#he could be a model for shampoo commercials

[kvaughanarts]

how can home be so unfamiliar

[motherdanger]

dr. leon denlon

[indzae-mayumi]

The Nightly Hair Care

(Blue Lock fanfic, some characters only. "Blue Lock" is by Kaneshiro Muneyuki, illustrated by Nomura Yusuke)

"Eh?" Anri complained when she looked at some requests from her computer. She and Ego had already started their day.

When she looked at the skinny, nourishment-deprived recruit aka her boss, she saw he was already busy slurping his yakisoba with mayonnaise.

"Erm.... Ego-san... The guys at Building 5 are requesting for conditioner again," Anri said.

But Ego only waved his hand, which was holding a pair of chopsticks. He could not be bothered, not when he was enjoying his breakfast. Anri became livid, but kept her cool. After all, she had to put up with all of Ego's ridiculousness (unrelated to soccer) since she handpicked him to spearhead a project to help Japan win the World Cup. She could do this.

"What I'm trying to say is, it's like someone is using the conditioners up twice a day, and they have to keep requesting for them twice a day too," Anri said.

"Anri-chan," Ego said after swallowing his food. "Let them be. I am not at all interested in how they do their self-care. What I do care are their results and their stats."

Anri did not want to argue any further. Yes, Ego was all about the numbers, but finances are all about the numbers too. You gotta spend to buy conditioner for these guys, you know.

She spent the rest of the day forgetting about the "conditioner" issue.

That night, as she settled to sleep, she did not bother checking her computer, knowing that tomorrow, she would have to read the same requests again and inform the personnel to refill the supplies of the boys.

****

In the shower room of some random team in Blue Lock...

Aryu was the last to take a bath. He always wanted to take his time. Thankfully, all his other teammates had already settled for bed. Being last and alone meant that he could abuse the amount of shampoo and conditioner in the bathroom. And of course, the body wash, since he wanted to smell so good before he goes to sleep.

After all, he was osha, and he wanted to smell and look osha even when he sleeps.

He suddenly missed the bathtub in the bathroom of his room at home. As a rich kid, he luxuriously would settle at the bath tub with his phone and drinks while thinking about his many dates the weekend before.

As no one was inside the bathroom, and the hallway was long (to accommodate many bathers), he thought it might do him good to make the most of his time at Blue Lock. Besides, he was still dry, so might as well fool around in the bathroom for a bit.

He made the bathroom hall his fashion runway.

In his birthday suit, Aryu strutted along the long halls of the bathroom, posing some osha poses as he went. He leaned on the wall at one point, held on to the shower handle of another, and flipped his hair as he passed by the mirror. Oh, how he adored himself too much!

"Just look at that man on the mirror," he said to himself out loud. "So osha~ And I am the most osha here in my team. And in the whole building."

He could already imagine the number of guys who would get intimidated by his looks and his skills, for by looks alone, they were just mere mortals, while he was a model among them all. He remembered the number of modelling offers he got, but dropped them all when he received an invitation from JFU. He loved fashion, but he loved soccer more.

He continued strutting towards the end of the bathroom, and almost slipped. But he, the osha that he was, was able to gain back his poise and continued walking along his "Blue Lock runway."

"Ah, time for my bath," he said as he settled by the dispensers.

He rinsed himself well to get rid of all the sweat. Then, he took a lavish amount of the body wash and murmured some "commercial taglines" that a voiceover would be saying if he were the model of a body wash.

"Ah, I am such a tensai for thinking this way," he said as he laughed to himself. "But imagine me, the greatest striker in the world, also becoming a commercial model. For sure, women will drool over me for my lean figure and for my osha hair. That would be an osha future for me."

Next, he gathered shampoo into a lather and put on some helping on his hair. Again, like with the body wash, he concocted some commercial taglines again, with him as a shampoo commercial model.

Finally, when he went to the conditioner, he thought that he could probably empty the contents of the dispenser tonight. After all, with an osha long hair, he needed his hair to be very nourished and nice, so that when he would jump in the soccer field to "kick" the ball with his chest, his lustrous hair would flip so nicely on air. He could already imagine the sound of chimes and the sparkles around him, and the slow-mo of the moment when he would do that. A still shot of it would look perfect as a magazine centerfold, a scene from a movie trailer, or a full page straight out of a shojo manga (where the manga female lead will see him in all his sparkling aura when he would play soccer).

"I guess I might as well have to request for conditioner again," he thought as he lavishly took his sweet time bathing that night.

After changing into his night clothes, he strutted along the corridor to the monitor room with a towel on his hair and his hair dryer. He would look at the previous footages while preparing himself glamorously before sleep. And oh, to request for some conditioner too. It felt so good to make the halls of Blue Lock his fashion runway that would showcase his osha.

He sat comfortably on the chair facing the screens when he went inside the monitor room. As he started to take off the towel from his hair and started blow-drying, he idly watched the next opponent's footages from the other day. They would be having a match the next day, and he was multi-tasking. He needed to be in best condition to tackle his team's next opponents. As he watched each player one by one, he made some mental notes on what he would do if he were to be marked one-on-one by any of the men in the field.

"Oh well, whatever I do, I will always do it the osha way, and my opponent will look like a peasant next to me," he thought as he laughed impishly in osha style. "I'll finish this and deal with the conditioner later."

****

In the Team V bathroom, Reo, Nagi, and Zantetsu were took a bath for the night.

"Reo, can I just wash my body, dry it, wear my sleep clothes, and go to sleep?" Nagi drawled in his usual sleepy voice.

"Dame," Reo admonished him playfully. "I don't want you smelling sweaty at bedtime. You will look dirty too."

"Why are you babying him?" Zantetsu told Reo. "He's a grown-up teenage boy, for crying out loud."

"But I want to take care of him, you see?"

"Is he your master?" Zantetsu asked the purple-haired guy.

"Oh yes, he is, and he is also my treasure," Reo said proudly, heart growing ever fonder for the taller white-haired boy.

"You should be ashamed of yourself, Born-With-The-Golden-Spoon," Zantetsu said as he started shampooing his hair. "You probably have a household help cleaning your room, and here you are, head over heels to be of service for Nagi."

"But it's my pleasure to serve him," Reo said as he started shampooing Nagi's hair. The white-haired boy, meanwhile, was scrubbing himself dutifully with his sponge filled with the body wash.

"But what is a golden spoon, by the way?" Zantetsu asked.

"Golden spoon is just a term for great affluence, you fool," Reo said.

"Baka Zantetsu," Nagi murmured.

"Must be nice being in your place," Zantetsu told Reo.

Nagi washed his whole body and his hair clean. After he was totally rinsed off, Reo asked if he wanted conditioner for his hair.

"You need it so, Nagi," Reo said. "Your hair is totally dry."

By then, Zantetsu bid them good night, since he finished bathing already. He could not be bothered anymore by Reo taking care of Nagi to the extreme, even bathing. Seriously, Nagi should pay Reo his salary.

"Reo, since you are rich, can we go to a hair salon next time too?" Nagi asked.

"Oh sure! I would love to take you there!" Reo said as he pumped some conditioner in his palm. He had Nagi bow and settle his head on the wall so he could reach up to the taller boy's head to give his friend's hair some loving conditioning.

"Do rich kids always have good hair too?"

"What do you mean?" Reo asked in surprise. "Have you seen all our other classmates? They are rich too. Of course, they will have pretty hair."

"I am not rich," Nagi said, though Reo would have to disagree. Kids enrolled in their prep school are affluent to some extent. It's just Reo who was of another level.

Soon, Nagi was snoring while leaning his head on the bathroom wall. Reo's fingers on his hair was making him feel so good. He really was one lazy, lazy boy who would rather have someone condition his hair like this. Or if he was feeling extremely lazy, he wish he could just zip his belly open for Reo to bring his empty stomach to the canteen to fill it with food before bringing the full stomach back to the room for Nagi to attach to his body.

"Reo, can I put some conditioner on my body too?" Nagi asked.

Reo was taken aback. "What for? You already slathered yourself with body wash earlier."

"I don't want to put on lotion after bathing because it's a hassle," Nagi said before yawning. "My body has hair just like my head. So I need conditioner too. Might as well put it on me while I am naked."

Reo laughed. "Sou ka? Well, might as well take advantage of the bathing supplies here, I guess."

Reo took out the conditioner dispenser and stood in front of Nagi, who opened his palms. Reo pumped out some, with Nagi complaining that Reo was being stingy with the conditioner. The purple-haired guy just laughed, totally amused at his treasure. Finally, once Nagi was contented, he slapped some conditioner on his body, with Reo helping him getting some on his back.

As the two were busy with their conditioner, another teammate, Midorikawa, saw them wasting conditioner.

"Hey! Leave some for me!" he growled.

"Gomen," Nagi remarked before leaning his head on the wall to start rinsing.

Midorikawa took his place beside Reo and started rinsing. He was hoping that there would still be bathing supplies that he could use tonight. Otherwise, he would have to ask for more supplies like what he did for two nights already.

Nagi and Reo finished bathing and headed to the locker room to change for the night. Unfortunately for Midorikawa, by the time he pumped some shampoo on his palm, the dispenser was empty. He took the empty container and threw it on the floor in anger.

"Nandato?!?" he screamed angrily. He would probably just use the body wash to shampoo his hair for the meantime.

While changing, Nagi and Reo decided to watch some footages of the next match that they would be having. Reo decided to bring along the hair dryer so he could dry his hair and Nagi's too, though he knew Nagi was beyond hope when it came to ordinary diligence.

Inside the monitor room, the two sat together in silence. To Reo, it felt like a movie date sans the snacks. He dried his hair first while Nagi attentively watched the movements of the people on screen. After his hair dried, he offered to dry Nagi's hair.

"Like to lie on my lap?"

Nagi obliged without answering.

"Don't you sleep on me, Nagi," Reo told him. "We will still be discussing the footage and strategies."

"Haiiii," Nagi drawled before yawning.

Reo's fingers on his scalp felt good, Nagi thought as he closed his eyes. The warm air from the blow-dryer was also an incentive for sleeping. He did not bother to care about the footage on screen anymore. He was already too sleepy to even bathe, but he only relented to come with Reo because it's Reo asking him to. Like the good boy he always had been.

Reo was still attentive in watching the screen while drying Nagi's hair, but he soon realized that his friend had fallen asleep.

"Ah, what do I do? I shall piggyback him again," he sighed with a smile. It had mostly been like this. "What a lazy child."

Reo turned off the blow dryer and ran his fingers through Nagi's hair and scalp. He lit up a smile while looking at the serene face of the sleeping boy on his lap. Nagi had really nice hair (on top of being cute). He just needed to keep it up and not be lazy about it. It was so smooth and silky despite the type of conditioner used.

"What brand shall I buy for him once I win here in Blue Lock?" he asked himself.

He was already daydreaming about the type of treatment Nagi and he should avail of in his okaa-san's favorite salon. As someone who sometimes appeared at the sidelines during his otoo-san's press conferences, he knew what was needed as the son of the super rich. Though he wanted everyone at Blue Lock to refer to him by his first name rather than be associated with his family name (because everyone at Blue Lock knew who his family was), Reo still knew he always had to look good. He knew it was his responsibility to be so. So he knew what needed to be done. As for Nagi, Reo was willing to spend that much fortune too if it meant making Nagi look good. If he would not win here at Blue Lock, at least, he could make it second place, with Nagi as the last man standing. After all, they vowed to win the World Cup together. And it meant that, in front of the media, they should look extremely presentable.

****

Most of the guys from Team Z, except for Bachira, hurried up taking a bath that evening after dinner. The master dribbler took his time because he enjoyed the warmth of the shower water when he heard a familiar voice calling out to him.

"Finish up, Bachira. The princess will be taking a bath now," it seemed like Igaguri.

"Haiii," the happy bee smiled as he finished his shower.

He looked at the bottle of conditioner and wondered why it always seemed to be full. Yes, he used the body wash a lot, and the shampoo too, but he could not be bothered much with conditioning his hair. He knew that a lot of the guys at Team Z did not bother with it that much too. Igaguri, with his buzz cut, only ever used the body wash to wash everything, including his head.

"Ah, must be the princess, heehee," he thought as he pulled out his towel to dry himself, and walked out of the showers in his birthday suit.

As he was about to walk out of the bathroom, he met Kunigami and Chigiri, who were about to walk in.

"Are you taking a bath together again?" Bachira asked.

"Yes, why?" Kunigami asked nonchalantly.

Bachira smiled, "Can we all try to take a bath as a team too?"

"It's too crowded," Chigiri complained. "I know you guys make a fuss about me and my hair care. It's only this hero here who is patient with me."

"Can you put on some damn clothes before you go to the dorm?" Kunigami asked.

"But I like it this way," Bachira said before going away happily.

The two friends started their nightly bath. Kunigami noticed that Chigiri was extremely generous with himself when it came to the shampoo and conditioner (and with the body wash too).

"I didn't mean to ask, but you seem to be consuming the conditioner up almost every day," Kunigami told the vain man.

"I could do better, if it were up to me," Chigiri boasted. "Their conditioner is a weak version of the one nee-chan and I use. And I love my hair. Besides, I can use as much as I want since I am not paying for this."

Kunigami knew that. Anytime, any of the contenders at Blue Lock could get eliminated. Might was well use the amenities to the contentment of one's heart. And Chigiri was doing just that, but abusing it to some degree.

"You want some conditioner, Hero?" Chigiri asked in a playful voice.

"I really don't do much of it, but okay, Princess," Kunigami said with a smile.

After all, whenever they bathed together, Chigiri would often put on the conditioner for him, and Kunigami loved how the other guy massaged his scalp. It seemed like a trance that could help him sleep better every night.

After their shower, they went to the locker room to change into their sweatshirt and sweatpants. And Chigiri still had to dry his hair before he goes to sleep. He took his hair dryer from his locker so he could dry his hair in the dorm.

By the time they reached their dorm, Iemon and Gagamaru had started to prepare their own futons and blankets. Isagi told the others to reserve a spot for him next to Bachira, to which the happy bee told the others to reserve two spots near Isagi because he knew that the princess and the hero wanted to be next to each other at bedtime. While Nayuhara and Imamura, who just finished his skin care, were having a pillow fight with Igaguri, Chigiri and Kunigami settled near an electric outlet. From the background, Raichi raised his voice in anger because someone's smelly pillow was thrown to his face.

"Let me dry your hair for you," Kunigami offered.

"Wow, thanks. You're so thoughtful," Chigiri smiled as he handed his dryer to his friend.

As the others thrived in chaos before bedtime, the two had their own silent world. Chigiri hummed contentedly when he felt Kunigami's fingers brushing through his hair as his hair is being blow-dried. Kunigami could not help but fall in love with Chigiri's soft hair, which glided smoothly through his fingers. If Chigiri's hair felt this soft despite the quality of the conditioner used, he could imagine how softer it would be if the speedster used a conditioner of better quality.

"If your hair is as beautiful as your face, I bet your fashion outside of school could make any fashionistas out there cry with envy," Kunigami told him.

Chigiri bit his tongue, feeling his cheeks warm. Did Kunigami just call him beautiful? He swore, his insides felt warm too when Kunigami's fingers brushed against his nape.

"Th... thanks," Chigiri said as he tucked some bits of hair behind his ears. He seemed to love flirting with the ginger-haired nice guy. "Do you want me to dry your hair too?"

"Yes please," Kunigami replied. "After all, you always accompany me during gym time."

"Did this all just start after we traded food?" Chigiri asked, laughing lightly.

Kunigami's pensive response had Chigiri blushing again, "Maybe it did. Something in your eyes back then had me immediately say 'yes' to you."

The two continued their little domestic affair even as Iemon had been admonishing the pranksters for making a mess of the laid-out futons.

Meanwhile, Kuon, who took a bath last, complained as he pushed the pump of the conditioner hard, as there was only a small amount left. Not again! Did he have to ask for conditioner again? Just who among in Team Z drank conditioner for dinner? He seemed to be doing this for many nights now.

--end--

[keehlmyself]

late night christmas headcanons with (some) the death note cast!

this post will include: light, l lawliet, misa, matsuda, near, mello, matt & sayu.

— ' its the most wonderful time of the year ! '

LIGHT YAGAMI ★ [pre/no-kira!]

unsurprisingly, light is a very considerate gift giver. on one hand he tries to get gifts that will be more beneficial in the long run! at the same time he attempts to get something that he knows the person will like.

i can imagine light would be the kind of person to end up scouring the store for something affordable, useful and still likable. (spoiler! he fails to find items that fall into all three categories)

his gift-wrapping is neat. his mother, sachiko, taught him how to wrap gifts at the ripe age of 7. ever since then, he helps her every christmas :)

most items on wish list are stationary, up until little specific things — like a certain keychain or an expensive book.

one of his favourite things about christmas is the cookies that his mom makes. his favourites are (of course) the classic chocolate chip and simple vanilla biscuits.

he used to believe in santa when he was younger until the illusion and magic was ruined for him. as a result, while sayu was still young, he made sure that she'd continue to believe and have something to look forward to every christmas.

one time, he got L for a secret santa activity. he was fully aware that L was already rich. he could have anything he wanted! and so, he decided to make his own gift (with misa's assistance).

L LAWLIET ★

when he was younger, christmas was quite bleak at wammy's. other kids seemed to have fun but he just found himself incredibly uninterested in the holiday.

still, watari would get him gifts — and secretly? he felt appreciated.

years later, the kira task force would somehow find themselves discussing their holiday plans. L had decided to allow everyone to take a few days off (as pushed by his mentor, watari) to celebrate christmas with their families.

matsuda (bless his soul) decides to go ahead and suggest an office christmas party! at first, L is hesitant..

but he accepts. obviously.

with their basically infinite budget, the food is to die for. cakes, ice cream, meats, a few traditional meals from across the world..

secretly, this was L's quiet way of showing his own appreciation to everyone.

now you're probably wondering, 'what are his gifts like?' ... honestly lame. it depends; but for the most part, his gifts rely on practicality.

misa gave him shampoo for christmas once. and deodorant. and slippers. she wasn't trying to be mean, she just thought L didn't know those things existed and she wanted to guide him..

if you aren't upfront on what you want for christmas, he'll give you stationary, socks, utensils, etc.

MISA AMANE ★

misa is serving absolute cunt in that outfit she's wearing. she went all out - went shopping just for this. she's the type to wear little cute scarves, arm warmers, beanies.. and she looks good in them.

her gift giving abilities are god-like for the most part. she shops in advance and asks people for their wish lists

cute gift wrappers!! candy print, little cats, reindeer, hearts, etc. definitely for lights gift: she'd wrap it in hearts! (he did not reciprocate..)

at times, she worries she won't be able to spend christmas with her family (mostly just the task force) due to her modelling and acting career. she has to constantly do photoshoots, film commercials, and it stresses her out.

to make up for it: she drinks hot chocolate. and her hot chocolate is always the cutest. cute mugs, cute marshmallows, etc. but it still tastes good.

she taught sayu how to do her hot chocolate recipe! (it was barely her own recipe, she just adds alot of cute little etuff)

she's the type of gift wrapper to put ribbons on her gifts.

when asked about what she wanted for christmas, she said something cheesy like; 'anything as long as lights there'

TOUTA MATSUDA ★

christmas party planner 4everrrr

buys gifts a few months too early, our considerate king.

draws/doodles on the gift tags! (taught by misa)

he nagged watari to teach him to make cookies. he wanted to make some christmas cookies for L, in hopes that he'd win his apprpval.

wears ugly christmas sweaters a few days before christmas.

and so, this conversation ensued;

L: 'that sweater looks rather old.' Matsu: 'what? no, its barely been used' L: 'ah. it mustve been rotting in your closet.'

loves the concept of santa claus. has tried to make watari dress up as santa.

when he was younger, his parents brought him to talk to santa! by this time, matsuda already new santa claus wasnt real.

and so, he had an existential crisis the moment he realized that there was infact a white haired-white bearded man, clad in red.. and may be his childhood hero.

he liked rudolph alot and for one Halloween, he dressed up as him

NEAR ★

christmas at wammys was especially tiring for him. the children screaming, the sound of wrapping paper ripping being heard throughout the entire orphanage.. wasn't for him!

he didn't have many friends so he never really received any gifts.

his first ever gift was from linda — it meant alot to him. it was a little paper origami doll of him. it was taped horribly.

his family before the orphanage? he couldn't really remember, so along with that, he couldn't remember the christmases they had.

near gives gifts when he can.. by that, when or if he remembers.

his gifts range from socks to an entire mansion. he's not very responsible with his money.

HATES the mistletoe. one time he was under it the same time as mello. did they kiss? no, but mello did chase him around.

now sorta looks forward to christmas because of eggnog and all the toys he gets out of it. he gets ALOT of toys.

he dislikes carollers. he thinks they're too noisy. one time, he and a few other kids were forced to perform a sonf infront of everyone as part of the wammy's christmas party..

he was stood still and stayed quiet the entire time.

MELLO ★

he had alot of items on his wish list. most predominantly; accessories, clothes and of course.. chocolate.

mello is given a LOT of chocolate every christmas — with the exception of near who gave him a toothbrush out of mild concern.

his gifts are the best. by that, he just gets whatever the person wants (but at times gets everything)

mello just wants to be better than everyone when it comes to the gifts. and everything. there's a reasoning behind it, being; from a young age he always thought that if he gave the most and got the most, it would mean that everyone would like him.

there's a secret mostly one sided competition between near, matt and mello every year over who gives and receives the most gifts.

he gets into multiple fights with near, which results in him dumping a glass of eggnog down near's back.

near was not happy with the disgusting feel of wet clothes stuck to his skin. insert him literally SCREAMING

the closest person of authority in the area was giving mello a look of, 'make him stop or so help me'

wears all black to a christmas party with the exception of a red christmas hat

MATT ★

his wishlist is a little expensive, mostly 'cause it's all video game related — and clothes. did he list the clothes? no, mello did, 'cause matt's clothes are starting to fall apart at the seams.

he and mello think the christmas games are lame but they participate anyway. matts always helping mello win.

matt absolutely half asses his gifts! unless you're someone he likes or has a crush on.

lowkey pigs out during the christmas feast. he has fast metabolism so it doesn't really affect his body, but he does receive these wide-eyed looks from mello like 'holy shit you're gonna eat ALL of that?'

sings christmas songs to annoy everyone. definitely.

when he was younger, he wasn't really able to celebrate christmas properly with his family. i headcanon that he got into wammy's at a really young age and that he was there when near first arrived too.

he might not seem like it but he was one of the people (like linda) to try and make christmas a little more happy and sweet for the newcomers/the younger kids in the orphanage. he didn't want them to experience the same dissappointment and upset he felt every christmas when he was still with his family.

matt plays holiday pranks on everyone.

this is contradictory to the headcanon i made before the last, but he once told a random kid on the street santa claus wasn't real and it started crying.

SAYU YAGAMI ★

when she was younger, she'd save up all her allowance so she could buy her family gifts. admittedly — sayu's gifts never really aligned much with whatever was on their christmas lists. but she was so sweet, how could they reject?

sayu once got her and light matching slippers. hers were bunny slippers and his was dog slippers. (based off of this)

she believed santa was real up until the age of 15. she got a little angsty around those years..

her wishlist is mostly things like nail polish, certain percume, journaling books, clothes — but one year she wanted a pet mouse.. so she wrote down mouse.

well, sachiko wasn't a big fan of rodents. so instead she got her a computer mouse. and a new PC to go along with it. sayu liked it! she did want a computer too, yes..

she was salty about the pet mouse thing for the next 2 weeks though.

can't wrap gifts to save her life. she's the gift giver who puts her gifts into those paperbags and puts a ribbon sticker.

sayu loves to bake cookies with her mom. even after the events (yes, when she was traumatized to all hell by mello and the mafia) of death note, she continued to bake with her every christmas.

[silversoulstardust]

I had a vision about Eddie and Steve as motorbike riders a couple of months ago, so I decided to write it as a countdown to valentine's :)

word count: 1.3k

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

If there was one thing that wouldn’t disappoint Steve, it would be his girl. She would let him ride her from dawn till dusk and dusk till dawn. She helped him mend his broken heart, that happened more often than not. Let him hug her gentle curves  as he glided down the open road, splitting the air as he rocketed his way to his destination. His ever faithful Italian girl, his bobber bike, a Benelli 900 Sei. A manufactured beauty she was, sleek black with strong metallic frames that fit just right under him. 

And right now, she was the best company he could ever ask for. As Steve took a particularly curvy road, he swayed to one side so close to the road his knee was touching the tarred ground, friction burning hot on the jeans against his skin. This was good. The adrenaline rush paired with the need to concentrate of the safety of his ride were taking Steve’s mind off his latest relationship endeavor. A failed one, at that. 

This time it lasted well over three months, and it could have been perfectly in line with Valentine’s celebration, their third monthsary, if Steve hadn’t caught her kissing another guy when he came by to her workplace to drop her a surprise lunch.

He calmly broke up on the spot with a simple we’re done, and in the bin the carefully packed lunch went. Steve was taking Robin’s advice to simply cut things off if it wasn’t  serving him purpose anymore, and someone who cheated on him barely three months into the relationship wasn’t someone he wanted to keep in his life.

So here he was now, on his best girl riding to nowhere, just so take his mind off things.

Steve exited the highway to take the less traveled road, opting to get lost for half the day before heading back after getting a hearty meal at a random restaurant, whatever that struck him fancy. Sometimes he asked for recommendations from the locals, other times he picked it because the signage looked interesting or the name of the restaurant sounded funny. There was no pattern to his choosing.

But as the splash of the first bout of rain hit his visor, Steve could tell it would derail his plan for the day. He tried to resist. He continued riding in the heavy rain, droplets of water hitting painfully against his leather jacket as he sped ahead. But a gust of wind that came with the torrential rain almost sent him sideways, and he knew fighting mother nature was futile. 

He slowed down as an overpass road came into view, with the shaded area underneath it looking inexplicably welcoming, a perfect spot to hide. His bike slowly came to a halt.  He hopped off it and pushed it to the side to have it parked away, and it was only then that he realized he wasn’t alone, his sight fell upon another beauty parked on the dirt by the side of the road. 

Steve was immediately enticed. He couldn’t help but reach out, ghosting a touch upon its purplish black body, with white fiery murals on its sides bringing it to life. It was a foreign model to Steve, and now his body was itching to learn all about it, to have it under him and ride it. 

“Gorgeous, isn’t she?” A melodious voice emerged from a shadowed area underneath the overpass, and slowly the owner of the voice materialized. With one swift move he took off his helmet, whipping his long hair back and forth a couple of times like he just stepped out of a goddamn shampoo commercial, and a smile playing by his lips. “Hi.”

It left Steve's jaw slightly agape. Thankfully, it wasn’t visible thanks to the helmet and visor. He blinked a couple of times, and swallowed hard at the sight of a beautiful man before him, with curly hair framing his sweet grinning face as he spoke about his girl. He was rocking on his heels as he tucked his hands in his black leather jackets, looking mighty excited when Steve was showing interest on his ride. 

“Hi,” Steve finally managed, after forcing his brain to come up with something. After pulling off his helmet, he ran his fingers through his hair and returned a smile to the beautiful man before him. “She really is gorgeous. All yours?”

“Yup,” he answered. He then suddenly shifted his gaze to the sky behind Steve, looking at the ever growing rain that splattered as a gust of wind blew the water stream towards them. He quickly reached out to wrap his hand around Steve’s wrist and pulled him deeper underneath the overpass. “The rain’s getting heavier. Don’t want you to get wet.”

Steve shrugs. “I’m already wet,” he gestured at his thoroughly soaked jeans. He was pretty sure he could fill a bucket with water if he were to wring out his jeans. “I’m Steve,” he introduced himself.

“Eddie,” the other guy replied, and gestured at his motorbike with his chin. “She’s Belladonna.”

Eddie patted the clearing next to him for Steve to sit. At times like this, even the slightest proximity to heat wouldn’t go unappreciated. “That’s a beautiful name. And I’ve never seen one like her before.” Steve commented, gazing at it from a distance after settling by Eddie’s side. “Is she foreign?” 

“The name came from a poisonous plant, and yeah, she is foreign,” said Eddie as he pointed at the bike. “Made in Japan. It's a Suzuki 800 Intruder. At par with some smaller version of Moto Guzzi or Ducati cruiser with a fraction of the price. Well, minus the import duty, that is, but I know a guy from work.”

“Wow. Engine?”

“V2 twin. Perfectly balanced.”

“Sounds like a sweet ride,” Steve chided.

Eddie was grinning proudly at that, eyes practically twinkling, and Steve thought he looked really cute. And wasn’t that something? He thought he was out here riding in the rain to mend a broken heart. 

“ I just got her a couple of weeks ago, and I’ve only got a day off today to finally ride her. Heading upstate to visit my uncle, but, well, you know the rest of the story,” he gestured out at the heavy downpour, with a thunder splitting the sky. 

The afternoon suddenly got a whole lot darker, and Steve shuddered at the sudden loud sound that was booming above them. After sitting still for a while, the chill from the surroundings started to get to him. He rubbed his hands over his arms up and down to generate heat. When that failed, he shoved his hands in his brown leather jacket, and that at least prevented his fingers from freezing and falling off of his hands. When he turned to face Eddie again, Eddie was already scooting close next to Steve. “Maybe this will make you feel less cold?” 

“Thanks,” stuttered Steve as he get adjusted to the sudden close proximity between them. He could clearly see the brown of his doe eyes that was staring deep into Steve’s own, his fogged up breaths filling the space between them with each word leaving his mouth. 

Steve could feel his cheeks heating up. “I really didn’t expect it to rain today.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, I didn’t really plan to ride today. Just needed to clear my mind, and suddenly, the key is in the ignition, and off I go. Not even sure where I’m headed. Was just thinking of getting one good meal at some random stop, and then turning back before going home. But at this rate…”

“Well you’re in luck, then,” replied Eddie as he kicked up the dirt and pointed at the road beyond the overpass with the toe of his boot. “There’s a small town up ahead and there’s a restaurant down the main street that sells a really mean stew.”

Steve saw an opportunity and seized his chance. He realized he quite liked this stranger, and maybe a meal before they parted ways wasn’t such a bad idea. “Well that’s it then. I have got to try this mean stew before I head back. You’re showing me the way, right? We can have a late lunch together as I tell you about my girl?”

Eddie seemed to be hopping on to the same line of thought, and it didn’t take long for the curve of his lips to morph into a teethy, dimpled grin. A gleam of excitement was reflected in his eyes. 

“My greatest pleasure, Steve.”

—----------------------------------------

Part two here :)

[fahrni]

Sturday Morning Coffee

Good morning from Charlottesville, Virginia! ☕️

Another week gone and I’m so pooped out I just want to go back to bed. But wait! There is hope in the form of a magic black elixir called coffee! Phew! That was close.

I hope you enjoy the links.

Sakshi Venkatraman • NBC News

A historic seaside town that once was the capital of the Kingdom of Hawaii has been largely reduced to ash as wildfires continued to rip through the state Wednesday.

I’m so sad for Hawaiians. Such a beautiful place with kind people. To see climate change ravage Maui is heartbreaking.

Kim and I have been to Hawaii, Maui, once 20-years ago and it was stunning. We drove the road to Hana. It took us all day to go there and back on a skinny winding road but the sites along the way were unmatched.

We also had the pleasure of visiting the aquarium in Lahaina. It’s all gone now. 😔

I’m just happy to know my Big Island friend and his wife are safe.

The Grug Brained Developer

and, what is worse, front end complexity demon spirit even more powerful and have deep spiritual hold on entire front end industry as far as grug can tell

Someone at work shared a link to The Grug Brained Developer this week and I had to go read. I’ve read it before and it makes me laugh. I hope it makes you laugh. We could use more laughter these days. 😃

Case Viewer

Case Viewer is a macOS app built for fast, frictionless access to high-quality representations of judicial opinions.

This is a really beautiful app designed and developed by a Law Professor! It’s not something I could use but maybe a lawyer reading this post could?

There are so many smart, talented, folks in the world. 🧠

Bryan Carney

There was a time when basic RSS feeds were a growing, straightforward way for users of the Internet to receive a steady stream of headlines on their digital devices — sort of like a ticker from a stock exchange.

Nice little case for and explainer of RSS. If you’re reading this post you may have gotten here via RSS and know what it is but a friend or family member may not.

It’s still the best way to read web sites in my opinion.

Oh, and yes, I make a Feed Reader for iOS. 😃

Steven Beschloss

But in the struggle between light and dark, between those who yearn for greater equality and a better America and those driven by grievance and the need to scapegoat the most vulnerable among us, the next year promises more violence fueled by irresponsible leaders determined to exploit peoples’ worst instincts.

I really enjoy reading Steven Beschloss. As he points out, we could be headed for more violence over the next year as TFG faces down the possibility of jail time.

I’m hoping things don’t revolve into Civil War but if TFG wins the election and shuts down all the cases against him I could see it happening.

Fingers crossed it doesn’t come to that. 🤞🏼

Peter Corless • ScyllaDB

According to its data model ScyllaDB needs to maintain a set of partitions, rows and cell values providing fast lookup, sorted scans and keeping the memory consumption as low as possible. One of the core components that greatly affects ScyllaDB’s performance is the in-memory cache of the user data (we call it the row cache). And one of the key factors to achieving the performance goal is a good selection of collections — the data structures used to maintain the row cache objects.

I just enjoy posts like this for the technical detail, especially if it includes a diagram. 😃

Comic Sands

The vehemently homophobic conservative group One Million Moms—an arm of the Christian fundamentalist nonprofit American Family Association (AFA)—lost it over an Aveeno Kids Shampoo commercial featuring a child in a rainbow tutu.

Christian Nationalists are no better than the Taliban. How about you try to live and let live. We have bigger fish to fry in this nation, like helping the less fortunate and making a better America for all. Enough of this B.S.

Jon Romeo

William Friedkin’s The Exorcist made its way into our home via the late, somewhat great Blockbuster Video. It was put high on a kitchen shelf away from prying hands for later viewing by my parents. Of course, being told I couldn’t watch it meant that I had to watch it. On the night in question I waited until the parents thought I was asleep before sneaking downstairs to where my parents were about to watch the forbidden movie. Through a crack in the living room door I watched the entire movie.

I didn’t watch the Exorcist until much later in life. I remember people talking about it when I was a youngin’ and it terrified me just hearing about it.

It’s my understanding William Friedkin, RIP, made a film called Sorcerer I’ve never heard of but definitely want to see now.

Chris Lee • Vulture

Call it the Hollywood-labor-organizing version of Avengers Assemble! On the heels of more than a year’s worth of damning disclosures around Marvel Studios’ systematic overworking and underpayment of visual-effects workers on its blockbuster movies and streaming series, VFX crews at Marvel have finally petitioned to demand union recognition from the studio.

I’ve heard time and again VFX teams are pushed to the breaking point and underpaid. The underpaid side is in reference to the little indie shops who do amazing visual effects work.

It’s nice to see them organizing and if Hollywood isn’t careful they’ll miss all of next Blockbuster season.

Tim Hardwick • Mac Rumors

Apple is sunsetting its long-running iTunes Movie Trailers app as it begins hosting movie trailers exclusively in the company’s flagship TV app, MacRumors can report.

There was a time when I’d browse all the upcoming summer blockbusters using Apples Movie Trailers page. Then I switched to this app because it was a nice app I could use on my phone.

At some point I discovered Trailer Town and started using that but, sadly, it stopped updating a number of years back. I’d always wanted a mobile app for it and now that Apple is shuttering their standalone app it’s time for the developers of Trailer Town to revive it! 😃

Mara Negrut • WillowTree Engineering Blog

A few weeks ago, two small teams of WillowTree engineers embarked on a mission to answer the question: What is the impact of using AI tools for engineering? Each team was composed of two developers and a test engineer. Led by the same technical requirements manager, they worked on rebuilding an existing weather app in React Native, with a focus on iOS. The teams each had their own Jira Kanban board and backlog, with identical tickets arranged in the same order. The big difference: one team was encouraged to leverage AI tools during their development and testing process, while the other was not allowed to use any AI at all. The robots team was called Team Skynet1, and the no-robots team was Team Butlerian2 (they will be referred to as such from this point on).

A nifty experiment! Go read the piece and enjoy.! 🤖

[hopefromadoomedtimeline]

You know Trunks, if there weren't more pressing issues stopping you, you could definitely be a hair model. You'd be great in like Shampoo commercials. Total pretty boy.

It takes but a moment before he speaks, despite the idea of becoming a model having apparently never crossed his mind, he would shake his head.

"I don't think a model would be a profession I'd really care for. It's about people taking photos for others right? I'd rather be doing something more productive, and I... really don't think I'd meet the minimum requirements if I was interested. From what I've seen, you had have to be pretty conventionally attractive, which doesn't exactly describe me."

[longbicycle]

Who makes the psst brand

WHO MAKES THE PSST BRAND TV

And we look at the ever-growing importance of having the right technology to make the most of marketing efforts in this ever-changing marketplace. didn't know about his past, that it didn't change how he felt about her now. Make sure you know your serving size or else you may go over your planned intake and exit ketosis. An Adotas Q&A with Julie Ginches, CMO, Kahuna, explores the power of mobile to direct multi-channel marketing efforts. His face was mere inches away, and his nearness made Brand as tetchy as the. 9 17 IMPORTANT: Net carbs are per serving. What is an employee referral An employee referral is when a candidate is referred to a job opening, be that via an existing employee in the company or. Learn the good & bad for 250,000+ products. And advertisers saying, "Google - you're the greatest. Personalized health review for Psst Enriched White Bread: 120 calories, nutrition grade (C minus), problematic ingredients, and more. And how long will it be before larger companies decide to purchase remnant ad space through Google and cut out all the middlemen? I can already hear the moaning in ad agency boardrooms.

WHO MAKES THE PSST BRAND TV

Given the current relatively low expense to create passable video, Google may have opened the national TV ad market to many companies that would never have considered it before. Premium private brands emerged at Kroger after it acquired the Private Selection brand when the grocer acquired Ralph's supermarkets in California in the late 1990s. That may seem anemic, but remember that was the number of people watching a less than compelling ad and then going to a web site and it was for overnight viewing (which probably includes a large number of people who have fallen asleep in front of the TV).įorget the odd Ralph Kramden and Ed Norton looking to put their kitchen gadget on a television ad as in the old Honeymooners episode and think of small and medium-sized businesses that want to reach out. Of the 1.3 million, over a thousand went to the specially created web site mentioned at the end of the commercial, for a response of about 0.08 percent. On late night television, that bought an audience of 1.3 million spread across 54 appearances â€" multiple times on overnight reruns of the Glenn Beck show - over four different cable networks. Slate created its own commercial, largely cut from archival footage, and paid about $1,300. The Nanny season 1 episode 'Maggie the Model' featured a character who modeled for Psssssst during the 1960s. Finance Minister MatiaK5 today appeared before ParliamentUg Committee on National Economy to make a statement on the performance of loans approved by. You could get a television spot for as little as $100. Psssssst Instant Spray Shampoo is a no-water substitute for traditional shampoo, popular in the 1970s its popularity was widespread enough that it is considered a pop culture icon.

[shaynawrites23]

HEYYY could i pls request:

2. running fingers through hair - with sirius black

Special

Pairing: Sirius Black x reader

Word count: 439

Prompt: running fingers through hair

A/N: ahh yes ofc! this prompt feels perfect for sirius lol, i hope you like it! omg that must be the fastest ive ever gotten a request out-

Sirius Black was not one to let other people touch his hair.

It was his pride and joy; "the pride of Hogwarts," he would proclaim, flipping his gorgeous locks back like a model in a shampoo commercial before James would inform him that his hair was not, in fact  "the school's most precious asset." Sirius would then only gasp in mock heartbreak before making the same claims two days later.

By now, all the female population of Hogwarts knew, learning from the mistakes of several unfortunate pioneers, that Sirius Black's hair was off limits.

This was why it came as such a surprise when, as you sat reading under a tree by the Black lake one warm sunny day, your boyfriend lay down in the grass beside you. Plopping his head in your lap, he placed your free hand in his hair and closed his eyes, thus remaining oblivious to your confusion.

"...uh, Siri?"

"Hmm?"

Gently, you untangled your fingers from his dark locks, though at the loss of your touch, he whined and grabbed your wrist, placing your hand back on his head and eliciting a laugh from you. "Whatever happened to not letting anyone touch your hair?"

"One," he raised a finger as he opened his eyes to look at you, "you're not just anyone, you're my girlfriend. Two, this feels nice."

Bookmarking your page, you put your book down and began combing your fingers through his hair absentmindedly. "And that explains why you've never let any other girl do this because…?"

"Because you're special. Because I love you. Because you're the single best thing that's ever happened to me." He rolled over onto his stomach now, gray eyes gazing deep into yours, and you just knew he meant what he said. Before you could reply, however…

"PADS! I just had the best ide- ohmygod, (y/n) is touching your hair."

Sirius groaned in annoyance, faceplanting against your thigh before glaring at James. "Go bother Moony with it, can't you see we're having a moment?"

"Oh!" Not intimidated in the least, James grinned and shot you a thumbs-up. "Gotcha, I'll be leaving now. Have fun, don't do anything Lily wouldn't do!"

"And he wonders why he doesn't have a girlfriend yet," Sirius grumbled. "Godric, that man can be infuriating sometimes."

You only laughed. "Come on, you know we love him anyway."

"But you love me more, right?" The grin you were so used to seeing him with adorned his features again and he raised an eyebrow, causing you to chuckle as you leaned down to place a soft kiss on his lips.

"Of course I do, love."

[sara-scribbles]

Freesias

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Leona Kingscholar/GN!Reader Word Count: 773 Note: His design was what initially drew me to him. I bet he would look amazing with flowers in his hair! Am I obsessed with flower related prompts? Maybe... Warnings: None

---------

You fanned yourself with your hand as you placed the last of the flowers in the basket Crewel had given you. The warm area of the botanical garden almost made you forget you were even at a school. It settled on your skin like a warm blanket; tempting you to sit and take a quick nap. Shaking your head, you wondered when you started thinking like a certain Savanaclaw dorm leader.

Standing up, you started to make your way out but paused as you caught sight of a napping Leona from the corner of your eye. You knew you should leave him alone and return to the professor, but temptation won over before you could think properly. Your feet guided you to the spot he was napping.

He was leaning against a large tree trunk, carefully hidden from view if one didn’t look hard enough. It was his favorite place to nap, and where you often found him when Ruggie would ask you to convince the lion to attend class. Setting the basket aside, you squatted down in front of him. He always looked so innocent and peaceful when sleeping. The smug attitude, smirking, and snide remarks seemed to be forgotten whenever you saw his sleeping face.

Lost in thought, you didn’t notice his eyes on you until he spoke. “Like what you see, herbivore?” he teased, his voice still gravely from sleep.

Eyes snapping to attention, you blinked rapidly a few times before clearing your throat. “Shouldn’t you be in class?” you asked, trying to deflect.

Seeming to let it be, he yawned loudly. “Don’t wanna. Anyways, I already know the material. What about you? Finally playing hooky?”

You gestured to the basket of red flowers. “Professor Crewel had some of the students collect ingredients for next week's lesson. He sent me here to collect freesias.”

“Hmm.” His sharp gaze went from the basket back to your face. Lip curling upward, he leaned forward, grabbing your arm. “Then you have some free time.”

“No, I need to-” Your words were cut off as Leona suddenly pulled you toward him. In a few quick moves, he somehow maneuvered your body so that your back was now leaning against the tree and his head resting on your lap. “Hey!”

His long hair was splayed out as he stared up at you with a smirk. “You make a good pillow, herbivore.” You didn’t know whether to take it as a compliment. “Just sit here for a bit and let me sleep.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed, “All you do is sleep. I swear you’re related to Silver.”

Yawning once more, he stretched languidly. “Didn’t get much rest the last couple of days,” he muttered as his eyes fluttered closed.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, you gently thunked your head against the tree trunk. “Fine…” You were always too soft when it came to Leona. After the rocky start, you had come to develop some complicated feelings for the dorm leader.

He was arrogant and somewhat of a jerk. Yet, you found underneath all the smirks and snide comments was someone who cared. He was just used to putting up a front. Breaking those layers was like picking at a boulder with a needle. Somehow you managed to chip away some of those layers, and found something shining.

Your fingers unconsciously started running through his hair. It wasn’t fair how soft and shiny his hair was. He always looked like one of those shampoo commercial models, even after gym class. Though you asked what his secret was, he always denied doing anything special beyond regular washing and combing. His ears twitched a few times, but he only sighed as he settled back down.

Glancing at the basket of flowers, you reached for one before gently twisting it through his hair. Once you started, you couldn’t stop putting more flowers. The vibrant red contrasted with his dark brown hair beautifully. Your hand reached for another flower but you only felt the bottom of the basket.

Eying your work, you mumbled, “Why are you so good looking? Unfair…” A few seconds later he snorted before a small smile cracked his solemn face. “Y-your awake!?” Suddenly you felt hotter under the collar and it wasn’t due to the warm air.

Emerald green eyes met your own as the smile morphed into a smirk. “So I’m good looking?”

“Shut up.” You looked away as Leona’s chuckles echoed in the garden.

---------

You both ended up getting lectured at by Crewel. You for not returning to class and wasting the materials. Leona for skipping classes and having the ingredients in his hair.

[monster-fricker]

Chapter 10: Being Named

Male Orc (He/Him pronouns) x Female Human Reader (She/Her pronouns) - SFW

- This one is angsty and fluffy and sweet. I am emotional over my orc ok. Also thank you guys for being so patient. 💖 Next chapter is gonna be NSFW. -

The book tour was swiftly approaching. You and Oluan had planned for a relaxing week until then, a few dates and pacing yourselves with packing. Oluan had bought you new luggage for the trip, forest green to match his, which did not seem practical, but it was too cute to mention such. He even took you shopping for new clothes, despite your protests. Admittedly, your current wardrobe was a little raggedy and it was fun trying outfits on in front of him, posing dramatically and forcing him into selfies. He complained, but set one as his phone background immediately. As did you. That was also too cute to mention.

The relaxation was naturally cut short with a phone call from Rasdane. She had scheduled some fancy dinner with a close circle of people in the industry. "A more casual event," she said. You knew that meant it was the furthest thing from casual. Oluan was miserable about the whole thing, arguing with Rasdane on the phone for awhile. Of course, it was in vain, as the minotaur usually got her way and only had the best intentions. You weren't thrilled either, the hopes of an intimate week with Oluan dashed, but you kept that to yourself, trying to soothe the orc as best you could.

You got ready for the event at his house, a place you had been spending the majority of your time now. Your toiletries invaded the bathroom sink and medicine cabinet. He stocked your favorite coffee creamer in the fridge. The only disagreement you'd had so far was over which movie to watch one night and that ended in thrown popcorn and making out. It was too good to be true, and yet it was true, and that was evidenced everyday in his crooked smile and the waves of laughter and how he switched his shampoo to yours- "I'm starting to enjoy smelling like citrus and vanilla," he had said, whipping his hair around as if he were a model in a commercial. You weren't in love, you told yourself. Except for the fact that you were, but that was insignificant and definitely not worth talking about.

You had finished your look for the evening before Oluan, who was undoubtedly obsessing over every minute detail and fixing, then re-fixing his hair. Eventually, five minutes after you were supposed to leave, you heard his heavy footfalls descending the stairs, shuffling into the living room.

"Do you think this is okay?" His attention was focused downward, smoothing out his necktie in earnest.

As always, Oluan was gorgeous. He decided against a suit jacket, dawning an all black ensemble; a button-up that hugged his hips and bulging forearms, slacks that were just tight enough to show off the delicious curves of his ass. If you weren't already late, you would have pounced on him. "I feel like I'm dressed for a funeral."

"That would be one sexy funeral," you cooed, closing the distance between your bodies and pulling his hands from his tie. He met your eyes, chuckling before smiling shyly.

You kissed his cheek tenderly. "Here," he said, pulling away, "Let me see my date for this sexy funeral."

You giggled. Somehow you'd also chosen black for the dinner, from the short, revealing dress to the strappy shoes- this time, not heels. You weren't torturing yourself more than was necessary.

Oluan always swept his gaze across your body like the curator of a museum admiring artwork. If it were not for the makeup, your round cheeks would have burned pink. He nibbled at his bottom lip.

"Do you think we would have time for me to fully appreciate you?" There was a mischievous curl in his grin.

"Mm, as much as I'd love that, I think Rasdane would kill us both." Oluan sighed and you grabbed his wrist before he could run his fingers through his hair.

"Yeah. Let's get this over with," he muttered, "Though a funeral is starting to sound preferable."

On the ride there, you rambled on about the various fun things the two of you could do on the book tour, hoping the distraction would relieve the orc's nerves. It seemed to work, him squeezing your hand through the entire journey, adding comments on spots he had wanted to see on his last tour, but was too embarrassed to visit alone. However, as you pulled into the restaurant's outside entrance and left the car keys with the valet, Oluan's demeanor soured once more. You hated these social and business obligations- not on their own merits, but simply because the orc dreaded them to the point of making himself sick with worry. You slipped your arm across his lower back, too broad for you to comfortably reach his waist, and leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Don't worry. It'll just be a bunch of old people. I can distract them with my dazzling personality and then we'll go home." He snorted and melted into your touch, though only a little.

The restaurant itself was laughably gaudy. The interior designer must have been a masochist, judging by the overcrowded gold accents that assaulted your vision. "Luxurious" is how some people would describe it. Those people were probably intolerable.

You were greeted by a host who asked your names before gushing over Oluan- much to Oluan's discomfort- and led you to a closed room, presumably something Rasdane rented out for the occasion.

"All of your guests have arrived, sir," the man said, "We would have waited for your arrival to serve appetizers, but... two of the guests insisted." He tried to hide his disdain for the aforementioned guests. You had worked enough customer service jobs, however, to know when someone was berated by an asshole. And, as he opened the door, Oluan thanking him profusely, you knew who one of the assholes was immediately.

"Look who finally decided to show up." Louis. You had prayed you had seen the last of him, at least until the next book, or when his photo sat above an obituary. You felt Oluan stiffen.

"Yeah, sorry," the orc offered, "Lost track of time." To your surprise, he was not staring at Louis. He was staring at the woman hanging on Louis' arm. She was younger than the publisher, though only by a decade, and was dressed as if she were at an award show. A diamond ring crowded her finger, as well as an extravagant wedding band, which could only mean that she was in married bliss with Mr. Campbell. Her eyes were focused on you, nose and mouth scrunched into disgust, as if she had spotted a particularly grotesque stain. That would be asshole number two.

"Well, you're here now and with that darling girl," Rasdane cried, wrapping you both in cheerful hugs. She did not know her own strength and it knocked the wind out of you, but it was genuine, and you returned the favor in earnest.

"Yes," the woman sneered, "Wherever did you find this-" She waved her hand in your direction without making eye contact. "-darling girl?"

You gritted your teeth behind a fake smile, taking your seat alongside your boyfriend, whose posture had yet to relax. "Oh, we met-"

"Barbara, they met online," Louis interrupted, patting his wife's hand. "Isn't that quaint?"

She made a point to roll her eyes at him, pretending the rest of the room couldn't see it, then grinned. "Yes, quaint indeed."

You were fully prepared to throw a plate at her face, but she was saved by a waiter here to take dinner orders, clearly shaken by his earlier interactions with the couple from Hell. He asked the two of you several times if you wished to have appetizers too, but you both declined. No need to be here longer than socially obligated.

Rasdane occupied the majority of conversation during the wait, as well as supper, going on and on about Oluan's success, her recent vacation, and how delighted she was with the restaurant. You were unbelievably grateful at how much the minotaur could talk, taking pressure off of Oluan and you, though Barbara rarely participated, opting instead to shoot you skeptical glances.

The voices lulled into silence as plates and wine glasses began to empty. You were deciding the best way to politely say "Fuck no, I hate it here" when asked if you wanted dessert. Meanwhile, Oluan seemed dazed. He had barely touched his food and you squeezed his hand under the table without a response.

"So," Louis started, "The book tour. Excited?"

"Yeah. It'll be fun." The orc did not sound convincing. You didn't think he even tried.

"Well, hopefully the book will be received well. It's no secret that I wasn't keen on the thing, nor Barbara, if I'm honest. But I'm sure it will appeal to-" He looked at you. Oluan did not notice, focused on the way his fork mashed the remnants of his meal. "-ordinary folks."

You opened your mouth to say something undeniably aggressive. Barbara beat you to it.

"It's not that I hated it, sweetheart. It's just that I prefer more humanity in my books."

Oluan slowly stood, murmuring, "I have to use the restroom. I'll be back," and left the room.

You were seeing red. You leaned across the table, rage clouding every movement. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

The couple jerked back in surprise, but the sneers returned to their faces just as quickly. "It's supposed to mean," Louis continued, "that there isn't room for sad orc stories in this industry. You need a character you can sympathize with and you can't sympathize with an orc."

You growled, nearly spitting on them with each word. "Who I can't sympathize with is two rich pigs whose only talent is being born with money."

Barbara's eyes widened at this, her face flushing with anger. "I will not sit here and have some gold digging street trash talk to me that way."

Before you could respond, a booming voice filled the room, deep and terrifying. It was Rasdane. "The two of you may leave," she roared. "And by 'may leave,' I mean get the fuck out."

Even you were taken off guard by this. You had never seen the Minotaur even frustrated, let alone shaking with anger. You did not think it was possible for her to lose her composure and yet here she was, menacing and firm. The couple said nothing, throwing their napkins on the table and leaving with a trail of exasperated huffs. You wondered how bad this would be for Rasdane's reputation, her standing in the industry you'd grown to despise. Your worries were relieved when she came up behind you, placing one hand on your shoulder. "You should find Oluan, darling. He has been gone a long time."

You nodded. After walking through various rooms and corridors, knocking on the bathroom door, calling the orc's name, you became frantic. Luckily, the same host from earlier found you and silently pointed to an enclosed porch. He gave you a sad smile. You could see the orc's large body slumped on a bench. Just like the party, he escaped into the cradle of outside. You wondered if that's why he had chosen the house he did. The illusion of being far removed from everything that scared him, everything he hated.

"Oluan," you whispered, stepping out onto the cobbled floor. "Are you okay?"

You were met with silence.

This only urged you forward until you were in front of him. When he did not look up, you crouched on the ground, cupping his face in your hands, nudging him to raise his head. It was gentle, careful. You were afraid if you pressed too hard, he would shatter like porcelain at your touch.

His eyes were swollen and bloodshot, cheeks drying from old tears and dampening again with the new.

"Baby..." Your voice was barely audible. The corner of your own eyes began to sting. "Don't listen to them. They don't know what they're talking about."

"But what if they're right?" Oluan muttered. "Maybe there isn't room for books with humanity from someone... like me." He sniffed and balled his fists, determined not to allow his crying to unravel into sobs.

"Someone like you? You are a talented writer. But more than that, you have the kindest, most sensitive heart I know. Someone like you is exactly what people are looking for."

He hung his head. You didn't know what to say or how to make this better. All you knew is that this hurt and you needed it to stop.

"I read it, you know," you whispered, "Your book."

This startled him. The admission startled you. He stayed quiet, but his expression was something resembling terror.

"It was beautiful. It was-" When did you start weeping? "- absolutely beautiful. I haven't stopped thinking about it since."

He searched your face for dishonesty. He swallowed loudly.

"You know you're not that boy in the story, right?" The orc stared at you hard. "Maybe you were. Maybe that's how you feel." Your chest heaved as you spoke. You vaguely noticed the thick liquid of running mascara on your cheeks.

"I know your name, Oluan. I always have, and-" This was too much, too painful. Your world was him, entirely him, and that world was flooding. If you needed to drown to save him, that's what you would do. "-I love you. Oluan, I'm in love with you."

Suddenly Oluan's body was wrapped around yours, kisses peppering your face and hair, his heavy breathing and sobs pounding through your chest. "I love you too. Fuck. I love you too," he whimpered, and you were kissing him now, hard, intimately, passionately. Entangled in one another, just as it was supposed to be.

When the movements slowed and the air stilled, your lips broke apart. He was smiling now.

"So, how did the rest of the dinner go?" he chuckled, wiping your tears with a swipe of his finger.

"I called them pigs and Rasdane told them to 'get the fuck out.' That's a direct quote by the way." You snorted.

"Jesus." Oluan was laughing in disbelief. "I've never heard Rasdane talk like that. Of course, your behavior doesn't surprise me."

"Excuse me?" You slapped his arm.

"You are a feisty thing," he smirked, "and I was pretty concerned you were going to throw something at them."

"I thought about it."

He wrapped you into a warm hug. You smelled citrus and vanilla, and you weren't sure if it was him or you, and that was the most comforting thing of all.

Previous Chapter

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[calaofnoldor]

In Your Dreams

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean, Garth

Words: 7,393

Summary: In a world where your dreams are your soulmate's memories, a call to Garth for backup changes Sam's life forever. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: heavily implied smut, angst, the slightest allusion to ptsd, flashes of huffy!sam (is this just a thing in all my fics now??), fluff, language as always, also i was deep in my sam girl feels when i wrote this so please proceed with caution.

A/N: written for @idabbleincrazy’s "what do you mean this is classic rock?" 1k follower celebration! my prompt was the song "are you gonna be my girl" by jet and the quote "oh, come on!" which is bolded in the fic. also written for @swiftlymoniquesblog’s 300 followers celebration, for which i chose the song "confident" by demi lovato from her playlist.

congratulations to both you lovely babes!! i am SO sorry that this is incredibly late and probably not what you wanted lol. it really got away from me and i didn't know how to deal with it so here's 7k words that literally no one asked for 😂

Square Filled: Soulmate AU for @spnfluffbingo; Garth for @spnmixedbingo; Mistaken Identity for @girl-next-door-writes’s make me feel bingo; Soulmates for @samwinchesterbingo

MASTERLIST

It played out like a movie scene. Sam’s breath halted the minute the rusty ‘78 Ford Ranchero pulled up to the motel, frozen as he watched the passenger side door open in slow motion, making way for one black booted foot after another to step out onto the pavement. Attached to them was the most beautiful pair of legs he had ever seen, and Sam was only vaguely aware of his continuously drooping jaw as his eyes roamed up the rest of your figure, utterly and unprecedentedly thunderstruck when you flung your hair over your shoulder like a model in a goddamn shampoo commercial.

You oozed confidence, which was sexy as hell, but it was much more than that. Something deep within him startled awake, and it wasn’t just his man parts twitching with interest, though that definitely happened when you adjusted your daisy dukes and caused your top to ride up ever so subtly. God, you must’ve been the most sublime being to ever cross his path. Sam could hear Jet’s “Are You Gonna Be My Girl” playing in the background, but it was impossible to tell whether the sound was coming from the car speakers or his own head.

Either way, the music was cut short when Garth killed the engine and sauntered around his coupe with a winning smile. “Heeey brothers! I brought backup! Allow me to introduce you,” he offered excitedly, throwing a casual arm around you when he got to your side, a gesture that seemed to send Sam’s heart leaping off a cliff, “Guys, this is Y/N and Y/N, these are the Winchesters, Dean and Sam.”

Sam tried to smile but you seemed so comfortable and content beneath Garth’s touch, he really wasn’t ready for the sour taste of envy that rose inside him, filling his throat like acid reflux.

“Garth, you wily son of a bitch!” called his brother from beside him. Sam didn’t need to look over to picture the smirk of approval Dean was sporting, and the thought alone brought forth more bile, which he desperately tried to swallow down with a couple violent bobs of his Adam’s apple.

“Oh Deano,” Garth shook his tilted head as he genuinely professed, “you always say the nicest things to me.” And as he launched himself towards Dean with puppy-like fervor for a somewhat one-sided hug, Sam felt bad about the groundless feelings of resentment he’d began to harbor for the scrawny yet respectable hunter. Still, he couldn’t help but try to catch your eye during the reprieve, only to find your soft gaze fixed on Garth’s back while the slightest vestige of a smile ghosted across your divine features.

She’s taken, Sam. Soulmates most likely, with the way you’re looking at the guy, his brain augmented bitterly. Damn it, Garth really was one lucky son of a bitch.

“And don’t think you’re not getting one too, Sam!” the oblivious bastard let go of Dean and came at Sam with open arms and nothing but love, so with a forced smile and mind full of warring thoughts, the younger Winchester had no choice but to awkwardly accept.

“So did you get us rooms yet?” Garth asked when he finally pulled away, “You know I’d love to bunk with you guys but ever since Y/N’s gotten used to my snoring, we’ve kinda become a package deal, you know what I mean?”

“Oh, I sure do, buddy!” Dean exclaimed with a lewd grin, “Yours is Room 4B, but we’re right next door in 4A so try and keep that in mind when you’re uh- snoring it up, will ya?”

Having long since grown accustomed to Dean’s base brand of humor, Sam was surprised when he realized his usual reflexive eye roll had been supplanted with a deep breath and forceful clench of his teeth.

“I’ll try my best, but I can’t promise we’ll be quiet as mice through the night!” Garth’s good-natured retort felt like a twisting blade through Sam’s chest. He pulled his brows together and placed a large palm tentatively above his heart, unable to understand why the involuntary reaction felt so tangible as he watched Garth set off.

Following suit, you grabbed some luggage from the Ranchero’s cargo bed and made for your room. Sam knew he should try to stay away from you, but like a magnetic field, you pulled him in, so when he turned around to see you strutting by, Sam fumbled to help you with your duffle. But the fierce glare you shot him quickly stopped him in his tracks and he only barely managed to stay upright as he backtracked and scurried out of your way, big feet and long legs suddenly forgetting their own size.

“Woah, get it together, little bro,” Dean sniggered as soon as you were out of earshot, “You alright there, kiddo? I’ve never seen you fall so hard so fast… almost literally,” he teased, ignoring the bitch face Sam sent him in response, “Think you can make it through this hunt without jumping Garth’s girl?”

This time Sam did roll his eyes, though he left the question unanswered, feeling a bit skeptical himself.

“You think they’re soulmates?” Dean wondered aloud, turning to look off in the direction you’d gone, “Not sure how else to explain that. But either way, damn, did Fitzgerald hit a home run there!”

Sam was speechless as he stared alongside his brother, choked up on the unshakable yet impossible suspicion that you were somehow… his. But that couldn’t be, could it? Even if you weren’t with Garth, there was no way for him to know for sure. The demon blood Yellow Eyes had fed him as a baby inhibited his soulmate bond so not once could he remember dreaming of their memories, and Sam had never been more disappointed by the fact.

The case was cracked with almost no help from Sam, as his ability to focus on anything other than you proved a hopeless and desolate enterprise. Paired with the way his impetuous attempts to connect with you in any sense were harshly rebuffed by that gorgeous yet venomous get back stare of yours, and Sam was a complete mess of shaky hands and pained smiles. So when you announced you’d be retiring early for the night, claiming to want catch up on some rest before the big monster showdown the next day, Sam was both crestfallen and relieved.

“Have a good night,” Garth gave you a meaningful look that Sam couldn’t begin to decipher, a cruel reminder of the inexplicable nature of soulmate connections.

“So… what’s up with Y/N?” Dean asked whilst Sam was still gazing in vain at the door you’d left through.

“Oh, she’s uh… she’s complicated,” Garth responded slowly, nodding along to himself as an uncharacteristic expression of melancholy replaced the grin on his face, “Most people think she’s outta her mind… I mean, she’s not! …But it’s a pretty common misconception,” he shrugged in a ‘what-can-ya-do’ type of way, but the Winchesters’ frowns prompted him to continue, “She’s just… had it kinda rough, ya know? And the people around her haven’t exactly been empathetic about it all so she’s put up some walls over time and she comes off a bit strong and standoffish to most, but her heart’s in the right place and she really is a fantastic hunter so you don’t have to worry about her having your backs out there tomorrow, eh?”

Dean seemed to subscribe to this explanation, but the hunt wasn’t what Sam was worried about. Now, on top of the need to be close to you, he was also experiencing a compelling urge to hold you, understand you, and comfort you in whatever way you needed. His entire body throbbed with the desire to run to the adjoining room and kick the door in just to breathe the same air as you again, while his fingers itched to touch you – brush the hair from your eyes, caress your cheek, envelope your hand, explore other areas… Maybe in your dreams, Sam... He almost laughed at the ironic mockery of that saying, but instead pushed the corners of his mouth up as sincerely as he could before proceeding to ponder his inner dilemma with his elbows on his knees.

FIVE HOURS LATER

You awoke to your own scream, bolting upright and gasping for air. Shit. That one had been particularly bad; you’d probably made a lot of noise. Glancing over at the other bed in your room, you weren’t surprised to find Garth starfish-ing above the sheets and blissfully unconscious. That was part of why you liked the guy: he could sleep through just about anything, that and he’d never once judged you by the nightmares that plagued you since birth and reflected your soulmate’s preposterous life thus far.

Wait. As you blinked, you realized something felt different. On impulse, your eyes fluttered shut, but the flashing image of a malicious face that appeared behind your eyelids had them flying open in an instant. That was weird. You never remembered the faces from your dreams.

The names and faces always became blurry as soon as you woke up, but it’s said that once you meet and identify your soulmate, it all comes rushing back to you through a mental, movie-like recap of their life story up until that point, although exceptions to this rule weren’t unheard of, and many believed that every soulmate connection was unique.

Regardless, there was one thing you could never forget about your dreams, and that was the way they made you feel. Or was it the way your soulmate had felt? Starting from a tender young age, you’d dreamed nearly every night, so frequently they were beginning to feel like your own memories. You knew the in-depth tale of your soulmate’s existence, shared just about all of his experiences. From waiting alone in crummy motel rooms as a kid, overcome with the fear and anxiety of not knowing when or if his dad and brother would ever return from a hunt, to being physically and emotionally tortured and violated within a magical cage where time and the limits of the human body adhered to no laws, and his abuser wore a smile that could light his veins on fire, as you’d just had the pleasure of envisioning.

More often than not, your dreams were nightmares, and you’d make sounds of protest as you slept. It was why you had chosen to hit the sack early, with the hopes that their drunken hunter rowdiness might help mask your shouts. But it hadn’t been easy to walk away, harder still to fall asleep. Something had been eating at your subconscious since you got here, or rather someone. Most of the time, you avoided people at all costs, so often that it’d become instinct, but you found yourself actually wanting to be around that stupidly tall Winchester, to the point where it almost hurt to pry yourself away from him. And now that you’d recalled a face from your dream for the first time in your life, you couldn’t help but wonder…

No. Don’t get your hopes up, Y/N. There was no way. Sam was far too… normal. Besides, you’d imagined what your soulmate might look like before, and even in your wildest concoctions, he hadn’t looked that good. You’d kept your defences up until now so you weren’t about to let them drop just because you ran into a pretty boy. You really did need to stop thinking about him though, maybe grab a glass of water to soothe your sore throat.

Sam couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing as he laid atop the scratchy covers and stared at the ceiling. If the hunt went well tomorrow, you’d be riding off into the sunset in Garth’s Ranchero without so much as a ‘goodbye’. He couldn’t let that happen, not when every atom of his being was propelling him towards you, screeching at him to get his girl. But you weren’t his. You were with Garth. So why couldn’t he just respect that?

With a sigh, Sam let his eyes fall shut, squeezing them tight in a pointless effort to erase the image of you from the backs of his eyelids, but they shot wide open again when he heard your voice cry out from the next room.

Sam was up before he knew what he was doing. There was only one thing of which he was certain: you didn’t sound like you were in the midst of pleasure. You sounded like you were in pain, and that set every hair on his arm erect.

He noticed his breathing was harder than usual as well when he quietly got to his feet and crept toward the shared wall between your rooms, although he couldn’t seem to constrain it. Pressing his ear against the peeling wallpaper, he listened to your whimpers and wails crescendo until they peaked with a harrowing yell that made his heart feel as if it would burst through his ribcage. Dean grumbled in his sleep and rolled over but Sam was frozen in his spot, despite the erratic pumping of blood through his lengthy vessels.

It wasn’t until he heard the creaking of your bedsprings turn into running water in the communal dining area when Sam finally moved, drawing a deep breath and wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. He didn’t know what to say to you, but he knew he had to try, so he made sure to let his footsteps carry sound and make himself appear as small as possible as he opened the back door and walked into the kitchenette.

You were standing by the counter, facing away from him, but before he could take another step, you’d whirled around with a gun in your hands, aimed directly at his heart.

Sam’s hands shot up before he whisper-shouted, “Whoa, whoa! Hey, it’s just me! It’s me!”

Advancing toward him without lowering your gun, you produced a flask from out of nowhere and threw its contents on Sam’s face before he could react.

He blinked the wetness away as you finally dropped your weapon, shrugging through a half-hearted apology, “Sorry, you can never be too careful on a demon case,” you explained lowly, flashing him the label that read ‘holy water’ before tucking the silver flask back into your pocket.

You took a moment to examine him, aggrieved that he somehow looked even better when he was wet. Trying to be cool about it, you crossed your arms across your chest and waited as he wiped a huge hand down his face.

The first words to come out of his sinful lips after your unceremonious attack took you by surprise, “Are you OK?”

“What?” It sounded harsher than you’d meant it and you had to remind yourself to stand down. He’d given you no reason to get combative; on the contrary, something about him just screamed… good.

“I- I heard you… it sounded like you were having a pretty bad nightmare.”

You gave him a slight nod, gulping your usual defense mechanisms back down your throat, “Oh, yeah… my soulmate has um… been through some things.” It was impossible not to huff at your own dramatic understatement.

“Right, yeah, I’m sure Garth has seen his fair share of monsters and other ordeals in his life.”

“Wh- what do you mean, Garth?” you questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Sorry, I just assumed that you guys were soulmates with the way you are and… everything,” Sam confessed with an adorable cock of his head.

You nearly laughed out loud, “Garth isn’t my soulmate. I mean, I wouldn’t be upset if he were, but we’ve exchanged dreams before and our souls definitely aren’t tied together.”

“Oh,” he heaved a sigh that seemed to emanate relief, “So the whole uh… ‘snoring’ thing is-”

“A cover. He knows I get loud during nightmares, and we room together because he has the unique ability to sleep through an entire torture sequence being played out in my head, as he just proved again tonight.” Shit. What are you doing, Y/N? Stop talking. “Oh, I should probably apologize for waking you. You can go back to bed though; I’ve gotten enough sleep for the night.”

Sam’s eyes were wide as he shook his head emphatically, “No, you didn’t wake me! I- I couldn’t sleep anyway. But please, don’t apologize for something you can’t control,” he beseeched with soft, imploring eyes that you immediately dreamed of letting yourself melt into. “Y-you said you were being tortured in your dream?”

Forcing a deep breath through your nose, you slowly conceded, “Well yeah, or at least remembering it the way my soulmate does, I guess… if he even exists.” The last four words were added sourly beneath your breath, but Sam caught them right away.

“You don’t think your soulmate exists?”

You looked up to find his eyebrows drawn together, color-changing eyes fraught with genuine concern. You weren’t sure why you were still talking to him but something about the guy made you feel safe, impelled you to open up to him, “I find it hard to believe he’s still out there functioning like a normal human being with all the shit he’s gone through... I mean, if I’ve been ostracized just for telling people about my dreams, I can’t imagine how he’s survived.”

“You’ve been ostracized because of the things your soulmate remembers?!”

The way he seemed almost offended for you buttered you up even more, “Yeah, Garth is pretty much the only friend I have left,” you admitted with a quiet, sardonic laugh.

There was pity in Sam’s eyes now, a reaction that had always irked you virtually just as much as the fear and revulsion, but it was clear that his was forged out of empathy rather than the usual disdain. And it didn’t stand alone among the emotions displayed across his face. His expression seemed to say ‘please, tell me more,’ and you did.

“I was raised in the suburbs by conservative folks who knew nothing about the supernatural… so they thought I was out of my mind the first time I told them about my dreams, took me to a soulmate bond expert and everything, tried to ‘fix’ me. When they couldn’t, they ignored me, soundproofed my bedroom walls while telling everyone I was crazy. Pretty much disowned me as soon I turned eighteen, fearing I might bring home a sociopathic serial killer one day. Word got around and people avoided me like I was a ticking time bomb. When I started hunting and finally made some friends in that community, I thought they’d be more understanding, but it turns out some things aren’t normal or acceptable even on hunter terms. So, I never really told anyone again, never tried to make friends again. Until Garth came along, that is.”

A small smile took hold of your lips, as it always did when you thought about the lanky and lovable dork, “He never judged me by my nightmares, never treated me any differently, never looked at me through a lens of apprehension.”

“Well, I’m glad you found him,” Sam said, a closed-lip smile of his own peeking through the stubble. Then, after a pregnant pause, “I don’t mean to intrude, but h-have you ever considered breaking your bond, you know, just to stop the nightmares?”

“Never.” Your response was instantaneous and adamant. “I couldn’t. If I-… He’s overcome odds of impossible proportions, suffered fates that no one should ever have to endure, despite doing nothing wrong, been blamed for things that were either completely out of his control or that he was manipulated into doing through a kind heart and good intentions-” you had to stop yourself before you got too riled up.

“You talk like you’re already in love with him,” Sam observed.

“Well, it’s hard not to be. It’s also why I stopped giving a fuck about what other people think of him. I used to try and hide it, lie about what I’d dream of, but they’d always find out. And then I realized it didn’t matter to me because I’ll always side with him, and having narrow-minded people in your life is such a chore anyway.”

“But how can you be so sure of someone you’ve never met?” There was no malice in his tone or body language, only earnest curiosity, and it made you wonder how someone so large could be so very cute.

“Because if he exists, he’s a hero.”

“Well if he’s so great, why does everyone in your life run away from the idea of him?” Sam chuckled lightly, but you thought you heard something that resembled envy within his words. Maybe people were right, maybe you really were out of your mind.

“Because he’s done things that most people can’t even begin to imagine, not even a hunter. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t believe me if I told you half the things I’ve dreamt of.”

Though you didn’t expect to be rewarded with another glimpse of those splendid dimples, you were nonetheless grateful as they seemed to fill your chest with unfathomable peace and irrefutable joy. “Try me,” he said, with a beckoning grin.

“Well, I mean for starters, he’s been through literal hell.”

Sam’s jaw suddenly hung a littler looser, but you’d encountered far more theatrical receptions.

“Yeah, he’s been dealt some real shitty cards,” you started, “Been tormented by pure evil in more than every imaginable way for longer than any conceivable human lifetime, been stripped of his bodily autonomy and rights more times than I can count, been used and manipulated by a demon since he was a literal baby, and that’s on top of losing nearly everyone he’s ever loved including both parents at a young age… But did I mention he managed to stop the fucking apocalypse?”

The surprise on his face was more palpable now, and you almost laughed at his frozen expression.

“And we haven’t even gotten to the bizarre stuff yet. Would you believe me if I told you he’s died more than once? Or that he’s met a prophet who writes books about he and his brother’s lives? Oh, he also once traveled to an alternate universe where his doppelgänger was the actor who played him on a TV show. And, there was even a period of time, about a year ago, when the dreams got all fuzzy, which I later learned was because he was-“

“Soulless.” Sam finished your sentence with such gravity, it felt like the entire earth lurched beneath your feet.

“H-how did you know th-“ But even as you spoke the words, it dawned on you: that there was a reason you’d felt drawn to him, that he was in fact the answer to everything, the person you’d been dreaming of your entire life. And in that moment, you discovered that the stories were true, because your question was both interrupted and answered by a sudden onslaught of images flashing through your head, a fast-forwarded montage of every memory you’d ever dreamed, in chronological order, with the names and faces all filled in.

You doubled over and closed your eyes as Sam’s life replayed itself in your mind, unaware that you were panting loudly and clutching at your head until his beautiful yet distraught voice faded back into the forefront.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you OK?!”

Sam’s hand instinctively reached out for you, but when it made contact with your arm, his brain was instantly flooded with moving images of a young girl, developing rapidly into the woman standing in front of him through what must have been every momentous memory he’d been denied the privilege of seeing, forcing him to recoil and mirror your startled stance.

So when you finally reopened your eyes, it was to see Sam bent nearly in half, close-eyed and open-mouthed, while big hands grasped at the luscious mane on his head.

“Guess I should be the one asking you that,” you laughed, but the way his chest visibly rose and fell when he straightened back up made you feel breathless again, “Did you just-“

“Yeah,” he exhaled, shutting his eyes once more before blinking repeatedly, as if he could still see the images, “And I’m guessing you also-“

“Yeah,” you parroted, glancing up at Sam with an awestruck expression that unwittingly floored him with its beauty, “I can’t believe this is happening.”

The elaborate fortress you’d built around your heart and soul after an entire lifetime of facing scorn and neglect and repugnance from nearly everyone around you had effortlessly dissolved at his touch, and as you fully came to terms with the giant revelation before you, something within you gave way, letting every emotion you were feeling appear written across your face.

“You’re real?” Your whispered words sounded just as much a statement as they did a question, though in reality, they might have been a plea.

Taking a small, wary step toward him as your eyes flickered between his, your hand – with a mind of its own – slowly reached up to embrace his chiseled jaw, and your lips were incapable of resisting their joyous quirk when his light stubble tickled your palm and the skin beneath it proved warm and solid.

His long fingers wrapped around your wrist reverently, “Yeah, baby, I’m real.”

Your breath hitched at the gorgeous depth of his voice. “How are you real? And so fucking gorgeous?” you breathed, fingers dancing across his cheekbones before reveling in the silky softness of his hair, “And tall? I mean, I kinda guessed you’d be on the above average side with the way most people look up at you in your memories but jeez... You’re perfect.” Your body moved on its own accord as it traveled the short distance to anchor itself against his, wasting no time to pull him down and kiss him with every ounce of ‘you’ you could muster, to which Sam instantly and eagerly responded.

It was easily the best kiss of your life, decades worth of anticipation that balanced a delicate pendulum swaying between hope and desperation, combined with the fierce love you already felt for this impossibly perfect man poured through you until it found its release in Sam’s mouth.

He slid his fingers into the hair behind your neck, cradling the back of your head, while his other massive hand settled in the valley of your waist, pulling you snug into him until you could feel the lines of his abs. “You’re pretty damn perfect yourself. Been dreaming of this since I saw you step outta that damn car.”

“Yeah?” The single, slightly smug word was all you could articulate.

“Fuck yeah, that’s why seeing you with Garth felt like such a cruel joke, especially since I’d never had a single dream of your memories until I touched you just now, so there was no way for me to gauge anything.”

“Right, I guess I should’ve been more alert, but I figured brothers hunting together wasn’t all that uncommon. Can’t believe I couldn’t smell the co-dependency though,” you giggled but Sam shut you up with a swift kiss. “Mm, well now that you have seen some of my memories, what do you think?”

“I think you’re everything I could’ve possibly dreamt up and more.”

“Wow. I didn’t take you for the cheesy type,” you deadpanned.

“I’m just being honest.” Sam’s dimples broke through with a mirthful smile and already you knew they‘d become one of your favorite things in this world and beyond.

Biting your lip, you nodded, “OK, well in the spirit of honesty, I have to tell you that it was way more arousing to see you make those monster kills in that director’s cut in my head than to dream about it from your perspective.”

Sam’s smile turned into a smirk, “Yeah?”

You trailed your hands down his impressive torso, relishing every ridge and groove, mapping out the thick cords of his long neck, grazing the taut nipples beneath his cotton t-shirt, and lingering within the deep trenches of his V-line as you made your way down to the waistband of his jeans. Hooking your fingers into his belt loops, you tugged him toward you with a force that seemed to both surprise and excite him, if his quiet grunt and darkened pupils were any indication. “Fuck yeah,” you echoed before pushing your lips back against his.

Having waited much too long for this, you couldn’t hold back. Sam must’ve felt similarly because he pushed back just as hard, until you were forced to grip him tighter, digging your fingers into his muscled back just to hold on. His own fingers applied a similar pressure to your butt cheeks, squeezing them with a rough hunger that only spurred you on more.

But just as your tongues began to get acquainted – though it felt more like lovers reuniting after an unspeakably long and unbearable period of time – Sam somehow managed to retreat an inch from your hold, hissing through his teeth with crinkled brows and closed eyes. His chest heaved into yours a few times before he spoke, sounding about as regretful as you felt, “Wait… Maybe we shouldn’t do this. I’ve already ruined your life by being your soulmate. I can’t be good for you.”

“Sam, you do realize that our souls are literally bound together, right? And there’s nothing you could say or do that would make me stay away now that I’ve finally found you.”

“Y/N, I started the apocalypse!” Sam swore it took almost as much willpower to untangle himself from you as it had to overpower Lucifer in that godforsaken cemetery. He backed up in fear that your pull was stronger at closer distances, though he still couldn’t look at you, choosing an unfocused spot on the speckled floor to eye instead, as the shame and guilt began to cloud his mind.

“No, you thought you were saving the world!” you countered immediately, feeling the fiery mass of restrained ire you’d been carrying inside you for years blaze alight, as if with the click of a switch, “And then you did! By risking and sacrificing everything! Not to mention there were sixty-five other seals that had nothing to do with you!”

“Well how 'bout the fact that I was addicted to demon blood?” Sam’s voice grew louder. There was nothing like recounting his own sins to get him fired up. “I had a sexual relationship with a demon! Surely, you’re not OK with that?!”

With a scoff, you dismissed him, “You think people don’t have sex before they find their soulmates? I mean, yeah, it was a weird thing to dream about, but I’ve always felt what you felt, remember? So I know it started because you were desperate to save Dean and I know the weight of the grief you were feeling when you were with her. I know how you thought you were helping people by exorcising demons instead of killing their meatsuits. I know all of it. You can’t scare me off, Sam!”

While he was finding it surprisingly hard to dispute your claims, true to his Winchester genes, Sam was much too stubborn to give up. You were brilliant and beautiful and deserved so much more than anything he had to offer. “What about all the things I did when I was soulless?” he tried again.

But you had a retort on the ready for that one as well. “Sam, don’t you get it by now? That was out of your control. The same way you wouldn’t blame someone for all the things they do when they're possessed. Besides, as your soulmate, I’m not too concerned about your douchey behaviour when you were literally missing your soul.”

That seemed to shut him up, but the confliction swirling within his prismatic eyes told you he wasn’t convinced. “Look,” you sighed, “you always think you’ve got this darkness inside you, that you’re not ‘clean’… but you are.”

As you let that sink in, you smiled to yourself, “You know, you and Garth actually have that in common: you’re both good to the core. You’re clean, Sam. You’re the cleanest, purest soul I’ve ever known, but baby, you’re not normal.” Shaking your head apologetically, you resisted the temptation to kiss that disbelieving, forlorn look off his face. “I know you’ve always wanted to be but you’re anything but. I mean, you saved the fucking world, Sam! When the world has done nothing to deserve you. You suffered nearly two centuries of torture by the devil himself to save it, and not only did you never get any acclaim, but the whole thing has left you racked with wrongful blame and unreasonable guilt!? And I know you don’t think you do, but baby you have every goddamn right to be mad, to be furious.”

Your soulmate’s ridiculously puppy-like gaze almost had you leaping to wrap him up in your arms, but you willed yourself to continue, “But in the end, all the bullshit crap you took didn’t make you jaded; it didn’t make you violent or vengeful or bitter. No, you turned it into love, and strength, and empathy. You still care so deeply, still carry on saving everyone you can, still manage to find hope. Fuck, Sam, you’re the only reason I kept fighting. Cause I figured if you could do it, then I had no fucking excuses. You were always my light! There’s gotta be a reason we’re soulmates. I know you never felt the bond but I-”

Sam’s lips cut yours off with a forceful kiss, the first one he’d truly initiated and my god did it feel good. So good that you weren’t even embarrassed when you let out a soft whine as he pulled away tragically soon. At least his hands were still cupping your face.

“I did. I did feel the bond,” he declared, forehead resting on yours so you could feel the truth of his words through his breath on your skin, “I knew you were mine the moment I saw you, but I tried to push it down because I thought you were with Garth and every time I tried to reach out… you shot me down with that look.”

“What look?” Your fingers found their way to his thick and vascular forearms for it seemed unwise not to touch him whenever you were given the chance.

“You know, that get back stare.”

“A get back stare?” You pulled away slightly to shoot him a somewhat amused, questioning glance.

“Yeah, it was really hot but also very off-putting when you’re trying to get to know your soulmate.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you suppressed your laugh into a smile, “Well, it’s not my fault I’ve had to learn to defend myself and my misunderstood soulmate from nearly everyone in the world. And sometimes that means playing offence,” you admitted with a shrug.

Said soulmate’s giant hands glided down your arms to take hold of your significantly smaller hands, and his eyes, teeming with resolve and vivid remorse, were fixed on you as he said, “Well, I hope you know you don’t have to anymore now that you’ve got me.”

Sam was undeniably surprised and frankly a bit hurt when you snorted a chuckle in response, “Yeah, I highly doubt that. If anything, I might become more menacing.”

Though he didn’t pull away, you could tell by his expression that you’d bruised a somewhat masculine part of his ego. Sighing at his misinterpretation, you dropped one of his hands in favor of grasping the other with both of yours, fiddling with his gorgeous fingers as you began, “Hey, just because you’re all big and strong doesn’t mean you can’t also be a victim or ever need protection. You’ve been abused, Sam. And not just by the devil and every other monster. Sometimes the worst of it came from the people in your life, and I swear to god, there were times when I wanted to rip them to pieces!”

You looked down when you felt his free hand land on yours, its thumb running gentle circles along your skin that instantly calmed you and made you aware of how tight your grip had grown around his fingers. When you lifted your gaze again, Sam’s features were alight with awe, staring at you as if he were shocked that anyone could ever love him so much. It brought you back to how adorably sweet he’d been when you first met, not even twenty-four hours ago. That humble and innocent demeanor had led you to assume he couldn’t be your soulmate, the one who’d been through hell and back.

“I still don’t understand how you seem so… well-adjusted. I mean, after everything you’ve been through and never getting a chance to properly recover from or even address all the trauma.”

He raised your conjoined hands and kissed your knuckles while smiling softly at you. “It hasn’t been all that bad… you’re making me sound way more heroic than I really am.”

“Sam, your life was a prophecy from the very beginning, but you changed it. It was your destiny to destroy the world, but instead you saved it. Do you not realize how incredible that is?” Catching the glassy look in his beautiful eyes, you hurried to change the mood. This day would undoubtedly become one of the most important in your lives and you didn’t want to commemorate it with tears, so you released his hands and wound your arms around his neck, pressing yourself against him as you lowered your voice to ask, “Or how sexy?”

Your soulmate closed his eyes and breathed you in, strong arms automatically pulling you closer, until his nose caressed your cheek, “Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?”

“Do you want me to recap the things I just said, or do you want a comprehensive list of it all? Because that might take a while and I really wanna kiss you again,” you moaned across his jaw.

“Yeah, me too,” Sam exhaled into your skin before your mouths met in a passionate exchange of love and acceptance. This time, it was completely mutual and felt like a dream come true in every sense of the saying. What’s more, kissing your soulmate felt like a big ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the world, it felt like celestial invincibility and dazzling euphoria. But most importantly, it felt like home, and you never wanted to leave.

Though he still found it hard to believe this was really happening, Sam knew he could never let you go now. He just didn’t have it in him. Kissing you felt like rapture, better than any high demon blood could grant him and infinitely more satisfying. There was a healing component as well, as if the simple touch of your lips could cleanse him of his wrongdoings and wipe away his self-contempt. All his life, he questioned what it was he’d fought so hard for, and this was it, right here in his arms.

Even within his boggled mind, one thought rang consistently clear: that you and this bond you shared must be cherished. So Sam kept the kisses slow, deep, and sensual as he backed you up into the wall, pressing a large hand against it to temper your blow. Wet and wanton slurping sounds filled the room, interspersed with muffled moans and shortened breaths. His soft lips and talented tongue wouldn’t release you until his lungs were begging for air, forcing him to pant into your mouth as he gazed down at you with unrestrained wonder.

You stared up at him with an equivalent expression as you caught your breath, that stunning, miniscule trace of a smile he’d first seen you giving Garth, now pointed at him and loaded with a whole other level of fondness.

Wordless communication must’ve been a part of your soulmate connection for the two of you seemed to know exactly how to move together, where to touch, and how to feel, like you’d been doing this since the beginning of time. Sam believed every nerve in his body sparked to life as you hooked a leg behind his knee and pulled him close, so close that each bulging curve of him pressed seamlessly into each gorgeous nook of you.

The loudest harmony of moans yet pierced the air and reverberated through him, and Sam knew right away that he would spend lifetimes chasing that sound. He felt himself respond in ways he never knew possible as your lips moved from his jaw to his collar bone, and your delicate little hands roamed eagerly across his shoulders and back.

“Mmm, it makes sense that you’re so big though,” you mused into his heated skin.

“Oh yeah, why’s that?” Sam couldn’t hide the smirk in his voice.

“How else would you fit all that bravery-“ you paused to plant a kiss on his upper chest and continued to work your way up his neck after every subsequent word, “compassion… strength… forgiveness… devotion… and love?” This time his lips met yours in a tender kiss. “Not to mention brains.”

Sam was dizzy with joy. He had never felt so loved, so understood, or so appreciated. “You know, I’m starting to think we were made for each other?” Your smile stretched so big against his own, he wanted to drown in this moment forever. “And you know you’re incredible too, right?” Brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, he chuckled at your suddenly bashful disposition, such a stark contrast to all those glares you’d sent him throughout the day. “Baby, you’re so strong. I mean, at least I almost always had Dean. You were alone practically all your life, thrust into this world you knew nothing about, with no one to teach you or guide you, and yet... Garth tells me you’re one hell of a hunter. And even if I hadn't seen those badass memories, just with the way you pulled that gun and holy water on me earlier, I’d be very inclined to believe him,” Sam joked.

It earned him a subtle roll of your beautiful eyes and a loving peck. “Well that’s not exactly true because I did kind of have someone to teach me… in my dreams. You might even say I learned from the best,” you whispered seductively whilst leaning up on your toes to run your nose across his cheekbone and your fingers through his hair.

Closing his eyes at the feeling of your gentle nails along his scalp, Sam released a content sigh as his hands found their way to your hips, squeezing lightly. “You know, you’re probably gonna get even more shit from all those people for actually being with me?”

“Screw all of them. They don’t understand that my soulmate isn’t just the boy with demon blood; he’s the man who saved the fucking world.” Your words were a low growl in his ear, and he just about jumped when he felt you rubbing up against his crotch to emphasize them.

“Oh fuck! Ungh, you really know how to talk me up, you know that?”

“We’ll see about that,” you answered with a wink.

And that was why when daylight rolled around, bringing with it a chipper Dean and the scent of bacon, both were greeted with the sight of Sam half seated on the table against the wall with you stood before him, chests nearly melded together and legs intermingled, both topless and groaning the other’s name.

“Oh, come on!”

The wafting aroma of breakfast had done nothing to alert you of Dean’s presence and you gave a little yelp at the abrupt outburst while Sam’s bulky arms hastily wrapped themselves more securely around your back, pressing you tighter to his chest in an attempt to hide yours. You huffed a laugh and nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and Sam couldn’t help but smile at how right it felt to hold you in his arms, in spite of the awkward circumstances and pending conversation.

Before he could answer his brother, however, Garth walked in, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he peered up at the unfolding scene. “What’d I miss?”

TEAM IDJITS: @mrswhozeewhatsis @carryonmywaywardbucky​​​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @moosewinchester @sams-sass @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @jotink78​ @winifrede​​ @writingforthelonelysoul @turtletaylor98 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @peridottea91​​ @allys-creative-bubble @idreamofplaid @samsgirl2020​​ @katwed​​​ @asgoodasdancingqueen @austin-winchester67​​ @nerdyfangirl67 @fangirlxwritesx67​​

TEAM MOOSE: @mind-of-a-girl​​ @samfreakingwinchester​​ @regainedworld @sam-winchester-love44 @maddiebwrites​​

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please let me know if you’d like to be added/removed/moved :)

[nonobadcat]

We've hit 200k+ words

YANDERE ALL FOR ONE X FEMALE READER

Rating: Explicit - for readers 18+ only

Entire Story TW: Rape/Noncon/DubCon, gore (non-reader directed), All For One too many kinks to count them all. Highly mentally and sexually abusive relationship. This story is absolutely not for minors and readers should consult the warnings/tags at the top before reading.

This chapter’s TW: Public indecency in a parking garage, morning sickness, forced voyerism, gore/death of minor characters, end stage stockholm syndrome

Read the entire story at: Archive of Our Own

Chapter 44 Excerpt:

"Neh! Onee-san! Do your feet hurt?"

You turned your head and looked up to see two men in shiny, bright polyester shirts and tight-fitted jeans. One had bleached orange-brown hair with spikey super Saiyan styling. The other had his black locks strategically draping across one eye like he was trying to hide his intentions. Despite his effort, they weren't hard to guess.

You frowned and shook the rock onto the ground. "I'm fine," you stated.

"If you need to rest for a while Onee-san, we could go someplace,"  The black-haired one suggested, tossing his head like a teen model in a shampoo commercial.

Your eyes narrowed. You tugged your bag over your shoulder and stuffed your shoe back on. As you rose to your feet a few short taps of the toe helped it slip into place. You grabbed the sack of groceries from beside you. Without another word, you began to walk away.

Maybe… Maybe if you hurried… Maybe he wouldn't...

"Hey hey, Onee-san!" A smooth hand caught your elbow. "Wait a minute! You don't want to miss out, do you?"

A wave of cold dread rolled through your chest. Your eyes blew wide. Your purse buzzed. It wasn't hard to guess what the message said.

He's coming.

"Onee-san you're so uptight," the orange-haired one purred. "You should come for drinks. It'll be fun!"

You frantically snatched at the hold on your joint. "No seriously you don't understand! My husba-"

The black-haired one glanced at the ring on your finger and then at the grocery bag in your hand. He threw his head back and grinned with a loud tsk. "Must be a terrible husband to leave you so bored and alone Onee-san." His thumb hit his chest. "Come with us. You'll enjoy it a lot more!" His eyebrows wiggled. It was gross. "Bet you need some excitement in your life."

As your mouth hung open, you wondered how many people had been that wrong in the history of all mankind. It couldn't have been many.

The hairs on the back of your neck bristled. The air felt heavy. The oppressive pressure only increased as the seconds passed. It was like standing in the bottom of an hourglass, drowning in sand. The words that tumbled out of your mouth were totally inaudible above the ringing in your ears. You didn't have to turn around. You could feel it. You could feel the burn of the blazing crimson hellfire pouring from those eyes.

The looks on the pick-up artists were a mixture of confusion and primordial terror. The man dropped your elbow. His friend turned to run. As they both took to their heels, they began to sprint past the trees.

"No! Don-"

The oppressive aura seemed to materialize from thin air. Seething rage crackled through the air like lightning in a storm cloud. One large hand clamped down on your left shoulder. The other hovered by your right ear.

SNAP

The gnarled branches of a tree arched forward, smashing the orange-haired man headfirst into the pavement with a sickening "crack". Blood began to seep from the crumpled remains of his brow. The tree looped its limbs under his arms a flung him through the open entryway of the parking garage. He rolled across the asphalt, limbs moving like rubber bands in a tornado.

SNAP

The roots of the shrubbery curled around the black-haired one. They yanked him backward like an old-time hook-and-crook gag. He toppled to the ground, his mouth wide open. From his pinched windpipe came a silent scream as he was dragged under the scratchy branches. His feet kicked against the hard ground as his body thrashed like a man being stung by thousands of bees.

There was a gentle kiss on your cheek. "Sorry, I'm late my dear."

Read the rest at Archive of Our Own

@shigashig @shig-a-shig-ah @weo0o @feral-creep @raygard-elvets @awkward-confused @vizhi0n @dokoni-mo @the-lady-writes-what @all4one @avelaste @diowithagun @yeunsstuff @river-to-swim-forever @lizthewitchh @0-ddball @catalystgaming27 @cityscapingly @imdatingyourdad @gxmblinqueen @villaincxmdump @yandereloveraw @seijohmilktea

[lathalea]

The Hobbit: DOS: The Appendices, Part 10 (3/4)

It’s Friday so it’s time for our watch party again!

The Hobbit group (aka the Dwarf Lovers aka The Cult of Saint Bofur) is back with The Hobbit Behind the Scenes rewatch!

Tolkien was fascinated by dragons and the old dragon tales. Tolkien was a fanfic writer - discuss. He started the Smaug smut fanfic tropes tolkien was canonically a furry Tolkien would play Dragon Age tolkien would also play Skyrim

Some early Smaug designs were weird...

“What do u want? I’m on my smoke break”

“am a sneaky boi”

Not sure why, but we also discussed PJ’s minimalistic style PJ has only three shirts And two cardigans One mug And no hair brush Marie Kondo would have been proud of him

Fake Smaug = a dragon-shaped kite in the beginning of AUJ he attacked Dale and Erebor because he was offended by that kite the gold was an excuse to make him look more badass and so other dragons wouldn't make fun of him He's that guy who is like 'Y'all made fun of me. Well, guess who's rich now!' on homecoming party

Benedict Cumberbatch is acting the hell out of Smaug. That’s how Sherlock looks like when he takes the heroin.

Some Smaug designs were based on bats and... well, chickens. Smaug being a giant chicken, hmmm chickens: are we a joke to you? Well birds are descended from dinosaurs xD Like, imagine that. Bilbo expects something scary. And then there's a chicken. And he looks at Thorin like THIS IS YOUR NEMEZIS?!

John Howe used his hands to model Smaug’s “hand” gestures So Smaug could do finger guns!

but how does smaug know thorin? Dragon gossip "Did you hear about Oakenshield? Let me tell you about Thorin Oakenshield. He stabbed me in the chest once. It was awesome." "He does the shampoo commercials. In Shire" "Thats why his hair is so big its full of secrets" "And Thranduil is in his Burn Book"

OH MAHAL Thorin appears on screen! 0.5 seconds of Thorin, I'm happy now. I SAW THORIN *faints*

The sound specialist's 7-yo daughter is the person who gave Smaug his roar Smaug confirmed as female It’s official canon now Imagine writing "Smaug dubbing" in your CV

Horny crocodile sounds = Smaug sounds no wonder he was so mad That's why he's so grumpy. He just needs to get laid The whole villain origin story all the gold was to impress females Go on Bilbo. Take one for the team

Time for a ship hell: Smaug x Bilbo or Smaug x Thorin?  who was he horny for? That's smaug x bard erasure! ship name: Smard

Time for some Beorn makeup. Beorn's beard is basically Dwalin's beard so that's what happpened to Dwalins head hair!

dream jobs: dwarf waterer and beorn scrubber Lemme get that for you Mr O’Gorman Pls pls lemme wipe that up Mr Armitage Your muscles look really sore Mr Turner... Do you mind? Nono no need Mr Turner I can clean that up right away 🧽

Laketown. What is the first thing we notice?

THORIN!!! His hair. wet!Thorin! I love how the majority of this server are Thorin stans <3

Just look at Bilbo’s face. The grossest ship in the whole trilogy: Laketown Master x Alfrid (ew) Pheew! There no fics on AO3 with this pairing!

Bard's clothes were supposed to be inspired by the eastern/ Tibetan clothing Bard - Aragorn made in China

Sigrid and Tilda are played by James Nesbitt's daughters. Behold, Saint Bofur cuteness!!!

Sweet dwarf dreams everyone! And remember, no yucky Mirkwood spiders! --- Missed The Appendices part 7, 8 & 9? Here they are: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 Want to see how silly we were when watching The Hobbit? See here.

Thank you everyone for tonight, that was fun :D

@estethell @cassiabaggins @guardianofrivendell @misfit-with-a-pen @oreo-cookies-fan @theresonlyzuul @bigsmallworld @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @mountains-under-the-moon-deacti​ @jentaculargums​ @avaria-revallier​

[tellerluna-stories]

fairy of shampoo. 

PAIRING: kunikida x reader

GENRE: a little bit of fluff and angst? one-sided love, pining.

SUMMARY: "he waits for her, the woman of eight-thirty. would you like to watch her? she advertises for 15 seconds for a shampoo company. would you like to watch her?" — the shampoo fairy, jang jung-il

TW/CW: parasocial relationships.

A/N: kunikida needs more love, therefore I will be providing more content for kunikida lovers. also this random drabble was inspired by the song ‘fairy of shampoo’ covered by txt and originally written by light and salt, as well as the original poem (which the song was based off of) ‘the shampoo fairy’ by jang jung-il.

Calm, collected, and calculating; those were the words one used to describe Kunikida Doppo.

Idealistic? Yes. Hot-headed? Maybe a little, but that was for the sake of pursuing his ideals. He had to learn to sacrifice in order to achieve the ideals he had carved in stone.

Anyone who looked at him would think that he was a man who always prioritized the greater good over his personal wishes, who would never bat at an eye at trivial things and feelings. And maybe, just maybe that was partially true— but only partially.

At 6:00pm, he got off of work at the detective agency and would head straight to the train station, looking neither right nor left but directly straight ahead. He would arrive at the train station at 6:13 with a generous two minutes before his scheduled train— these two minutes would be spent planning his schedule for the next day. Kunikida would get home at 6:45, eat his dinner and then work again from 7 to 8:10. Then he would spend exactly 15 minutes to shower, and then would sit in the living room writing out his plans for the future he wanted.

For just like any other human being, Kunikida had hopes and wishes hidden deep within his heart and within the pages of one of his many notebooks. He longed for an ideal life with a loving spouse and doting children (and a stable income to support them with). Why else did he have such an elaborate plan laid out for his future?

But as to who his ideal partner was— he would never admit it aloud, for even Kunikida knew how ludicrous the idea was, for his ideal partner was the model of a shampoo commercial.

At 8:30 in the evening, he would stand up and turn on the TV— he hardly ever used it, for he had no interest in anything that the media brought with the exception of the news. However, for fifteen seconds.... just for fifteen seconds, perhaps he could make an exception for you.

Soft foamy bubbles fill the screen, and shiny, almost glowing hair swishes into view. On the tiny, blurry screen of Kunikida’s television, you smile radiantly— with the way you are surrounded by iridescent soap bubbles, Kunikida thinks you are ethereal. With your wings of foamy white and a halo of shining soap bubbles, he can only wonder: were you an angel or a fairy?

And before he can decide, the commercial is over and the channel is back to the regular programming. Life is ordinary again, and it is already time to move on to the next item in his schedule, which is to go to bed.

Yet Kunikida lies awake at night, his logical mind clouded with thoughts of white lather and sweet-smelling shampoo. Ideals, plans, fear of the future— angel or fairy? Fear of failure and fear of not being good enough— how ethereal can one look, surrounded by bubbles? Ideals, ideals, ideals— and he came to the conclusion that you truly were a fairy, a beautiful fairy of shampoo that he would strive to achieve for like he did his ideals.

Thus the idealistic man tossed and turned all night, until he gave into the weariness of his body and let his thoughts dissolve into iridescent foam, washed away by the peace of slumber.

[merryfortune]

A blur of flaming crimson

Written for: 100ships On Dreamwdith

Prompt: #38 Crimson

Ship: Asuka/Yuriko

Fandom: Tropical Rouge PreCure

Word Count: 2,112

Rating: T

Warnings: No Warnings Apply

Tags: Not Canon Compliant, Canon Typical Violence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Flirting, Minor or Implied Identity Porn

   Yuriko had bittersweet memories of her early friendship with Asuka. They were tainted now with how their relationship had twisted and soured but once they had been passably fond. Whenever she saw Asuka sashaying about, morning sunlight bouncing off the silky, shiny waves of her rust red hair, Yuriko was unmistakably reminded of what Asuka had once been like.

   Her hair had been shorter when they met. About the length to Asuka’s shoulders, rather than well past them like she presently wore it. They had been first years back then and back then, Shiratori Yuriko could say without a shadow of a doubt, Asuka’s charm point was not her hair.

   Asuka had been a tomboy up to that point. The tried and true reckless sort of tomboy who didn’t care much about her appearance. Asuka was still a tomboy but her attitudes towards her outward appearance had, however, changed and the catalyst for that change had been Yuriko.

   Asuka was all rough and tumble. The eldest sister to a couple of younger brothers and her mother wasn’t always around as closely as she needed to be due to her work so her father was her closer role model. As such, Asuka was a tomboy and she didn’t really care much for the finer notes of hair care, nail care, makeup or even the most simple of moisturising routines. 

   Everything was fine, in her opinion. So long as she looked like someone owned her, Asuka figured that she was doing fine. All that really mattered was that her hair was not matted, that it was brushed once or twice a day and her teeth were brushed morning and night. That’s all the effort she wanted to put into herself, at least on that note. When it came to conversations of bodybuilding and gym ratting, Asuka did change her tune ever so slightly. 

   She just wanted to get stronger but her workout hadn’t really solidified so she was just doing what she enjoyed. She ran laps of a morning and night, taking whatever route she found herself on in the spur of the moment. She did her pushups and she played on the monkey bar equipment, too, even if it was for elementary schoolers and she was a middle schooler now and slightly too tall for them already.

   But meeting Yuriko had changed that.

   She recalled how they introduced themselves to each other in the very first tennis club meeting. They had been paired off like all the others for some rally practice, first years with first years, second years with second years, and so forth, it had been luck of the draw but inevitable as these warm-ups changed every afternoon but still. Yuriko had been breathless when she saw how awestruck Asuka’s eyes were as she introduced herself and then blurted everything else out she was thinking too.

   “My name is Takizawa,” Asuka said, her hand had been extended, “and you are really pretty.”

   Yuriko blushed. She was pale and reddened easily out in the sun but the warmth of the sunlight on the courts could not be the blame for how puce she became upon hearing Asuka’s introduction of herself. And just like that, Asuka’s interest in beautifying herself swung the other way like a pendulum. She wanted hair that was as shiny and beautiful as Yuriko’s and Yuriko had, once upon a time, been more delighted to help.

   She helped Asuka cycle through various shampoos and conditioners and different routines until they finally found one that lifted her hair to life, making it the mane she was so widely renowned for today. Yuriko almost missed those moments in the dusk, when they were hot and sweaty but helping one another do each other’s hair before going home after club and all the other in between moments of bonding.

   Yuriko was somewhat on the pulse when it came to gossip due to her place as the president of the student council, she had to know what the issues were and the like and from what she heard, no one in the present cycle of students would ever guess that the beautiful and strong upperclassman, Takizawa Asuka, had been anything less than that. Beautiful and strong. It sickened Yuriko to some degree. It made her bitter, made her jealous. They might have a contentious relationship at best in the present but Yuriko was still responsible in how she had helped to mould Asuka into her current self. She was the type to desire - and to give - credit where credit was due, after all, for better or for worse.

   But aside from the usual idle gossip that made it to her desk in various forms, sometimes as official reports and sometimes as chat that she exchanged with her fellow council members, there was something else cropping up in the stream of consciousness of the Aozora Middle School’s student body. Something that concerned Yuriko rather severely. There were rumours of monsters on the school grounds.

   Previously this year, there had been a craze of telling ghost stories that featured some mermaid in lieu of a more common, spectral ghoul but they seemed to have eased off now. Thank goodness. But in their place, there were other monsters being sighted and seen around town including Aozora Middle School.

   Rather desperately, Yuriko would admit, she wanted to believe that these stories were the mere results of unknown agents running movie or commercial sets without telling anyone but that seemed unrealistic. Or they were tricks of the light or mirages but Yuriko knew there was something awry. She sensed as such very deeply within her intuition.

   Though, her intuition was duller than she thought it was given how she polished it. As she was doing work in the student council room alone, the most peculiar thing happened. She heard a deep and guttural roar from the quadrangle. She stood up to investigate, to merely turn her back around and look outside her window but she was felled by a wave of nausea or vertigo.

   And then an even stranger thing happened. Some sort of magical heroine warrior was thrown through the window. All Yuriko caught of such a swift projectile in the shape of a fanciful girl was a blur of flaming crimson. With just the barest seconds Yuriko’s afternoon went from ordinary to extraordinary.

   She turned her head, eyes stunned with disbelief, and watched as this girl get up. 

   She was familiar, Yuriko noted. Her teeth were gritted and her eyes were aflame with aggression - or maybe frustration. She groaned as she got up and shook off the damage that she had taken. She was flaked with debris from the partially destroyed wall behind her. There was a very her shaped impression in the ripples of the wall but she was walking it off like it was nothing, stretching her shoulders and winding up to get back out there into the fray.

   A cord of terror struck in Yuriko’s heart; she was worried for this clearly capable heroine. She had such a powerful stance, her fists were balled and her expression blazed with determination. Yuriko had seen it before - or something similar, in someone else, someone precious to her and someone who had been hurt by her. She swallowed.

   “Take care.” Yuriko said, her demeanour hiding a whimper, the terror that she felt for this young lady. “I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

   “I eat these things for breakfast.” the heroine replied.

   “I don’t doubt that,” Yuriko asserted and then frowned, “but don’t you dare wound this school any further. These damages will be costly and our resources are our pride and joy.”

   “I know, just don’t worry about it.” the heroine put on a brave smile.

   Yuriko hesitated, in her heart, but in her hand, it reached out. She did something she did not consider discourteous but she touched this stranger’s hair, running her fingers through it and freeing it off some of the dust. She pulled a piece of drywall from the warrior’s hair and flicked it away. The sensation of her hair, it was ethereal, like a silk but so, so warm, like it had been crowned by the sun. It took Yuriko’s breath away - and appeared to do the same to the girl with whom it belonged to. She blinked but it was just that. A blink, not a flinch.

   “Uh, thank you.” she said and with that, she returned to the battle.

   She sprang forward with superhuman litheness, it could almost be mistaken for flight but Yuriko saw it. How her knees had bent and how she had pushed herself into the air without wings. Yuriko observed from the shattered window, holding onto it and battling a bizarre wave of miasma of her own. She yawned and she weakened. It was as though Yuriko felt terribly bored by the whole thing, but she wasn’t. She would promise that she wasn’t, she found her attention raptured by the warrior and her company and how they fought for the school. And yet, Yuriko’s eyes glazed over and she succumbed to the energy that the monster produced.

   She awoke naturally goodness knows how many hours later but maybe it was less than Yuriko feared. She looked up and around and it was like nothing had ever happened. The window was not broken from having a magical heroine thrown through it and nor was the far wall cracked with having taken the impact of having a magical heroine thrown at it. Looking out to the quadrangle, there was no sign of a scuffle. Just students going home all the same as she, given how red the sunset was.

   Yuriko paused just to admire the sunset and just how red it was. Crimson, really. It was fierce on the eyes, he had to squint into it just to appreciate it. It was incredibly unusual for spring to have such a burning sunset, Yuriko thought. She took a breath and gathered her thoughts, dismissing most of them as a dream of some sort.

   Aside from gathering her thoughts, Yuriko gathered her things. Masami dropped by to check on her but Yuriko was a step ahead, relieving her. They parted ways shortly after that as Masami had one last duty she wanted to attend to before leaving herself. Yuriko told her not to dawdle but as she went down the stairs and out into the fresh air, she found herself doing the same thing.

   A surprised looking face greeted her just short of the gates, “Oh, hey, Yuriko…” Asuka said.

   She was acting remarkably awkward, Yuriko observed straight off the bracket. She found that odd and regarded Asuka warily as a result. But here, Yuriko refused not to be rude so she greeted Asuka back.

   “Good afternoon.” she said.

   “More… good evening right now.” Asuka joked, trying to diffuse the tension she felt as Yuriko glared at her as she was prone to do. “Have a good afternoon? It was pretty tame up at the Tropical Club, I’ll admit.”

   “It was… fine.” Yuriko tersely replied. “I actually had a strange daydream.” She found herself admitting as she had an even stranger feeling, about earlier and about Asuka.

   “What about? I’m going to hope it was about letting us Tropical Club members go about our school life and youth in peace.” Asuka mused but there was something of a backhanded snarl to her voice.

   “I daydreamed about a perfect stranger with red hair,” Yuriko said and she smiled enigmatically, “with red hair prettier than yours.” she teased.

   “Gee, thanks. Well when a handsome stranger with black hair turns up in my dreams, I’ll be sure to let you know that they were prettier than you.” Asuka growled.

   “Whatever you say,” Yuriko shrugged, “enjoy the rest of your evening then, as it were.”

   “Thanks.” Asuka mumbled.

   Asuka figured that was enough for a parting farewell as she left it at that. She turned around and her swished around her. Yuriko was entranced by how it shone in the light of the setting sun so she did it again. She reached out and she touched that gorgeous, illuminated red hair. 

   Asuka squeaked in surprise and glanced back at Yuriko. She giggled darkly and brought the strands of Asuka’s hair to her lips. She kissed more the skin of her knuckles than the silken strands of Asuka’s hair but it was still quite shocking for Asuka. She was dumbfounded and embarrassed by it yet a smile managed to crack through that befuddled combination regardless.

   “Farewell, Asuka. See you tomorrow at school.” Yuriko teased her and she let go of Asuka’s hair.