felt the feeling slowly disappearing.

“Beg me if you really wanna cum baby.” He stood up from the bed and started stripping, first getting rid of his hoodie and then he tossed his pants off, letting you realize how hard he was. A smirk formed in your lips as you thought that you did this to him. He finally removed his underwear and you couldn’t stop looking at his hardened dick, you knew it was big, but looking at it in real life you were sure that it seems bigger.

“On all fours, whore.” He didn’t needed to tell you twice as you quickly got on the position he told you, not much time later feeling a slight of pain from his slap on your ass. You couldn’t see his face but you could tell he was liking the position as much as you did, this way he has free pass to slap your ass. He slapped again, this time harder enough to make you groan at the painful act.

“Just fuck me, please.” You were so needy for his dick, you wanted to feel him inside so bad and you couldn’t deny you needed to have a orgasm. “Without a condom?” he whispered in your ear and you nodded in response, you were on a birth control so you didn’t mind. He took a couple of minutes to find a comfortable position between your legs, but as soon as he found, he teased your entrance moving his hips a bit. A really cracked moan left your mouth, you wanted so much more than just the tip teasing you and you couldn’t stand not having him inside anymore.

“Please, Lucas.” You cried out trying to gain what you really wanted, you were acting like a slut for him and that’s what he wanted.

“Needy bitch.” His big hands rested on your ass you were ready for another slap, but it didn’t happened. You suddenly felt the head of his dick entering your pussy, making groans leave you at the pleasant sensation, he continued putting the rest of it inside, such a big cock entirely into you. He started at a slow pace, knowing that taking all of his length inside takes time to feel comfortable, but even gradually the moans were already forming in your throat. As the moans started to be louder he gained courage to fasten his movements, making you even more loud. His dick filled you perfectly, your walls clenched around it so well and sometimes when he moved you cold feel the head of it hitting you G-spot.

“You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned while fastening it,  he used his free hand to reach your hair putting all of the strands in a ponytail, grabbing it while he fucked you harder. The one hand that rested on your ass finally moved, but you didn’t expected it would hit you again. The pleasure mixed with the pain made you moan even more.

“Everyone will hear you slut, keep it down.” You bit your lip trying to lower your moans. Many notifications coming from his phone, more people paid to see him fucking you, it aroused you even more remembering that people were watching you. He moved a bit and finally found the perfect position, the head of his cock hitting your sensitive spot, you were a vocal mess again. Your mind went blank as it kept hitting, you rolled your eyes from the wave of pleasure that passed through your whole body. Your orgasm was close again, you prepared your body and closed your eyes as the feeling grew more. It was too much to keep it inside of you, all you could see were starts on your head.

“Can i cum? Please, let me cum.” He laughed at you desperately begging for his permission, his moves fastened, searching for hir orgasm too. “Cum for me whore.” You didn’t wait anymore, you let out a loud moan as the pleasance took control of you. Your eyes shut while feeling the ecstasy of the good sensation. Calling his name while you came made him closer to his orgasm as well, as your walls clenched he couldn’t hold back and filled the insides of you with his hot load. He wasn’t much of a vocal so you only heard low groans as he came, still such a beautiful sound coming from his sexy voice. You looked through your shoulder to see his face, and he looked so hot with his eyes closed and deep breathing. ‘Angelical.’ you thought while smiling. After composing himself he took his length out, a sight left from your lips as you felt it. You laid on the bed, now facing him, he got closer to the camera and waved a bye to the people that were watching the two of you, turning it off some time after. He looked back at you and smiled, walking in your direction and throwing all of his heavy body in you. A loud groan left as the heaviness hit your body, but you didn’t complain. His callousness hand grabbed yours and caressed your palm again, the same way he did earlier.

“You’re so pretty. You did such a good job, that was really your first time being recorded?” You chuckled at his praise and nodded making him smile. He rolled his body to the side to finally let you breath properly again, still caressing your hands. You moved your head to the side so you could face him, his eyes already closed and his pretty mouth half opened. “You look like an angel.” You close your eyes as well, since you were already exhausted it didn’t take much time for you to sleep too.

[sweetsubharry]

hey ! sorry to bother you but could you reccomend me some fics of footballer louis?? thank you !! love your acc

Hiya!!  💖you can never bother me!! ^-^ ohmgosh I’m so glad you like my blog! I love footballer louis djskasdhjag tysm(sorry it took soooo long!)

please make sure you read the tags and stay safe everyone!💖

Also these are not in any particular order, however I will say the first two are probably my favourites ;) I have to read them again right after this!

freeze this moment in a frame and stay like this by rosesau

Harry (not so) secretly crushes on the cute footie player and fills pages with sketches of him.

Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by 1Diamondinthesun

Harry spends most of his time in an empty house or a lonely darkroom, dreaming of leaving his small town for art school. He's invisible to most people. And then Louis Tomlinson sees him. Life will never be the same.

Or, the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

Definition of Beauty by zanni_scaramouche

“Your book is upside down.” Harry nods at Louis’ book, his history text now that he sees it too.

“I’d rather study you.”

They both blink, startled by the slip.

“With you. Study with you,” Louis rushes to say. “Liam says I’m shite at history, can you help?”

Louis’ caught off guard by an omega he nearly takes out with an errant footie ball. It’s not that Louis’ never seen Harry before, it’s that he can’t stop looking, and he’s desperate to figure him out.

Coffee Cups and Football Boots by kimtaedumb

Harry’s stood behind the counter again, but this time he’s painting his nails. Louis strolls up to the counter and, thanks to his no brain-to-mouth filter, blurts out, “Isn’t that a little girlish, Haz?” leaning closer to inspect.

Harry lets out a little huff as his hand slips, “Oh, damn, now I’ve messed it up,” he pouts and turns to Louis, “Why should making myself feel pretty be girly?”

Louis holds up his hands in surrender, “’M not judging, jus’ curious is all.”

(The entirely cheesy and cliché Christmas AU, in which Harry doesn’t give a damn what people think about him – mostly – and Louis may be a little bit in love.

Alternatively, the one in which Harry owns a café that’s barely scraping by and Louis is a footballer and he takes Harry away for Christmas.

Featuring Zayn as a cocky little shit that most definitely needs to be put back in his place, Niall as the loveable Irish dude who drinks too much and flirts with Zayn more than the average girl, and Liam who loves everyone but hates them all at the same time.)

Way in the World by flowsque

When Louis Tomlinson enters the waiting room, Harry can distinctly feel his heart sinking to his stomach. The man's hair is ruffled and dishevelled and his red jersey, damp with sweat from training, clings to his perfect and chiseled body. He stands there, almost unreal, against the glass door, peering inside the office. Harry knew this would’ve happened, sooner or later. That he would have bumped into him. They play for the same club after all, even if they’re in different leagues. It’s not weird. It is not. Except it totally is. - Or, the one where Harry has a knee injury and an embarrassing crush on Manchester United's pretty number ten.

I Long For You by AnotherAnonymousWriter

Thirty minutes later, he's sat on a bench in Hyde Park with a book in his lap and a travel mug with hot tea in his hand. Not far from where he's sat, a group of boys are playing football and a bunch of children are chasing each other. Life is good.

Or at least, life is good until he hears a familiar “LOOK OUT!” and sees a football flying in the direction of his face.

And then everything is black.

(Harry gets hit in the head by various objects and falls for a boy with blue eyes.)

ease the quiet and talk me down by cabinbythesea

Harry's a model and Louis' a footie player.

(Louis teaches Harry some football and Harry is insanely good at giving a lapdance).

Baby, It's You by Bearandleonardwrite

"Oh, yeah. Um..” Harry lets his hands fall to his sides. His brows furrow, face full of concern, and he asks, “You’re not, like, stalking me, are you?”

Louis can’t help the loud cackle that escapes his lips and immediately slaps one of his hands over his mouth to muffle the sound. “Oh my god, Harry, no!” Louis tells him, a little breathlessly, giggles still bubbling out of his chest. “Lottie’s one of the makeup artists here today and she somehow got me to agree to come. I had no idea you modeled for, uh.. this brand until I saw you walk.”

“Oh,” Harry says dumbly, eyebrows still pinched. He lets what Louis just said sink in before a bright grin takes over his face and he goes back to doing up the buttons on his shirt. “Well, that’s alright, then. I’m glad you could make it.

(Basically, Louis' a footie player for Man U and Harry's a YSL model. They meet at a masquerade.)

Touch by kotabear24

Harry's shy and virginal with a past, new on the football team; Louis' the (experienced) popular star of the team and Harry's new mentor.

Come In and Change My Life by lightswoodmagic (sarah_writes)

He’d had the same neighbours since he’d moved into the building, a lovely, wealthy couple in their late sixties who had always invited him around for tea on Sundays. Martha had dropped off homemade biscuits the day he’d moved in, so Harry figured he may as well repeat the sentiment. He could hear someone getting closer to the door just as a flush ran through his body; oh fuck. His heat was close, too close to be knocking on a potentially unknown alpha’s door, but it was too late. The door swung open, and Harry’s mouth dropped. He’d never been overly interested in football, couldn’t find the fascination in watching men run around after a ball for hours aside from their uniforms, but he knew who this was. Louis Tomlinson, alpha, captain of Manchester United, star in a number of Harry’s heat addled fantasies, was his new next-door neighbour.

Or, Harry and Louis become friends when Harry looks after Louis' cat during away games, until one night at a party changes everything between them. It's just a shame Louis' going to be away for the FIFA World Cup for three months.

see the truth (it's me for you) by orphan_account

If you asked Louis the first day of his French Literature class what he’d be doing on the last, he’d probably never have guessed it would involve helping a poorly Harry Styles study for the final exam. Good thing he’s not a betting man.

(Or the one where Louis and Harry spend an entire semester ignoring each other after a one-night stand, only to come face to face when Harry manages to catch the stomach flu during finals week. Sometimes fate is funny like that.)

Use Your Words by zedi

based off this prompt: collage au where jock!harry always serenades flowercrown!louis with love songs in their music class. what nobody knows is that harry actually kinda means the words he sings.

But instead it's Louis as the jock and Harry as the flowerchild because I do what I want.

Stop The World (I Wanna Get Off With You) by ilikepianos

"You like this, don't you?", he asks breathlessly.

What? Sucking cock? Being dominated? Yes, all of that. A big fat yes.

Harry nods, lips still wrapped around Louis' throbbing dick.

Louis' lips curl into a smirk. "Keep going then. You're doing amazing, love."

OR: The uni-football AU where Harry may or may not have a minor crush on the captain of the team and suddenly discovers that the feeling is very much mutual.

Picture Perfect by LittleBubbleStyles

an AU where Louis Tomlinson is a misunderstood football player, and Harry Styles is a misunderstood photographer. Somehow, they're understood together.

I just think about my baby; I'm so full of love I could barely eat by mercutionotromeo

Harry and Louis are six hundred miles apart, but they have the same solutions to the same problem.

Or: a masturbation drabble featuring pillow humping, locker rooms, and copious amounts of dirty talk.

into another (another) serotonin overflow by mercutionotromeo

Harry wants this year to be different - wants it to be the year that he finally gets over this stupid crush. He’s going to uni, he needs to decide what he wants to do with his life.

Instead, he’s deciding what he wants to do to Louis Tomlinson.

Or: Sweet first time sex wherein Harry's adorably awkward, Louis is achingly cool, and Harry rides Louis wearing his jersey.

note: it says it in the tag but this is the edited version written in 2019, rather than the 2017 original- so there’s two put I put the link for the newest one :)

need a little sweetness in my life by mercutionotromeo

Harry's always liked feeling desperate and small when Louis touches him, but when he sucks Harry off...it’s fucking otherworldly. Desperate’s not really the word at that point - it’s helpless. Like… like the fucking world could stop spinning and Harry wouldn’t be able to do anything about it until Louis finished him off with his lips and his tongue.

Or, Harry and Louis go to university together. Harry really likes it when Louis sucks him off, and Louis really likes it when Harry calls him Daddy.

(Sequel to "into another serotonin overflow")

I made a map of your stars by brightbluelou

Harry does not have a crush on Louis Tomlinson. Yes, Louis is very pretty and funny, and Harry may have had more than a few inappropriate thoughts about him, but he certainly doesn’t like him. (Except for the fact that he totally does.) or, Harry is the shy boy in the back of the class that no one really notices. Louis is the loud, outgoing football player that everybody likes.

We Made These Memories for Ourselves by supernope

Breath held, Harry squints his eyes open and focuses on the first stick. A blue line. Harry breathes out an unsteady breath. He’s pretty sure he read that one blue line is a negative, but he fishes the box from the bottom of the pile just to make sure.

“Negative,” he confirms, voice echoing around the small room. “Next.”

Now that he’s feeling a little less shaky, he scans the rest of the tests at once, is met with a headache-inducing mixture of pink plus signs and blue double lines. His heart rate picks up until it’s pounding triple-time in the base of his throat and the pit of his stomach, thundering in his ears and throbbing in his temples. He flips over the rest of the boxes slowly, but he knows what they’re going to say before he even looks.

[or, Louis is a footballer, Harry owns a bakery, and they're having a baby.]

Kiss Me on the Mouth and Set Me Free by ls2k14   

Louis has his head thrown back in a laugh, his wet fringe hanging in front of his eyes, and a beautiful flush to his cheeks. From this angle, the sun hits his face just right to where the beams of light are shining in between the spaces of each individual clump of watered down eyelashes. His chest is showing through the soaked material of his white jersey and it seems that his biceps are attempting to break free from the sleeves that are clinging to his skin.

And Harry can do nothing except take it all in. He doesn’t even think he’s breathing at this point. He is literally stuck in place, admiring the true beauty of Louis Tomlinson, while being surrounded by fit footballers and generally attractive people. He doesn’t think he’s ever been in love before, but if Louis let him, he’s pretty damn sure he could change that in the matter of a few nanoseconds.

[heresathreebee]

Garrote part 10

[Starz Power Diego Jimenez x Jazmine Mann (Black!OC)]

Word count: 3.1k words

Warning(s): Mature | Gun phobia, stalking. Diego and Healy get POVs in this one while Jazmine gets some R&R with the help from her mother. This is a plot only chapter, sorry. Previous Masterlist Next

Author’s Note: No beta reader and I’m far too exhausted to edit properly. After this story, I’m gonna adjust exactly how I format my fics. My million other fic ideas plus my debate over participating in NANOWRIMO this year have been keeping me from working on this too much, I figured it was time to put this up since the last chapter was posted in September... 

The rest of the day went by with a subtle ease. The temperature was just perfect for a coat and Diego seemed to have nowhere to be. Bordering on the miraculous, it was the man himself who asked her if she wanted to go out and have fun. Feeling caught off guard, Jazmine elected to throw caution to the wind and suggest something other than a fancy nightclub to hang out in. And when Diego heard the name, his jaw dropped. 

Two-Bit’s Retro Arcade. 

He did not ask why (though he did scoff, but more so in amusement than derision). Julio was elated to hear the address (apparently he’d been before), and Miguel looked crestfallen to have to stay at the penthouse. The journey from ritzy apartment to 25 cent arcade felt like being washed in time, stepping backwards into her past with a piece that didn't belong in that memory. 

The place was decently busy, there seemed to be no parties bigger than five. A collection of young kids took up the classics section, rotating between Dig Dug, Pac Man, and Tapper Light. The young man who played pinball every day was there. She didn't know his name but she knew his three letter handle because he had the highest score on every pinball machine in the arcade. The rest were small and easygoing groups, buying beers and gathering around prize winning claw games or Dance Dance Revolution. 

"Do they have air hockey?," Diego asked over her shoulder. He was dressed down per her request, in a simple hoodie and jeans. She kept glancing at him, feeling drawn to the simplicity of liking a simple man. 

"Over here." She had no intention of hiding how familiar she was with this place. Diego gave Julio a nod and the man dissolved into the background but was never out of sight. Suddenly, Jazmine became very aware that there were now at least two guns in this public space. Air hockey was... occupied. "Looks like a college tournament. Come on, we're not going to be able to play for like a week." 

She grabbed his arm to guide him away, but the man didn't budge. He stared those college boys down, looking for a fight. If he started something… 

"Diego. Diego! Please… it's just a game, I know a better one we won't have to share." 

At last he acquiesced and followed behind, never more than a foot away. She didn't realize she was holding her breath and wondered if those guys noticed his staring… they probably thought it was normal though. 

Jazmine brought Diego to the darkest corner of the arcade where nobody was or needed to pass by. If she stopped dead in her tracks, Diego would have tripped over her immediately for how close he was, but now that he had her exclusive attention, she didn't mind. She gestured to her favorite game and smiled. 

"Welcome to Marvel Vs Capcom: Clash of Superheroes," she announced. "Nobody plays this version because there's a huge glitch that sometimes makes one character untouchable." 

"OK." Diego wore a sly grin. No doubt he intended to find the cheat character and win all matches, but Jazmine knew all of this game's little secrets. 

Unsurprisingly, Diego's first pick was Wolverine. Jazmine refrained from rolling her eyes and let him work through the board of player characters, picking her own at random and sometimes picking the one she knew would fair better against his character to make it an even game. She watched his brow grow tighter and tighter as he couldn't find the broken character. He even switched up strategies– picking the characters that looked the least strong and working up from there (the opposite of his earlier choices). At last, he picked Chun-Li, having not noticed Jazmine picked it three times already, and he glanced at her face once more to see if she reacted, but the woman gave nothing away. Not until he looked towards the screen did she crack a smile. 

The way the smugness drained off of Diego's face made her smile broaden. He looked at the controls as if they were to blame, then to Jazmine and back to the screen where Chun Li had walked off of the edge of the screen. Annoyed, he leaned over the controls menacingly and waited for an explanation from the Cheshire cat grin on his partner's face. 

It took her awhile to answer him– she was trying really hard to fight the bubbling laughter in her belly. "Yeah, that um… that's what I was talking about. If you play the same character four times, the game breaks. You can't be hit but you also can't hit and you need to hold down the joystick to keep from walking off the edge of the screen… if you let them get away, well… you have to unplug the whole system." 

Diego looked pissed. He stared her down for so long she gulped but eventually, he freed her from his penetrative gaze. His hand slipped under her jacket and found a home at the base of her spine, and suddenly she was being whisked away towards the bathrooms. 

"Where are we–" 

Diego wasted not a breath and pushed her into the women's bathroom (unsurprisingly closet sized), before crowding her space to step inside and lock the door behind. Her heart began to pound against her chest as he turned and fixed her with a commanding glare. He moved as sly as a big cat, forcing her to find purchase against the tiny wood counter with the sink and leaning over her with his lips pressed to her nose. 

He said something softly in Spanish that she didn't understand, but it sounded sultry and it sent a pleasant shiver down her back. She thought he was going to kiss her, but then there was something hard and heavy he pressed into her hand. 

A gun. 

Her eyes bulged– glancing quickly between him and the shiny dark metal of the killing contraption– and shook her head minutely. 

"Take it," he said. She just kept shaking her head, hiding her hands beneath her arms and feeling dizzy, on the verge of passing out. He growled. "I wasn't asking." 

If he wasn't pressed against her, she would be rocking for comfort. Jazmine did not like guns. Her eyes misted over as she whispered, "why?" 

"They've been following us since we left." He slid the wretched mechanism up along her arm and let it rest just below her collarbone. "Haagen's men probably. They're getting bolder– probably by their master's orders." He tilted his head as if he was speaking of something completely mundane as he said, "did you really think those air hockey guys were college students? It's a Thursday." 

Jazmine didn't mean to whimper, but she managed to keep her tears at bay long enough to touch a finger to the gun, not quite taking it, but letting him know she would. She let him show her the safety and slipped it into the back of her pants, careful not to hurt her and demonstrating an awareness of her southpaw. He was almost hugging her when he finally stepped back (as far as the little toilet would allow). When his heel clinked against the porcelain, he turned to make sure he hadn't stepped in a mess, and Jazmine bolted. 

~

"Hello?" 

There was no one else's voice she wanted to hear more than that of Lashawn Mann. Jazmine felt guilt well up alongside the anxiety that had been threatening to consume her for weeks. 

"Mama?" Her voice sounded so small in her own ears. "Can I come over and see you?" 

"Of course, baby. You can come see me right now: I'm at your place." 

Jazmine caught a cab from Essex street home, and though Diego possessed an acute lack of awareness for personal space or feelings, he did leave her alone for a while. No SUVs with fake licenses trailed her home, no voicemails and no texts came through. She put it in airplane mode to make sure things stayed that way. She had a thought to drop Healy's hearing aid down a drain but put it in her pocket instead. 

Lashawn was waiting with Hercules. The tiny bit of annoyance Jazmine usually felt about getting slobbered on washed away the instant she saw her furry grey friend. The woman plopped her butt onto the ground and let the dog run amok in excitement to see her again. 

"Mom…" Hercules settled down in her lap and weighed her to the earth like an anchor for a ship at sea. "If something happens to me, will you take care of her?" 

"What do you mean 'if something happens to you'? Child, I ain't heard from you in two months and you come back with that?" Lashawn sat down on the floor despite her bad knees and leaned on her daughter's shoulder. "Baby, what's going on with you?" 

~

Estupido. She shouldn't have run away like that. 

Diego was overthinking in the backseat while Julio sat in perfect silence. The driver would have preferred the radio on, but his boss demanded the proper atmosphere to brood in. Taking what little he knew of the woman, Jazmine was probably going to retreat to her apartment since he lived in the only other place she was safe. Whatever– she would return in her own time. Unless her own time hindered their operation. 

We can't lose this opportunity. We are so close to Porsche and revenge. Hurry up, cariño. Make our next move. 

Diego was stuck deep inside his head even as he stood with his sister hours later in yet another huge warehouse with examples to be made of. Alicia wiped the blade of her knife onto her bodyguard's sleeve, then turned the blade over to her brother. 

"Finish the last one, will you?" 

Diego hummed, distracted by the conversation at the edge of the half circle. He did not like what he heard. He dug the blade straight into the crying man's heart, then cut his throat just for good measure. The blood on his hands was drying before he was able to speak again. He and Alicia were sat in her limo across from each other. She tactfully ignored his piercing gaze, while he worried the stickiness between his fingers mindlessly. 

"What's this I hear about you staying in New York?" 

Alicia glanced coolly up from inspecting her nails. "What do you mean? Someone needs to run the business." 

"That's what that idiot and your little fuck toy Dre are for. They deal with shit here while we get Porsche back, and then we go home. Together." 

"No," she shrugged. "Dre can't be trusted, Diego. I'm staying, you're going back to Mexico. We can split parent: the girl comes to live with me for a while and then with you. Every month or so…?" 

Diego's hands ball into fists and his teeth hurt from the pressure of keeping his jaw closed. Fucking puta, he thought as the car slowed to a stop. Exiting the car, the man pulled himself up to his full height and reveled in the brief moment of fear that registered on her face. 

"I'm not your errand boy, hermana. I don't do things because you think it's convenient. And I won't be sent away like an annoying pest so you can trounce about in luxury while I'm stuck doing peasant work. Am I the only one worried about that little fucking girl?" 

Through the marble stonework of her mask, he saw the cracks in her armor. "We can talk about this later, Diego." 

"Do you even want her back?," he sneered. 

"Stop it!" 

Alicia pushed him out of her way and disappeared quickly, her entourage scurrying to follow her. Diego looked to his men to find them with their eyes cast down as if they were witness to something they should never see. He stormed away with his head full of rage and more questions than answers. 

~

Meanwhile in a stuffy police office space, Healy was getting chewed out. His superiors figured him out, and now he was sat in interrogation with a furious pair of agents awaiting an explanation and disciplinary action. 

"You took it too far, Healy," his boss said. "I mean, you have really outdone yourself this time." 

"Yes sir." 

"Fucking A, right!" Agent Brasa slammed her hand on the table. No doubt she was chewing a huge wad of nicotine gum and gunning for his immediate firing. "This was our case, Healy, ours. Mine and Holbrooke, not yours!" 

Holbrooke remained ever brooding, silently leaning against the wall and watching the scene unfold. Though they made remained neutrally poised, he could tell by the pinch in their brow they were just as angry as Brasa. Healy had given up trying to talk to Brasa, and instead appealed to Holbrooke this time. 

"You two have every right to be angry with me–" 

"Oh do I??" Brasa cut in, "I didn't realize I needed your permission to be pissed off!" 

"-- but I did it because I had an 'in.' I saw an opportunity that only I could have seized, and–" 

"Are you really going to let him get away with this, Stahlworth?" Brasa looked accusingly at their boss, who merely scratched at his neck and closed his eyes as if keeping them open pained him greatly. 

"Brasa. Holbrooke. Out. I'll handle this the way I see fit– and don't argue with me, Marie, or I'll put you on suspension." 

The two stormed out into the hall, and finally Healy was able to breathe. As soon as he had been confronted by Stahlworth, he had come clean– setting up a covert op without agency permission and using a civilian to distract the perp while he slipped a mole into the organization and collected information. Brasa and Holbrooke had done amazing work– they discovered Haagen was the head, profiled the victims, and knew many of the locations of the exchanges– but they couldn't get any further to seizure warrants or when the exchanges were taking place. 

Healy looked pleadingly at Stahlworth. "They didn't have the resources to cover all those locations with proper 24 hour surveillance, Jack. Haagen is always one step ahead of them– of us– anyways because someone in this very organization is on his payroll. I don't need the glory, I don't want the case to myself– I just want this fucker behind bars. If you have to suspend me, I understand, if you have to fire me, I get it– but please don't throw out my evidence. People's lives are on the line, and Brasa and Holbrooke need this info–" 

"Who's your informant?" Healy snapped his mouth shut as the dreaded words left Stahlworth to hang menacingly in the air. "Healy? Who. Is your. Informant? Who are you working with? Give me a clearer picture of what you've been up to, and maybe I'll ask the DA to go easy on your ass." 

Healy gritted his teeth and dug his heels in. "I can't tell you any of that. A mole for a mole, I can't afford to trust that the eyes and ears in this very room are sound. Now if you want to pass this case back over to the agents it belongs to, I just have a few conditions concerning the safety of–" 

"Is this about Meghan?," Stahlworth asked. 

Healy's voice died in his throat. A lump formed and he had to swallow it down before it consumed him completely. Standing from his chair, Healy buttoned his coat and came face to face with his boss. 

"This is about the kids I can still save. Sir."

~

After LaShawn helped Jazmine pack her belongings, the daughter decided to take Hercules to the park for some fresh air. Her mother had made it clear she wanted Jazmine to move back in with her since she'd lost her job, but what she didn't know was that before Healy and Haagen, Jazmine was two months behind on rent, and she should have lost the lease to her apartment weeks ago. As it stood now, the landlord hadn’t bothered her once– so someone was paying her bills. Exactly who would remain a mystery as Diego, Healy, and Haagen possessed the means and the interest in keeping her in New York City, so she tried not to think too hard about it. 

Jazmine picked a spot in the grass and let Herc off the leash. She threw a beat up tennis ball with a little cheap plastic arm and watched her happy grey pupper zip around picnickers and other dog walkers, always stopping to be petted by every little girl and boy who squealed happily to see her. The woman was jumpy and constantly on edge, but for some reason she barely flinched when Diego sat down next to her. 

"I'll be honest, I'm glad you're here," she said without looking his way. 

He took the plastic arm and threw the next ball watching Hercules trot over hill and dale for this throw. "Did Healy tell you about Porsche?" 

Jazmine turned to see the dark bags under Diego's eyes. "He said something about a missing baby… is that what you mean?" 

The man leaned into her shoulder. "Yes." 

"I'm sorry, Diego." 

"I want my baby back, Jazmine. I want to watch her grow up happy and healthy and loved." He turns to look at her with an expression of maturity she didn't think he was capable of. "That's why I need you. We need you. You're probably scared, but you can't be more scared than that little girl is right now." 

It felt like a punch to the gut. Part of her was annoyed by his dismissal of her fear, but for the most part she understood. It wasn't hard to figure out what happened to older girls and boys in Haagen's ring, but what the fuck was he doing with babies? The thought twisted her stomach until her head ached from nausea. 

Diego continued, scratching at his eye to cover the build up of tears that threatened to spill out. "Healy said he found evidence of sales for kids under 13 that looked more like adoption papers than anything. Requirements for private education and a separate bedroom, things like that. He said he has a stack with no names but six of them are around her age with the name of the adoptive parents on it. It's a start." 

"It's a very good start." Jazmine placed her hand on Diego's back and let him curl into her side with a sigh. "It means she's still alive, that's fantastic... do you think Haagen noticed the papers were missing? He probably has so many…" 

Diego shrugged noncommittally and dragged her down to lay in the grass with Hercules. As he did, she felt the gun in her pants dig into her back, tightening that fist clenched around her heart. She was safe for now, in this moment. But would she ever be again?

@mental-bycatch @nicke0115 @1zashreena1 @girlpornparadise @kid-from-new-zealand​

[concerningwolves]

Firstly, I'd like to say your stories sound amazing and I wish you all the best with them! Secondly, you might've answered this (or it might be difficult to answer) but how do you go about just starting a second draft? I've got a few first drafts scattered around and I'd like to edit them but... there's just so much and I have no idea where to start and then I just end up not doing it because it just seems like an insurmountable task. Help, please?

this went into my drafts with the idea that i would work on it next weekend, but,,, it has since been several months’ worth of weekends, and i’m only just getting to it 😅

Starting Second Drafts  

For me, the second draft is less about editing what I’ve written, and more about refining what happens. You’ll probably find your own way of working as you redraft more of your stories, but here’s six key points that have really helped me: 

1) PRINT IT OUT & CHANGE IT UP

(I’m assuming here you’ve typed your first draft; if you wrote it longhand, ignorethese next two paragraphs)

Most of writing is just playing mind games with yourself, and there’s nobetter way to do this than change the font and/or text colour from one draft to the next. It gives your writing a new look and tricks your brain into paying attention again, which helps when you’re reading through the first draft and deciding what’s going to happen to it.

Printing it out is a large part of this – having your story in a different format lets you look at it from a different angle, both literally and figuratively. It alsomeans you can make notes and cross out chunks directly on paper, which is avery satisfying process (and as writers, we need to take our satisfaction wherewe can!).

2) SCRIBBLE ALL OVER IT

I think that the reason the second draft seems so daunting it because there’s this pressure to Make It All Perfect, and attacking your first draft with coloured pens and post-it notes alleviates that somewhat. It doesn’t have to be neat; it just hasto make sense to you.

Don’t try to filter your ideas, either – if you think of something that could change, or that you want to add, write it down, even if it conflicts with what you’vealready got. Keeping all your options open will help when you get to later draftsand revisions, and want to look back see how else scenes or plots could playout.

3) FOCUS ON THE BIGGER PICTURE

Following on from the last point, it’s also important to remember that the second draft isn’t about making your prose nice and clean, or about finalising those littledetails like what houseplants your characters keep or what the café they eat atis called. The second draft is still very much Bigger Picture territory, i.e.,getting plot events in the right order or weaving through character growth and subplots.

Here’s a picture of what When Dealing with Wolves’ first draft looked like when Iwas working on it:

[ID: a printed-out manuscript, headed with the titles “Second Draft” and “Chapter One”. I’ve messily written all over the text in red pen, circling large chunks and indicating changes with arrows. /End ID]

And here’s one of draft two/three, for comparison in the editing style:

[ID: a second printed out page, this time with more detailed notes correcting grammar and rewriting sentences. Lots of words and lines are crossed out in thick black pen. /End ID]

In the former, the focus is on moving around scenes or details so that they made more sense; in the latter, I was paying more attention to sentence form and prose, as well as restructuring.

4) REFINE YOUR NOTES

Once you’ve got this lovely scrawled-on mess, you’ll probably want to make some decisions re: what’s going to happen in draft two. Take your scribbled notes from the first draft and decide what you think will work best, thinking about:

Plot events

Character growth

Worldbuilding changes

Subplots

(How detailed these notes are depends on your writing planning style. Whether you do a few bullet points as a vague outline or plan each plot point meticulously is entirely up to you).

5) START FROM SCRATCH

Okay, not quite from scratch. You’ve got all those notes, and you still have your first draft to refer to as well. What “start from scratch” means in this context is “don’t just work directly onto the first draft document”.

What you want with your second draft is freedom to let the story grow, and you can’t get that if you edit straight into the confines of your first draft. Re-typingscenes instead of copy and pasting also makes you think about them,getting your brain to approach any problems in new ways.

And, last but not least—

6) GIVE YOURSELF SPACE TO EXPLORE

I’ve seen this said about first drafts countless times, but it goes for second drafts, too! If you want to write several different versions of scene, do it. Want tochange a character’s name for the sixth time? Go for it. I don’t consider theplot, or even the details, of a WIP fixed until I’m into the final revisions ofthe last draft.

The only thing to remember is always, always keep track of your changes, be that via an Excel spreadsheet, notes in a separate word document, or novel journal entries. That way, if you decide later that an old idea actually works better, you can go back and retrieve it with minimal fuss.

I hope this helps, and sorry for the late reply! 

[Ko-Fi | FAQ | Patreon]

[hybridequalist]

Thinking Out Loud (Part 3)

So I forgot to cross-post this here. Whoops. Sorry for the long break. Part 4 will be out tomorrow.

Taglist: @nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger

---

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Hey there, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

That broke her teasing mood. Lauren finally relinquished the cup and ran to get the hot breakfast off the stove. You felt a slight twinge of guilt as she began to fill your plate more than usual, taking a noticeably smaller portion for herself.

To anyone else, Lauren’s behavior may have just seemed motherly but you knew better. Your psychic eavesdropping had caught more than one memory of Lauren as a disadvantaged teen, hungry and turned away from entry-level work because of her deafness. You knew all about her determination that no one renting from her would lose as much opportunity as she did worrying about when they were going to eat next. No one else could know that, however: your landlady was a well-dressed, modern woman who got her hair dyed some new radical color every other month. Without your power, you wouldn’t know the reason why she invited you to breakfast, that she planned to ensure you had at least one decent meal every single day.

But you feigned your usual innocence as you dug into the delicious food, trying to ignore Lauren’s racing mind as she conjured reasons for why you hadn’t eaten last night and did her best to combat them, holding off judgement until you were able to tell her the full story.

When you finished eating, you gave her the abridged version: that you had met Eddie at work and run into him again at the grocery store yesterday. Glossing over the details of the store being attacked, you chose to omit Venom entirely and instead told Lauren that in the panic you'd been knocked over and hit your head, that Eddie had looked out for you and been kind enough to bring you home when you woke up.

Lauren was a touch suspicious, sensing your editing but uncertain what you were holding back. Still, she shrugged and you recognized the return of her teasing mood and held back a premature weary sigh.

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

“Stop!” you signed, going redder as Lauren laughed at you. You heard her making mock kissy noises when your phone suddenly began to ring. You both jumped at the sound and panic instantly set into your chest. Lauren noticed you freeze and came over to your chair, fishing the device out from your pocket. Her eyes widened and you saw her smile.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

Hot Mess Eddie

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait.

Another text.

Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

It's on my coffee table, you replied. Do you need it?

Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.

Surprise? What? Why?

You heard Lauren snicker and saw a flash of your own face in her thoughts. Apparently your face was red enough that she could see you blushing from the kitchen and you instinctively turned away, willing the blood to leave your cheeks.

Do you have a place in mind? You typed slowly.

----

You did you best to suppress jitters as you stood at the curb, motorcycle helmet tucked under your arm. You’d requested Lauren stay inside, but you knew she was watching from her window--both to satisfy her curiosity and ensure your safety.

You heard their thoughts before you saw them. Much like actual voices, it started quiet as they entered “hearing” distance but became steadily louder along with the revving of the motorcycle’s engine.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were dressed nicely, but the priority of your outfit was comfort, not fashion. Your hair was also fine, but you began to wonder if maybe you should have done something special with it. This was supposed to be a lunch meetup, but you didn't know what type of venue it would be. Your heart rate picked up and you felt your anxiety starting to raise its vicious head.

You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

The realization that someone was in front of you pulled you out of the whirlpool slightly. It may not have brought the world back from crumbling, but suddenly you felt like there was an anchor keeping you from entirely plummeting into the black hole.Your hands reached out against your will and you found yourself clinging to this person’s chest, hands twisted into what felt like leather.There was no air in your lungs--not that you could feel--and your throat was stubbornly unresponsive to every sound you tried to make. So you reached out with your last resort.

You couldn’t keep the mental communion open for long--your focus was too scattered, your emotions too sweeping--but for a brief moment, you sent a burst of your emotions into the person crouched in front of you. All of your panic, your desire to be comforted, you desperate need to re-learn breathing, you sent it out in an unspoken plea for help.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

Then you felt the fabric under your fingers ripple, like a living being woven of some strange material, flexing like a cat leaning into human touch. You felt your hands sink into it, giving you a better grip just as you felt thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into the stranger’s solid chest.

A voice rumbled through that chest. You couldn’t understand what they said, but found yourself zeroed in on the sound of their breathing, the feel of their pulse. Their arms tensed and relaxed in time with each breath and you found yourself trying to mimic the movement with limited effectiveness. The vibrations of your anchor’s voice rippled through your body, accompanied by some kind of lower pitch you couldn’t identify. It made you shiver and that motion made you realize that you were quaking so hard that there was no way you could have supported yourself.

Eventually, the panic began to subside into exhaustion; your violent shudders calmed into small fits of shaking and then entirely faded away. Your mind rose from the pit of despair and the sounds of the world and the thoughts of others returned.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“WE HAVE GOT YOU,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

You heard footsteps coming from behind you on the pavement and you twisted to see Lauren running from the front door of the complex. She reached you and Eddie and dropped to one knee, looking you over worriedly.

“You good?” she signed. You shakily nodded and tried to pull yourself to your feet. Your knees buckled before you really got anywhere and ended up halfway dangling, clinging to Eddie like a baby koala. He chuckled.

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Could he even lift you?

“EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST.”

"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other half had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

"WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter six

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): none, just finally able to introduce Hoseok in this chapter lol

Word count: 5299

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

Yoongi’s eyes scan the weekly announcement email, not truly interested, yet still giving himself time to be thoroughly knowledgeable of upcoming events for his newfound colleagues and the company as a whole. Mentions of renovation in the lobby, a new coffee machine to be installed on the production floor along with a request to be more mindful of how this one is used, and the schedule for the practice rooms for the month remains unchanged for the last few weeks of January. Highlighted at the top of the email is the name of a mini album set to be released the first week in February along with parentheses beside it stating who would be releasing it: Park Jimin.

Reclining back in his seat, Yoongi regards the blue font notice in silence, wondering for a passing time of his involvement in the corruption between Jimin and you. He knows it’s not his fault, and knows you do too. Yet, there’s still guilt seeing Jimin’s name or hearing it anywhere. Still guilt felt in grazing his thumb against his index finger as a fidget when on the four dates so far where you’re forced in one way or another to recall Jimin’s existence. Yoongi has not apologized about it since the first date, but it doesn’t change that he feels like he should if only to assure you that the hurt you try and hide each time doesn’t need to be hidden for the atmosphere’s sake.

The foot on the floor pushes his desk seat into a small back and forth sway. He doesn’t think of your mutual problems often, just reminded every time an email requests the two of you go on a date, like the one to come that evening. By this point you’re both amicable at least, even going on the limb of saying something like friends. Maybe. It’s hard not to when you’re both forced into two or more hours of conversation. It’s something like friendship. Maybe closer to friendly coworkers. He doesn’t know. Yoongi sighs, spinning an entire slow revolution in his chair, then stopping promptly with the sound of his phone’s text notification.

Two unread.

Y/N, 4:38pm: Just got asked to go to a last second meeting. Probably will be out closer to 6:30 instead of 6:00, sorry.

Yoongi, 4:39pm: That’s fine no worries.

He exits the message thread to check on the other notification. He stares at Hoseok’s name for a second and the few words he’s able to see before opening the chat. Yoongi inhales, rubbing his jaw, while clicking it open with his free hand.

Hoseok, 3:57pm: I think enough time has passed... I’m going to start going for a new comeback now! You’re required to pre-order whenever the album is done!

Yoongi, 4:42pm: Ah, is that a fact?

Yoongi’s hand falls from his jaw to type quicker,

Yoongi, 4:43pm: I’ll help you make it however you need.

Hoseok, 4:45pm: Thanks, man.

Hoseok, 4:48pm: I’m nervous still haha

The phone rests on the desk, Yoongi’s hand resting beside it while he looks at the screen. He tilts his neck as a stretch, thoughtfully. Uncertain of how this would turn out for Hoseok. Wishing for the best. Trying to be hopeful. The dissention of early last year comes back into Yoongi’s mind. The unfair treatment, and watching his best friend go through the invasive camera lights daily, and the pouring stream of interrogative comments throughout social media. The blame that had no place linking to Hoseok when their old company decided to sell out to SoundWave as Hoseok’s contract was torn to pieces.

Yoongi, 4:56pm: You deserve the new beginning if anyone does. It’ll work out.

Hoseok, 5:00pm: Bro…

Yoongi, 5:00pm: You ruined it.

Hoseok, 5:01pm: Haha, I know……… Thanks Yoongi.

The final two words feel somber in Yoongi’s mouth. Drying. He doesn’t deserve to be thanked for anything, when he was quiet watching what happened. He could’ve done something to stop it all. Maybe Hoseok would have a studio next door to Yoongi’s still if more had been done to help. To disprove the wrong perspectives in the public. But it’s not in his persona to care like that.

He sighs, pressing the lock on his device. Index finger taps on the space below his keyboard, the desktop monitor powering off onto the screensaver. Yoongi feels like he should scoff at himself in judgement. How was he ever appalled by your lie when he’s no different.

---

You contemplate sending Namjoon a text, but acknowledge the busy time of the day for him and refrain. Instead you wallow in the quiet, staring at your notes while listening to the arranger and producers beside you editing your song by means of scribbling pencils. You hope they ask you something greater than questioning an affirmative of their ideas for changing the words on the track. Apparently the theme is appropriate, but the verbiage itself doesn’t fit the fast beat pace the producer intends to make this track into.

Jimin is across from you, equally to himself. He scrolls through his phone, appearing collected. He said hello to you sweetly, politely when he walked in with the producer. You didn’t realize he would be joining the impromptu meeting. It was just the producer that had texted you about it, mentioning the arranger also tagging along. Not Jimin. You knew he was using this song, but you didn’t think he needs to be here.

“Jimin, your choreographer is going to thank me for this one. I already know it.” The producer is happy, and granted you’re not entirely angry at the changes he makes on the paper. They’re minor, the meaning is still there. Your touch deteriorates only slightly, and it’s something that’s involved commonly throughout song conception processes. You don’t care about that, you really don’t. Maybe you’re even spitefully happy about the changes too, because it means less you, less for you to be bothered by in the credential section. Less you in lyrics Jimin sings.

“You’re only doing the touch-ups though.” Jimin voice is light-hearted, his playing smile small, yet meaningful. You keep your eyes towards the producer’s writing hand. Bite your lip when the message is properly conveyed to him by notice of his reply,

“You’re right, Y/N’s work is great, like usual.” He agrees sincerely, giving you a thumbs-up with his left hand. You smile softly, just managing a head nod. “Sorry about the random meeting too, by the way. I would’ve waited until tomorrow if we didn’t have to redo the recording for the album he’s going to be releasing.”

“It’s not a big deal. I was here anyways.” You tell him calmly, catching sight of Jimin when you adjust in your chair. He’s gentle in appearance like usual, watching you only because you were speaking. When the sentence ends you see the twitch of an upward smile that he smothers and instead goes back to his phone.

“You’re here more now that the whole fake dating thing is happening, huh?” The arranger’s comment is absent of ill-intent, you realize as he rubs his neck in a stupor as he goes on, “I can’t imagine how weird that has to be. SUGA’s new to the company too; must feel random to be matched up with him, right?”

“Yeah,” You say vaguely, hands in your lap messing around with one another as you hope for a new topic. “Yoongi’s been nice about it all though.” You blab softly, unable to see Jimin’s thumbs unmoving as he no longer pays attention to his phone screen despite his eyes pointing to it.

“He’s cool, I’ve done a couple of things to help him with his production lately.” The man beside you nods as he speaks, settling the pen beside the papers. “Really particular about his stuff, but because he does practically all of it himself, it makes sense.”

“Can I see the revised version?” You interject calmly, receiving the notes from him as he immediately nods, handing it off. You scan through the tiny adjustments, thinking on your own of what potential ideas they had to change the pace of the song.

“None of it’s too crazy, I don’t think, but if anything’s too much let me know.”

“No, it’s all okay with me.” You don’t mind the scribbles, but have even less desire to combat things lately since the meeting with Yerin.

“Can I take a look?” Jimin’s voice calls out to you, and you face him. Small nod as you reach the small distance to slide the papers towards him, then startle as the producer stands up beside you,

“Crap, I need to get to a session downstairs right now. Just get that to my studio when you’re done, Jimin.” He says and you watch using every muscle to refrain wonder at why the arranger also stood too. You instead mentally curse at him saying he’d tag along since he was done for the day as well. You curse again at the sound of the door, glaring at the sight at that point.

“I’ll give it to him like he asked.” Jimin breaks the silence, eyes trailing still at the page of lyrics. You look towards him, erect in your seat but unwilling to stand yet. You recall leaving before he woke up the last night you were with him, and the incredible drought of communication since then. But is it really this easy for him to be casual. Your eyes wait to meet his when he finally lifts them up from the sheet.

“I liked the pink hair.” You murmur as a comment, trying to fill the void of quiet, give yourself a reason to linger there a little longer and see the state of his thoughts towards you. “Well, the brown is nice too though.” You correct with a tiny shrug, feeling a larger pang in your chest when Jimin doesn’t stop his smile this time.

“I liked it too.” He lays the paper flat, but his fingers remain on its edge. You think of other ways to continue the conversation, and shove the thought of asking him simply how he is to the corner of your mind. You’re already staying back with him for no reason, you don’t want to seem completely tangled with missing him. “You and Yoongi...” Jimin begins, and the mere mention of you two makes you want to groan, hoping against this turning into a conversation about your precarious fake relationship when you wanted to focus on Jimin and you. “You don’t have to do anything too much, right?”

You narrow your eyes in confusion. Jimin reaches for his hair, fiddling as he goes on, concern twinging, “Like, nothing you don’t want to do, lo-”

He stops, nearly biting his tongue to do so. You notice. Your hands grip on your jeans, trying to discern if the slip was just because the term of endearment is something he’s so used to calling you, or if there is something more. You watch his index finger barely scratch at the paper on the table. Nervous.

“The whole relationship is something I don’t want to do.” Your sentence is dry, matched with your dismissive shrug. You know that isn’t what Jimin meant, but you don’t expect his head shaking and body becoming more straightened in posture,

“That’s not what I meant.” Jimin says directly, biting the inside of his cheek as he considers explaining himself further. You free him of doing that, nodding.

“I know.” He noticeably pauses, nearing a flustered expression and you almost want to smile in endearment, but you still feel more sad than anything. Confused. “Sorry,” You finally avert your gaze to the table, collecting your few items. “We’re not being forced into anything else though.” You explain while Jimin watches you move around.

Words clutter in his mouth, wondering what to say to keep you in the room, but knowing he shouldn’t. Can’t. He’s the one who ended it. He didn’t want to, but he did.

“Do you miss us?”

Jimin’s heartbeat increases, while yours secretly does as well. The question blurted from your lips in a moment of impulse that built from the second you saw him that day. Dumb, stupid; you want to take the question back, you don’t need his answer. You want it, but you shouldn’t have it in your thoughts whether it’s a yes or a no.

What difference would it make if he said yes and you returned back to how you were. He was right-- Namjoon was right, you’re own screaming logic is right: a secret untrue relationship wouldn’t last and it would only serve to hurt you in the long run. This situation that you both stand in is exactly because you made up the stupid idea in the first place. You should’ve let the first kiss be the last one. Just because you ended up falling in love, doesn’t mean Jimin did.

Jimin’s made it clear that the answer is no. Why do you want to hear him vocalize the no. Maybe a sick part of your mind wanted the words to be engraved so you can take it as a bridge burned to char. If he said no you could move on. That’s how it could work. Maybe it would actually be enough, in that off-chance-

“Of course.” Jimin’s voice whispers the words like they were heavy to push out of his lips. But you could ignore that, wrapped in the potential- “But I don’t want to get back together like we were.” He’s no longer making eye contact with you, busying his fingers further into his locks. “It hurts us both being hidden like that,” You open your mouth to interject that you could live with it, that it’s not necessarily a long-term state of being, but he speaks on, crushing you, “And I don’t want to be your actual boyfriend.”

The counterargument abandons your psyche entirely. The truth of the situation is apparent. Jimin’s made it apparent. The extent of what you were to him was just lust. His casual demeanor makes sense. Your lingering feelings are the minority, not mutually felt.

“Ah,” Your head nods even though Jimin’s not looking up at you. His statement burns more as you stand in the same room as him. “When you put it like that,” Jimin lifts his head, and you don’t know whether to register his expression as sad or not, because why would he be sad. Conflicted, likely. “It makes sense we’d stop then.” You continue to nod, stepping once towards the door, “Sorry. I got the wrong idea.”

You continue in your exit, ignoring anything he may try and do in response, because you didn’t want to be pitied on top of everything else. You let the sound of chairs clattering behind you drift into the background, and slipped out of the room without another word heard.

Yoongi’s studio is on the same floor, and easy to find in a matter of moments. You usually meet him at the lobby, but you don’t think of that as your phone’s clock reads twenty past six and you knock on the frosted glass door. After three soft pounds do you take note of the tiny doorbell that is likely more effective. The small device’s appearance makes you sigh, thinking of how idiotic you were about not seeing it, how idiotic in general.

“Y/N?” You don’t realize he’s opened the door until Yoongi’s voice disrupts your misguided thoughts. You look up towards him. Yoongi can see the straining expression to appear indifferent, but it fails completely this time just in appearance alone. “Are you okay?”

“Not really, but we have a dumb date to go on.” You huff, reaching both of your hands to rub your face. Yoongi remains quiet, already not fond of the dates when you were both in at least average moods, but seeing you like this makes him hate the idea even more.

“There’s no time schedule.” He says simply, you narrow your eyes towards him in a lack of understanding, then your shoulders relax as he steps back opening the door wider. “Want to hear some of the stuff I’ve been working on and we can go out later when we’re both starving instead?”

You think of his consideration for your temperament and feel a little bad that Yoongi feels the need to accommodate, but you step inside anyways. It isn’t like he enjoys the dating, and putting it off for a while sounds like the best option. Not to mention, dismissing his attempts at kindness wouldn’t be best either.

Besides, you can’t say you weren’t curious at the prospect of listening to what Yoongi’s been working on.

You glance around the studio, noting the organized arrangements overall, yet homely in some aspects as well. The decor is limited to a few wall posters and mostly bare shelving, but his couch area looks like it isn’t new at all. The couch in particular looks a bit worn, and cluttered with a couple of blankets and a pillow. His small coffee table has only a single empty plastic cup on it, but you figure he keeps the place tidy or else there would definitely be more evidence of his caffeine vice than currently appearing.

“If you want to use the couch you can. I have some wireless headphones,” Yoongi tells you as he goes to the highlight of the room: a desk space covering the entirety of the wall. Bright with various electronic equipment and brand names that also inhabit space in your own apartment. But here the space appears validated by its placement in the company walls.

You sit on the edge of the couch, hands resting on his lap as you continue looking around the studio. It’s definitely one of the larger ones. Yoongi hands you the pair of headphones, and you situated them over your ears while he goes on in speech. “Whoa, wait what?” You cut in quickly, causing him to look back at you while he sits in his desk chair. “These things are really noise cancelling, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi chuckles, rubbing his hair back from his face. “I was just saying I need to decorate more, but haven’t got around to it.” He slips a pair of headphones on too, leaving one ear free. “This is going to sound really rough, and there’s a gap where I’m waiting on someone to fill with vocals.”

You nod, smiling in anticipation without realizing so. The sight makes Yoongi glance away, biting his lip in sudden worry the track won’t sound as great as you may anticipate. He clicks to start anyways, listening in his own ears and simply keeping his eyes on the screen watching the point on the timeline move along.

Behind him you sit back into the cushion, trying to take in everything in one listen, despite the different levels of the song meshing together perfectly. Yoongi’s voice sounds completed in the song already, like he’s already reached a point of contentment in the sound in your opinion. “Your lyrics are really good.” You say, head swaying with the beat, staring at the empty cup instead of seeing if he’d turn to respond to you.

Yoongi catches the comment, tapping his finger on the desk, lips tightening and forming more pliable peaks on his cheeks from holding back a proud smile. He waits until the fade out, before finally facing you once more. Angles his chair slightly towards you, not all the way, trying to appear more calm than anything despite nerves still simmering quietly in his stomach because you are the first to hear this particular demo.

“Did you hear me about your lyrics?” You ask right away, sliding the headphones to rest atop your shoulders. Yoongi nods softly, mumbling about not wanting to interrupt when you were listening to say thanks. “They really, really are good.” You say again anyways, smile growing wider as Yoongi reaches to fiddle with his hair,

“Thanks again.” His voice is still quiet, something bashful about it as well. Satisfied, you think, but you continue on anyways,

“And your voice is controlled, like usual.” You sigh, leaning back, “I can’t get over it; you’re so great at singing and rapping.” Yoongi just shrugs, but you miss it while you adjust your sleeves off of your hands. “For it being incomplete, I’d still listen to it, even without the other person you’re waiting on.” Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head,

“That’s too high of praise, you’re messing with me now.”

“I’m not.” You interject firmly, sitting upright. Yoongi looks at you silently, but breaks it by rubbing his neck and speaking sincerely,

“Well, thank you. I was kind of nervous about this one actually. It’s pretty different than other songs I’ve made.”

“Yeah, it’s really on the edge of your usual stuff, I think.” You nod in agreement, settling your hand on your chin while you ponder. “But I’m sure it’ll do well. Besides what’s a better time to try new things than now, right?”

“I wanted to make it last year, actually.” Yoongi shifts on his chair, clicking open an email notification. The title reads a clothing brand, and he shuts it as he goes on and for a moment scrolls through other emails in case he’s missed anything important. “It was busy with the merger going on though. But the beat is inspired by a friend of mine’s style.”

You let the information fall into space, interested by the mention of a musical inspiration. You scan any ideas, but ultimately feel like you don’t know enough about Yoongi at all to make any verbal assumptions so you just joke, “Jin?”

“Oh,” You watch Yoongi pause, and turn on his seat, looking at you with widened eyes, “How’d you know?”

“Wait really?” Your eyes grow wide as well as the image of Seokjin passes through your mind as a music producer-

“No.”

“Hey,” Your eyes immediately narrow, paired ironically with reddening embarrassment in your face. Yoongi just scoffs, then all together laughs as you defiantly cross your arms. “Rude,” You mutter as his lips continue releasing his entirely humored melody. “He could’ve; you don’t know.”

“I don’t?” He counters, slumping back into his chair and looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

“He’s performed an entire masterpiece with chopsticks and shot glasses before, so, yeah, you don’t.” You try to refrain from releasing any of your own smiling, maintaining a serious gaze towards Yoongi as he believes none of it and nods once.

“I live to be proven wrong, I guess.” He turns to face his computer once more, rearranging the opened windows as though he intends to continue working like he had before you stopped by. At this realization your arms relax, and you think about what you should do so not to bother him, maybe grab coffee to bide the time, or mindlessly watch YouTube videos on your phone.

Yoongi interrupts the thoughts, “It might not be my place to offer, but if you ever wanted to talk--or vent about,” His head tilts as he decides against specific topics, “Anything… I’d listen.” His hand sits still on the mouse, hoping he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to overstep. Though with all the trouble you seem to have, Yoongi tries to ignore that worry, allowing the innocent concern to lead the offer along.

“I probably look like I’m always down about something, right?” Your voice trickles embarrassment and spite, sighing as you rub your hair and angle your neck towards his coffee table. Frankly, it’s tiring to continue each day dismayed by the amount of circumstances left out of your control. Quietly having to accept so much that no one else seems to have to bother with, especially where songwriting is concerned.

“Not always, no.” Yoongi responds, eyes on the monitor though he’s looking at nothing. Contemplative of phrasing. “But a lot has happened the past month, and not much of it is good for you. I may not be your closest friend, but I think anyone seeing you pretend to be okay this often would wonder if you want to talk.”

You stare at the glossy wood, thinking of the interaction between you and Jimin not long ago. Being the first time you had spoken to him, you hoped it would’ve been better, maybe even telling for what the future could hold, but that was all wishful thinking in the end. He still left. Still keeps an arm’s distance. “I just,” You pause feeling the air in your throat that you hadn’t expected to cloud your sentence. You swallow it down and bite your lip, noticing Yoongi’s movement in your peripherals as he faces you slightly. Likely checking. Your voice probably sounded ridiculous.

“It’s okay to not speak too. Whenever you’re ready.”

The sentiment feels as comforting as the way Yoongi’s voice says the words. Absent of condescension, wholly gentle and patient. Putting his ideas of what he thought of you when you met and he found out about your job aside, to simply focus on your troubles. Understanding when he really didn’t have to be. Even if you both were amicable, and freshly titled friends like he said; it’s not like Yoongi needed to offer a metaphorical shoulder, or a penny for your thoughts without an expiration date. The action gives you a tug forward.

“Jimin was at the meeting and I didn’t think he’d be there.” You finally murmur, trying to avoid eye contact as though the words itching to leave your mouth would hide if you did. “I didn’t want to break up with him--or,” You sigh, rubbing your hair as your head shakes, “We weren’t a couple, I can’t really call it a break up, huh?” You rhetorically question feelings silly for being wrapped up in this relationship when it wasn’t a proper one to begin with. “I just didn’t want it to end.” The words fade, spacing even more as you ponder sadly, “And seeing him doing well-- even though he said he misses us, it just makes me feel like I’m the only one unable to push forward.”

In the very least, Jimin’s more in control of himself than you’re showing to be. Strongly believing this is the best way to handle the problems that existed in the relationship and unmoving about it. If you think about it like that, then maybe it would be better to try and adhere to this idea, even with your feelings for him. If they aren’t reciprocated feelings, there really is no worth in you continuously falling deeper and deeper. It was always bound to hurt, you just wish it could have happened later; like you would whenever the separation inevitably happened.

“Whether it takes you longer than him or not to work through this isn’t a problem. I think you should let yourself take as long as you need.” Yoongi gazes without focus at an empty shelf he plans to display albums of artists he’s collaborated with. Considering the closeness you and Jimin evidently had, it���s completely acceptable that you would be saddened by it all, and for all Yoongi knows the relationship could’ve had knots and twists that he’d never guessed that would garner the need for you to take months to heal. “Also,” He starts, though he considers not saying anything at all in case it may be a statement he doesn’t have the right to speak to, but recalling all of the instances thus far that he’s been unable to help you at all, he lets himself finish, “I don’t think you should shove all of it down either… I bet that feels suffocating.”

You bite your lip, almost embarrassed that he’s noticed how upset you’ve been despite having known you only a couple of months. You thought you have done well so far to at least appear normal, but with Yoongi spending hours of random days solely with you, it’s plausible he has simply caught on. Somehow the fact alone didn’t feel bad. In the same way that you had Namjoon to turn to because he knows everything that’s going on, it feels comforting that Yoongi is there as well. At least in his accepting way, whether it’s deeper than that, you don’t know and lean towards doubt if only because you’re both not on close terms.

“So I should just cry in the middle of our dates?” You try at a joke, but the smile you give him is appreciative of his advice. Yoongi glances to you, chair still angled to the wall. He hears the slightly joking tone and shrugs to it,

“If you do it gives us an excuse to go home.” You giggle at the fact and don’t mention that Yerin would likely end up irritated by you both appearing like a mess in public.

“I’ll cry one week, and you cry the next then.” You tease, scooting further into his couch and realizing that its incredible plushness is why it’s worn and Yoongi’s likely kept it since his last company. He laughs at the idea, nodding his head, relaxing himself now that you seem a little better, or at least, he hopes, less inclined to force yourself to act happy. “Thanks, for letting me talk a little, by the way.” A quieter, sincere tone. Before he’s able to respond you continue, “It means a lot to me that you wanted to help. I know I’m kind of, I guess, distant with my feelings, but it’s nice to feel like I don’t have to hide it all with someone around the company. I won’t bother you with myself though, don’t worry.”

“I’m not worried about that.” Yoongi discerns the idea you may feel annoying and softly diverts the thought away. “Besides sometimes it’s okay to be selfish and rant anyways. You’re just trying to help yourself.” He glances to his computer as you only respond with a nod, perhaps not entirely believing his words, but that could be a building process. “Hey, actually, while we’re here, and since you’re a producer,” You lift your head up, immediately curious as he mentions the title. “You want to help me play around with this song idea I’ve been messing with for the past week?”

“Wait, really?” You practically beam the words like sunlight, refraining from a flustered smile at the idea, but Yoongi can tell by how you sit up that you’re more than willing.

“Yeah, I’m not really getting anywhere with it, and since I know you’re the one who wrote practically all of the songs I liked from this company, of course I’d want to work with you.” The growing smile on your face almost makes Yoongi feel embarrassed as well that you found the request so appealing. He briefly chuckles as you start to nod, and he smiles brightly asking in bewilderment,

“Is it that exciting? It’s just me who’s offering, anyways.”

“Says the guy who’s made so much music that I love.” Yoongi bites his lip, smile not hiding at the joy. Emulating your sudden upbeat demeanor, simply because it felt infectious, Yoongi gestures to his computer,

“Well then since we both love each other’s stuff, let’s make it the collaboration of the year.” A light-hearted joke, but you and Yoongi mutually think it’s suddenly an exciting idea to work with one another on a song. So you’re up to your feet in seconds, taking the few steps towards his work area as he clicks around the screen,

“Wait, you don’t expect me to stand and help do you?”

“Oh, right, I’ll get a chair.”

if you enjoy please, please let me know! i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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[sam-lives-story]

#SamLives - Chapter 4

“Paranoia”

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Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

It was on Day 11 that Jack got a message from Robin that sent a chill down his spine. He’d been sitting on the couch at the time, watching some Rick and Morty with Sam curled up asleep in his lap. The little eyeball was as comfortable as could be with Jack gently petting his “head”...and that’s when his phone went off.

Robin: Hey Jack...did you have plans for the Egos that I didn’t know about? Lmao

Jack blinked, staring at the screen. He frowned and typed a message back.

Jack: No...? Only what we’ve talked about, but I thought that wasn’t until next month. Why? Robin: Nice job on the editing practice then. Looks like your Anti skills are improving.

And now Jack was very, very confused.

Jack: What are you talking about? Robin: That last recording you sent me, for Subnautica. It looked great!

Jack sat up straighter, making Sam stir from his sleep, but he barely noticed.

Jack: Robin, I didn’t edit that recording at all. I haven’t recorded anything for Anti in ages. Robin: What are you talking about it? I’m watching it right now. Jack: Send it to me?

A few minutes later, Jack was at his computer with Sam on his shoulder, watching the short clip that Robin had sent him, playing it on a loop. That...wasn’t possible. No. What the hell...?

“...heeeey Reefies!” On-screen Jack was saying. “Aww, I love you guys. Be back soon! Alright, heading to the Deep Down Dark Deep Down. Gotta visit my base, visit my lockers, ‘cause I’m a stupid who forgot all the valuable stuff and left it in a place that takes FUCKIN’ FOREVER TO GET TO! Fuuuuck it so muuuuuch! Heheh...” Video-Jack chuckled at his own reference to Simulacra, and it was at that moment that a shadow appeared, glitching, behind him on screen. Just over his shoulder, against the wall. A familiar face grinned from the shadows, and a high-pitched, distorted laugh played in the recording. The video itself glitched, Jack included. Then Video-Jack shivered, glancing over his shoulder, and the figure - Anti - was gone. It was so quick that he wouldn’t have caught it in his brief skim-through of the recorded footage before he sent it to Robin. And it looked just like all those hints he had dropped in his videos during October before Anti had first shown up in “Say Goodbye”.

Except...except Jack hadn’t recorded that. Jack hadn’t done that. Jack hadn’t...made that face, laughed that laugh. He hadn’t done that...and suddenly he felt very, very scared. Then rationality kicked in and he giggled hysterically, running a hand through his hair.

He was being stupid. He was being dramatic. Obviously Robin had edited this, and was making a joke of it. That bit with Anti...it had to be part of the unused footage from a previous project. It had to be. He shook his phone free from his hoodie pocket and tapped out a shaky text.

Jack: Haha, very funny. You got me! I was actually scared there for a second! Jack: You’re such a troll lol

But Robin’s next message didn’t make him feel any better.

Robin: Man I’m not trolling you. I thought you edited that?

Jack could barely keep his hands from shaking as he tried to respond. He swallowed thickly, a dull fear washing over him.

Jack: No, I didn’t. That...I never did that. Unless I’ve learned to edit in my sleep I have no idea how that got into the video

Unless...

“Belief. I’m talking about belief....and how it can do amazing, impossible things...”

The words Mark had spoken to him a few days prior were bouncing around in his head again, echoing and repeating and playing on loop. Mark had been about to tell him something, before the call had ended. Something about belief. Something about Sam, but kind of not. Something that he didn’t get to finish saying because...he swallowed, both hands clutching at his hair as he sank in his desk chair.

Because the call had started to flood with static, and then his phone had shocked him. Which he wasn’t even aware a smartphone could do, not when it was mostly unharmed like Jack’s was.

Another buzz from his phone alerted him to another message from Robin.

Robin: Wait, so you didn’t put that bit with Anti in the other video either?

Jack scrambled to pick up his phone, fumbling with it for a moment.

Jack: What video? Robin: The upload from this morning, the first one. The “Reading Your Comments” video. Robin: You were answering some question about the egos...? I thought you were just messing with the community so I left it in. Robin: But when I saw the second one in the Subnautica recording you sent me I thought I should ask.

Jack rapidly pulled up the video on his computer, scrubbing through it until he found the question Robin was talking about, because he already knew which one it was. He’d responded with something totally off-topic, something unrelated, just to be funny...and sure enough, as Video-Jack was reading the question aloud, there was a little visual distortion. Not much, but if you were looking for it, you’d see it. And way in the background, in the shadows in the corner...a silhouette. Brief. Barely there. A fraction of a second. A few frames, maybe. And it knocked all of Jack’s breath from him.

“Jack? Are you okay?”

Sam had bounced onto the desk, into Jack’s line of sight, and the little eyeball was eyeing him with a look of innocent concern. Jack took a breath. Then another. He forced a smile.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah, o’ course. Fine.”

“You’re scared.”

“...a little,” Jack admitted sheepishly. Sam could always read him, better than anyone. Having a mental link probably had something to do with it. “Sorry bud. I didn’t mean ta scare you.”

“Why are you scared?”

Jack had no answer for him, not really. He couldn’t think of a way to say it. So instead he thought it. He pictured Anti, pictured the videos he’d made with him. And he let his fear seep through...just a little. Enough for Sam to get the idea. And Sam...his pupil widened a little and he squeaked.

“He’s real too?”

“I dunno,” Jack shrugged, sinking further in his seat. He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the desk and burying his face in his hands, reverting to thinking from here on out. ‘I dunno. It sounds stupid, sounds impossible. But...I dunno how else he’s showing up in videos, unless Robin’s lying. And I don’t think he would. Not this far.’

Sam made a worried little noise and nudged Jack’s arm, nuzzling up against his hoodie sleeve. Trying to help. And it did, a little...because Jack managed to smile.

“C’mon, c’mon...” Jack was muttering at his phone and pacing, as though urging it on would somehow will the person on the other end to pick up the phone any faster. It was taking far too long. It was only as he finally heard someone on the line that it occurred to him what time it was in California.

“...h’lo?”

Jack winced, hearing the sleepiness in Mark’s voice, knowing he must have woken him up.

“Mark. Hi. God, sorry, I totally forgot what time it was over there...”

“Yeah, it’s...” There was a rustle of fabric, a muffled grumble. “...three in the fuckin’ morning.”

“Sorry. Shite. I didn’t think, I just called...I can...I can call back later...”

“Woah, wait, no, ‘s cool,” Mark mumbled. There was more movement on the other end, a light clicking on, a door opening and closing. A yawn. “Wassup?”

“...”

And now that he was actually talking to Mark, Jack began to realize how stupid he would sound the minute he opened his mouth.

“...Seán?”

“It’s...nothin’. Nevermind. I shouldn’t’ve called.” The words spilled out of him faster than he could think them, a hand dragging through his already-unkempt hair. Sam made a little noise of question from where he was sitting on the arm of the couch.

“Dude you sound like you saw a ghost.” Jack could hear the worried frown in his words. “Hold up, once sec...”

The call ended abruptly, but as soon as it had gone Jack’s phone was ringing again, this time for a Skype call. Jack sighed and answered it. His screen lit up with the rather sleepy-looking face of Mark, his hair a chaotic mess of bedhead and his mouth pulled down in a worried frown. Jack could only imagine how he looked himself. He’d been running his hands through his hair nonstop since he’d woken up, he’d had four cups of coffee, and he’d been jumping at shadows all morning. Mark blinked.

“Holy shit. You look like hell.”

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, thanks, I kinda figured that,” he grumbled, looking away for a moment.

“Are you okay? You seem...stressed. I’ve seen it in your videos too...”

Jack let a small, hysterical laugh bubble past his lips.

"I'm fine! Toootally great!” He said sarcastically. “I'm being held together by coffee and redbull and cookies and prayers! What could possibly be wrong?!"

“Jesus.” Mark stared at him like he was nuts. “The hell happened to you?”

And Jack just let out a slow breath, deflating.

“...just...a lot. Recently.”

“Is it Sam still?”

Jack didn’t even feel annoyed this time when Mark mentioned it, just sighing resignedly.

“...sort of. I mean that’s part of it, sure, but...” He trailed off, chewing his lip. Wondering if this was even a good idea in the first place.

“But what?” Mark asked. Jack looked at his screen again to see Mark sitting on a couch now, a soft light illuminating his tired features. Would Mark think he was fretting over nothing? Mark had his own dark persona on the internet, Darkiplier, and Jack was certain he was aware of Antisepticeye. But thinking that Anti was a real, living thing...or whatever Anti’s version of “living” would be...

“Jack?” Mark’s brow furrowed in concern.

“...I...eh...” Jack stared at his screen for another long moment. Then he sighed. “...I’m bein’ paranoid. That’s all.”

“Paranoid about what...?”

“Anti.”

A pause.

“...you mean, like, Evil-You? That Anti?”

“Yeah. That Anti. He...” Another pause, another sigh, a huff of frustration. Jack, running his hands through his hair for the umpteenth time. “...he’s shown up in a few o’ my videos, an’ I didn’t put ‘im there. I didn’t record stuff for it. I didn’t tell Robin to do it, an’ Robin claims he thought I was editing it like that. And I keep...I keep thinking he’s right behind me, right over my shoulder. And I started thinkin’ about what you were saying about “belief” before and I started to think it might be possible and I wanted to call you and ask and – you...probably think I’m absolutely off my rocker.” Jack flopped back onto the couch, his head thunking back against the wall behind it. He closed his eyes, expression strained. God, he sounded insane. Sam slipped off the armrest to snuggle up in Jack’s lap, out of sight of the camera. Trying to make him feel better.

“...would you call me crazy if I said I believed you?”

And just like that, Jack’s eyes were glued to the screen again, where he could see Mark avoiding looking at the camera, rubbing a hand over his mouth. Looking concerned.

“You’re joking.”

“Not...not this time, no.”

There was a seriousness to his tone that Jack wasn’t used to, that made him think maybe Mark really did mean what he was saying.

“Why?”

“Why do I believe you?” Mark asked, finally looking up to the camera. “Because I think–”

There was an odd, glitched distortion on the screen, the lighting around Mark changing and shifting for a brief, almost unnoticeable moment....and judging by the slight widening of Mark’s eyes and the way Jack gasped softly, they both knew that the other had just seen the same thing.

“...I think...I can’t talk about it. Not now. Not...” Mark glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on something off-screen, something near the ground. “You alright? It’s okay, I promise. I’m right here.” The camera’s angle changed, going lopsided as Mark leaned over to reach toward whatever was on the floor. Jack assumed it was probably his dog, Chica. Poor pup. He smiled softly in sympathy. Then Mark was back in the frame, and he looked a little strained.

“Look. I can’t...talk about it over the phone. Obviously he doesn’t want you knowing. But I’ll be in Europe for a tour soon. A few weeks from now. Just...hold out ‘till then, and we can talk then. I’ll stop by, or we can meet up–”

“Wait, who?” Jack interrupted, frowning. A minute fear seemed to build in his chest, a tension there that hadn’t been there before, and he found himself glancing over his shoulder despite the fact that it was broad daylight and he was sitting against a wall. Sam made a quiet noise of distress and cuddled closer to him, looking up at him. Jack’s free, shaking hand fell to his lap to pet the little eyeball. “Who doesn’t want me to know what?”

“Later,” Mark insisted. “Not now. It’s not safe.”

“Why?!”

“Later!”

And Mark hung up. Jack tried, twice, to call him again - but both times Mark ignored him. He gritted his teeth and held Sam a little closer, suddenly scared to be alone.

[A/N] I swear, when I began this story, this was not the direction I was planning on taking it. It was going to be a cute little fluff-friendship piece with Sam thrown into the mix, then...the story took on a mind of its own. So even I don’t know where it’d headed...but I promise there will be cutes ahead as well. That, at the very least, is still a part of the plan. <3

Also find the latest chapters of this story on [Archive Of Our Own]

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[Chapter List]

[hydrus]

Version 425

windows

zip

exe

macOS

app

linux

tar.gz

I had a good week. I optimised and fixed several core systems.

faster

I messed up last week with one autocomplete query, and as a result, when searching the PTR in 'all known files', which typically happens in the 'manage tags' dialog, all queries had 2-6 seconds lag! I figured out what went wrong, and now autocomplete should be working fast everywhere. My test situation went from 2.5 seconds to 58ms! Sorry for the trouble here, this was driving me nuts as well.

I also worked on tag processing. Thank you to the users who have sent in profiles and other info since the display cache came in. A great deal of overhead and inefficient is reduced, so tag processing should be faster for almost all situations.

The 'system:number of tags' query now has much better cancelability. It still wasn't great last week, so I gave it another go. If you do a bare 'system:num tags > 4' or something and it is taking ages, stopping or changing the search should now just take a couple seconds. It also won't blat your memory as much, if you go really big.

And lastly, the 'session' and 'bandwidth' objects in the network engine, formerly monolithic and sometimes laggy objects, are now broken into smaller pieces. When you get new cookies or some bandwidth is used, only the small piece that is changed now needs to be synced to the database. This is basically the same as the subscription breakup last year, but behind the scenes. It reduces some db activity and UI lag on older and network-heavy clients.

better

I have fixed more instances of 'ghost' tags, where committing certain pending tags, usually in combination with others that shared a sibling/parent implication, could still leave a 'pending' tag behind. This reasons behind it were quite complicated, but I managed to replicate the bug and fixed every instance I could find. Please let me know if you find any more instances of this behaviour.

While the display cache is working ok now, and with decent speed, some larger and more active clients will still have some ghost tags and inaccurate autocomplete counts hanging around. You won't notice or care about a count of 1,234,567 vs 1,234,588, but in some cases these will be very annoying. The only simple fixes available at the moment are the nuclear 'regen' jobs under the 'database' menu, which isn't good enough. I have planned maintenance routines for regenerating just for particular files and tags, and I want these to be easy to fire off, just from right-click menu, so if you have something wrong staring at you on some favourite files or tags, please hang in there, fixes will come.

full list

optimisations:

I fixed the new tag cache's slow tag autocomplete when in 'all known files' domain (which is usually in the manage tags dialog). what was taking about 2.5 seconds in 424 should now take about 58ms!!! for technical details, I was foolishly performing the pre-search exact match lookup (where exactly what you type appears before the full results fetch) on the new quick-text search tables, but it turns out this is unoptimised and was wasting a ton of CPU once the table got big. sorry for the trouble here--this was driving me nuts IRL. I have now fleshed out my dev machine's test client with many more millions of tag mappings so I can test these scales better in future before they go live

internal autocomplete count fetches for single tags now have less overhead, which should add up for various rapid small checks across the program, mostly for tag processing, where the client frequently consults current counts on single tags for pre-processing analysis

autocomplete count fetch requests for zero tags (lol) are also dealt with more efficiently

thanks to the new tag definition cache, the 'num tags' service info cache is now updated and regenerated more efficiently. this speeds up all tag processing a couple percent

tag update now quickly filters out redundant data before the main processing job. it is now significantly faster to process tag mappings that already exist--e.g. when a downloaded file pends tags that already exist, or repo processing gives you tags you already have, or you are filling in content gaps in reprocessing

tag processing is now more efficient when checking against membership in the display cache, which greatly speeds up processing on services with many siblings and parents. thank you to the users who have contributed profiles and other feedback regarding slower processing speeds since the display cache was added

various tag filtering and display membership tests are now shunted to the top of the mappings update routine, reducing much other overhead, especially when the mappings being added are redundant

.

tag logic fixes:

I explored the 'ghost tag' issue, where sometimes committing a pending tag still leaves a pending record. this has been happening in the new display system when two pending tags that imply the same tag through siblings or parents are committed at the same time. I fixed a previous instance of this, but more remained. I replicated the problem through a unit test, rewrote several update loops to remain in sync when needed, and have fixed potential ghost tag instances in the specific and 'all known files' domains, for 'add', 'pend', 'delete', and 'rescind pend' actions

also tested and fixed are possible instances where both a tag and its implication tag are pend-committed at the same time, not just two that imply a shared other

furthermore, in a complex counting issue, storage autocomplete count updates are no longer deferred when updating mappings--they are 'interleaved' into mappings updates so counts are always synchronised to tables. this unfortunately adds some processing overhead back in, but as a number of newer cache calculations rely on autocomplete numbers, this change improves counting and pre-processing logic

fixed a 'commit pending to current' counting bug in the new autocomplete update routine for 'all known files' domain

while display tag logic is working increasingly ok and fast, most clients will have some miscounts and ghost tags here and there. I have yet to write efficient correction maintenance routines for particular files or tags, but this is planned and will come. at the moment, you just have the nuclear 'regen' maintenance calls, which are no good for little problems

.

network object breakup:

the network session and bandwidth managers, which store your cookies and bandwidth history for all the different network contexts, are no longer monolithic objects. on updates to individual network contexts (which happens all the time during network activity), only the particular updated session or bandwidth tracker now needs to be saved to the database. this reduces CPU and UI lag on heavy clients. basically the same thing as the subscriptions breakup last year, but all behind the scenes

your existing managers will be converted on update. all existing login and bandwidth log data should be preserved

sessions will now keep delayed cookie changes that occured in the final network request before client exit

we won't go too crazy yet, but session and bandwidth data is now synced to the database every 5 minutes, instead of 10, so if the client crashes, you only lose 5 mins of login/bandwidth data

some session clearing logic is improved

the bandwidth manager no longer considers future bandwidth in tests. if your computer clock goes haywire and your client records bandwidth in the future, it shouldn't bosh you _so much_ now

.

the rest:

the 'system:number of tags' query now has greatly improved cancelability, even on gigantic result domains

fixed a bad example in the client api help that mislabeled 'request_new_permissions' as 'request_access_permissions' (issue #780)

the 'check and repair db' boot routine now runs _after_ version checks, so if you accidentally install a version behind, you now get the 'weird version m8' warning before the db goes bananas about missing tables or similar

added some methods and optimised some access in Hydrus Tag Archives

if you delete all the rules from a default bandwidth ruleset, it no longer disappears momentarily in the edit UI

updated the python mpv bindings to 0.5.2 on windows, although the underlying dll is the same. this seems to fix at least one set of dll load problems. also updated is macOS, but not Linux (yet), because it broke there, hooray

updated cloudscraper to 1.2.52 for all platforms

next week

Even if this week had good work, I got thick into logic and efficiency and couldn't find the time to do anything else. I'll catch up on regular work and finally get into my planned network updates.

[lotrewrite]

Recap of 8.26.17 Chat

So in this chat, we started out with some general points which all writers should take into account when revising their episodes, and then went episode by episode. This time around, episode-by-episode, I've focused more on the substantive comments rather than the love (there was love for all the episodes)

First: for everyone's convenience, someone apparently wrote a script to put in all of the html code needed to transition your fic from gdrive to ao3: https://docs.google.com/document/d/19eZnBQ4989Dr17v2ODFgE8QWAo9Oahi4USDNS3hOSvM/edit

Second: We’re going to be using TV Rules in terms of rating – no sex/full nudity, avoid swears like ‘fuck/shit’, but ‘damn/hell/crap’ are OK. Seemed easier to have everyone try to keep this in mind for a consistent tone than to try to figure out how many f-bombs we can drop in an episode

Third: The “basic” introduction we’ll be using is "Time travel is real, and all of history is vulnerable to attack, which is why we must travel through time to keep anyone from damaging it. We are a team of outcasts and misfits. So please don't call us heroes, we're legends."  If you’ve already come up with an alternative intro, feel free to keep it! if you want to alter the above intro, feel free! This is just the most basic, unadorned version.

Fourth: Things we should include more references to in various episodes:

Mick being a pyromaniac

Ratigan exists (post episode 9)

References to Nate and Lisa once they’re gone (i.e. "Lisa would've liked this" and "Nate's going to hate us all SO BAD when we tell him" and "wish we had Nate/Lisa here")

Mentions that Oculus!Len has attempted to make contact with the others and failed (post episode 12 only)

Fifth: Names (for consistency)

Len: In episodes 1-12, we call him "Len" in narrative and "Snart" in speech (except Lisa, who refers to him as "Lenny"); post episode 12, Len is introduced as "Legion!Len" and "Oculus!Len" respectively - use the full names (i.e. Oculus!Len not O!Len) for clarity; this applies even when a given Len is alone on screen, but exceptions can be made if you're deliberately trying to confuse the issue of which Len is which

Eobard Thawne: "Eobard" in narrative, "Thawne" in text; Legion!Len starts calling him "Bard" or "Bardy", followed by Oculus!Len once he hears it, but Legion!Len stops once he has been brainwashing only to slowly resume once it begins fading

Damien Darhk: "Darhk" in narrative, "Darhk" when the Legends are talking about/to him, "Damien" when the Legion is talking about/to him

Queen Bee: always referred to as Queen Bee unless someone is explicitly making a joke

ASIDE: I feel like we're missing a lot of jokes for Queen Bee's name

Someone needs to tell her to buzz off

"You've been busy." "...is that supposed to be a pun?"

"Queen Bee? Yeah, Queen B-rated"

"BeeGees"

"It's the Bee Team" that's DEFINITELY a Ray comment, which he'd ruin by going "Get it? 'cause we're the A Team???"

these puns are giving me hives

she needs to call everyone honey

crowdsourcing puns, who would BEE-lieve it??

(also at some point you should also make a joke about there being "Lenses". You can see better with two Lenses.)

Let’s move on or we’ll bee here all night (sorry)

Gideon and Rip call everyone by Mr./Miss, except for “Captain Hunter” and “Captain Lance”

Everyone calls Jax "Jax" except Stein (Jefferson) and Gideon/Rip (Mr. Jackson)

Mick has nicknames for everyone: Ray (Haircut/Pretty), Nate (Pretty), Sara (Blondie), Stein (Professor), Len (Boss, Len, Lenny), Kara (Skirt), Jax (Kid), Amaya ("Rules"), Lisa (Goldie), Rip (Englishman)

For historical characters, use whatever works for the historical time period but is understandable to readers of a modern audience (i.e. use "Octavian" not “Gaius Octavius/Octavianus”)

Episode 10

They should look Queen Bee up at some point after the initial fight

Gideon confirms that Queen Bee is an enemy of Mari’s and thus would know something about Amaya’s future, making Amaya more anxious

Episode 14

It'd be great if Amaya could look up her future at the end of the Tudor episode, maybe while Mick and the others go burn down the Globe; that way, Amaya can struggle with it and Queen Bee’s comments in the next episode

maybe in Episode 14, after O!Len's shock at seeing his "other" self we might want to have a short scene where he asks Gideon what the hell was that, and Gideon explains that he was picked up in 2014 and he has a moment where he goes "wait, so that's...me? that's really me? a me that's not DEAD yet?"

Episode 15

Make Amaya being picked up by British/white colonialist forces to be used by them, so she was fed a lot of propaganda, and most of the lessons about the British should come from Ching; possibly also a conversation with Sara in which Sara explicitly notes that she can’t understand the experience of being colonized - "I can give you examples about what they've done but I can't tell you how you or anyone else they affect should feel about it" kind of thing

Amaya should be struggling with her knowledge about her future - I really like how you have Amaya resisting Queen Bee's offers; but I think the resolution might work better with Amaya deciding against making Sara's mistake from Episode 4 rather than not looking it up at all? That would explain the dialogue where Amaya’s considering changing the future

Lily aberration arc: the end of episode 15, she forgives Stein for keeping it from her, but she's still upset and "needs space" because she's still an aberration and scared - leave it ambiguous at the end of 15, so the audience initially thinks she's still angry about Stein hiding it from her

Shay Hannibal Houlihan - immigrants were told (or forced) to change their name, maybe he could mention that, you can mention that they changed his name to Hannibal at Ellis Island, but he still prefers Shay, you could also have Josephine calling him Hannibal; Maybe his bar is name Hannibal and when asked, he explains that's his legal name

Len arc: Len starts encouraging Mick to go talk to his other self so that he can tell him not to die - the emphasis should be Oculus!Len wants Mick to go to his other self rather than the Legion

Episode 16

I really liked the characterization in this episode; I thought it was really spot on

Lily aberration arc: at the end of episode 16, when Stein gets back to her, he basically announces that he will fight ANYONE who tries to hurt her even a little and the Legends back it up and agree that no one will be "fixing" her aberration

Lily needing a bit more to do this episode, maybe a conversation with Jax, who she can have that "I don't know what being an aberration means and it's freaking me out" conversation with. The conversation could maybe go while they're following Rip to the place with the ship parts

Len arc: the emphasis should be Oculus!Len wants Mick to go to his other self rather than the Legion

Episode 17

Fantastic episode, emotional whiplash, so much fun

They're dropping Lily off - do we make it clear enough that happens before episode 17 starts? maybe we could put in a brief comment about how it's been a few days since they dropped Lily off or something?

Episode 18

Legionnaire Len joke

Len calls Eobard ‘Bard’ at the end, causing them to comment about possibly needing to reinforce the brainwashing, but Queen Bee resists because how dare they question her

Gag reel: Darhk in a leather skirt with lace up sandals; "Show some leg, Damien! That'll distract her!" "Shut up, Snart!"

They can’t read the graffiti because it’s slang/graffiti, not because they can’t read the foreign language - the babelfish applies to that too

Episode 19

Awesome representation, superpowers, fantastic battle sequences, emotional moments; it was a great episode AND it felt like a great backdoor pilot for a Ystina-themed episode

the only section I had any issue with was there was one or two that had no Legends

scabbard – Nimue stealing it or maybe when she's knocked over (iirc?) it can fall under her or some other object and out of sight

can mick just watch the cigarette burn down? Yes

Doomworld:

Jessica Cruz should show up as a Green Lantern, since she shows up in episode 17

Jax goes to QB's place in Africa to get Amaya, but it seems like this is really far to travel and be back in time within an episode. should she have a hq somewhere closer, just for visiting while at board meetings? Yes, they should go to Queen Bee’s local embassy

I really liked Mick's opening.

I also like that Nate bursts in but they don't even humor him

what exactly is the brainwashing cure? don't think we had one; I think we just planned to have Ray design a mind-fixing gun again - I did make a note that they could pick up Ted's BB gun which works on light spectrum; it also used the emotional spectrum in the comics; that could work

The second part seemed short – maybe add the part where we picked up Rip again - there should be a scene where they break in and steal him and the waverider

also there's a comment about the lanterns going away to space and coming back to a mess, but it contradicts Queen Bee complaining about her 'pest' problem in the first half

There should be a moment where Len weakens the brainwashing and becomes aware that he’s being brainwashed, and is now resisting unsuccessfully

what O!Len's motivation is for not revealing L!Len's brainwashing to Mick - O!Len can dance around the subject until he tries to warn Mick about L!Len going to kill him; Mick probably wouldn't believe that so easily until O!Len blurts out "He's been brainwashed! Since before all this happened!" "...Why didn't say that earlier, I would've listened to you then!" I don't think Len would ever be able to actually say the words brainwashed about himself, too horrifying maybe some reference to "remember what the Time Masters did to you? to make you Kronos?" "yeah?" "that's what they did to him. to make him like that." That scene would fit in well in Doomworld and explain his earlier reluctance to speak

Finale

after Rip, Len and Mick decide to take a break, maybe everyone feels they deserve a vacation until, whoops- dinos in LA they do still have family outside the Legends after all!

can Bambi be our new mascot?

Queen Bee says something like "It is beneath my dignity to brainwash people like you!" I can add a line to mine where they comment on "you did it before" and she tries to bluster

[shrimpkardashian]

I am going to post this text which I used to make this 90-minute podcast where I ranked all of David Lynch's films. It’s close to 5,000 words long. Since I took the time to write all this out, I wanted to post it, edited for the page. Enjoy:

David Lynch has created ten feature films in forty years, specifically between 1977 and 2017. I am going to rank all ten films right now.

I’ve broken down the Lynch filmography into four tiers.

Tier #4 consists of two films that, while they’re not necessarily horrible, I’d be OK with never re-watching again.

Tier #3 is Dune, just… Dune… (crickets)

Tier #2 also consists of two movies, two features that are close to being really great, but are ultimately flawed for very different reasons.

And then there’s the Final Tier, Tear #1, ALL-TIME CLASSICS, of which, by my count, there are five. Not bad, considering that equals, oh I don't know... half of his filmography.

You might be wondering what constitutes an ALL-TIME CLASSIC... great question. In my book, it’s a movie that scores a 9.500 or higher on my highly scientific to-the-thousandths scale movie review scoring system. All ten of these feature films have been scored between 5.999 and 9.819. Using the thousandths scale allows for accessible gaps as I slowly fill in the list as I continue to compile my personal ranking of the greatest films ever made (and also... the not so great). I urge you to go to my website www.movies.myameri.ca to see the list of over 200 films that I've reviewed and ranked thus far.

Now, let’s get to the list...

#10

Perhaps, The Elephant Man––David Lynch’s second film, from 1980––doesn’t work for me because you can feel, in a sense, that he’s selling his soul. Sure, it's "good" and was recognized as such in all the ways and by all the metrics that the most mainstream critical pipelines assess and award art that is "good."

It's what I couldn't put my finger on at the time I recorded my initial review, and the truly repulsive thing about it: It's bad in the way these  "good" films often are. It feels older than it is: a 1980 film about the 1920s that feels like it was made in the late 50s. It’s stylistic feel is both confusing and confused. The brief intrusions of Lynchian originality are present and welcome, but they’re all too quickly dispersed by stale set pieces, and performances that are either overwrought or stiffly boring. Only Freddie Jones, in the devious role of the elephant man’s original "handler," strikes a cord.

The look and feel of John Hurt’s titular character is effective, because it is grotesque. It is in no way fantastical, even if we’re looking at the height of movie magic, because this person existed. And through this realism, a sickening is induced. With every one of Hurt’s nasally slurps––while that’s surely the point, and it wholly succeeds on that level––the film becomes less re-watchable, a major tenant of my grading scale. Wherein Eraserhead’s baby is pure fantasy––a goofy, disgusting, horrifying little buddy that the viewer wants to spend time with––the Elephant Man is an abomination. Our horror with him, at him, over him, is both the movie proving its thesis, and shutting itself down.

David Lynch is on record as having been pleased with the film, but what amount of that pleasure has been framed by four decades of opportunity in large part because of its success, isn’t clear.

The Elephant Man was nominated for eight Academy Awards. No other David Lynch feature was nominated for more than one. It is his worst film by a wide margin.

#9

It would be easy to dismiss 1999’s The Straight Story as a joke disguised. Here was David Lynch making a relatively, well, "straight" movie about a man named Alvin Straight and it was titled The Straight Story. It was released by Disney. When I rewatched this recently I imagined what the movie might have been like if it had the same plot but, you know, felt Lynchian. What it would be like if the entire film had the tone of my favorite scene, the "I LOVE DEER" scene... but, alas, it isn't that.

The film is just a feel-good story. Sometimes, when you peel back the layers, there's just more goodness hiding underneath, and nothing more. And maybe there's a kind of horror in that as well.

#8

Dune stands alone.

Released in 1984, it's the only film among the ten wherein Lynch didn't have complete final cut. It's, by any classic metric, a bad film. At the end of the documentary Jodorowsky's Dune, which details one of the first attempts at bringing the best selling science fiction book of all-time to the big screen, Alejandro Jodorowsky describes going to see Lynch's version and being filled with a perverse glee that the movie was a failure, that it sucked. And it is definitely a failure.

The film is a god-awful mess. Do not under any circumstances attempt to watch the 3-hour "extended cut" version. Lynch had nothing to do with this and it does not re-insert anything by way of noteworthy lost footage. It merely accentuates the worst elements of the original theatrical cut. The biggest crime by far being... the dreaded voice-over, which plagues both versions.

In 2011, a YouTuber posted a 9-minute super-cut compiling all of these whispered voice-overs, which––if you aren't familiar––are meant to give more clarity to the story by presenting the audience an inside look at "the thoughts" in various characters' heads. But these "thoughts" do exactly the opposite: bogging down the story and actually making it harder to follow (in my opinion).

But even with all of its many, many flaws, the film is not without its charm. The look of it is extremely interesting, if not inconsistent. Some imagery looks dated, while other effects seem ahead of their time. The soundtrack, an amalgamation of Toto's overblown rock aesthetics and a nuanced main theme co-written by Brian Eno, is kind of awesome

But really Dune is just a huge mess of ideas. For example, in one scene the actor Freddie Jones is given a cat with a rat taped to its side, hooked to a contraption, and is told to "milk the cat" if he wants to stay alive. His character is never seen or mentioned again. These are the ideas of Frank Herbert told through the lens of David Lynch and filtered by producers who were so damn concerned whether or not the plot would make sense that they butchered the whole damn thing. What's left are pieces, intriguing pieces strewn about the 2-plus hours.

It would be easy to submit this film as the last place entry, #10 out of 10. But I just can't do that. I would re-watch this under the right circumstances. The strange convergence of wild visuals, bad editing and too-fast, too-big, too-soon nature of the production, puts this in a special category among the Lynch filmography. It almost hits "so bad it's good" notes, in a way. When Denis Villeneuve unleashes his high stakes, huge expectations version of Dune in 2020, David Lynch's third film will likely become nothing more than a footnote.... a grain of sand among the great DUNES of film history, one might say. (Sorry.)

#7

Inland Empire is, technically speaking, the final film of David Lynch's career. Released almost thirteen years ago in 2006, it's certainly the most confounding. Three hours of lo-fi footage, welded together by a director whose contempt for the industry he was a part of had reached a boiling point. And that boiling point is INLAND EMPIRE.

For years, I attempted to watch this film in stops and starts. That, for quite a long time, I never got past the relatively straight, narrative-driven first hour is probably telling. Outside of a classic Grace Zabriskie appearance as Laura Dern's crazy Polish neighbor, not much really happens.

But it isn't so much that nothing is happening that's the issue. It's that nothing interesting is happening. An actress gets a role. Her co-star is a womanizer. Her husband might be jealous. There's some mystery concerning the development of the project. They have an affair. After a burst of imagery at the start, this all unfolds in a fairly normal fashion. The most noteworthy thing about it is how it looks. Lynch used a digital camera to film some ideas with Laura Dern one day and then decided to make a feature film out of it. He's stated that he had to keep using the same camera out of necessity. That he had to make it look this way, is a very Lynchian answer to the question "Why does INLAND EMPIRE look like garbage?" Because it does truly look like trash. You can get better video fidelity from any cheap Android phone nowadays. It has not aged well.

Some might point to this and say that's exactly why it's genius, why it's underrated... but I ain't buying that line of thinking, either. It's a misstep, in my opinion. The film is a bloated experimentation of a script written on the fly. It has only one true saving grace... Laura Dern.

Even if they hadn't reunited for the successful collaboration that was Twin Peaks: The Return, I think I'd be OK with this being the pair's final work together. The film only works because of Dern. The entire thing is a testament to her ability and it transcends the hardware that was used to capture it. When I finally got around to completing this watch, I was struck by how weird it got. Which is saying something about a David Lynch film! Without Dern this might play like someone's forgotten student project of the mid 2000s. With her, it's a strange bookend to an amazing career.

One that I have no other choice but to start, and stop, and start again. Someday.

#6

Wild at Heart was produced at the height of David Lynch's success in 1990. Riding the high of Blue Velvet, arguably his most beloved work in a critical sense, even to this day, and filmed just as the world was experiencing TV’s Twin Peaks. Lynch's fifth movie arrived just as the concept of "Lynchian" was soaking into the cultural landscape. It's a brash, outrageous film that feels like the work of an individual who could no wrong. This cockiness both makes it fun, and provides its flaws.

While there seems to be "a point," however cloudy and/or veiled and/or vague, behind most things in every David Lynch film, Wild at Heart seemingly indulges in bombast for the sake of bombast. It's no surprise this Louis CK's favorite film and the film that nearly gave Roger Ebert a heart attack. (See this video)

I'd like to split the difference between those two sentiments, if I may. I don't agree that Lynch is always trying to "get off the hook" as Roger Ebert put it. But that may be the case with Wild at Heart. That it is the only Lynch film to take the top prize at Cannes, perhaps speaks more to the idea of Lynch and his influence in the culture at the time, then it does to the film itself. CK was right to read this film as a comedy, it's the only way it works. And Ebert was wrong to crucify it for being such. But It stands outside the top tier of Lynch's career for a different reason. With cockiness comes laziness. Lynch notoriously had his hands full during the development of this project, as he abandoned the TV world of Twin Peaks to make it. Wild at Heart feels half-baked as a result.

Sure, it has its moments. Willem DaFoe gets to hang his hat on the mantle of notable, completely over-the-top supporting characters in the Dennis Hopper / Frank Booth tradition. And Nicolas Cage and Diane Ladd are every bit as crazed in their performances as well. And yet, therein lies another problem: the movie has only one speed, out of control. The Sailor-Lula love story is meant to provide the downbeat, something earnest in a sea of chaos. But it falls short. You can't stop to smell the roses if the car never stops.

#5

That half of David Lynch's filmography constitute all time classics is no minor accomplishment. I imagine there are only a handful of directors with a better batting average. And so, the order of these next five films is fairly insignificant. Certainly there are biases at play which have placed them into the positions you find them here. For example, I certainly haven't watched Eraserhead enough and I've probably seen Mulholland Drive too many times by comparison. It's also about timing. Maybe This Moment™ in My Life™ is more fitting for Lost Highway then it is Blue Velvet, for myriad reasons, and so on and so on.

The thing to know is this... These five projects have all stood the test of time, and any one of them is deserved of the top spot. Now, back to the countdown...

Eraserhead was exactly like I thought it would be.

I neglected to watch this film for a very long time. I kept telling myself "Now is the right time to watch Eraserhead, Jeff." What I didn't realize until I finally watched it is that the answer to that question is both never and always.

Eraserhead is a feat of nature. A film that took years to complete feels and flows like it was molded together over a single month. It almost feels silly to expound on the film at this point. It's been dissected to death. Even critics who fail to understand it can appreciate it on the most basic of levels. This. Is. Art. PERIOD. There's no denying that.

Wherein the surrealists who decided to make films couldn't get past the concept of the singular idea, confining their work to shorts OR a series of loosely connected "living paintings," Lynch was able to extrapolate the aesthetic to feature length and also tell a story.

It's soundscape alone is a work of art, and perhaps the most important facet of the film from a historic point of view. This world sounds exactly as it looks: manufactured, fractured, jarring and glum. What brief respite the Lady in the Radiator provides with her haunting, off-kilter serenade is all we get by way of counterpoint to the unnerving soundtrack of Lynch's debut feature. It took Lynch, working in tandem with master sound engineer Alan Splet, nearly a year to complete. From the 1991 book, Midnight Movies:

"The soundtrack is densely layered, including as many as fifteen different sounds played simultaneously using multiple reels. Sounds were created in a variety of ways—for a scene in which a bed slowly dissolves into a pool of liquid, Lynch and Splet inserted a microphone inside a plastic bottle, floated it in a bathtub, and recorded the sound of air blown through the bottle. After being recorded, sounds were further augmented by alterations to their pitch, reverb and frequency."

Lynch's first film is also his shortest, just shy of ninety minutes, and it's hard to find any flaws. Is the detour with the severed head at the pencil factory meaningless? How about the next-door neighbor character... unnecessary? Inside the Top 5, I won't be nitpicking just to do so. In the Top 5, everything is fine.

#4

While I don't necessarily think Blue Velvet is the best film of David Lynch's career, it's hard to argue that it isn't the most important. It is the world from which all subsequent Lynch things are built. Following the creative and commercial disaster of Dune, Lynch's fourth feature is a dark psychological horror that both expands upon and completely blows apart the aesthetic of Film Noir. And there really isn't a single David Lynch film project after Blue Velvet which doesn't also explore this form to a degree.

The movie marks the debut of a pair who would turn out to be lifelong collaborators in the David Lynch cinematic universe: Laura Dern, acting here in one of her first "adult" roles at age 19, and the composer Angelo Badalamenti. Badalamenti would go onto write the scores for every subsequent entry in the filmography except Inland Empire, and his main theme to Blue Velvet remains one of the most memorable.

Blue Velvet is also notable as being a vehicle for Dennis Hopper's re-entry into mainstream cinema. Relaunching his career, Hopper's portrayal of the deranged Frank Booth remains as skin crawling as ever.

I think the fact that I have watched Blue Velvet and Mulholland Drive more than any other of Lynch's films had a lot to do with where I've placed them on this list (that they aren’t higher). But I swear I'm not being contrarian for contrarian's sake. As I said a minute ago, all five of these films are worthy. When it comes to the movies of David Lynch, well, I guess you could say, "....HE PUT HIS DISEASE IN ME." (Sorry.)

#3

The strange origin story of Mulholland Drive somehow eluded me for years. I only found out that this movie, Lynch's ninth, released one month after 9/11, was literally developed and shot with the intention to be a TV pilot for ABC. I found this out from the book, Room to Dream, by the way. The half autobiography/half biography of Lynch's life, which came out last year that I highly recommend. Only when it was clear that it wouldn't work for television did Lynch decide to re-cut and film additional footage to release as a feature. Though this was common knowledge, I managed to watch this many times over the years with no idea. When I rewatched it again recently with this information, I couldn't help but try to pick out what was filmed when in the timeline, and if I could see any inconsistencies... a true hellish way to watch a picture. I don't recommend it. But I digress..

From Blue Velvet on, each one of David Lynch's films (outside of The Straight Story) has had a longer running time. At close to 2½ hours, 2001's Mulholland Drive was his longest to date by a decent margin. It’s something of a misnomer that Lynch's films meander, as people mistake deliberateness for slowness or frivolity. Mulholland is filled with detours, inhabiting the film like micro movies in their own right. This also continues the loose Los Angeles trilogy (after Lost Highway and concluding with Inland Empire), which, at their heart, are films about coming to grips with who you really are. This might be the most direct lampooning of the film industry itself, but all three deal with being someone who you're really not.

Lynch has repeatedly stated his admiration for the 1950 film noir classic Sunset Blvd., another film about the film industry. In some respects, the naïveté of Naomi Watts' Betty is the counterpoint to Norma Desmond. In Mulholland Drive, her character says, "I'd rather be known as a great actress than a movie star. But, you know, sometimes people end up being both." Whereas, Norma Desmond portrayed by Gloria Swanson, has already reckoned with the true fate: "No one ever leaves a star. That's what makes one a star."

The arc of the characters—plural—Betty and Diane, and the power of Naomi Watts' performance as them both, is behind the wheel on Mulholland Drive. I found it odd that she took second billing in the opening credit crawl to co-star Justin Theroux. Was this because she was unknown to the masses at the time, or perhaps another piece of the puzzle to this movie's greater themes?

Mulholland Drive touches all the bases. At times bleak and bizarre. Sometimes bright and hopeful. In many ways, it's modeled after the next film on our countdown, as it can almost be read as two separate entities: converging, crossing and meeting together again? Well...

#2

No film surprised me more during my recent rewatch binge then 1997’s Lost Highway. David Lynch’s seventh film might be his most divisive, in so much as it failed to ignite the critical response that really any of his other films did upon their release.

While it’s industrial rock heavy soundtrack perhaps dates the film to its actual era of production more than any other Lynch picture, it also works as an anchor. Outside of Inland Empire, this is easily his most abstract and seemingly rambling work. It is grounded through style and feel. And it might just be his best singular statement.

Bull Pullman is a revelation as the jazz saxophonist Fred Madison. His chaotic emoting on the stage through his blaring instrument is but another counterpoint, this time to his subdued, confused off-stage demeanor. Who knew the goofy President from Independence Day could pull this off?

My critique of Patricia Arquette in many of her other roles is that she comes across as lifeless. Well, with her performance here as a dead-on-the-inside beauty, that mode has never played better. She's tremendous, acting the conduit in this strange play, this circuitous journey that is often described as a theatrical möbius strip, where our leading man has quite literally been replaced. 

And that brings up another interesting point: There doesn't seem to be a traditional main character in this film. Arquette in her dual role as Renee and Alice is functionally it, but she gives way to Pullman and Balthazar Getty's Pullman––a car mechanic named Pete––for long stretches, and its Lynch's most diplomatic film in terms of dolling out the heavy lifting in this regard.

And last but not least we have to talk about... Robert Blake.

In a sea of outstanding, intensely weird and occasionally unforgettable supporting characters throughout the Lynch filmography, Blake’s Mystery Man might just take the cake. That Robert Blake, more than likely an actual sociopath, instructed Lynch on his character’s look––which, let me remind you was such: Blake decided to cut his hair cut extremely short, parted in the middle, white Kabuki make-up on his face, and an all black outfit––might be the best example of the auteur trusting his instincts, and having it pay off completely. Only on screen for a handful of scenes, Blake, who would be arrested and acquitted for the murder of his wife just a couple years later, delivers a truly unsettling performance. In his final film role ever, he encompasses true evil more than Twin Peaks’ BOB or Frank Booth in Blue Velvet. The Mystery Man is the lurking, vile corruption of what’s good that Lynch has always been looking for.

But Lost Highway is not a “what’s beneath the surface” film like Blue Velvet or Twin Peaks or even Mulholland Drive are. The “point” of Lost Highway might just be that evil exists in plain view... and there’s nothing we can do about it. Gary Busey sometimes has to watch his only child disappear in a lightning bolt of spoiled meat and that’s that. When they reappear, broken and struggling, and falling down the same path until it happens again, well... that’s just life.

One of my favorite parts of the entire movie is a scene early on when a detective asks Fred Madison if he owns a videocamera. His wife, Renee Madison, portrayed by Patricia Arquette, responds, "no, Fred hates them." Fred responds, "I like to remember things my own way." The detective asks, "what do you mean by that?" Bill Pullman, as Fred Madison, replies, "how I remember them. Not exactly the way that they happened."

#1

(DISCLAIMER: I’m sorry if you think it’s cheating that I am including the expanded Twin Peaks Universe as one single entry on this list. I’m sorry if you think the only thing that should count is Twin Peaks: Fire Walk with Me because that is the only Twin Peaks thing that is actually a “feature film.” But also: SORRY NOT SORRY.

This is my list and I’m putting Twin Peaks at #1, specifically: all of Season 1 of the original TV show, plus the beginning of Season 2 (until the episode where we find out who killed Laura Palmer) and the Season 2 finale. Then of course Fire Walk with Me, and the 18 hour MOVIE that is Twin Peaks: The Return, or Twin Peaks Season 3, if you will (I prefer the former as it gives the masterpiece the gravitas it deserves).

If you put a gun to my head and I ABSOLUTELY had to only include Fire Walk with Me, I would probably drop it to #4 or #5 and slide everything else on the list up a spot.  End of DISCLAIMER.)

I was given the Twin Peaks Gold Box as a Christmas gift in 2007. The 10-DVD set had just come out and this was still an era when people treasured physical things like that. It was really important and meaningful to me, and I still own it despite no longer having a DVD player. Watching it for the first time was a treasure and a fond memory. The feeling I got when I heard that Badalamenti theme music start the show and everything in between...

...yes, even James in Season 2. I loved it all: the good, the bad and the ugly, the whole kitten caboodle. The original TV series is, obviously, far from flawless. Lynch stepped away for long stretches before going fully AWOL after it was revealed that Laura Palmer's father, portrayed by the great Ray Wise, is in fact her killer. After that, the show took a turn (to put it lightly).

But Lynch never gave up on the world. He returned to helm the stunning Season 2/de facto series finale. So much of the mythology that Fire Walk with Me and certainly The Return is built upon is ignited in that finale, fittingly titled "Beyond Life and Death." But really, the original series is most notable for merely existing at all. A precursor to the "golden age of television" that was right around the corner, there still hasn't been a network series remotely this daring. There's often much made, too much if you ask me, about the "cult of David Lynch." Critics of this “cult” say its followers are blind: The man can do no wrong. It's weird for weirdness' sake. And so on, they drone.  Now, I'm a fairly big David Lynch fan (no duh). But I've always tried to remain grounded in regards to this. He's not perfect. But he has made near-perfect art. And I'm a fan of ART first. A practicer of admiration? Maybe some distant second, third, fourth or beyond. I see his infiltration of the masses with Twin Peaks as one of his finest achievements in the arts. How many powerful people had to be convinced that the mainstream was ready for something like this. It's baffling. That, of course, they weren't ready is kind of besides the point. Someone has to poke the bear.

If Lynch had closed the books on Twin Peaks with Fire Walk with Me, his sixth film released in 1992, that would have been fine. It's a polarizing feature and was a fairly significant box office bomb, even for Lynch. Fire Walk with Me nonetheless retains an otherworldliness among the filmography. Given the subject matter––you know, just your average super-violent father-daughter incest rape thing––it's hard to argue this isn't his darkest tale by a wide degree. It's perhaps not ripe for repeated viewings. In fact, I did not rewatch it for this review, the only film of the ten. Why? Well, I had given it a replay back in 2017, just before the debut of Showtime's Twin Peaks: The Return. And, to be honest, I just wasn't ready to return to this madness quite so soon.

Only David Lynch could mold one of the loftier aspects/thematic devices/main characters (?) of the long-awaited follow-up to perhaps his most beloved work on one of the most random, seemingly meaningless, toss-away lines spoken in a bad Cajun accent in a cameo role by David Bowie. "We're not going to talk about Judy at all..." Until, that is, the time is right... Say... 25 years later?

I just recently began to rewatch The Return and I'd like to say thank you for this, David Lynch. This needs to be put into the discussion with his greatest work, if it's not already there. I can recall after various episodes of its original run (May to September 2017), feeling a sense of awe and wonderment and confusion and joy. I say to anyone that's curious that this is an 18-hour movie. David Lynch made an 18-hour movie when it wasn't certain if he'd make any more movies again.

It would be dumb, if not downright foolish, to try and hash out the plot-lines or gush over Kyle MacLachlan's performance in not two, but three distinct roles. Here, the duality of man has fractured yet again in these modern times. And when I got to that final two-hour finale, I found myself on a family vacation. So I carved out a block of time to watch it at the house we were renting on my laptop, alone, in the dark, as the rest of my family enjoyed a sunny day at the beach. I filed Kyle and Laura Dern's Diane into one more sketchy motel and then onto El Paso, Texas, of course, just as everyone had guessed, and then back to Twin Peaks, Washington, where the series ends on a question... Special Agent Dale Cooper turns to Laura Palmer outside her childhood home and asks, "what year is this?" She screams into the abyss and the lights in the home spark off and the screen explodes into darkness. For a series that was, ultimately, about the passing of time as much as it was about the origins of evil in the universe or anything else, it was a fitting end.

[fmservers]

macOS 10.14 Mojave review

Against my better judgement and repeat warnings from those who knew better, I went ahead and installed Mojave on my work computer the first chance I got. Sure, there were certain standard beta bugs and capability issues that made me regret the decision on occasion, but the only way to sufficiently test a product like this is use it day to day.

I can’t claim to have used every feature with any regularity. But that’s just the nature of an operating system upgrade. There’s a lot of ground to cover, in order to assure the update covers as wide a swath of users as possible. There are international features and updates to Apple’s machine learning offering — things that, in my case, don’t really impact usage.

Even with the broad scope of updates contained herein, however, 10.14 represents what is arguably the most focused macOS release in recent memory. Unlike High Sierra, which felt, in many respects (name included), like a refinement over its predecessor, Mojave finds Apple with specific mission in mind.

The last few years have seen the company hit mounting criticism that it had taken its eye off the ball when it comes to creative professionals — a segment of users long regarded to be the spirital core of its desktop offerings. There was a backlash against Final Cut, when Apple made changes for the sake of simplifying/streamlining, removing the high level of customization videographers had come to rely on.

Last year, meanwhile, Apple presented an uncharacteristically transparent view into the trials and tribulations of the Mac Pro line. “If we’ve had a pause in upgrades and updates,” Phil Schiller said during a roundtable discussion, “we’re sorry for that — what happened with the Mac Pro — and we’re going to come out with something great to replace it.”

Companies like Microsoft have seen opportunity in Apple’s further push into populism, targeting the ever-growing Surface line at those creative Pros. After all, while the category isn’t ultimately a huge one, the videographers, artists, musicians, et al. who use the products are among the most influential when it comes to buying decisions.

But Apple has begun to address these concerns. While the Mac Pro won’t be arriving until next year, it’s made important strides on the hardware front. The iMac Pro, for instance, presents an all-in-one alternative to the modular desktop, while the latest MacBook pros offer up some downright nutty specs on the high-end.

Mojave plays a central role in all of this. Many of the operating system’s marquee features cater to precisely those power users. Dark Mode, Gallery View, file metadata and Stacks are among the top new features here, and each have creative pros firmly in their sights.

I’ll be the first to admit that you’ll need to broaden your definition of “creative professional” pretty damn wide before I start to fit in. When Apple trotted out photogs, producers and interactive artists for a recent event, I’d be lying if I said I felt like I belonged.

That said, I’ve found a place for many of the aforementioned features in my own daily workflow. In the interest of giving the most time to those features I’ve spent the most time with over the course of the last four or so months, let’s start with the Mojave additions I’ve found the most useful.

Stacks

Every new version of macOS comes with several features that I can easily visualize becoming a part of my daily process. I get excited about the ways in which these additions will help me become faster, more productive, better organize. Invariably, however, they slowly fade into the background. I stop making the effort to engage and ultimately forget they’re even there.

In the case of many of them, I know my own disorganization and idiosyncratic methods are as much to blame as anything. The features are well-intentioned, but workflows are stubborn. And besides, just because you pay for the gym membership doesn’t mean you’re going to keep that New Year’s resolution, right?

Stacks, on the other hand, is straight up useful. As Apple has moved away from the desktop-based folder system, I’ve found my desktop growing more and more messy. It’s become the throw the dirty laundry anywhere approach to computer use. It’s bad and I hate myself for it, but what are you going to do?

Upgrade to Mojave, for one thing. While it’s true the company’s leaning heavily on Dark Mode as the flagship feature, Stacks is quietly the best and most useful addition. If you’ve got a messy desktop, simply Control+click the wallpaper or chose Use Stacks under view in the menu bar. Choosing this will automatically sort files into piles.

By default, the feature groups files by type. From the drop down, you can toggle this to group things by Date Last Opened, Date Modified, Date Added, Date Created or Tags. Clicking the top of the pile expands them out, so you can view everything at once.

Oh, and if you click Use Stacks again, everything will fly back into place, resorting your unruly desktop in the process.

Dark Mode

When Apple announced Mojave back at WWDC, Dark Mode got far and away the biggest response from the crowd. That’s what you get for putting on a show in a room full of developers. Of course, they’re not the only ones who’ve been champing at the bit for the feature. Videographers, photographers — really anyone who spends a lot of time staring at screens in dark rooms will likely appreciate the option.

When the feature is enabled, those applications that support it will default to the mode. The borders and backgrounds turn dark and white text is highlighted on a black background. In my Mojave first look a few months back, I lamented the lack of apps supporting the feature. At the time, Dark Mode was largely the realm of Apple’s own apps. Mail, Contacts, Calendar, and Safari Reader are among them.

Understandably so. Lead by example, I guess. Things have improved a bit since then. According to the site Dark Mode List, which aggregates examples from both macOS and iOS, there are at least 78 applications that currently support the feature .

It’s a start, but there’s still a long ways to go. After all, you lose some of the effect when you switch back and forth between apps that do and don’t offer the setting. For example, while Safari supports it, neither Firefox nor Chrome do. Also, some of Apple’s own, not pre-installed applications don’t support it either, including Pages. That said, the list is understandably pretty heavy on developer tools.

With Mojave launching today, however, I’d anticipate that we’re going to see more companies rolling out the option soon. In the meantime, it’s a handy feature for those who need it and it’s a nice option for the rest of us.

Dynamic Desktop is a fun addition — though there are two options at the moment. there’s the standard Mojave sand dune, and Solar Gradient. Both shift during the day, gradually darkening as the sun starts going down. It’s a nice complement to Dark Mode, and a neat spin on the blue light reducing Night Shift feature that’s been around for a while now. Of course, more wallpaper options would be welcome.

Screenshots

Okay, this is one of those ones I know I’m going to get a lot more use out of than most of you normal folks. Day to day, however, I’d say this is the feature I interact with the most. When you take a screenshot, a small thumbnail pops up in the bottom, right hand corner of the screen, similar to what you get on iOS.

It stays for a few seconds and then quickly slides off screen. It’s a quick and handy way to see if you got the job done. You can also click into the thumbnail to open it up to full size and edit it accordingly. Screenshots can now be saved to a number of different destinations to help avoid messing up your desktop, including Preview, Messages, Mail, Documents and Clipboard.

There’s a new control panel accessible by hitting Shift-Command-5. From here, you can capture the entire screen, capture a window, select a portion of the screen, record a video of the full screen or just record a piece of the screen. I used those last bits with a little less regularity, but all of the above really came in handy when putting together the images for this writeup.

Continuity Camera is a new feature worth mentioning in the same breath. It’s yet another avenue where the company is able to flex its cross-device functionality. The somewhat clunkily named feature is built into updates to first-party apps like Pages, Keynote, Numbers, Notes, Mail, Messages and Text Edit.

Once in the program, click Take Photo and it will utilize a connected iPhone or iPad to capture media. Take the shot, click Use Photo and boom, the image is inserted into the application. It’s a clever feature that works like a charm, though I’ll be honest — I haven’t found a ton of applications for it in my own life. The number of times I’ve been writing something on my laptop I felt would be enhanced by taking a shot of something nearby have been fairly limited, thus far.

That said, I could certainly see using it to scan a document into a PDF being a handy one. I probably could/should have used then when applying for a Chinese visa a few months back. With so many of these new features, however, the trick is making a point to make it a part of your workflow.

Finder

Gallery View is a nice tweak on the old Apple Cover flow feature, offering large thumbnails of files, with smaller, scrollable versions down below. Here, however, you get a full, straight on shot of the image. It’s particularly useful when scrolling through a lot of images quickly.

The addition of full metadata is clearly another bit aimed at appealing to professionals. Click a photo and you get a LOT of information in the side pane — more than most users will likely know what to do with. Along with the standard file size and dimensions, Apple now serves up things like camera model, aperture number and other EXIF data.

Quick Actions, meanwhile, brings some iPhone-style editing tools to the bottom of the side pane. From here, you can rotate an image — which is actually pretty helpful in my line of work — or mark it up in a number ways, including highlighting and the adding in a signature, a la Adobe PDF. Apple’s actually made Preview a bit redundant here, by bringing some of its best features directly to the desktop.

iOS apps on desktop

This is arguably the most interesting addition from an overall strategy perspective. Apple made a point of assuring its audience of developers and users that macOS and iOS are not merging, as has long been rumored. We all breathed a collective sigh of relief, before the company showed off one new way in which the lines are being further blurred.

The company is making it easier to convert mobile apps into a desktop versions. Why? For one thing, Apple would love it if more desktop applications were purchased through the Mac App Store — there are plenty of economic, ecosystem and security reasons for this, most of which should be fairly obvious. It’s also in the company’s best interest to have its most popular developers creating content for all of its platforms.

To kick things off, Apple made three of its own first-party apps available in desktop form: Voice Memos, Stocks, Home and News. Of the three, News is the one that’s made its way into my heavy rotation. It seems a bit silly to have a standalone news app, with all of the access desktop browsers afford. But after installing it and walking through the curation process, I’ve grown to appreciate the desktop notifications for breaking news.

Again, there are a thousand other ways to access that information, but News is a handy one-stop shop. That said, I rarely found myself interacting directly with the app. I mostly clicked through interesting notifications as they popped through. Thankfully, they never came through with too much frequency, which would be absolutely maddening.

Voice Memo is an interesting addition, as well. The cloud sharing with iOS devices is the killer app here. You can record something on your iPhone and listen to and edit it on the desktop. The use for desktop recording is a bit less clear. In most cases, it probably makes more sense to pull out your smartphone to record.

The gesture makes it clear that you’re recording the other person, it’s easier to move to device closer to the source of audio, and you don’t have to deal with the sound of your own typing during the recording process.

The desktop versions of iOS apps are also interesting from a UX perspective. Aside from scaling, not all that much appears to be tweaked — and that’s kind of the point. It’s a heck of a lot easier to essentially port something over than it is to rebuild from the ground up. Of course, without a touchscreen Mac, you’re interfacing with the applications through the cursor. In a few of my less proud moments, if found my hand wanting to reach out to tap the screen.

This is particularly the case with Home. The desktop version of Apple’s smart home app retains the square tiles from its predecessors. Still, the inclusion of the app in this original quartet makes sense from a user stand point. It’s handy, having access to all your connected home info in a single place accessible at work or on the road.

Odds and ends

Okay, time to bust out the bullet points.

That 32-person FaceTime chat is arriving some time later this fall on macOS. That will be a fun one to test — and I suspect a bit more manageable on a larger screen.

Both the Mac App Store and iTunes have gotten makeovers. The updates are in keeping with the company’s push toward editorial curation to help drive engagement. Anything that pays more humans to write about things like music is a good thing, in my book.

Your Mac will now ask for consent when apps access your camera or microphone, similar to what the company does on the iPhone. I people won’t be in a rush to remove the masking tape from their webcams, but this is definitely a good thing.

Safari’s protections have been beefed up. Passwords are stronger and last year’s cookie-busting Intelligent has been beefed up. Per Apple,

When you browse the web, the characteristics of your device can be used by advertisers to create a “fingerprint” to track you. Safari now thwarts this by only sharing a simplified system profile. And now improved Intelligent Tracking Prevention keeps embedded content such as social media Like buttons, Share buttons, and comment widgets from tracking you without your permission.

Time to upgrade

Is Mojave worth the upgrade? Well, yeah, duh. It’s free and brings a number of interesting new features. I’m not sure I’d call it a “love letter to developers,” to borrow a phrase from our iMac Pro review, but coupled with that new hardware, Apple’s clearly letting creatives know that there’s a place for them in the Mac’s future.

Your mileage will vary, of course, but I’ve found plenty of new features that integrate nicely into my own workflow. Stacks, Dark Mode and improved screenshots have all proven handy in the months I’ve been running the beta on both my work and personal systems. The final version of the operating system drops today for everyone, so you can partake without in all of those with a much more certainty.

Via Brian Heater https://techcrunch.com

[hybridequalist]

Thinking Out Loud, Part 3

So...this took forever. Moving and doing the job hunt will do that to a writing schedule. But, here it is!

Repeating the taglist from last time:

@nesli26, @manga-crazy, @venomemes, @galleyleelol, @makingtimemine, @jackie-sugarskull, @nightshade7117, @skysthelimit291, @randomshizzles101, @inumorph, @snow-massacre, @phantom-fangirl-stuff, @pixellated-sparks, @vsalamandor2, @otaku-mai, @snarky-badger 

***

You knew you were in trouble when you saw Lauren's smug face the next morning. If she didn't make the best breakfasts in the world, you'd have turned around and walked right out.

You managed to avoid looking at her directly long enough to sit at the table and pour yourself some juice, but Lauren picked up your glass and held it out if reach, still grinning.

“Gurl, who was that hunk you rode in with last night?” she signed with one hand.

“Shut up!” you signed back, feeling your face flush. “It's not like that!”

You swiped at your captive juice but Lauren was much taller than you and she smiled down at you.

“Spill,” she challenged, her fingers translating her sass with a flourish.

“It was not a date, we barely know each other and he was just dropping me off. Now juice!”

“Details girl. Details.”

“I didn't have dinner! Let me eat!”

That broke her teasing mood. Lauren finally relinquished the cup and ran to get the hot breakfast off the stove. You felt a slight twinge of guilt as she began to fill your plate more than usual, taking a noticeably smaller portion for herself.

To anyone else, Lauren’s behavior may have just seemed motherly but you knew better. Your psychic eavesdropping had caught more than one memory of Lauren as a disadvantaged teen, hungry and turned away from entry-level work because of her deafness. You knew all about her determination that no one renting from her would lose as much opportunity as she did worrying about when they were going to eat next. No one else could know that, however: your landlady was a well-dressed, modern woman who got her hair dyed some new radical color every other month. Without your power, you wouldn’t know the reason why she invited you to breakfast, that she planned to ensure you had at least one decent meal every single day.

But you feigned your usual innocence as you dug into the delicious food, trying to ignore Lauren’s racing mind as she conjured reasons for why you hadn’t eaten last night and did her best to combat them, holding off judgement until you were able to tell her the full story.

When you finished eating, you gave her the abridged version: that you had met Eddie at work and run into him again at the grocery store yesterday. Glossing over the details of the store being attacked, you chose to omit Venom entirely and instead told Lauren that in the panic you'd been knocked over and hit your head, that Eddie had looked out for you and been kind enough to bring you home when you woke up.

Lauren was a touch suspicious, sensing your editing but uncertain what you were holding back. Still, she shrugged and you recognized the return of her teasing mood and held back a premature weary sigh.

“You know, that Eddie guy sure is nice to look at,” she signed with a grin. “And he's a biker boy. You always did have...interesting taste.”

You flushed violently, hiding your face to block her words.

“Stop!” you signed, going redder as Lauren laughed at you. You heard her making mock kissy noises when your phone suddenly began to ring. You both jumped at the sound and panic instantly set into your chest. Lauren noticed you freeze and came over to your chair, fishing the device out from your pocket. Her eyes widened and you saw her smile.

The image in her brain showed Eddie's caller ID. The ID you'd tiredly assigned him before sending your own name over text.

Hot Mess Eddie

The ringing cut off and a text chimed out almost immediately in its place. Same contact.

You stiffly held your hand out for your phone and Lauren passed it over with a smirk before grabbing your empty plate as an excuse to give you some space.

Hey, sorry to call. I forgot.

Forgot? Forgot the one thing everybody seemed to mark as your defining trait?

Another text.

Reporter instinct. BTW, did you take my helmet last night?

Hemet? Oh, the one you'd been wearing. If your memory was correct…

It's on my coffee table, you replied. Do you need it?

Nah, but you’re gonna need it if you want me to pick you up later. You gonna be up for lunch?

Your pulse quickened and you almost dropped your phone in shock. Was he...asking you out?

I don’t have a shift tonight, so I can stay up. But why do you want to go out to lunch? I’m not exactly a conversationalist.

It took almost a minute before you saw the little ellipse that meant he was writing out a reply.

V wants me to tell you that he’s got a surprise. I still think it’s a bit early, but he’s giving me a headache for arguing. It’s pretty cool tho, gotta admit.

Surprise? What? Why?

You heard Lauren snicker and saw a flash of your own face in her thoughts. Apparently your face was red enough that she could see you blushing from the kitchen and you instinctively turned away, willing the blood to leave your cheeks.

Do you have a place in mind? You typed slowly.

***

You did you best to suppress jitters as you stood at the curb, motorcycle helmet tucked under your arm. You’d requested Lauren stay inside, but you knew she was watching from her window--both to satisfy her curiosity and ensure your safety.

You heard their thoughts before you saw them. Much like actual voices, it started quiet as they entered “hearing” distance but became steadily louder along with the revving of the motorcycle’s engine.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious. You were dressed nicely, but the priority of your outfit was comfort, not fashion. Your hair was also fine, but you began to wonder if maybe you should have done something special with it. This was supposed to be a lunch meetup, but you didn't know what type of venue it would be. Your heart rate picked up and you felt your anxiety starting to raise its vicious head. You pushed back, trying to force deep breaths, to keep your thoughts under control. Yet the tunnel vision started to set in despite your best efforts. Fragmented thoughts began to whirl like multiple tornadoes and a rising sense of panic began to choke you, cutting off all air. Tears stung your eyes behind closed lids when suddenly you felt two strong hands rest on your shoulders and heard your name, though it was muffled under your roaring pulse.

“Hey! I think you’re having a panic attack! Are you breathing? Can you try breathing?”

The realization that someone was in front of you pulled you out of the whirlpool slightly. It may not have brought the world back from crumbling, but suddenly you felt like there was an anchor keeping you from entirely plummeting into the black hole.Your hands reached out against your will and you found yourself clinging to this person’s chest, hands twisted into what felt like leather.There was no air in your lungs--not that you could feel--and your throat was stubbornly unresponsive to every sound you tried to make. So you reached out with your last resort.

You couldn’t keep the mental communion open for long--your focus was too scattered, your emotions too sweeping--but for a brief moment, you sent a burst of your emotions into the person crouched in front of you. All of your panic, your desire to be comforted, you desperate need to re-learn breathing, you sent it out in an unspoken plea for help.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your anxiety spiked in immediate response; You asked for too much; You would be cast away to fall into the abyss; You were going to die here.

Then you felt the fabric under your fingers ripple, like a living being woven of some strange material, flexing like a cat leaning into human touch. You felt your hands sink into it, giving you a better grip just as you felt thick arms wrap around you, pulling you into the stranger’s solid chest.

A voice rumbled through that chest. You couldn’t understand what they said, but found yourself zeroed in on the sound of their breathing, the feel of their pulse. Their arms tensed and relaxed in time with each breath and you found yourself trying to mimic the movement with limited effectiveness. The vibrations of your anchor’s voice rippled through your body, accompanied by some kind of lower pitch you couldn’t identify. It made you shiver and that motion made you realize that you were quaking so hard that there was no way you could have supported yourself.

Eventually, the panic began to subside into exhaustion; your violent shudders calmed into small fits of shaking and then entirely faded away. Your mind rose from the pit of despair and the sounds of the world and the thoughts of others returned.

The first thing you became aware of was who held you--that double-toned mental voice was entirely unmistakeable.

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Eddie was saying.

“WE HAVE GOT YOU,” Venom corrected and you felt the jacket ripple--or rather, the symbiote disguised as a jacket.

“You just need to keep breathing. As long as you breathe, you can make it.”

You heard footsteps coming from behind you on the pavement and you twisted to see Lauren running from the front door of the complex. She reached you and Eddie and dropped to one knee, looking you over worriedly.

“You good?” she signed. You shakily nodded and tried to pull yourself to your feet. Your knees buckled before you really got anywhere and ended up halfway dangling, clinging to Eddie like a baby koala. He chuckled.

“You think it’s okay if I carry you inside?”

Can he even lift me?

“EDDIE, WE ARE STILL HEALING. DON’T MOVE TOO FAST.”

"I know our limits, Vee. But we gotta make sure she's safe."

You jumped when you felt new hands on your arm, but it was only Lauren trying to get your attention. She repeated Eddie's question in sign and you shakily gave an affirmative.

Eddie's arms were sturdy--no sign of the injury his other had mentioned--as he carried your tired self back into the apartments. Lauren led him to her apartment and showed him to her bedroom, indicating she wanted me put in her bed. You protested in sign, but she conveniently didn't see your words.

It wasn't until you were laid on the bed that you realized how much your little attack had worn you out. The second your weight left Eddie's arms, your eyes slid shut and you yawned deeply.

"Go ahead and nap," Eddie encouraged. "I'll be out here...if your landlady is okay with it."

You tiredly gave a thumbs up and heard Venom's thoughts call out to you.

"WE WILL KEEP YOU SAFE FROM ANYTHING. EVEN YOUR OWN BRAIN. SO DON'T HESITATE TO CALL OUT FOR US--IN ANY WAY YOU CAN."

You couldn't help but smile as you slipped off into sleep.

[asgardavenged]

rules

hi everyone i’m estelle & i reside in vancouver canada timezone pst. i thank you for taking the time to read this page as it outlines how imma be running this here blog. there is a quite bit to read here & i’m sorry for that but this is purely to make sure we don’t run into complications & awkwardness when we start interactions.

first off you should know is this is not my main blog, however it will be one of my more active ones. if you need me right away pls check out ashesincaptivity my tony. i am usually always there. i will provide a full list of my blogs in current use in the navigation.

secondly i am a full time student in class from 1-5 monday-friday. i am studying to be a mental health and addictions worker. this program will last until july 2019 so i ask you be patient with me in terms of replies.  most roleplaying will likely be done on weekends. or whenever i have free time / i am not drained from school.

i have a.d.d which stands for attention deficit disorder. i used to take pills for it when i was in grade school but i no longer require them now. that being said i can make many mistakes & even after checking my work time & time again i CANT SEE EVERYTHING. so i ask that if something about the way i write bothers you please tell me. i will not take it as offence ( as long as you are nice about it ) but i do ask you to be patient with me in this regard.

please do not take any icons from this blog they are all made by me & i take pride in my work. if we are friends i may make you some.

i am 21 years of age so nsfw will be on this blog. however i will not be smutting with anyone under the age of 18. well i doubt one of us will go to jail its better safe then sorry. if i fund out you lied to me about your age i will block & unfollow you so fast your head will spin. i do not want to be that guy so please don’t make me be.   also i will not be smutting with just anyone as i am shy bean who is awkward with it.  however if i know you well ooc then i will happily sin it up with you.  any nsfw memes posted will be answered at my comfort zone  so don’t be upset if you don’t get a reply to one.  its all about my boundaries & all. please respect them !

i am not new to the mcu rp fandom however my last/ first attempt was brief. i ask you be patient with me as i learn the ropes here.

PORTRAYAL.

thor is a hella new muse for me so i am going into this a little blind. i am working out my version of him as i go. if my interpretation is not to your liking you may unfollow, no hard feelings !  

SHIPPING

thor is pansexual & panromantic. however i am super super super picky who i ship him with. 

i am a die hard jane x thor shipper & thats my main endgame for him. hes probably the only other muse besides another that never took off that i am super picky with ships.  however i do have a soft spot for thorbruce & will gladly write it !   anything else i would kindly ask you bring up to me in private. i am likely not to pursue a ship with you unless we discuss it. but please don’t be shy i am trash so come talk to me, sell it to me & i will likely agree.  i could also possibly see thunderstrange maybe ? but that one would be highly dependant on the mun & plot.   bottom line if you wanna ship just come talk to me, & i will see what we can do. 

chemistry is always key regardless between muns & muses. please no forcing ships on me or thor thats not cool to either of us.   

to clear it up right here & now, anyone who asks me for thorki is going to be auto blocked. i have no time for this. its disgusting & i am not here for it. i don’t like it but i’m not going to personally judge you for shipping it, as incest doesn’t trigger me it just makes me meh.  however please advised if you rp it i will likely not follow you. again this is not to offend this is just a personal preference.  DO NOT ASK FOR THORKI YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. 

FOLLOWING & UNFOLLOWING.

this blog is MUTUALS ONLY. that being said. i understand some people can’t follow everyone that follows them for a few reasons, but that does nothing to hinder their desire to write. therefore it will be simply as long as I AM FOLLOWING YOU we may interact. ( though i prefer mutuals ) if i am not following you, you may approach me with a plot in mind but i am in no place to agree to said plot. please do not like starter calls, or plotting calls of any kind if i am not following you. it makes me uncomfortable & aggravates me i may take a bit of time to follow back as i am not always on this blog & i need to check out many accounts for follows. please be patient with me. it can take me sometimes a week or more to follow back. i like to make sure i check out everyones blog. & trust me i do check each & every blog that follows me. i rarely unfollow people unless you have either pissed me off ( to which i would tell you ) or have offended me in some way. so unless there was some drama that started leaving me so angry at you that i needed to cut & run. then if you notice me unfollow you please give me a nudge as its likely tumblr being a dick head. 

TYPES OF WRITING & REPLIES.

i am open to all kinds of writing. para, novell, text chatting etc. though the most common form you will get is lengthy as hell shit. when i get into character i get into character hella. so i am all form long threads with lots of feels & character study. though small things with icons are fun too!! i love it all. the only thing i won’t be doing is stuff with big gifs & the like. also i kindly ask given the number of blogs i run ( you can see on my sidebar ) i ask that you be patient with me for replies. if i haven’t replied in a week you are welcome to nudge me, but please do not constantly harass me or i might drop the thread. patience guys & i will get to you.

GODMODING

don’t do it. i control my muse & you control your muse. if you want to control my character go right some fic or make a spock blog. if you mess up once i will remind you. again & we will drop the thread. third time i stop interacting with you all together. ( rules to exercised at my own discretion ) most people stop after strike one so don’t worry about that. i’m sure it will all be hunky dory.

TRIGGERS & TAGGING

i tag edits & gift sets with my own otp tags till someone comes forward asking for blacklisting. then i will use the basic tag if needed. ( i know my otp tags don’t always register in blacklist ) i will not ship tag threads though. sorry not happening. only tags on threads will be tracking tags & verse tags along with urls.  if this isn’t too your liking then feel free to unfollow.  no hard feelings.  

as for triggers i tag *insert trigger* tw  on anything including said trigger ( threads, images etc. )  if i forget to tag a trigger come talk to me & i will tag it for you !! i am very accommodating.

as for my triggers i really don’t have any. but i ask you TAG YOUR natural disasters  & excessive gore.

EXCLUSIVITY  

i am open to it !!! yes very much so. however i have a few rules. if you would like to be exclusive we must have some ooc relationship or ic relationship plotted or established. & if you do ask me & i agree i ask that its mutual. or i will drop the exclusivity. however if i chose to go exclusive to you it DOES NOT NEED TO BE RETURNED. but it would be nice, but i will not bark if you don’t. i will go exclusive with certain people as i see fit.  current list can be found here

exclusives & mains ( x )

OOC DRAMA

keep it away from me. i do not want it. have enough of it to last a life time. ic drama however is wanted & encouraged.  like 99.99999 % of what i do is angst

FINAL THOUGHTS.

so in case this made me sound intimidating i want to assure you i am the furthest from. i am a huge dork who sits around and gushes about her otps all day, and I