#i’m always the fucking outsider in these conversations because they’re always so… personal?

[teethgnashing]

i need to stop talking abt body image issues with people who don’t have a double chin

#it always just fills me with anger and jealousy and then with guilt and even more self hatred #about to say some truly selfish hateful shit i am aware is wrong and cruel which is why i’m saying it here —> #like oh my godddd im soooo sorry your family told you you needed to be a bit skinnier #you are extremely conventionally attractive and skinny with pretty hair and good clothes #people like you at a glance. people give you the fucking time of day #you have dated multiple people. multiple people have wanted to DATE you #i’m always the fucking outsider in these conversations because they’re always so… personal? #in that like. “oh i know im okay looking but my brain won’t let me think it” #like damn that sucks. i’m actually ugly and nobody will let me fucking forget it #but do tell me more about your pretty partner you love who fell in love with you instantly #i’ll be over here walking behind you realizing i’m twice your width #and wondering if there’s a way to put out a lifetime’s worth of artwork and creation so that i can get this stupid hopeless life over with #i will die unloved. i don’t even fucking care anymore #i just want to make some decent art people might like and be done with it all #chatter #sorry i need to get this off my chest Now so i can push my mood back up and not be snapping at people. im so good im so fine #i hate myself but thats a me issue. time to go have fun

[buhok-ng-bruha]

Uh oh! A Jehovah’s Witness is at my door!

A guide on what the fuck is happening and what to do about it as a never JW, from an exJW.

JW congregations have just been told to start doing door-to-door preaching (aka ‘service’/‘service work’/‘witnessing’) again this September. They stopped for the past few years due to…well. The whole state of things. But it’s starting again! Fuck!

So, to get you folks in on the Secret Inner-workings of a Cult:

JWs do service work mostly on Saturdays and Sundays, but any day of the week is fair game, just less of them will be out on other days. Generally it’ll be in the mornings (anywhere between 9AM to 1PM being common, my family did 10AM to noon Saturdays), but any time of day is also fair game. Evening witnessing is encouraged, to catch parts of the service area who didn’t answer during morning service, like people who were at work or asleep.

JWs are given ‘territories’: entire neighborhoods if they’re a majority language and can generally bet on most of the people in a given area speaking that language; SPECIFIC ADDRESSES if they belong to a smaller language demographic. These are on ‘territory cards’, which include areas to fill out once they’ve called on houses. They often pull addresses from the phone book or other such directory, pulling based on name, or get referred new addresses from neighborhood sweeps in other congregations and were told x language was being spoken, so if you get called on by someone speaking your language and wonder how they got your address, it’s because they’ve collected data already! On You!

On that note: JWs collect data on you! A lot of it!! Those territory cards they fill out? They can include any information they gleaned from conversation (age? gender? personal details like if you’re married, if you live with your parents, etc? what religion do you belong to? any problems in your life they can ‘help’ with? any ‘problematic’ details, like if you’re queer? all of it.); if someone was home or not (yes we can see you peeking out from behind your curtains! we looked in windows!); if the person answering the door was uninterested; if they were aggressive; if they have dogs; if we were able to leave any publications with them; the details of any conversations we had, like which topics we discussed and which seemed to interest you the most; when to call on you again. The areas to fill this in on these cards are rather small so they usually only write down the most important information, but it is the most important information for trying to indoctrinate you into a cult. DO NOT give them any personal information. It will be used against you.

So that’s the gist of it. Now, you don’t want them at your door, probably.

Please do not harass them.

I know they’re annoying. We always knew we were being annoying. They do it anyways because they think they’re helping you. They often have children with them - not only because it’s often families going preaching together, but also because it’s a well known tactic to get a softer response from people they call on, to have a child with you. Even if there are no children, please do not harass JWs - they are cult victims, and doing so will only enforce their ‘us vs them’ mentality, and discourages members from leaving. The outside world hates you so much, so how can you leave?

“But what if—“ Nope! Beyond the whole ‘don’t be fucking cruel to abuse victims’ thing, it doesn’t even work! I’ve been threatened with dogs; my mother has been threatened with machetes; others have been flashed, or physically assaulted - we still went back eventually. Usually someone else would get the assignment, and usually we’d wait a bit, but we still went back.

“Okay, but what the fuck do I do, then?”

You open the door (yes, open the door; if you ignore them they’ll return again, assuming they just missed you or you were busy), let them tell you what they’re there for, and before the conversation goes further, you simply say:

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

And then you tell them goodbye. Nothing more. Don’t say you have your own religion. Don’t say you’re queer. Don’t try to use the ‘magic word’ apostate - actual former members can get harassed.

Unfortunately, despite this being the most successful and least harmful strategy, it isn’t 100% foolproof. They’re supposed to write ‘do not call’ on the territory card next to your address, but they’re human and forget sometimes (or might not mark it intentionally, though I haven’t seen that personally); the next person who gets that card might not see the mark, as well. On top of everything else, even if not forgotten, they will eventually come back. It’s policy to come by after some time to check on you, ‘just in case’: just in case you changed your mind, just in case you moved and there’s someone else there now, just in case, oh, you recently had a loved one pass away and suddenly find yourself in an emotionally vulnerable position in need of support and sympathy.

If you have the knowledge and mental/emotional energy and stability to, you can go about trying to debate them, maybe help some of them doubt, but it is no easy task and there is no guarantee of any success. It takes a lot of patience. They are undergoing some extreme brainwashing and ‘waking up’ is incredibly traumatizing, and you will face a lot of resistance in trying to deconvert any of them. Again, only attempt this if you have the energy, stability, and knowledge required - the delicacy required, too. Otherwise, remember, it’s

“I’m not interested. Please put me on your do not call list.”

Nothing more.

#cult #how to avoid jws #how to avoid jehovah’s witnesses #please reblog #psa #exjw

[grippingbeskar]

old partners, new plans

— joel miller x fem!reader

—warnings: explicit content minors dni (oral m receiving, mxf) swearing, very minor dom!joel but it’s like not an established thing

—a/n: back at it!!! hope you guys enjoy! i love writing for joel sm. he so sexy <3

“That was not the deal.” You growl, squaring your shoulders.

“Deals change.” Is all the reply you get, Joel still leaning against the frame of your door. You can hardly see him there, the dark of night shrouding him in something akin to mystery— at least, he would be mysterious if you hadn’t already seen every inch of him.

“You know that’s not fair, Joel. I’ve waited ages for this opening, and I’m fucked without the pills to trade.” You take a step towards him and lower your voice, knowing people have been hung in the centre of town for even thinking about leaving, let alone having an entire plan like you did. Or had. “I need to get to them.”

“You don’t even know they’re out there.” You bite back a laugh, turning away from him. You hear the click of the door behind you, and Joel sounds louder as he finally steps into your house. “This is a bad idea— always has been. You got no proof, no solid plan… you’re fucked with or without the pills.”

“Oh, because you’re so sure Tommy’s still alive? That plan is so well thought out— huh?”

“That’s different.”

“No, it’s not! My family is out there, and they’re waiting for me. I know they are. I’ve had this plan for months— months, Joel! You know what this means, and you choose now of all times to hold out on me?!” You shout now, head under his chin staring up at him.

“I’m not holdin’ out, there’s nothin’ I can do about it. My guy ain’t getting back for a week, and I can’t just pull strings I don’t have.” Your heart plummets. The look in his face seems genuine— broken, sad… but it doesn’t make you any less angry. “I can’t help you.”

“But you were fine taking my batteries and tools. And my route to the outside for the last six months. All that you were happy to take me up on, but now it’s time to pay and you’re suddenly empty? I don’t buy it, Joel.” You say his name harshly, with none of the need and honey-like sweetness you remember from those few months of bliss before you told him you were getting out. Before he iced you out completely. “I can’t believe you’re doing this. As what— some kind of pay back?”

“You know that’s not—“

“Why? Because I’m not sleeping with you anymore? That’s fucking low, even for you. And you are the one that stopped that, not me, so don’t blame your blue balls on me just cause you can’t deal with the inevitable.” You suck in a quick breath, wishing you could take the words back.

Oh, he’s fucking angry now. Before he was letting you rant, letting you yell at him because he knew he was in the wrong but something about your comment made him flip.

Neither of you had mentioned what happened. How that night, when you told him you were leaving, he just got up and left your bed, never coming back. Sure, you were blunt and maybe a little harsh when you told him you were going, but he didn’t even look at you for a week. Only when you went to him to ask for the last piece of your escape plan, he managed to look at you, but even then he was short and harsh like you had been. Like you’d done something to him personally— left him cold and alone in a giant bed, words you never got to say still stuck in your throat. How he never gave you a chance to finish, to explain, to ask him to come with you. Find both of your families.

It was the first time you’d really spoken at all since then— conversations that used to be never ending and comforting turning to surface level communication, only speaking when necessary. Sure, you were shouting at each other right now but at least you were talking. Anything was better than silence.

“Don’t you ever fucking say that to me. Don’t you dare tell me I had anything to do with you leavin’. You did this to yourself— to us.” He didn’t yell, but you sort of wish he had, because the low, growling tone of his voice was somehow ten times worse. “You were the one who wanted to leave. I never—“

“You don’t have to remind me.” You don’t let him finish the thought, instead cutting him off and diverting your eyes to the fists at his side, straining with fury. His knuckles were bruised, either from work or a side gig he didn’t tell you about. He never told you about anything anymore.

“I got no pills. I’ll dump ‘em in the old spot when they come in. Try not to get yourself killed ‘til then.” He turns to leave, and you feel your stomach flip. This will be the last time you see him if he comes through. The last time you spoke.

“Okay, I’m sorry.” He laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “Hey— I didn’t meant that, alright? You really want to leave it like this?”

“You’re going. Probably gonna die out there. What’s the point in talking about it?” You want to yell, want to fight him on it but he wouldn’t even listen— “You’re signin’ your death sentence outside of these walls alone. Don’t blame me for not giving you the push.”

“Joel, just wait a second.” His hand stills as it moved to grab the door. “I don’t… I don’t want to leave you like this. I never wanted to leave you. If you just let me—“

“You made that bed weeks ago.” He stares ahead, never letting you finish and still not turning around to look at you. Your heart freezes at the thought of him walking out that door. You want to leave— but you never wanted to do it alone. Even after weeks of silence and rough edges, you’d take any time with him over… well, anything.

“Let me unmake it. Just… please don’t walk out on me, Joel.” You take a few tentative steps, gauging the progress you’ve made. His spine straightens when your fingers dance up his back, gentle and slow. You catch the bottom of his shirt and slip under, feeling the warmth of his skin under your palm and the way he sighs— as if your touch relieves him. “I hated how I went about… things. I never meant to have it turn out like this. Us ignoring each other.”

“Well, that’s what happened.” His head turns ninety degrees, eyes looking over his shoulder as you walk your fingers higher. His shoulder blades, always full of tension, relax under your hand, and you trail your other hand up to find the other, watching his eyes flutter closed as you dig your palms into the muscle there.

“I know. It was unfair of me to spring it on you that night, and I shouldn’t of said the things I did. I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say anything, but he sighs again as you continue to manipulate his muscle. You wish he’d take his shirt off so you could do it properly, but this would do for now. “But you never let me finish— that day.”

“I heard…fuck. I heard what I needed to hear.” His head drops down, chin to his chest as you step up on your toes and massage him in slow, steady circles. You hadn’t touched him in so long, you were nearly burning with just this intimacy alone, but you had to bide your time. Coax him in slowly, like a scared lone wolf— tempt him closer with paced, quiet movements until you could get your chance.

“Let me fix it. Fix this.” You say softly, your heart slamming against your chest.

“You’re still leaving. Can’t fix that.” His voice strains, and you run your hands lower to dig into the muscle of his back.

“Yeah.” He sighs again at your answer. “And you still hate me for it.”

“Yeah.” He copies you, and you try to ignore how much the simple word affects you.

“But we still have right now.”

“What’s the— shit, that’s good.” He shuffles back into your touch. “What the point?”

“Cause I can make you feel so much better than this. Don’t you remember?” You are nearly begging, but if memory serves you right, a few ‘pleases’ seem to make him do just about anything. “This is just my hands, but my mouth… my—“

“Yeah. Yeah, I fucking remember. Think about it every night.” You run your hands up again, but this time take his shirt with you and bring it up over his head. He moves, finally, grabbing the collar and shucking it off his shoulders, letting the fabric pool at his feet in front of the door.

“Let me make it up to you. Please, Joel.” He groans when you press harder, feeling how his muscles have gone nearly placid under your touch now. “Even if it’s just tonight. If you still hate me, you can leave and not look back, but I… I can’t stand this thing we have going on. The quiet. I can’t do it. Please.”

He turns around, towering over you as a mass of unkept, wild curls and a burning need in his eyes. It makes you smile, that look in his eye— because it’s been so long since he’s looked at you with anything other than hatred. Now, he needs you. Needs what only you can give him, and even if this could be the last night of it, you couldn’t help but think it would last forever with how heavy his gaze was.

“You wanna make it up to me?” He’s tilting his head in question, watching your hands move up and down his torso in teasing strokes.

“Please, Joel.” You see it splinter, his final plank of resolve shredding and dispersing on your floor under the weight of your words. Your voice nearly cracks with desperation— you need it as badly as he does.

“Get on your knees.” You blink at him, your fingers trailing down his toned chest before nodding and obeying his command readily. Joel was always a giver— always spending hours on you and you alone, and he fucking loved it— but tonight you had all but begged him to take. Lose a little bit of that control he clings so tightly to, watch the tension loose from his shoulders as he forgets about everything but you.

You trail your lips along his lower stomach as you sink to your knees, eyes never leaving his— ones that have practically turned onyx black as he watches your path, chest rising and falling rapidly. He moves his leg before you hit the ground, and it’s not until your bare knees settle into something a little softer than hard wood floor that you realise he’s kicked his shirt under you.

Even when he acted the part of hating you— he never stopped thinking of you.

Your fingers shake as they fumble with his belt, Joel making no move to help you as you struggle with the loops. When you finally break it free, Joel’s hand reaches down and threads your hair through his fingers. His thumb trails the highest point of your cheekbone, and your eyes flutter as you involuntarily nuzzle into his touch. It’s comforting and warm, and the intimacy of him knowing how you like to be touched even on your face has your cheeks burning. You think you catch him smile at you, and then your focus snaps back to the sight right at your eye-line when you pull his boxers and jeans down in one go.

“Missed your cock, Joel. Fuck.” You are nearly mesmerised at him in front of you, words spilling out as he stands in front of you completely naked while you remain fully clothed. He groans, head rolling back as you wrap your hand around his base.

“I bet you did. Can remember how loud you used to be— I fucking loved that.” Even if the compliment is purely physical, compared to how little you’ve gotten from him it boosts your ego through the roof. You can’t wait any longer, wrapping your lips around the tip of his straining cock. “That’s it, darlin’.”

You don’t tease him, but you do start slow. Despite how much you want to suffocate on him, have him fuck out any of that hate he’s still holding so he can’t think of anything but your mouth, you know he likes it to start slow. It’s like he’s denying himself, even here, that he doesn’t deserve the instant gratification. Like he wants to suffer through it first— a little bit of pain to accompany the overwhelming pleasure that follows.

“Fuck, you’re good. Just like that.” He praises, his hand sneaking back to the nape of your neck. Not pushing, but instead gathering your hair and using his fist as a make shift ponytail. “Missed your mouth.”

“Mm?” You make a muffled noise, hoping to God he keeps telling you how much he missed any part of you. Like he dragged through the last few weeks as poorly as you did. You were already fizzling in your stomach, your thighs clenching together with every swirl of your tongue around the head of his cock.

“Thought about you every day. Every— fuck. Nothin’ gets me off like you. Ha-ah, shit.” You take him to the back of your throat, gagging a little but loving every choked sound sound that stutters out of Joel’s mouth. “Had to fuck my fist thinkin’ about your pretty little face. Fuckin’ hated myself for it.”

You speed up, wanting nothing more than for him to yank you upwards and bend you over the counter, but you’ll take what you can get. The salty taste of him mixes on your tongue, and it’s always so messy giving him head, but he goes feral for it. He’s watching you now, the words punched out of his chest as you move your hand to match your mouth, and you know the tears in your eyes and strands of hair across your face just send him wild.

He says your name how you remember, with all the sweet and drawn out inflections his accent gives it. You take him deeper, indulging a low and dormant urge to please him clawing it’s way to the front of your brain. He groans again, the hand at the back of your head pressing just slightly— a sign he’s losing that last bit of self control.

“Fuck— stop, baby. Stop.” He splutters out, and you draw yourself back slowly. He keeps his hand in your hair, looking down at you possessively. His chest is moving rapidly, trying to catch his breath from where you had him so close. Your eyebrows furrow, confused as to why he didn’t let you do the one thing you really wanted to right now. Make him feel good.

“What’s wrong?” You say softly, and he hauls you upward, barely giving you time to find your footing before he surges forward and kisses you.

It nearly knocks you off your feet, the hunger behind it making you stumble a few steps to where you know the bed is. He wastes no time, tasting himself on your tongue and taking you with him down onto the mattress. He pulls your shirt off first, kissing his way down to where your hips are still covered by sweat pants.

It’s here he takes his time, watching you writhe with impatience as he slowly draws the fabric down. He kisses your hipbones as they are revealed, the gentle touches making your head spin. He was meant to hate you— meant to be fucking you hard and fast just one more time to get it out of his system, so that you felt like what you two had could end on some kind of high. You owed him that much.

But this? The way his hands were so soft and gentle— practically caressing along your sides and over your thighs. The care behind his movements, the way he looked at you… it wasn’t how you used to fuck. This wasn’t hard and dirty, not scratching an itch or quenching a thirst— this had something more behind it. You knew it, and by the way he smiled over you, he did too.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.” He whispers against your skin, the rough hair on his cheeks tingling the softness of your inner thighs. He says it quietly, like you weren’t supposed to hear it, but you do, and your body floods with heat.

“Joel.” You whimper, your underwear dragging down your legs before he crawls back up your body. “Joel, I’m sorry.”

“I know, baby. Just focus on me, okay?” You feel him against you, the head of his cock dragging up and down causing your hips to twitch every time. “You always get so wet from doing that, don’t you?”

“Just from you. It’s just you, Joel.” You whimper, and his face crumbles in front of you. He bends to kiss you again, the air in your lungs sucked out leaving you breathless. He’s handling you with such care— like he still does. Care.

When he pushes into you, you both sigh, Joel dropping onto his forearms caging you under him. He tucks his head into the crook of your neck— teeth dragging along your collar bone with each slow thrust.

“You always feel so good. Can’t live without this, baby.” He’s almost whining, grinding into you with so much strength you hear the bed creak with each move. He’s reaching every nerve you have, crackling each one with a searing pleasure that’s only ever associated with him.

“N-neither. Please— please, Joel.” You beg for something, anything he’d give you, and his head moves to press his forehead to yours. His hips stutter, eyes half lidded but focused on you.

“Don’t leave. I’ll… god, so good. Don’t go.” He fucks you a little harder, like he’s trying to prove a point. Trying to convince you— but he doesn’t have to.

“Come with me.” You whisper, hands threading into his hair. You tug hard, making him groan.

“Baby.” He says lowly, voice grating and strained. Every thrust of his hips hurtles you closer to release, one of his hands snaking down your body to circle your clit. You can’t talk anymore, the only noises you can make are loud moans followed by choked out versions of his name. “Fuck— fuck, I can’t last. I can’t..”

You squeeze your eyes shut, pleasure rolling over you from your fingertips to your toes, the weight of Joel’s body keeping you firmly secured on the mattress. It’s like the heavy press of his warm skin multiplies the feeling, nails digging into the flesh of his back.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, and it only takes a few more strokes of Joel’s cock and he’s cumming with you, both of you clinging to each other as you try to draw out the others high. Even when you’re supposed to be fighting, each of you are doing anything and everything for each other.

Joel still feels warm above you, keeping himself inside as long as he can stand before he pulls out slowly. You whimper from the loss, but he shuts you up with a deep, desperate kiss. It’s lazy and meaningful— teeth and tongues clashing from how hard he’s pressing on top of you.

Both of you are sweaty and out of breath, but neither can find the strength to pull your mouths away from each other. You know once you do, it was meant to be over— but it couldn’t be. There wasn’t going to be a version of this story where you missed out on the only good, real thing you’ve had in a long time just because you didn’t have the guts to repeat yourself. You pull back from his mouth as hard as it is, and he groans a little in frustration of having to chase you.

“Joel…” Your hands find their way up to his face, holding him so close that your noses bump together. “I meant it. Come with me.”

“Darlin’, I gotta… Tommy needs me to find him. I…” He looks you up and down again, eyes catching on the little hickeys he’s left over your chest and neck, and you think he might be considering the possibility of leaving everything behind and just following you despite it.

But you’d never ask him to. You had this thought out— and if he’d just listened to you the first time, he would already know.

“I know. We can find him. The pills— I’m trading it for a full tank of gas for a car I repaired. It’s just outside the safe zone.” He shifts up, thighs still straddling over your waist. “We can find him, find my family.”

“You fixed a… of course you did. Fixed a fucking car right under their nose.” He shakes his head, laughing before leaning down and smothering you in a suffocating kiss. He’s still smiling when he pulls away, tucking your body into his chest. “Jesus. You’re unbelievable.”

“I would of told you.” You say, not having the nerve to look up at him. “That night— I tried to tell you. We have people that need us, but I need you, too.”

“Mm.” He says, burying his face into your hair. You can feel the smile in the way he hums, his hands grabbing at your sides and holding you closer. “Need you, too.”

“What was that?” You try to turn and look up at him, a teasing smirk on your face but he doesn’t let you. “The Joel Miller— needs me?”

“Need your car.” He grumbles and you laugh harder, your legs tangling together in a comforting knot of limbs. “When do we leave?”

“When you get the pills.” He hums again.

“Tomorrow. I’ll get ‘em tomorrow.”

“Oh, you fucking asshole. You were getting them the whole time, weren’t you?” He still refuses to let you move, strong arms keeping your bodies together. He doesn’t say anything, just laughs and nods before his breathing starts to slow.

You wanted to turn and see his face when he said that— that he needed you. But as you feel him go limp behind you, you figure you’ll get enough time to stare at his face when you drive across the state to get Tommy, and whatever comes after that. You might not know what comes next, but whatever it is, you feel a hell of a lot better knowing it’ll be with him.

#joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel miller x y/n #tlou #tlou joel miller

[puppetwoman17]

I’ve been wanting to talk about this but I thought it would sound weird and kinda Mary Sue like! Glad to hear that I’m not the only one.

I’m very adamant on Cap being a pillar in not only the magic community(cause of his Champion role obviously) but the hero community as well. He’s well-known for his heroics and impossible stories about battling sentient worms and being diplomatic with alien dinosaurs.

He’s also loved for the advice he gives. All Billy wants to do is bring smiles to these peoples’ days. He dishes out advice like it’s candy and always sees the good in people. He’s great at looking at situations through multiple viewpoints and understanding everyone’s thought processes. This in particular helps with the Superman and Superboy problem. He tells both of them individually that both of their hardships are valid. Clark is allowed to feel violated because his DNA was stolen and mutated in a way that was against his consent. Connor never asked to be created, always wanting Superman’s love but never receiving it.

They reconcile, and Billy doesn’t think much of it, because it’s what anyone would do, right? No biggie. He even does something similar with Red Arrow, convincing him that he’s not just a clone. He’s his own person. He built his own life. He has his own achievements. He shouldn’t feel bad for any of this because none of it was in his control. And Roy is so damn grateful because it feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders.

Marvel just shrugs. No biggie.

He talks Leaguers through both personal and professional problems and guides them onto a simple, honest path because adults make everything so damn complicated so why can’t you just sit THE FUCK DOWN—

Ahem.

So he helps with that too. No biggie, right? Just another good deed.

He expands his one-way business to other teams too, like the JSA, the YJ team, the Teen Titans, etc. Spends time with each of them, helps them solve their own problems whether they’re big or small.

No biggie, right?

Fucking. Wrong.

The world of heroes absolutely adores him! The other hero teams look to him like he’s the cool uncle. Despite no one knowing jackshit about his personal life, they trust him wholeheartedly. They know he’s got their back.

That’s actually what hurts, tho. Whenever anyone asks him about his life outside the cape, he gets tongue-tied. Panicked. Silent. Doesn’t say a word until a new topic is brought up and then changes wheels like it’s nothing. It hurts, knowing he doesn’t trust them. They know it’s stupid, he never had obligations to tell them anything about the real him, but it stings. Where does he go when he isn’t Cap? Does he have family? A lover? Hobbies? Pets? Why is he like a brick wall with them? Did they do something wrong?

Things get especially annoying when characters like Booster Gold(from the future) and Doctor Fate(Lord of Order, basically on the same pedestal as the Champion) know his identity and don’t even bother to hide that fact. Leaguers will frequently catch Booster making knowing jabs at the Captain, winking and saying strange things that get the Captain riled up and shaking his head profusely. Nabu is no help either, with Leaguers catching him and Marvel quietly conversing. When someone, say, Barry, shows up, Marvel stops talking.

It fucking hurts. A lot. And Billy doesn’t even notice the looks of jealousy cast at his future teammate and fellow Lord by his coworkers. The YJ team is not taking that shit because that is their den dad. Diana doesn’t appreciate that these strangers know more about her brother than she does. Flash is all confused and slightly annoyed because when are they gonna play another prank on Hal? Is he just gonna keep talking to those weirdos all day? And the next?

Billy’s honestly just happy to be here. He never thought he’d get past the age of ten, so doing all of this, helping these heroes while learning more about himself, is just great. He’s speedrunning his way through every moody, self-righteous, hurt, traumatized hero with no sweat on his back.

So yeah, he is beloved and he doesn’t even know it. You betcha that when Cap’s identity is revealed, everyone goes full mama bear/papa bear/protective older brother or sister on him. No way is he leaving without supervision.

Nabu and Booster are rolling their eyes cause hello? That’s the Champion of Magic. If anything, he’s the one they should be worried about.

Yeah, they are politely asked to leave after that. Anyhow Billy, wanna go get some hot chocolate 😘😍

Excuse the word vomit.

#billy batson #justice league #captain marvel #dc universe #shazam #doctor fate #booster gold #protective justice league #young justice

[princessbrunette]

https://www.tumblr.com/princessbrunette/738865892895735808/i-love-the-idea-of-the-innocent-reader-but-with?source=share

I’m here for the drama so

imagine if one of the people JJ and John B were talking about you to snitches to you and makes it seem like they’re both just using you to “do dirty things to you” and that they don’t actually like you or think of you as a friend😭

and even though your pure ass brain doesn’t have a clear or precise idea of the dirty things they’re talking about you still know what being used is and omg the angssst

and then the next time you’re with them you’re very avoidant and subtly snappier and they’re both very taken aback because what happened to their sweet little girl like :(

Eventually you can’t keep ignoring them and being closed off because it’s just not your nature and you end up bursting into tears and angrily warbling to them about it all after they try to confront you about your unusual attitude towards them for the millionth time😩

idk what’s wrong with me I’m just in a silly goofy mood tonight woopsie

-🌙

ohhhhhh the angst.

᧔o᧓⊹ ࣪ ˖

no because a close friend of theirs wouldn’t stir things up like that, they understand — it’s just conversation between dudes, they’ve all been there… no, it would be that the conversation was overheard, somewhere by the docks whilst an outsider was preparing their boat… perhaps, rafe cameron.

he’s never bothered with you in the past. he’s a bad guy, but he’s self aware enough to know you’re actually innocent and not causing anyone harm, so you pose as no threat to him. he’s not going to just pick on random naive girls, even he knew he was too grown for that. you were super pretty though, and he’d always taken a bit of intrigue in you, wondering why you hung out with those lower-class dirtbags. he figured trying anything with you would be useless, jj and john b feeding you lies about the ‘big bad rafe’ enough to keep you glued to their side and docile. that was, until he had a leg up.

the hulking 6’4 cameron approaches you when you’re at the juice bar by the water all alone one day, spotting you on the rare occasion that you’re by yourself. he sidles up to your side, smiling down at you. “hi there.”

you turn, blinking up at him as you take your juice from the cashier, eyes wide and frightened like a baby deer. it made rafes dick jump a little.

“hi?”

“y’know i uh— usually know not to bother you, know you probably heard some pretty not nice things about me n’i’d hate to just… scare you, or something…” he begins, a small crease forming between his brows as he scratches his cheek. you listen to him, sucking your juice through the straw, waiting for him to get to the point.

“i just overheard something… and i think you might wanna know, i mean— if someone was talkin’ about me like this, i’d definitely wanna know.” he touches his chest, staring into your eyes with wide innocent eyes, trustworthy almost. you tilt your head.

“what happened?”

“that john b, and jj… they’re… well, i heard them talkin’…” he stares off at the water, shaking his head like he’s trying to remember the details despite knowing exactly what he’s gonna say. “braggin’ to some other pogue about you… something about how…” he leans in closer, talking quieter as you hang onto every word, straw still caught between your lips. “how bad they wanna fuck you… take that innocence from you…” he acts scandalised and your eyes widen, looking around to see if anyone heard. only they knew you were still a virgin. well, so you thought.

“and look, me personally…” he leans back, holding his hands up in the air. “i just wouldn’t wanna be disrespected like that, you— you’re a young n’dignified woman… shouldn’t let those pogues take that from you, a’ight?”

“it can’t… you must’ve overheard wrong.” you shake your head, brows furrowed, in denial despite that bad feeling in your stomach.

“and what would i gain from randomly making this up, hm?” he tilts his head like you’re dumb before shaking his head, stepping back. “just thought i’d let you know. you have a good day, alright beautiful? i’ll see you around.” and with that he’s striding away, leaving you dumbfound. he figured soon enough you’d find out the truth and come running right into his arms.

you head back to the chateau slowly, deep in thought. you think back on all the interactions you have with the two boys, how touchy they were, the laughs they share when they say certain things you don’t understand. you hated that rafe was right, and it was starting to make sense.

by the time you reach the chateau, you’re in a foul mood. just seeing the two boys there lounging on the couch filled you with emotion. knowing you’d usually go and unknowingly plant yourself between the two of you them and get touched affectionately almost everywhere. you head straight past them to the kitchen, figuring you’d make yourself a sandwich and then go back to your own house for a while.

the boys heads follow you, smiles faltering a little as they watch you uncharacteristically head through the house without even saying hi.

“uh, hello to you too, doll.” jj hops off the back of the couch, following you through to the kitchen where you grumpily pulled bread out of the bread bin.

“how you doin’, pup? you were gone awhile…” john b is close behind, leaning against a table as he observes the back of you.

“m’fine. was at the juice bar.” you deadpan, fumbling the butter knife slightly as you angrily butter the bread.

the two of them sense the tension and share a glance, jj piping up again trying to ease the mood.

“yeah? didn’t bring anything back for papa j?” he chuckles uneasily, and you’re quick to bark a response.

“no. i was busy talking to rafe.”

the atmosphere in the room suddenly changes, john b standing up straight as he looks to jj. “r—rafe? why were you talking to rafe? he’s a lunatic.”

“is he?” you tilt your head, feeling yourself get more mad. they were still just staring at the back of you, wondering what has occurred.

“uh, yeah— are we forgetting his unprovoked attacks on us, orrr when he tried to drown his own sister? i mean the dude is balls to the wall insane, kiddo—”

“well he actually seemed kind of truthful, which apparently is harder to come by than i thought.” you let the knife clatter down on the side, resting your hands against the counter as you give up on the sandwich completely. you hear john b carefully step closer.

“whats going on, sweetheart…”

you turn around, and they’re met with your quivering lip, two streaks of tears down your cheeks as you angrily sniff. jj goes to step closer to comfort you but you hold out an accusatory finger, stopping them both in their tracks. “he heard you! he— he told me about you two. what you said— what you plan to do to me… you’re just using me aren’t you? just wanna get my pants off when— when all this time i thought we were friends!” you warble, letting out sad sob, the both of them shrinking a little in guilt.

“hey, let’s just talk about this okay?” john b requests calmly, his hands held up infront of him trying to ease you.

“oh i am gonna kill rafe cameron.” jj grits his teeth, beginning to pace, john n instantly striking out an arm to try and keep him cool, the freak out not needed.

“jj. let’s just… deal with this okay— yes, we might’ve said some gross things. we’re— we’re stupid guys and we do stupid things like think with our dicks and — and that’s wrong okay. i fully hold my hands up. if you wanna leave, i understand. but i need you to know, we really, really do care about you. okay? hey—” he comes closer and you let him this time, letting him fuss over you and wipe your tears. “have we ever tried to make you do anything you don’t wanna do?” his eyes are wide, desperate even.

“…no, but… i just didn’t know… you know i don’t know about that kinda stuff.”

“i know, i know okay and we took advantage of that. which is wrong.” he reaches his arm back, smacking jj blindly who’s rubbing his nose bridge with his fingers, making him jump a little. “jj…” john b attracts his attention, trying to get him to help.

the blonde approaches with a sigh, taking your chin between his fingers and gently tugging your gaze to him. “look at me, ‘kay? i’m a total fuck up, i mean everyone knows that but i am really royally fuckin’ up here. you know i really hate that you just willingly listened to rafe, but he… god, can’t believe i’m sayin’ this— he wasn’t lying. we did kinda brag about you. but look at you, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, okay? doesnt make it right— but that’s why. we like you, like actually like you and i swear, swear on my mamas life we are not using you.”

there’s a pause in the air, before john b speaks. “you don’t even know your mom.”

“yeah well the point still stands.”

you sigh, unable to deny the two boys you love. you had to admit, you’d felt things down below for them before, wondering what the feeling was and whether or not they’d help you explore it, so you guess you couldn’t really judge them for feeling that energy too. you shrug, looking at your shoes.

“okay. i believe you.”

you feel the both of them relax, nodding as they crowd your space, john b at your front and jj at your back. “we love you, puppy. like actually. not gonna let anything happen to you, alright?”

“what he said.” jj repeats, hands tucking themselves into your waistband, something he usually did when he said his hands were ‘cold’. you slap his hands and he removes them quickly, nodding. “yep, too soon— got it.”

᧔o᧓⊹ ࣪ ˖

#🌙 anon #jj x reader x john b

[deathbecomesthem]

Crawling to the Finish | Part 2 | 5K

Eddie Munson x Fem!Disabled!Reader

*This is a completed series that is queued and will be released on the dates below. This Masterlist will be updated with each part that is released.

+18 ONLY | MDNI

Warnings: There will be lots of descriptions of medical stuff. The reader is physically disabled due to an undefined accident. Major bone trauma. Lots of talk about pain. Later parts are going to have smut, because disabled people have sex like everyone else. *This part describes disordered eating due to pain.*

Summary: You have to go back to school while still recovering from surgery. Principal Higgins is determined to make you as comfortable as possible, so he assigns someone to help you get around.

A/N: The physical disability described in this series are my own. The experiences are very close to what my own. Be kind.

---

You were drifting through life, the unsteady ocean of the things out of your control set your course. It was something you’ve learned how to deal with. Take things as they come, adjust, go with the flow, let the waves move you how they wanted. But, when the pain is bad, it sets your teeth on edge, and you hate being that person. Mean. Angry. Bitter. It’s not who you are, but it’s how you are right now. You were just waiting. Because, despite the hope in your mother’s eyes, you knew that this last surgery would do nothing to fix you. It was just something to add to the chart so Dr. Greene could say he had tried it all before giving an 18 year a total hip replacement. They don’t last forever, and then he’ll have to deal with a patient needing revision at a too young age.

The bright spot these days comes in the form of a group of nerdy boys. Every day, you sit with them at lunch. It’s your safe spot. No one bothers you, you can just sit and be quiet without feeling like you need to do anything. The boys never say anything about how little you eat. Dustin occasionally looks at you with knowing eyes, and he’s always quick to offer up anything you might like as a treat. Food is hard most days, everything turns to cement in your mouth as you chew, and it never sits right in your stomach.

If you’re being completely honest with yourself, the highest points of your days are in the few minutes before each class when you move through the empty halls with Eddie by your side. Your friendship has come about easily. He’s so open to you. He asks questions. He stops talking when you tell him you need quiet without making you feel unkind. He tells you about his band and his club. Then one day, he tells you something that blows you away, because you feel like you were really starting to know him, and you never would have guessed.

“Well, you know, school’s not exactly my strong suit. I’m pretty sure I’m destined to be stuck in this building until I’m old and gray.” You’d been telling him about how determined you were to get your diploma, even if it meant you had to drag your body across the stage to get it. His statement confused you, though.

“What do you mean? You might not graduate?” You’re legitimately confused. “Why not?”

“Oh, Ilene, this is my third senior year.” You’re standing outside of your English class, the bell still 2 minutes away from ringing. These conversations were really one big conversation broken up into little intervals throughout the day. “If I can manage to pass English this time, there’s a chance I’ll be able to walk that stage.” His words hang in the air for a moment while you digest them and try to make sense of them.

You’re annoyed. Almost angry. How the actual fuck – “Eddie, that’s bullshit.” His eyebrows shoot up so high, they’re lost under his fringe. Your tone tells him that you think his excuses are bullshit. “Come on, are you telling me you can’t do that work, because I’m telling you, you’ve got a brain in there.” You tap the side of his head a little harder than was necessary.

“I’m telling you, I’ve managed to fuck it up two years in a row –“ he’s getting a little hot with you, annoyed for being called out, “- and I’m trying, but it’s hard.”

Today’s a better day for you, so you find yourself able to bite back the truly harsh remarks that sometimes spill out of your mouth. You let the silence sit for another moment and think about what it’s been like for him, how he’s been treated by his teachers and how he doesn’t have the kind of support at home that would help him get through a tough time. The bell rings and brings your thoughts back to the Eddie that’s at your side. You look and see his features are a little pained by your words, so you try to make it right before he takes off for his own class.

“Hey, you’re right, I don’t know how it’s been for you.” He’s following behind you while you make your way to your desk, only the two of you in the classroom at the moment. “Why don’t you come over a couple of times a week and we can be study buddies?”

Eddie drops your bookbag at your feet. He takes your hand, as he does multiple times a day to help you get yourself situated at your desk, and holds on to your crutches for you. This routine just sort of happened naturally, but right now it strikes you how comfortable you’ve become with his hands helping you. It’s so unlike you to be so accepting of help.

Before he can take his hand away and leave, you give it a squeeze, drawing his gaze to your face. “I’m serious, I’d like having someone around when I do my homework. It might help us both to just have someone else working next to us.”

A couple of people started making their way through the door, a signal that he has to bust his ass across the building, “I’ll see you in 45 minutes.” There’s a little sink in your stomach, worry at upsetting him, but he gives your own hand a little squeeze before he lets go.

---

Eddie doesn’t bring up your offer for the rest of the day, leaving you feeling a little bit deflated. You pushed too hard, and you regret it. Never once has he done anything to make you feel bad about yourself, and you let your mouth run away the first time he’s a tiny bit vulnerable with you. But, as with everything in life, you let those feelings float on, letting them go.

On the Monday of week 5 post surgery, the pain has ebbed into a constant and familiar ache. You eat enough to keep yourself upright. Your sleep is fragmented, waking frequently to adjust the pillow that rests under your left hip.

Your incision is healed, you’ve always been a quick healer - except for that one joint. The one that keeps you from being a normal teenager. The one that keeps you too thin and gives you dark circles under your eyes.

When you find yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the realm of self-pity, you let yourself remember. Because, this recovery is simple compared to a full body cast, a bed pan, hair washed in the bathroom sink, a baby monitor set next to you at night at the age of 14. This is nothing. And you’re inching closer to the thing you want more than anything. A new lease on life through your next surgery.

Today, though, you’re getting dressed, putting on makeup, and feeling better than you have in a long time. You’re looking forward to seeing your boys. To seeing your Eddie. You try not think about him when you pull out the curling iron and work your hair into a cute half updo. You try not to think about which lip gloss he would prefer as you rummage through the drawers of your vanity. You definitely avoid the thought of him seeing your ass in the form fitting black jeans you feel like you can tolerate rubbing against the still tender scars that run down your outer thigh and lower waist. Nope. Not thinking about that.

Eddie’s leaning against the hood of his van when you pull into the parking lot this morning. He’s been arriving early since last week so he can be there to escort you into the building first thing each day. This morning your stomach leaps into your throat as you watch him flick his cigarette butt into the grass at the edge of the lot. Friday was the first day you’d really noticed how pretty his eyes are, really looked at how full his lips are. It was a revelation you weren’t expecting. As much as you wish you could just push the feelings away, you know it’s not possible. You’ve noticed him, no going back now.

“Excuse me sir, can you point me in the direction of an errand boy to hire for the day? I can’t possibly be expected to carry my own things around all day.” You’ve pulled your car up next to Eddie with your window rolled down. You let your eyes travel up and down his body to assess him with exaggeration, “You might be sufficient. Do you have any references?”

“There’s this one girl, she’s kind of a pain in the ass, but I’m sure she’d be willing to write me a letter of recommendation.” His head is tilted to the side and he’s wearing a grin that shows off his pretty dimples. “What kind of compensation do you offer?”

“The pleasure of my company.” You give him a big smile and a flutter of your lashes before you pull in to the spot next to him. He makes his way to your car, reaching into the back seat for your crutches before offering his hand to help you out.

“Oh, I think I might take that offer, but I have one request.” He’s answering you try to find your balance. Once you’re upright, he reaches across the front seat to grab your bookbag for you. “How do you feel about adding in some study time this week to sweeten the deal?”

You’ve crutched a couple of steps while he closes your car door for you, but you stop after he makes his request to cock your head and squint your eyes. He’s got that fucking smile on his face again.

“Oh, sure. Follow me home tonight, we can do some work at my house, ok?” Eddie nods and you’re both kind of just looking back and forth at each other while you make your way to the big doors that lead into the school.

“You look really pretty today, by the way.” It’s a casual statement that a friend would make to another friend, but you can feel the heat rising up your chest, and your stomach feels like it’s on fire.

You can’t help but do the thing you always do when you feel like you’re in a corner. You joke.

“Stop flirting with me. I know the crutches are irresistible, but you’re gonna have to try to resist.”

And you think he’ll leave it at that. So, you crutch your way down the still quiet hallway, but he just can’t stop himself. A couple of steps behind you, he says just loud enough for you to hear, “It’s not the crutches I’m thinking about from this angle, Ilene.”

---

That’s how the flirtation started, with Eddie not so subtlety checking out your ass at 7:30 on a Monday morning. It went on like this for the rest of the week. On Wednesday, you sat next to Dustin at lunch. His positivity was contagious, and you found you cared deeply for the kid. He always knew how to talk, or not talk, to you.

“So, Eddie tells me you’ve been helping him study.” You’ve been making eyes at Eddie from across the table. Eddie’s been coming over to your house for a couple of hours the last two afternoons, and you’ve started helping him work on his English paper. After talking him through what some of his issues have been, you offer to be his scribe. It’s working really well, you writing his words.

“Uh, yeah. It’s been nice having him around.” You finally drag your eyes away from Eddie to meet Dustin’s face and he’s practically glowing.

“Oh, good. You guys are, uh, really hitting it off, huh?” Your eyes roll a little and you flick the back of his hands with your fingers in a playful admonishment.

“Stop. It’s not like that.”

Dustin shrugs a little, still radiant with pleasure at all of the possibilities he has running rampant through his head.

“Hey, when do you see your doctor? It’s next week, right?”

“Yep.” It’s all you can manage. Your anxiety was starting to build at the thought of it.

“How soon do you expect to have your surgery?” You had told Dustin about the prospect of a hip replacement. He was enthusiastic, understanding it would be the ticket to a more independent life.

“As soon as he’ll schedule it. Realistically? Probably in a month. I think I’ve convinced my mom that it’s definitely happening, but you know, parents are always worried.” Dustin knew. He definitely knew.

“Well, I’m excited for you.” His big smile does a lot to settle your anxiety. His support means so much to you. “I’m sure Eddie will be excited too.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“Dustin, I swear to god.” You shake your head and look back to see Eddie smirking at your obvious annoyance with his favorite kid.

---

“So, tell me about Eddie.” Your mom sat at the kitchen table and sorted through the mail while you got yourself situated on the recliner. You’d been sleeping in it all week, it holds your body in all of the right places. It’s the only place you can fully relax, even if it’s only for a couple of hours at a time.

“You met him, you already know about him.” It’s Friday, the first afternoon that you’ve returned from school without the metalhead following closely behind. His band is practicing, but he offered to come over after to watch a movie later.

“Yeah, he’s a good kid, I like him.” She rips open one of the envelopes and scans the page. A medical bill. You can tell from the resigned sigh that leaves her mouth. “I was just wondering if anything’s been going on between you two yet.”

“We’re just friends, mom.” It doesn’t even sound convincing to your own ears.

“Of course your friends. He’s the reason I don’t worry about you when you leave the house. But I’m not blind.” She doesn’t say anymore, she just gets up and digs her check book out of her purse before dropping back into the seat and continuing the depressing job of draining her bank account.

“Oh, uh, Eddie’s coming over at 7 to watch a movie if that’s ok.” Your attempt at sounding casual fails, and you know it because you’re mom barks out a laugh.

“Eddie’s always welcome, you don’t have to ask. ‘Just friends.’” She does air quotes at you, and you lay your head back to try to nap before Eddie heads over.

The next thing you know, there’s a hand on your arm and you smell pizza? Your groggy eyes are trying to open, the hand on your arm is lifting and you hear his voice, as if from a distance.

“Maybe I should go. I don’t want to wake her if she needs to sleep.” His voice is soft, and you wonder who he’s talking about. Wait, he’s talking about me. Because I’m asleep.

“No, I promise, she’ll never forgive me if I let her sleep through your visit.” You hear footsteps moving towards you, and there’s another smaller hand with a firmer grip on your arm. “Sweetie, Eddie’s here to see you. He brought over some pizza. Wanna wake up?”

Your feel like your eyelids weigh a ton, but you finally get them open enough to see your mom and Eddie standing over you, looking at you. Eddie looks concerned, his fingers at his mouth playing with his bottom lip.

“Hey, Buddy.” You croak out and give him a sleepy smile, and you can see him visibly relax. Your mom gives him a pat on the shoulder before she leaves the room. “Thanks for coming over, Eddie.” You start moving to get up, and he puts his hands out to stop you.

“Hey, no, it’s ok, stay there.” But you’re shaking your head, you had to get up and move around to get the blood flowing.

“I’m fine, I can’t stay in this chair anymore or I won’t sleep at all tonight.” Eddie’s quick to offer his arm to you, and warmth starts to stir inside of you. His leather jacket is thrown over a chair in the kitchen. This is the first time you’ve had your hands on his bare arm, and his skin feel so warm under your fingers.

“Where’d you get the pizza, Ed?” You put your arm around his shoulder, letting him help you to the kitchen without the aid of your crutches. His hair smells clean, like maybe he took a shower before coming over. You let your fingers brush across the ends of his hair to see if it’s still damp. It is.

“Uh, I went to Gino’s. Is that ok?” He turns his head to face you, and he’s so close. You notice his eyes drifting between your eyes and your mouth while you’re hopping the last few feet before resting on one of the cloth covered chairs at the octagonal table.

“It’s great. Thank you.” As soon as your ass hits the chair, he’s moving in a flurry. Getting you something to drink, plating some pizza, frenetic movements around the kitchen.

He finally sits with you after grabbing a plate for himself. This is the moment. This is when you know it. You let your foot rest next to his, your sock covered toes rub the top of his foot just a little, and he’s all smiles. This is good. He returns your gesture with a little toe rub of his own, and you let the greasy cheesy pizza fill your stomach while you play footsie with the pretty boy sitting next to you.

Eddie brought over the movie he’d been talking about all week, insisting you should watch it. LadyHawke. You know it’s not anywhere near what you’d consider watching normally, but his excitement was worth it. Also, the thought of sitting in a dark room with him sitting close to him made your whole body tingle.

You stood at in front of the couch, looking down at it, trying to decide what would work the best. Eddie stood there, looking a little confused, probably wondering why you were staring at a piece of furniture with such concentration.

“So, uh, do you need help, or…” He’s filling the silence with anything, and you’ve decided to just tell him the truth.

“I’m thinking about how I can be comfortable on this couch while also not being too obvious about wanting you to be close to me.” You keep looking at the couch, and Eddie is standing a little straighter.

“Ah, yeah, I see.” Now he’s looking at the couch with you while you lean your weight onto his shoulders. He snaps his fingers together excitedly. “I’ve got it. Here.” He’s helping you down onto the couch, making sure you’ve got a pillow to rest under your hip before he gets the movie set up and turns off the lights. You’re waiting, a little sad to be sitting alone.

“Ok, can I sit here?” He’s pointing at the very end of the couch where you’re head and shoulders are resting, and you feel a smile pulling on your lips.

“Of course you can.” You sit up as much as you can, and Eddie sneaks his slender body next to you. It’s easy to rest your head on him, perfectly comfortable, his arms are gently surrounding you. You can feel his steady breathing and the rhythmic beating of his heart with your head on his broad chest.

LadyHawke is playing on the television. You know that. Michelle Pfeiffer and Matthew Broderick are right on the screen. Outside of that, nothing is connecting. Eddie’s hand is moving along your arm, fingers lazily running along your skin. Your face is pressed into his cotton t shirt, it smells like fabric softener and very faintly of cigarette smoke. You can feel his warm breath on the crown of your head. Your hand is running along the rings of his free hand, dipping into the valleys between his fingers. You can hear his breath hitch when you let the tip of your fingers rub against the sensitive skin.

“This is really nice, Ed.” You need him to know how you’re feeling right now before your heart explodes in your chest from his tender touches.

“Mmmm” The hum is thick, reverberating through his chest. He’s gone somewhere, just feeling and not thinking. As casually as possible without full function of you lower half, you turn yourself to look at his face. Your expectation is that you’ll see his face focused on the screen, but no. He’s looking down at you with a soft expression.

You reach to touch his face, asking him to look at you. Please, see me. He does. You see his vision focus, he’s back with you. You run your finger down his jaw, feeling the stubble growing there. His hand isn’t running along your arm now. No, it’s found the spot on your side where you’re shirt has ridden up, and now his fingers are bringing out goosebumps along this new place, a gentle dance.

It’s a challenge. It’s awkward. You’re moving your body in ways that are not completely natural, trying to angle your face to meet his. His sweet and knowing smile makes you giggle a little. It’s ridiculous that this should be so hard when it’s so stupidly easy for every other teenager in the world. But, this is Eddie, and he’s not making you feel weird.

“You wanna kiss, Sweet Girl?” Of course you want a kiss. It’s why you have your body twisted, face in the crook of his neck. So close. You have to pull yourself up using his shirt as leverage.

“No.” Your face is heating up enough that you’re sure he can feel it on the skin of his neck. “I just wanna put my face right here.” You let your lips brush against his the soft skin behind his ear, and he lets out a little groan.

“Oh, yeah, ok.” His breath is ragged as you trail your lips across his neck leaving gentle kisses as you go. His hands are gripped firmly at the skin of your side, he’s obviously trying to keep himself under control while you assault his most sensitive spots.

“Eddie, I’m sorry.” You breath out in the shell of his ear and his breath stutters, “I’m lying. I really do want you to kiss me.” Your teeth nip at the spot behind his hear, and you’re satisfied with the whimper that escapes his pretty mouth.

It’s still awkward, but neither of you seem to care. The goal is to let your lips meet. So close. So, so close. He’s so pretty. The reflection of the screen illuminates his face, and you’re struck again by his perfect features. You can’t get your face to angle in the right way, so you just bring your hand up to run along his eyebrows, down his nose, along his pretty lips.

He closes his eyes while you explore his features with your featherlight touches. Slowly, he starts to move away from you, gently guiding your body to a half sitting position.

“Lay down, Sweetheart.” His knees are resting on the carpet in front of the couch, and he helps you lay on your side to face him. “There she is.” His hand cups your cheek and he closes the distance to let your lips meet. Finally. His lips are as soft as the touches you’ve been sharing. His fingers scratch at the back of your head, and your open mouths taste each other while Lady Hawke plays on in the background, all while Eddie sits on his knees on the floor.

---

In your living room on that Friday night, you let the waves take you like you always did. The feelings were happening, there was no stopping it. There are so few things in your life that make perfect sense, there’s so much uncertainty. But Eddie was consistent, he was true. So, it happens, and it’s right.

Saturday, you’re mother takes you to a salon. Self-care has been low priority for a long time, but the hair cut was a practice in hope. Monday morning, instead of meeting Eddie in the parking lot of the high school, you’ll be sitting in the office of your surgeon discussing next steps. While waiting for your time slot, you flip through the book filled with glossy images of haircuts. You know what you want before even stepping foot in the door, but you need a visual reference. When you see the picture, you have to hold in a laugh, it’s exactly what you’re looking for. It’s not until you see the cut on the model that you realize it is the same cut that Isabeau wears in LadyHawke.

The seat is uncomfortable, it strains the already painful joint, but it’s so worth it. Angie, your hairstylist, is massaging your scalp more than washing your hair, and you feel like purring with satisfaction. You suspect that your mom told her something that made her want to give you extra pampering, and you don’t even care if it’s out of pity. When she finally turns the taps off and wraps your head in a towel, your eyes are heavy, but your body feels light.

Getting a haircut has always been a ritual you like to go through before major medical stuff. It’s a shedding of the past and making room for new growth. The practicality of having less hair to deal with post operation is an added bonus. This is the first cut you’ve had in a year, and your hair is well past the donation threshold. After the initial chop of the braids hanging down your back, you listen to the scissors snip snip snip while small clumps of hair float to the ground. You feel freer already.

Sunday Eddie visits for a while, and he brings Dustin. It’s a surprise, but you’re so happy to see him. Outside of your mom, they’re the only ones you’ve told about your anxieties. To his benefit, Dustin never comments on the fact that you’re head rests in Eddie’s lap and that he runs his fingers through your hair while they visit. Even though it looks physically painful for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

For the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re just passing time and waiting for the next thing. Waiting for you life to finally make sense and be set right. You feel accepted and held by Eddie. He sees you and doesn’t frown at the sight of your pain, he simply tries to not add to it. Having a friend like Dustin must have played a part in his understanding, but it’s more than that. Eddie just accepts and offers sincerity in everything.

When Dustin takes off, telling you he’s got plans with Mike Wheeler, you know he’s really giving you and Eddie some time. Eddie helps you over to the recliner so you can really rest, the week was long and you’re still so tired. You make yourself small and pull him into the oversized chair with you. He doesn’t argue. He moves with clear intention, cautiously but not with fear.

“Eddie, thanks for being here for me.” Your running your finger down his sternum, following a path to his ribs. You try not to think too hard about doing this without the cotton barrier of his shirt. You’re present, enjoying it for what is and trying to not wish any of it away.

“This is where I want to be, Baby. With my girl.” His eyes are closed, he looks as tired as you do. Fully relaxed under your touch.

“I’m your girl?” He keeps his eyes closed, but his mouth draws up into a smile at the softness of your voice.

“Yes, and I’m sorry. You’re stuck with me now. You found that spot behind my ear. I can’t let you go.” You take his hint and nose your way to his neck and run you lips along the spot. He’s practically growling his response, “You’re an evil woman, do you know that?”

“I’m sorry, I thought you liked this.” He pulls your chin away from his neck so you can see his face. The tender look on his face has you feeling gooey and warm. You spend the rest of the evening with your lips connected, taking all that you could give one another until – finally – you fall asleep to the sounds of his breathing.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x disabled!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #disability in fanfiction

[britcision]

New day new conspiracy to be unhinged about woooooo

SO.

This right here.

The moment where Kabru reveals he’s Milsiril’s baby boy (and more relevantly the last survivor of Utaya)

Kabru telling them that he actually wanted to enlist in the Canaries directly, but couldn’t because of the racial barrier. How true that is……. Well let’s say I’m sure he wanted to when he was little, buuuuut by the time he left it wasn’t that they wouldn’t let him

And tbh the reason why is very much the next panel:

The Canaries learn he’s Milsiril’s little boy and immediately fucking claim him as theirs, asking if he’s been eating well, if he wants cake, telling him to cheer up and smile sometimes

It is notably the convicts, especially Otta and Fleki although Cithis has been leading the conversation; Pattadol is not in frame and Mithrun ruins all their fun by staying on track

Kabru is not 30 seconds out of saying he was raised by their vice commander before he is being babied, and there’s a fun read of just “well this is our child now we must care for him for Milsiril hello new nephew”

But. Given what we later learn Milsiril’s care is actually like. The room where Kabru could eat all the cake that he wanted, that he never ever wanted to return to even when freezing and starving.

Where she gave him such arduous and extensive sword training he thought he would die, with the stated intent of showing him how bad it could be to make him give up and stay with her forever.

“Wanna eat some cake” is suddenly a much darker comment, and doesn’t have a directional bubble, so I’mma pin it on Cithis on general Sketchy Bitch vibes

Now, that only makes sense if these folks know Milsiril directly, or have some way to know what her home life is like for her adoptees

(Or Cithis can read minds which let’s be honest absolutely no one needs to be true but she deserves it)

But. So does that immediate tonal shift

“Oh, you’re Milsiril’s kid. Now we care about you beyond being an interruption.”

We know Pattadol is on her very first mission. We know Cithis has been responsible for Mithrun’s care for long enough while he’s back on active duty that she gets bored of her new doll.

(And that she only started respecting him after they acquired Pattadol, whiiiiich. He got back to active duty 14 years ago. None of the other Canaries got their own timeline, but he’s also had long enough to have an established track record of getting his warden partners killed

When Flamela assigns Cithis to his wellbeing, she pretty clearly knows the extent of his caretaking issues, and this whole section of the timeline is fuzzy, but it is specifically Pattadol who is the first to tempt Cithis into telling Mithrun to hurt her

And specifically not until after he refuses that she begins to respect him)

Milsiril has been retired for the same 14 year period, taking Kabru and for some reason one of her own Canary convicts home with her, but she served with Mithrun when he initially became a Dungeon Lord 40 years pre series… and most of that squad died in Mithrun’s dungeon

(Also his lover became a snake person at some point for some reason sooooo monsterfucker ahoy)

(We know that’s the lover from both Mithrun’s initial vision and his Adventurer’s Bible comic which identifies his brother as the one with the short hair. Presumably they were not always a snake?)

None of the names he gave Kabru in his backstory refer to any of his current party members

Otta and Fleki mention Milsiril in Otta’s comic when teasing Otta about being a pedophile because she only dates halffoot women and breaks up with them when they turn 30

(This being past middle age for halffoots, who become adults at 13 and live to around 50; Chilchuck is 29.

One might expect… say… visible signs of aging to show up around 30. Reminders of how little time they have left. Although, frankly, how much free time does Otta actually have to be dating outside of work???? They’re so shorthanded Mithrun made captain the minute he could serve after Utaya)

Ahem. We digress.

Otta’s reaction (directly saying Milsiril treats shorter lived people like pets while she loves them as individuals, which Kabru Does Not Deny) might be because she’s seen Milsiril’s behaviour directly, or just being sick of the comparison. Hard to say, but Milsiril already doesn’t like elves

No, the conspiracy theory today is that CITHIS in particular has worked with Milsiril between Mithrun being rescued and Utaya’s destruction, possibly with Fleki and Otta

They’re all close to Mithrun’s age so there’s a very real possibility they were serving when Utaya fell, and either were lucky enough not to get sent there (there are so many dungeons in the world) or unlucky enough not to retire in the aftermath

Dumping Mithrun with Milsiril’s survivors makes perfect sense - the two had served together as wardens and Milsiril Barest Possible Minimum took a personal interest in Mithrun returning to duty after Utaya

She’s the one getting him to take his first steps and tells him she’ll get him back in a dungeon

Milsiril, known hater of elves, left the Canaries on good enough terms with her convicts to take one with her (Helki, shown in Mithrun’s story and Kabru’s training flashbacks - the only other survivor we know of from Mithrun’s dungeon)

And these particular convicts immediately brighten up knowing that Kabru is one of Milsiril’s; he’s in a very different position from Mithrun, who basically has direct power over their lives and deaths, but if you have a potentially unstable new captain who’s gonna be extra dependent on his convicts coming in…

Well, it’d be nice if the convicts have a reason beyond “well if both of our wardens die we can’t use magic so we will too” to keep him alive and moving

Note: they did at some point hand him directly over to fucking Cithis, who has an established track record of wrapping her captains around her little finger and doing whatever the fuck she wants anyway

(To the point that she’s left and “rejoined” the Canaries multiple times, and her behaviour with Mithrun is considered her having calmed down… while actively trying to have him hurt his subordinate wardens and plotting to kill Pattadol)

So. Not. Y’know. Convinced that anyone necessarily was thinking that particular assignment through. Although you could argue that they were just heading off the inevitable and letting her know this one is high maintenance

ANYWAY.

Tl;dr: Mithrun’s a monsterfucker, this is established fact and not a conspiracy theory

Kabru’s been adopted by the Canaries the second they know who his mom is, which may explain why no one actually tries to stop him when he grabs Mithrun later despite him not having a weapon

(Fear of Milsiril finding out they’ve hurt her boy > rescuing Mithrun or later even stopping Kabru from helping Laios repeatedly)

And Cithis, Fleki, and possibly Otta worked directly with Milsiril at one point before Utaya, which is why Mithrun was given them specifically - he was one of Milsiril’s projects too, Milsiril’s personal involvement unclear

How much this has to do with Mithrun getting all his warden comrades killed but apparently not his convicts: unclear

(Still bet Cithis “helped” with the warden before Pattadol)

#delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi conspiracies #kabru dungeon meshi #mithrun dungeon meshi #milsiril dungeon meshi #the web of connections between these characters man #they are all spaghettis #and milsiril is the plate #this is why she has so much villain energy ugh i am obsessed with her #mithrun’s a monsterfucker #that’s his lover right there who has no gender but does have snake ass

[hazbinbossbrainrot]

Hazbin Hotel Headcanons:

- Bee & Angel would be best friends (the common denominator being that they’re both insects and have musical abilities)

- Angel Dust doesn’t know the rest of the Seven Deadly Sins except Asmodeus the King of Lust (cuz go figure 🤭) which is his favourite

<> His least favourite Deadly Sin is Mammon (because he reminds him too much of Valentino)

- Angel & Husk have private conversations in Italian because no one else understands

- Husk has reading glasses (boat-shaped) but refuses to use them 😂

- Anthony (Angel Dust) definitely watched RuPaul’s Drag Race when he was alive

- Emily is actually Charlie’s half sister (staying here until confirmed otherwise 🤭)

- Despite being annoyed with Angel Dust (as a person); Alastor gets taught the “gay language” like ‘that’s the tea' etc

- Angel Dust definitely now sings “Loser, Baby” all the time to himself (like the rest of us 🤣)

- Cherri Bomb feels inferior to Husk because 1. She’s Angel’s best friend first and 2. He stops him from being “fucked up”

- Angel Dust has characteristics of ASD (considering that his personality is based on Alaska Thunderfuck who’s definitely on the spectrum with a combination of Trixie Mattel) and also ADHD

- It was stated that Husk was/is family oriented so I definitely have a hunch that he’d would have a family before he died

- Angel Dust (due to the abuse from Valentino) would have a praise/validation kink with a significant other

- Husk’s room is a representation of Las Vegas and has a poker table (for sure!) and a scratching post to file down his claws 😂

- Angel unofficially dated (?) Valentino before things started going downhill (increasingly fast & really bad)

- Alastor had a passion for dad jokes (and annoys everyone with it 😂)

- Husk was definitely friends with good Bee back when he was an overlord (common denominator being their passion being honesty and authenticity)

- Angel habitually locks his door (even at the Hazbin Hotel) because it makes him feel safer

<> Because of this Husk either respectfully knocks on the door or leaves his gift (a bottle of alcohol) outside

- Frank (one of the Egg Boiz) becomes roommates with Angel after he saved his life in 1x08 🥹

- Angel Dust ironically has arachnophobia 🤣 (AKA “fear of spiders”)

- Husk is a gentleman (more implied than HC) in a 101 ways and definitely would be the “old-fashioned” type

- Alastor forces Husk to keep his “overlord attire” to as a reminder of what he had lost

- Angel Dust’s best feature of his body (canonically implied) is chest however — outside of work — will only let certain people touch it

<> Which kind makes sense since he shows off his chest (proud) but keeps his feet hidden (insecure)

- Charlie and Angel Dust have a sibling relationship (definitely canonically implied) but extended of that she’d ask for his opinion or ask him to do her makeup for a big event or something more significant

- When drunk and angry Angel definitely rambles in Italian but no one else understands (except Husk)

- The Seven Deadly Sins are all best friends (except for Mammon)

- Angel Dust has age regression (which is very common victims who have PTSD)

- Husk always makes gambling idioms ~ ie: “I keep my cards to my chest” (translation: I’m a private person)

- Angel Dustdied on his birthday date which is why he doesn’t like to celebrate it anymore

- The minute Charlie learns that Angel is Italian; she goes out of her way to learn the language (as any good surrogate sibling would 🥹)

- Husk doesn’t enjoy card games that don’t involve gambling (so ie Blackjack which is more about getting the numbers than betting money) but sometimes would do it for fun ~ very rarely though

- Niffty & Charlie are actually huge “Huskerdust” fans and would do anything to get Angel and Husk together

- If Husk ever drank coffee he’d have a short or long black without sugar or milk (which often shows maturity)

- Once Angel Dust is comfortable with someone he’d constantly lay on the dad jokes (especially the 18+ 🏳️‍🌈 fruity 🏳️‍🌈 ones)

- Husk waits up for Angel Dust — whether it be 5 AM in the morning— before packing up the bar

- Every 🩷 motif on Angel Dust are the places he’s most sensitive area (so technically his sweet spots)

- Despite Husk being an alcoholic he has actually has a high tolerance of alcohol and would take a lot to get to that point (something emotional related)

- Husk’s real name is either a “Henry” (most likely), “Huxley” or a “Henrik”

<> Henry means “estate ruler” which I thought made the most sense because he owned a casino at one point 🤔

- Adam admires Angel Dust and his porn videos so much he copied his eyeliner (same shape and everything 🤣)

- Alastor cheated when he challenged Husk to a game of cards (there’s no way he wouldn’t have)

- Husk’s casino is called “The Lucky Cat” (or something like that) which is funny because it’s the opposite of him

- Vaggie mistakes Huskerdust’s flirting (who are clearly dating) as Angel sexually harassing Husk 🤣

- Husk zodiac sign is a Leo ♌️ (🐱)

- Angel definitely teases Husk about his age despite being 12 years younger than him (or supposed to be if he hadn’t died in his 30s)

- Husk hates cats which is why he hates his sinner form so much and hates the animal noises that comes out (particularly when matching with the right mood)

- Niffty definitely “ships” Huskerdust and definitely makes fanfiction about them 🤭

- Angel Dust would definitely get triggered by Alastor if he pulled Husk’s chain in front of him (because it mentally brings the former right back to Valentino again)

- Whenever Cherri Bomb and Husk argue Angel Dust is quick to diffuse the situation (not canon but definitely implied in 1x06 “Welcome to Heaven”)

- Husk can read nonverbals not just because it’s necessary for a bartender but also necessary for a gambler (literally need exceptional body language skills to see if someone is bluffing etc)

- Angel Dust becomes “Anthony” whenever he’s severely intoxicated or drugged up

- Fat Nuggets acts like a emotional support animal which is why Angel Dust doesn’t have the heart to rehome him (despite being gifted by Valentino)

- After watching Princess and the Frog for the umpteenth time Angel officially calls Husk “Shadowman” (IFYKYK 🤭) much to his annoyance 😂

- Husk was a bouncer before he died (he definitely had that “bouncer” energy in episode 1x04)

- Angel Dust doesn’t have Voxflix so he has to sometimes miss RuPaul’s Drag Race (and gets irritable when he has sacrifice missing it 🤣)

- Lucifer brings in the other Deadly Sins to help out with Charlie’s hotel as a side job thing and make them become “teachers” for their respective sins

- Angel Dust’s Italian surname would either be:

<> Romano - (inside joke of his VA’s surname)

<> Soprano - (classic Italian surname 🤣)

<> D'Amico or D'Angelo

- Husk was/is also very good friends with Beelzebub (back when he was overlord) because of their common interest in authenticity and alcoholism 🤭

- When Angel said “Gawd Niff why you being such a mess?!” in 1x06 he was probably quoting off something that Henroin, his father, said to him

- Viv may have based Husk, ironically, on her cat called “Valentino” (minus the wings obviously 😂)

- Angel swore off dating after what happened with Valentino (albeit may potentially think about starting dating again with the right person demon *coughs* — Husk)

- Husk always talks / texts — depending on how Angel feels like doing — until he falls asleep whether doing it via platonically or romantically 🥹

- Angel often catches Husky singing to himself (either “Too Sweet” by Hozier or “Loser Baby” and would watch him for a moment 🤭

<> In other words he enjoys just listening to him sing and watching him be in his own world as he gets more and more into it

- Husk has poker-themed songs on Spotify — who definitely has '60s - '70s music — (but he doesn’t know how to separate them into playlists so he has them in the “Liked Songs” category 🤣)

- Alastor messes with Husk’s Spotify playlist (despite not enjoying technology but likes watching him suffer)

Huskerdust / Anthusker edition:

- Angel is terrified of horror movies (however picks them out regardless for the sake of jumping into Husk’s arms when picking out movies 🤣)

- Husk is definitely “forced” (metaphorically) to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race with Angel Dust and would be the type to get upset if he watched it without him 🤣

- Husk & Angel call each other “baby” and “loser” (affectionately) because it reminds them of their duet

- Fat Nuggets, Frank (post 1x08 ��), & Niffty are definitely Angel & Husk’s “children” 😂

- Husk due to being the “King of Consent” always fusses about being able to touch Angel even when given the okay 🤣

- Angel goes to Husk’s room whenever he has PTSD / nightmares about Valentino (platonically)

- Husk keeps the “Huskerdust dynamic” with Angel Dust in front of other people; but in private he’s more laidback towards him

- Husk is actually sensual and clingy within the relationship with someone (which is why he’s so emotionless before getting intimate with someone)

- Angel & Husk sing/dance to each other when feeling down to make each other feel better

- Husk definitely watches Angel Dust’s porn movies in private in his spare time (mainly at bedtime where there’s no one around 🤭)

- Angel uses the white noise of Husk’s saxophone to help him sleep (especially after a nightmare about Valentino)

- Husk sings / whistle “Loser, Baby” constantly to himself (and sometimes Angel Dust joins in)

<> Huskerdust have a sort of “pact” that if Angel wants any sort of physical contact with Husk he either has to make the first move or give him a “green light” (because Husk won’t take initiative until allowed )

- Anthony first fell in love with Husk (who fell harder) — since the pilot episode 🤭 — but didn’t know how else how to react so he relied on “Angel Dust’s” personality

- Husk is the “take it slow” type of person (implied) and not the one to always rush into a relationship

- Angel & Husk would definitely go for midnight flights with this soundtrack in the background:

- Husk always gets roped into cuddles & purring (particularly when Angel has one of his rough nights of being SA'd 💔😭)

- Angel is obsessed with Husk’s tonality and gets all sorts of worked up (in a good, sexual way)

- Huskerdust constantly argue about whether Angel should go to Heaven or stay in Hell with Husk ~ which often lead to a heated make out session 🤭

- Angel goes to Husk’s room whenever he has PTSD / nightmares about Valentino (platonically)

<> Husk cuddles Angel — for the umpteenth time — he’s had any sort of nightmare & or PTSD (intimately)

<> Husk’s favourite part of Angel’s body would be his chest and his gold tooth every time he smiled

- Angel always sends acronyms to Husk which irritates the latter in frustration not knowing what it means (ie BAE etc) 🤣

<> Huskerdust would come to an agreement of having an “open relationship” (practically polygamous) due to the fact that Angel Dust is a sex worker & pornstar

- Angel Dust is foreign to lubricants (or if he does know he’s used to it in a very little amounts) and might need a “reintroduction” to a brief sex-ed lesson with the right person

- When in a very drunken state Husk always subconsciously finds himself in front of Angel’s door and knocks on it without thinking 🤭

- Even as Anthony — Angel Dust — will make occasional dirty jokes or sexual innuendos (even in front of Husk) but it’s genuine rather than OTT hypersexuality

- Husk always thinks (internally) that Angel is beautiful every day but really falls hard when he’s just woken up with disheveled hair and no makeup on

Credits to: @a-schmoozer-and-a-dummy

- Even when dating Angel Anthony gets a little anxious about the topic of sex when talking to Husk (and quickly shuts it down)

- Husk always puts planning his dates with Angel 200% effort and goes to great lengths (also always thinking of the best romantic spots to take him)

- Angel always end up falling asleep against Husk’s chest (especially when the purring starts 🤭)

- Post episode 4+ (hopefully gonna happen in S2) Husk lets Angel rest his legs over his lap

Credits to: @huskerdustfanart for giving me this idea

- Angel tries to teach Husk how to use his phone and what certain apps actually do 🤣 (much to his irritation of being able to use it)

- Husk doesn’t like other people sitting on the counter of his bar however will let Angel do it (which is saying a lot in itself 🤭)

Credits to: @triona-tribblescore for giving me this idea

- Angel often suggests Husk to give him a massage after he’s finished working (knowing full well he loves them) which the other always consents to and ends up sighing with absolute satisfaction 🥰

- Huskerdust actually met as humans (since their timeline is roughly within each other) but forgot they met by the time they arrived in Hell — what with being 12 years apart — and chose different names for themselves entirely

- Angel teaches himself how to read non verbals (by being around Husk so much 🤭) and roast people

- Husk loves Angel Dust’s New Yorker accent but enjoys his Italian one even more — even when he rambles in fluent Italian — because he likes to think that was his “real self”

- Huskerdust often do slow dancing together (like Sway with Me or the Tango)

- Despite being a bottom Angel will rarely suggest he becomes a top with Husk once he starts to see the other get slightly exhausted 🥰

- Husk takes care of Fat Nuggets for Angel Dust whilst he’s at work (bonus points if he ensures their “children” are safe and looks after them as well)

- Angel doesn’t like anyone else using the term “loser” (takes it as an insult) unless it’s Husk as if it’s one of those inside joke things

- Husk always gives Angel a piggy back ride when he’s either really drunk or emotionally exhausted after work

- Angel boasts to everyone that he’s in the one in “charge” (as a top) of his and Husk’s relationship 🤣

- Huskerdust would definitely be the type of couple to always be in their “honeymoon phase”

- When Angel gives cuddles to Husk he always gives him head scratches and rubs his ears (where cats like it the most in real life)

- Husk always gives Angel a “Sex On The Beach” cocktail ad an inside joke about their past relationship

- After work Angel always gets escorted at night by Husk (like the minute his shift ends 🥰) to protect him from both Valentino and any unsavoury people

- Husk puts music on and starts to dance around (ie dramatically impersonating Elvis Presley) just to make Angel Dust even if it meant he gets to mock him for it

- Angel loves everything about Husky (although he’d love him 10x more when he’s his usual grumpy self)

- Husk would be the type of dad to build stuff from scratch for his kids (besides Angel loves his men with a tool; so it’s a win-win situation 😜

Angel pulls a “Gloria” (from Modern Family ) when it comes to refusing to take his heels off — even when they start to hurt his feet

<> Which makes Husk — being the gentleman he is — go and buys something comfortable for him 🥹

- Husk buys a pink set of cards for Angel (so he can play against him for fun 🤭)

- Angel sneezes mouse-like (small and feminine) and Husky sneezes whale-like (large and loud)

- Husk gets ferally overprotective particularly when unsavoury comments are made about or to Angel 😏

- When Husk goes to Angel’s shows the latter puts 200% extra effort into his performance

#I can definitely see these happening 😂 #headcanons are so fun to do! #hcs #also known as anthusker 🤭 #constantly updating #hazbin hotel #huskerdust #Spotify

[communistkenobi]

I'm not gonna lie Nick, I've been following you for a long time and I almost always agree with what you say so this isn't in any way meant to be polemic or hostile and you don't have to answer if you don't want to. But, as a trans person myself, I don't understand how genital preference can be transphobic? I mean, the way people declare it can be transphobic, or the reason for it - but preference itself? isn't it, for most people at least, an intrinsic thing? Again I'm not asking this to bait you into discourse or anything I just. Genuinely trust your judgment on things. that's all, love <3

If you don’t want to sleep with someone because they’re, for example, fat, or disabled, or intersex, or have some other physical characteristic that would alter a sexual encounter in a way you wouldn’t expect with a “default” or “normal” body - is that not on some level bigoted? If you tried to sleep with a cis guy but found out he had a micro penis and decided against sleeping with him, or you tried to hook up with a cis woman with large labia and got turned off, is that “just an intrinsic preference”?

Yes people have preferences and preferences do not carry inherent moral judgement. But it’s worth asking: where do my preferences come from? if you meet a trans person, and you are attracted to them, and the only reason you don’t want to sleep with them is because you don’t want to interact with their genitals, because you believe a trans person’s genitals are universally unattractive, then like, why lol? “Transphobic” is a flat descriptor for bigoted beliefs or assumptions about trans people, and in the pantheon of transphobic things to believe or say or do, that’s not like super high on the list. I don’t think you’re an irredeemably bad person or whatever. You are also not doing activism by having sex with people you’re not attracted to or don’t want to have sex with, I’m not suggesting anyone do that because that would be bad for everyone involved. But attraction is socially mediated and explored - fetishes, kinks, turn-ons and turn offs can have embedded social values in them, some of them good and some of them not - and if your only hang-up with fucking a trans person is because they have “incorrect” or “incongruous” genitals to what you normally expect, then I think that’s a shitty hang-up to have. Is it “intrinsic” to find a trans person’s body a turn off? Are we intrinsically programmed as human beings to find transgender people’s genitals unsexy? I think any appeals to intrinsic nature quickly get into essentialistic territory, because whatever is intrinsic or “human nature” is necessarily outside of the social, incapable of change, and I don’t think it does any good to insist that the domain of sexual preferences exists outside of the social and political realms.

Yes sex will be different with a trans person who hasn’t had full bottom surgery than it would be with a cis person, and yes you will need to have conversations about what feels good or look shit up online (which you would do with a cis partner anyway!), but unless you’re solely interested in like, missionary reproductive PIV cishet sex catholic style for the rest of your life, I think it’s worth interrogating why trans genitals are a hard no for someone, especially when “genital preference” is such a handy shorthand for cis people to articulate their deep seated rage, disgust, and fear of trans people in a “polite” or inoffensive way - and, often, in a violent way, and that violence is rationalised on the basis of the “common sense” belief that trans people trick cis people into having sex with us despite our “bad” genitals.

I don’t want to have sex with anybody who thinks my body is disgusting and I’m assuming most people don’t want that either lol. But a lot of cis people find my body disgusting because it’s a trans body, and a huge part of that disgust is because I don’t have a dick - worse, I have a “mutilated” “grotesque” version of “female anatomy” because of T. None of those evaluations of a tran’s guys genitals are intrinsic, nor do they exist outside of social values about what “normal” or “beautiful” bodies look like.

And again to use the fat example, it took a lot of personal work for me to properly admire fat people because of how ingrained fatphobia is, and part of that fatphobia was directed towards myself - it took years for me to find myself even remotely attractive, especially as I progressively gained weight into adulthood. And that is not for “activist” reasons, it’s not activism to find fat people hot - but I am consciously working through some of the shit society tells you is gross or bad about human bodies and it’s made my life better lol, and as a consequence I can fully allow myself to admire other fat people. I think any state of mind that allows you to find beauty in more places, find pleasure in a wider range of human forms, is generally a good thing. I once dated a guy who hated his nipples being touched because he thought it was gay to enjoy that, and like, sex with him sucked lmfao. he was incredibly homophobic and that homophobia directly impacted the amount of pleasure he was willing to engage with, both with himself and with a partner.

So yes I do think it’s transphobic. It’s not end-of-the-world transphobia, you’re not a permanently shit human being, but anyone who refuses to have sex with trans people on the basis of us having the “wrong” genitals is not worth pursuing because we deserve to sleep with people who find us hot and don’t need to “rationalise” away touching our genitals. I don’t want to have sex with those people and no trans person should either. But I’m not giving cis people an out with “oh it’s just a preference” because I think that’s a very lazy and unserious way of engaging with your own desires

#asks #transphobia tw #ableism tw #fatphobia tw #intersexism tw #just tagging all that to be safe #also lmk if you need this tagged with anything else #not mad at you btw I’m cool with answering this #even old new york was once new amsterdam

[sighonaraa]

🌹🌹 I don’t know where the ask game is. But if you’re asking for roses, you get roses!!

(And if you were not asking that and I misread bc I am squinting at this half-asleep in my bed. Well, then, please feel free to ignore 😂😅)

i am absolutely always asking for roses THANK YOU MY LOVE!!!! here's a bit from far, far, far down the line in the sun is only a God if you learn to starve (thinking about. the amsterdam of it all):

They’re sitting in the fucking kebab restaurant, of all the stupid places to have any conversation much less this one, when Jamie abruptly puts his pita back on his plate and says, “D’you want something from me, Coach?” Roy pauses, half of a Doner kebab hanging out of his mouth, and says, “The fuck?” “D’you want something from me?” Jamie repeats. It sounds almost rehearsed, every word molded into shape, his hands tucked beneath the table. Like they’re at an interview. Like they’re at an interview in the middle of Roy’s fucking synagogue. It’s jarring, not least because it had all been going so well. Jamie’s been better, lately. Less of a ghost. “’Cause I’ll do it. I just want to know, in case.” “In case of what?” Roy says, afraid of the answer though he’s not sure why. Belatedly, he pulls the kebab out from between his teeth and sets it onto the plate. The buttery rub of spices feels suddenly viscous in his mouth: bloody, tacky. He can’t swallow it away. “I don’t want anything from you, except for you to finish your fucking pita. Hus will be insulted if you leave it like that.” Jamie doesn’t seem to care very much for Hus’s feelings on the matter. He’s single-minded, focused with a sort of intent that Roy rarely sees on him outside of the pitch. “You’ve been… nicer,” he says after a pause. Usually when Jamie talks he’s fidgety, constantly looking over the other person’s shoulder. But now he’s meeting Roy’s eyes directly, as if he’s daring him to attack. As if he knows it’s coming anyway and is getting ahead of it so that he can run. “Like, to me, you’ve been nicer. So I were wondering what’s the catch.” “There is no catch,” says Roy. It’s flimsy, but he’s on autopilot, mouth issuing statements before his heart can intervene. What he wants to say is: I’m being nice to you because you fucking deserve it, because you’re my player, because I love you and want you to be okay. What he says instead is, “Why the fuck are you asking me this, Jamie?” “Dunno,” Jamie says, evasively. “Just, usually there’s a catch.”

#ask #sophrosyneadrift #thank youuu for the roses MWAH <3 #sid speaks #jsut.............. jamie's assumption that he's not deserving of love unless he's done something to earn it. just..... smth smth #fic: the sun is only a God if you learn to starve

[hannahssimblr]

Agnieszka is available, actually, likely because our family pays her more than most people pay babysitters. I don’t think they’re being deliberately generous to her or anything, it’s more likely that they don’t really have a concept of how little babysitting teenagers earn. Recently Ivy asked my father what minimum wage was after hearing it discussed on the morning radio and he suggested that it was very little money. Something like thirty euros an hour, probably. 

She arrives in her usual furry coat and uncomfortable looking high heeled boots with the chill from outside clinging to her, and I invite her. I give her the awkward spiel about being allowed to watch any of the channels on TV and take what she likes from the fridge as though I am a fully grown adult, not a school boy two whole years younger than she is and then finally, forty five minutes later than I had planned, I leave the house. 

It’s Jen who answers the door when I knock, and she has an amused look on her face, “I thought you’d chickened out.”

“No,” I shiver as I step into the warmth of the hallway, kicking off my shoes and shrugging out of my coat and bag “It was my mom. She decided she had plans and left it to me to sort out a babysitter at the last minute.”

“Colette had plans?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, she doesn’t have any friends, I don’t know what the hell she was doing.”

Jen leads me into the kitchen where she fills a glass of water for me, “Is it a work thing?”

“On Saturday?”

She shrugs, “Maybe she’s having an affair.”

I take the water and chug it, parched after my sprint down the seafront, “Yeah. maybe.”

“Good for her.”

I snort.

“There’s potential in this, I think we could run with this theory.”

“I love how much you love theorising about my parents. But they’re just not interesting enough to do any of the crazy things you like to think they do.”

“So you don’t think your dad is fucking the babysitter?”

I pull a face, “No. Why would she fuck him?”

“Uh! Because he’s a stone cold fox.”

“Ugh.”

“When you remove his odd personality from the equation, like, yeah, he’s objectively hot. Michelle and I had a conversation about this a while ago, and of all the parents we know, your dad is the most physically attractive.”

“God!” I let a full bodied shudder rip through me at the thought of anyone having ogled my father when he ventured downstairs to frown at us when we made too much noise at home.

“Oh don’t be so disgusted, take it as a compliment. You’re all him. You’re just like a mini Christopher.”

I’m aware of this, of course I am, but still, hearing this fact aloud makes me queasy. All I’ve ever wanted for myself was to be so supremely unlike Christopher that similarities were nowhere to be found, for people to say ‘No way. You’re related to that guy?’ But looks, my colouring, my height, my bone structure and that slight romanesque curve of my nose give it all away, these things I cannot easily change. I’ll always be recognisably Dr. Christopher Turner’s son, and every teenager in Clontarf is going to think so when they're lying in his chair watching him tighten their braces.

I shake the thoughts away, “Have you started the movie yet?”

“Started it? We’re like halfway through now.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so punctual.” 

“Half seven means half seven.” She points out, “You snooze, you lose. But still, come into the living room and watch the end of it. You might be lost but that’s not my fault.”

We creep into the darkened room together, where the only light is from the glow of the TV. It’s a particularly quiet scene in the film, and all of the emos snap their necks around to glare at me as I create noises of disturbance with my entrance. 

I whisper that I am sorry and find a place to sit on the floor near that girl with the pink hair. I touch her accidentally with my elbow and she flinches away like I am an escapee of Leper Island so I shift a good metre to the left in case I inflict myself upon her again. 

Wow. I think to myself after five minutes of concentrated silence. They’re really, actually watching the movie. Whenever I hang out with my other friends we just blab our way through it, making stupid jokes and saying ‘that’s you’ whenever someone ugly comes on screen. I don’t know what this movie is but at some point a zombie with bits of rotten flesh hanging off his face claws his way through the earth to stagger toward an oblivious canoodling couple, and I bite my lip to try and stop myself from saying it to Jen. I know it would be so funny but she would be the only one to think so. 

It’s a long film and I never fully understand what is happening, so I’m glad when the credits roll and I can get up to stretch my legs. The lights come on then and I get to see them all in their outfits, and me in the middle of them all in mine: tracksuit bottoms and a football t-shirt. The fact is that when we’re in our uniforms it’s way easier to ignore the contrasting details about us, but now as I look at them and they all stare back at me I wonder if there is true merit to this deep seated feeling I keep getting that I naturally belong in that reeking changing room, discussing the Premier League and the merits of Kid Cudi's Day 'n' Nite music video with the rugby boys instead. 

“Are we out of snacks?” Jen says as she peers into empty bowls dotted around the floor, “Damn, okay, I’ll run down to the shop for more before we start the next film, I suppose.”

“I’ll come too,” Michelle raises herself up from the couch, all legs in her fishnet tights, and then Evan does too, and I know I’ll have to go with them in case the rest of the room starts feasting on my innocent flesh while I’m left alone and vulnerable with them. It works out well this way, because there was something I was planning to talk to Evan about. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

#lucky boy 2009 #totally not listening to Kid Cudi's Day 'n' Nite rn #what a year 2009

[mrs-snape5984]

“Dancing with tears in my eyes, weeping for the memory of a life gone by…”

“It's time and we're in each other's arms. It's time, but I don't think we really care…” (“Dancing with tears in my eyes” by Ultravox)

After reading my following lines, I decided to put a trigger warning on this post. I used this platform to vent out my frustration and despair. Those of you wonderful readers, who get triggered by mentions of hopelessness and subtle hints of suicidal thoughts, should better skip the next seven paragraphs. Thank you for your understanding!

Lying in the darkness of my room…forced by this cruel disease ME/CFS to live a restrained life in a body and mind, which makes me feel as if I’m an animal, trapped in captivity…I often show tendencies to dream myself away…drowning in my fantasies of Severus Snape.

With him by my side, I can do the things, which my diseased body and my disoriented mind are refusing to allow me experiencing them anymore. Things, which I’m desperately yearning for, since this sickness has clawed me into her tight grip about 1,5 years ago.

I want to leave my darkness so badly that it hurts. The longing for a self-destined life in freedom becomes unbearable for me to endure. My only piece of liberty left is my habit of sitting on the balcony outside of my bedroom at nighttime, enjoying the silence of the world and a fresh breeze on my face without getting overstimulated by noises, motions and lights.

In times, when even this tiniest bit of peace isn’t possible for me to enjoy anymore…when another crash is suppressing me even further…forcing me to stay in bed for days or weeks, my soul seems to absorb the darkness around me. I’m getting tired of this life…tired of myself…tired of being doomed to uselessness.

I mean, what’s left of my former self? My professional career as a pedagogue, working as a social worker for the government office for youth welfare seems to be a fading memory in my mind. Now I have to ask my mother for help with each bureaucratic application form, because my retarded brain refuses to understand these things anymore. For someone, who has always been proud of their intellect and education, this is a real low blow. Also, I’m a person, who’s really bad at asking for help. The thought of being dependent on others has always been one of my biggest nightmares…and now I can’t even do the smallest tasks on my own!

My three amazing children were used to have an active, funny mother, who guided them through this confusing world….who showed them the beauty of life in its fullest. And now, they’re witnessing their mother lying in her bed surrounded by darkness day in, day out! Sure, I’m still trying to be there for them in my minimalistic possibilities…but it isn’t the same as they’ve always known it to be. You can’t imagine, how guilty I’m feeling for being so useless…for not being the mother, my kids would deserve to have!

In order to escape these thoughts of hopelessness and to forbid myself to drown in despair, searching for ideas of exiting this world, I rather keep clinging on Severus…like I’ve done it over the past 21 years.

I’ve commissioned my friend @opalchalice to make my fantasy of Severus and my (self-inserted as fuck) OC Julia, dancing in the rain…letting their sorrows be washed off from the pouring raindrops…come to life through her beautiful art. I asked her to draw this moment of peace for Sevy and Jules…a moment of joy before the world around them would fall apart.

Lia, you did an incredible job with this artwork! There’s nothing, that I don’t love about it. Please, take my apologies for writing such a pathetically whiny post beneath your lovely drawing. I know, it should have deserved better. But rest assured, my friend, your art always gifts me some light and comfort for my troubled heart and soul and I enjoy every conversation with you! Thank you for everything!

🖤Severus & Julia🖤

🖤Sevy & Jules🖤

#Severus x Julia #Sevy x Jules #vent post #severus x oc #fuck me/cfs #commissioning artwork is my goddamn coping mechanism #this is my red carpet for all the artists of snape fandom #writing is my coping mechanism #mecfs #severus snape #i love severus #i love snape #snape #snape love #snape content #snapedom #snart #severus snape fan art #severus snape art #snape art

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 37 part two

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!

Inquiring Minds

Wei Wuxian asks the kids if any of them can perform inquiry so he can ask Song Lan who fucked him up like this. Sizhui does a good job, but he has to whisper to himself while he plays, because he is not a mensch like Lan Wangji (yet).

Song Lan says that Xiao Xingchen is the culprit, and the kids immediately ignore apparently-murderer Xiao Xingchen who's sitting next to them, and instead have a seminar on how inquiry works and the niceties of guqin-language translation. 

During the whole conversation, they talk about Song Lan being killed, not just mostly-killed, incidentally. And that's not a translation error; I'm actually able to recognize the phrase "shale ta." (My small collection of Chinese-words-I-can-recognize-when-I-hear-them is entirely Wuxia-based, including useful words and phrases like wo shale ni (I'm going to kill you), dianxia (prince/lord), and dalisi (the court of judicial review).

They all continue to ignore Xiao Xingchen while Sizhui asks Wei Wuxian's third question, which is "who controls you." Song Lan's answer this time is "that dude behind you." That dude, who we are perhaps beginning to suspect is not really Xiao Xingchen, smirks and snaps his fingers.

Song Lan responds by breaking out of the rope and summoning his sword and fuchen (horsetail whisk) to his hands.  

He brings his sword to Wei Wuxian's neck and Wei Wuxian tells the kids to back off, saying that all of them put together are not a match for Song Lan. Which is true, judging by the juniors' sword moves, which consist entirely of standing still and pointing.

Not-Xiao-Xingchen says that the adults are going to talk so the kids should go outside. Wei Wuxian tells the juniors to scram, and reminds them not to breathe in a lot of poison while they're out there. Gee, thanks, Laoshi. 

(More behind the cut!)

Sizhui lingers, and Wei Wuxian tells him he's the most sensible and that he should take charge of the others. He tells Sizhui not to be afraid, and Sizhui says he isn't. 

He also says that Mo-qianbei and Hanguang-Jun are alike. Wei Wuxian denies this, saying they're opposites. Almost like yin and yang, in fact, needing each other to create a balance. 

Sizhui thinks in a voiceover that he doesn't know why, but he thinks they're alike; that if either one of them is there, he doesn't need to be afraid. They are mostly not alike, I think, but they are both devoted parents to Sizhui, so he's right about that. 

His recognition of Wei Wuxian is growing, and I like that he's able to ponder this stuff in the midst of all these life threatening situations. It's actually fairly accurate to life as a teenager, in which the big work of figuring yourself out is always going on in your head, no matter the circumstances.

Dear Slim, I wrote you

Once the kids are gone, both of the adults can drop their aliases, and speak demonic-cultivator to demonic-cultivator. 

They stand around while not-Xiao-Xingchen, who is obviously Xue Yang, delivers a heap of exposition about making zombies and his new Yin Tiger Seal and...*yawn.* 

Anyway, he lured Wei Wuxian here so he could resurrect someone for him. Wei Wuxian says nope, listening briefly to the spirit-trapping bag that Xue Yang hands him and saying that this person is super duper dead, and wants to stay that way. 

Xue Yang insists, reminding Wei Wuxian that the kids are hostages.

During this whole conversation, Song Jiyang, who plays Xiao Xingchen, does a great job playing Xue Yang - possibly helped along by using the same voice actor for overdubbing? - including by embodying many of Xue Yang's annoying mannerisms. 

On my first watching, I found Xue Yang very very annoying, right up until the point that the show flips the script and manages to make him sympathetic and tragic, which is quite a trick, considering that he's a psycho and also a dick. On subsequent viewings I still find him annoying but I like his fighting style a lot, and what he brings to the story generally.

When Xue Yang starts cackling, Wei Wuxian greets him by name and tells him he should stop pretending to be someone he isn't. Xue Yang responds by taking off his eye cover and then by taking off his face, which is a mask that's way more convincing than poor Mo Xuanyu's craft-store paper-mache thingy. 

Xue Yang picked up some good disguise tricks during that summer he spent in Changsha interning for Zhang Rishan.

The mountain of exposition continues, covering a wide range of topics

Skull nails

how Wen Ning is hard to control

Yin Tiger Seal 1.0

Yin Tiger Seal 2.0

other pieces of Yin metal

Xue Yang's mysterious friend who is good at acting, i.e. Jin Guangyao.

Wei Wuxian being the founder of demonic cultivation

Xue Yang murdering the Chang clan

Xue Yang murdering Song Lan's sect

Murder Turtle

The Yin metal sword

The conversation does clear up some confusion about the Yin metal pieces from back in the day. Everyone thought there were only four, but Xue Yang is a Wuxia fan and knows that whenever something from a previous generation is hidden away for the good of the world and then is found by a later generation, there are always five of it. (See: Legend of Fei, Word of Honor)

During this conversation, Xue Yang shows a sincere admiration of Wei Wuxian, saying that he himself only figured out some things about Yin metal, but Wei Wuxian was able to learn without a teacher and create the Yin Tiger seal. It's...kinda sweet. He follows it up by explaining his "murder everybody" philosophy, which makes it a little less sweet.

Fight Club

Mercifully, this near-endless conversation is interrupted by Song Lan crashing through the wall like the Kool-Aid guy, followed by Wen Ning in full multi-punch-man mode. 

Wei Wuxian tells the boys to take it outside, and then he and Xue Yang go out to watch the fight. Xue Yang was never able to control Wen Ning, he says, because "some things recognize their masters too well." Wei Wuxian says that Wen Ning is not a thing. He doesn't deny that he is Wen Ning's master, however. As if he could.

Xue Yang responds with some linguistic subtlety that is lost in translation and then draws his  Xiao Xingchen's sword and takes a swipe at Wei Wuxian, who easily ducks the blow. 

Xue Yang explains that he doesn't want to kill him, just capture and enslave him. Then the fight is on, with Wei Wuxian dodging, blocking, and spinning, while whining about having low spiritual energy in his new body. 

Wei Wuxian calls for a substitute to do his fighting for him. Xue Yang says that Hanguang-Jun is busy fighting his little friend. (I find it hilarious that Xue Yang consistently refers to Su She as his little friend.) He's barely finished saying this when Lan Wangji comes sailing in, deflecting his blow and striking a pose for Wei Wuxian.

Sometimes you succeed in recoloring a super foggy, blue-tinted gif, and sometimes you just give up.

Lan Wangji immediately yoinks Xiao Xingchen's sword off of Xue Yang, and tells him he doesn't deserve this sword. Boy howdy, Hanguang-Jun, you don't know the half of it. 

Xue Yang summons his own sword out of thin air and Sword Superfan Lan Wangji says "Calamity Befalls" because he knows the names of ALL the swords. The guys in his Discord are going to be so excited that he got to cross blades with two famous swords in one day.

Before the fighting starts, Lan Wangji tells Wei Wuxian to hit the bricks, saying "you are not needed here." I love that grown-up, mellower, affectionate Lan Wangji is still a salty bitch. 

Wei Wuxian bails while Lan Wangji and Xue Yang bust out a bunch of their best moves, with the actors doing a lot of the stunt work themselves.

This sword move by Wang Haoxuan is pretty great. Useless, like Wei Wuxian's spinning, but hawt.

And Wang Yibo is grace personified when he’s on wires.

While the sword fight is going on, Wen Ning and Song Lan are having a frowning contest.

They are also beating the crap out of each other.  

The juniors watch the punch-up with keen interest; Jingyi is particularly happy about it. Jin Ling isn't smiling but he seems pretty entertained for a guy who's dad was killed by one of those same punches.

Wei Wuxian sees the fight and reflects that he's not needed there either. But that the juniors do need him, and he gets a happy little smile, finding a context in which he can be useful. 

The juniors all flock to him like ducklings and he teases them about his terrible congee.

When they see Lan Wangji fighting, the little Lans all preen. Jingyi announces that Hanguang-Jun is the best, and asks Wei Wuxian to confirm it. Wei Wuxian is surprised to be asked, given that he's just a random guy who is obviously fucking their favorite teacher. 

Jingy is offended when Wei Wuxian doesn't immediately agree, but Wei Wuxian contemplates for a bit, thinking about all the ways that Lan Wangji is the best, particularly his dick, and chuckles to himself while agreeing with Jingyi.

Lan Wangji backs up these assertions by pausing for a moment in his fight to knock out a whole group of zombies with one strum of his invisible guqin...zombies who dared to menace Wei Wuxian. 

Grave Disturbance

Wei Wuxian collects the kids and goes to find A-Qing, saying she has something important to communicate, and that she's not on Xue Yang's side. He also tells the kids that the dude fighting Lan Wangji is Xue Yang. He doesn’t explain why or how, though. 

They all go into the coffin house/morgue, where Wei Wuxian says they're safe because they haven’t seen any zombies since, like, four minutes ago. Seems logical.

A-Qing pops up from behind a coffin and starts tapping it. She makes it super incredibly obvious, through hand signals, that she wants someone to open the coffin, and most of them, including Wei Wuxian, are too dumb to understand this.

Fortunately Jin Ling is paying attention, and explains what she wants. Wei Wuxian tells everyone to back up, in case the coffin is trapped, and then opens it by leaning directly over it.

Xiao Xingchen is in the coffin, and this time we know it's the real Xiao Xingchen because Wei Wuxian has a flashback about him. 

A-Qing somehow knows it's him in the coffin, despite being blind and not reaching in to touch him. She cries tears of blood because that is exactly how human tear ducts and eyeballs work.

Since she's mute, Sizhui suggests using inquiry to talk to her. She's...alive? Does inquiry work on alive people? Whatever. Wei Wuxian says that Inquiry won’t help, and that he's going to use Empathy instead, because what this show needs right now is a two-episode-long flashback. Jin Ling objects, saying it's too dangerous, but Wei Wuxian says to STFU and let's get cracking.

Then he tells us about his favorite mango drink. At least, if you are watching on Viki, where some of the original ads are included with the episodes. The combination of an abrupt, somber episode ending, followed immediately by a cheerful in-character advertisement, is never not hilarious.

Soundtrack: Stan by Eminem

#the untamed #restless rewatch the untamed #canary3d-original #wei wuxian's favorite mango drink

[moonlight-prose]

BADLANDS | THREE

a/n: i don't want to jinx it but i'm on a fucking roll here people. i have never churned out a fic series faster in MY LIFE. miles teller i would like to personally thank you for the inspo. couldn't have done it without you and your mustache my dude. so there are only two more parts to go and i know exactly what's going to happen. things are about to get a little messy for panther and rooster. this is semi edited but not beta read so hopefully this chapter makes sense!

reblogs, comments, and feedback is always welcome!!

i don't have taglists anymore, but i do have a library blog.

summary: being shit out of luck happens to everyone, but you seemed to be a special case.

word count: 5.7k+

pairing: bradley "rooster" bradshaw x fem!reader (callsign panther)

warnings: not explicit (we're getting there), cussing, angst, arguing, rooster being a jealous little shit, ptsd mention, anxiety, panic attack, catastrophe, near death experiences.

previous chapter | next chapter

“Good morning aviators.” Mavericks voice brought your attention back to the front where he stood, watching all of you standing in line outside.

The blazing heat was starting to make you sweat underneath your flight suit, but you forced yourself to pay attention. Phoenix stood beside you, Bob on her other side. She turned to glance at you, an eyebrow raising over her sunglasses as she asked you the silent question you all seemed to be wondering today. What the fuck are we doing today? Normally you would be inside already, but apparently they wanted the pilots to wait until Maverick arrived.

He began to head towards the building, the others falling into step behind him—Hangman right on his heels. You had half a mind to bark in his direction, but thought better of it. It would just give him even more of an incentive to be up your ass. He was already pissed that you and Bradley were being considered as team leader.

“I don’t know about you but I’m pretty sure they’re taking us in to kill us,” you whispered, trying to stifle your laughter as Phoenix elbowed you in the side.

“There’d be no point in that.” Bob piped up behind you, managed to duck around Fanboy and end up on your other side.

“Oh yeah why’s that?” you asked, peering over your sunglasses at him.

“Because I’m pretty sure Hangman’s already planned our deaths.” He shrugged. “Would be a shame to let all that trouble go to waste.”

Your mouth parted, lips spreading into a wide smile. “Robert Floyd, did you just make a joke at the expense of Hangman?” His cheeks turned red, head ducking as you swung an arm over his shoulder and leaned against him. “No, this is good! This is progress. Does this mean you consider me as your friend?”

Phoenix scoffed. “Don’t get too cocky Panther.”

“You can’t possibly think he likes you better.”

“Well I’m the one in control up there,” she said, gesturing to the sky.

You however turned back to Bob, taking in his slightly baffled expression. “We can’t let her do that to us, Bob. We’re pals.”

“That’s enough chit chat for today,” Maverick called, grabbing your attention as the three of you headed into the room.

The room was where you’d been briefed on the mission before and you figured new tactics were being taught today. They made sure to wait until the very last second to tell you what exactly that was. Taking off your sunglasses, you slipped them into your front pocket before planting a kiss on Bob’s cheek and taking a spot in front of Fanboy. He and Payback were in the midst of having a silent conversation—the worry on their face prominent enough for even you to see with one small glance.

Shifting, you caught Hangman’s gaze as he shot you an all too cocky wink. To which you returned in kind with a lovely gesture of your middle finger. He wanted to throw you off your game just as he did with everyone else here, but it seemed you and Bradley got the worst of it. He didn’t like competition. That much was clear.

You and Bradley still hadn’t spoken since last night. Hell, you’d hardly seen him all morning, and you had half a mind to ask him why he left. You weren’t mad. Just surprised. Turning your head even further you managed to meet his gaze head on, an icy stare being sent your way. He looked at you like last night never happened, like you were back to being enemies, and it caused your heart to sink in your chest. Quickly, you turned back to the front, placing your sole focus on Maverick as he pulled up the mission plans.

Bradshaw would have to wait for now.

Your attention went to the screen, as you watched Maverick step back and give the attention to the other men in the room. Even while you sat there—eyeing what you knew were the new plans—you could feel Bradley’s gaze burning a hole in the back of your head. There was something up with him today and while you wanted to ask what was up, you simply allowed yourself to settle into the role of being a pilot once more. You were familiar with it.

Being a pilot oddly enough…felt safe.

Bradley on the other hand was a storm. One you weren’t sure you were ready to brave quite yet.

Snapping back to reality you caught the final bits and pieces of their explanation and felt a knot begin to form in your stomach and grow by the second. The mission was now being moved up. A decision they clearly didn’t like, given the grave expressions they wore and you could feel the tension in the room rise. Fanboy and Payback quickly began talking to one another about what had to be done and you were greeted with a flash of you and Hunter.

For a brief moment, you wished Hunter was there with you.

He’d know how to fly this mission—he’d know how to get you home safely.

You however were drowning with the intensity of it all; making you wonder why you were even considered for this mission in the first place.

“You’ve now got two weeks. Which means you’ll be moving on with your training.”

“Oh shit,” you muttered, hearing the others begin to mumble to one another.

“Sir how are we supposed to move on when no one here even accomplished the canyons?” you asked, glancing at Maverick who was busy looking at someone else.

“Well lieutenant there’s no other options at this point.”

Hangman scoffed beside you, his eyes glinting with enough malice to remind you that he still hated your guts. You were half tempted to punch the smirk off his face, but figured it wasn’t worth getting reprimanded. Still…he was on thin fucking ice.

The man stepped back, allowing Maverick to take over and you shot a glance at Bradley over your shoulder. He was the only one who made it to the target last time, but he was behind schedule—a fact Hangman refused to let him forget. He kept his gaze straight, jaw clenched as he sat upright in his chair, his posture stiff enough to almost seem painful.

You gave up and turned back to the front, listening intently as Maverick explained the parameters of the second half of the mission. A fact that let you know if you didn’t get miracle one right, you were sure as hell not getting near accomplishing miracle number two. Tapping your finger on the desk, you felt someone’s gaze come back to you. Figuring it was Phoenix, you stayed put—waiting for Maverick to finish his lecture.

“Today we begin working on hitting the targets.”

“How the hell is that supposed to go down?” Hangman asked, the drawl of his voice exhibiting peak cockiness.

“The pilot would have to be going at intense speed,” you replied, fixing your gaze on him. “I’m sure you have enough experience with that.”

He smiled. “Do you want to find out Panther?”

“I’d rather crash my F-18.”

The comment was ignored, but you could hear Phoenix snort in the background, no doubt proud of you for putting Hangman in his place. He needed to be knocked down a peg or two. So, you risked turning around, winking at her quickly before your gaze was drawn to the man glaring at you across the way. Bradley watched you with enough ire in his stare to send a chill down your spine—your eyes widening briefly before you shifted in your seat.

You were too afraid to ask what his problem was; the circumstances of last night aside, Bradley and you were still toeing the line of hatred and something akin to love.

“Like you haven’t already,” he snipped.

Narrowing your eyes you felt your hand clench into a fist on instinct, prepared to defend what little honor and reputation you had left. If it came down to it, you’d bring him to the floor. Perfectly happy to land a few hits in before someone dragged you away.

“That’s enough Hangman,” Maverick snapped.

He sighed, shifting in his seat like he was bored of all of this, but you could see the wheels working in his brain. You’d known pilots like him before. Seen how they enjoyed picking and prodding until their competition was left in the dust. Except Hangman was different. He knew things that he wasn’t sharing yet and you could already feel the destructiveness of his actions heading everyone’s way.

“No one has ever experienced a mission like this,” Hangman started to speak again, the toothpick between his teeth being moved with every word. “Not even Maverick.”

You had to begrudgingly admit that he had a point there. Maverick’s past experience was extensive to say the least, but it wasn’t anything like this. If a pilot survived this, they would be able to make it out of almost anything, but that was the thing.

The pilot had to survive.

This mission didn’t come across as something one would walk away from unscathed, and that’s what terrified you.

Which one of you in this room wouldn’t make it home in the end?

You had half a mind to turn and look at the man you were most worried about, but could already feel his eyes on you. Even though he would never admit it. He was just as afraid as you were that this thing between the two of you—whatever it was—wouldn’t be around after the two weeks were up.

Grabbing your helmet, you headed outside and towards the jets that were lined up. Unease had filled your body the second they announced having to move on with the mission’s training and it had yet to fade. They were giving you no time at all to figure out what had to be done in order to survive and it seemed that you were meant to accomplish turning miracles into reality. You were shit out of luck a long time ago—already having lost one pilot.

You just hoped that the others still had some luck left to spare.

“Fuck,” you spit as your sunglasses fell on the floor.

You were barely able to handle the first parts of training and yet now they expected you to succeed in something everyone else deemed impossible. Hangman’s words rang in your head from inside of the room. Not even Maverick had experienced a mission this demanding, this grueling. Yet they wanted whomever they picked to come out of his perfectly fine and ready to keep going.

The parameters for the flight weren't even the hardest part. Hitting the target would be your main goal. You fought against the doubt that filled your mind as you tilted your head up, squinting at how bright it was outside.

You did your best to keep your demeanor calm given the circumstances. After all it was simply training today—nothing bad could go wrong. Yet why did you have a horrible feeling you were going to be eating your words later? Before you could grab your sunglasses off the floor, someone else did it for you. The black—now slightly scratched—aviators being pressed into your hands.

Bradley of all people stood in front of you, all ready and prepared to get into his F-18. He would be with you, Phoenix, Bob, Payback, and Fanboy on the first run of training. Four jets, two leaders. You could feel the anxiety rush through your veins at the very thought of it. Instead of giving into the panic, you chose to focus on Bradley with a glow of sunlight around him. It was unfair how beautiful he looked standing there doing absolutely nothing. Really it felt rather rude. But you shoved those thoughts away.

You needed to remain focused on the task at hand; not on your silly relationship problems.

“Thanks for last night,” you said, unnerved at the way he wouldn’t take off his sunglasses to meet your eyes. “You didn’t have to—”

His hands latched on your upper arms, pushing you slightly backwards until you were pressed against the side of his jet. His eyes were covered, but you recognized the stoic expression on his face. The same one he wore a few nights ago at the bar. Something was clearly bothering him and yet instead of talking about it—he pushed it away, focusing his irritations on you instead. You were right last night. This relationship—whatever it consisted of—was far from being healthy in any way shape or form.

So much so that it made your head spin.

“You need to back down from trying to be leader,” he said, causing all of the hope in your chest to crash down into your stomach.

“What?” Had you been remembering last night wrong? Was him helping you all a figment of your imagination?

“They’re going to pick soon and I need you to let me take it from here.”

A sour taste filled your mouth as you regarded him with a withering stare. “Are you being serious? Or are you just fucking with me?” Bradley had gone from loving to suddenly picking up that long forgotten fight you shared with him this time around. “Am I remembering last night wrong or are you suddenly back to being a dick?”

He made no move to back away from you—his face so close that if you leaned up just a tad you could kiss him. Or slap him. In all honesty the latter sounded like the most appealing action right at this moment. He was asking you to tank your career by backing off, by letting him take what you worked so hard to gain. Where the fuck was your Bradley? The man who held you last night until you slept comfortably beside him. 

It was clear to you now that the person who stood before you wasn’t him.

“We both know who the better pilot is here.”

You shoved against him, trying to get him to back off, but he barely even shifted on his feet. “Fuck you. I’ve earned my place here and I’m not going to have you of all people trying to take a position that I’m clearly competent in. I have just as much claim on being leader as you do Bradshaw.”

It seemed his mind—his whole demeanor—had shifted into him being an asshole again; the Bradley you cared for now gone. Oh how you wished he’d simply give up this petty fight and allow you both to get on with your lives. He dropped his hands from your waist, giving you some room to cool off, but he was far from done. There was something he wasn’t telling you. Something that was clearly bugging him, and you couldn’t discern if it regarded you or not. You considered the possibility that he was just having an off day; that he woke up on the wrong side of the bed.

“Is there something going on with you and Floyd?”

Until he said that.

“What?” you laughed, unsure if you ever heard him correctly.

“Are you and Floyd starting something? Because I want to know I’m wasting my time here.”

You reared back, your mouth dropping open in disbelief. A white hot anger filled your veins, as the realization finally settled in your mind. He was jealous. Bradley was jealous of one fucking kiss on the cheek meant to be friendly. You hardly even knew Bob other than a small conversation here and there. How could he even consider it when last night he was in your bed? Yet again, rather than ask you about the situation calmly, he picked at the wounds that were still healing. He treated you like an enemy rather than a friend and you couldn’t stop the doubts from flooding into your mind.

Was this it? Was this all there would be between the two of you?

Precious moments of comfort that were found few and far between, and at the end of it all a raging anger that would still peek its head out more often than you expected. More often than it should. You wanted Bradley; wanted to be with him. But you weren’t sure how many times you could handle being treated this way. You couldn’t tell anymore if he even loved you, or if this was simply a relationship of convenience for him until he shipped off to his next mission. 

Meanwhile you might never truly heal from the wounds he reopened.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. You really believe that Bob and I…that we’re…what? Together? What the fuck Bradshaw?” You pressed a hand to your forehead—your heart twisting violently in your chest. “I don’t know if I can keep doing this.”

“Doing what?’ he asked. He was clearly oblivious to the war of emotions battling it out inside your mind and for some reason that only made you angrier.

“Loving you!” His posture stiffened and you heard him inhale sharply at your admission of the truth—finally. “I don’t know if loving you is worth all of this back and forth Bradley. I’m so tired. I’m tired of pretending to hate you and hoping that you were pretending too. But clearly you’re not. Not if you think I would willingly choose to be with another man when you know how I feel about you.”

“Kitten—”   

His words were no longer registered in your mind. “I’m sorry for leaving, but if I remember that night correctly only one of us actually said their feelings out loud. And it sure as shit wasn’t you.”

You caught the sight of Maverick heading your way, helmet in his hands and fell back into your professional ways. There was a mission to complete, a job to be done, and you couldn’t allow petulant emotions to get in your way. They would only hinder you in the end. Wiping your face clean of any expressions, you straightened your spine. Bradley’s mouth was still opening and closing—the words unable to get out. Except you knew the truth.

He wouldn’t have to force the words out if he truly meant them.

Nodding his way, you grabbed your helmet from where it fell to the floor. The black color now matched the emotions that flooded your body the longer Bradley stayed quiet. Maverick gestured for you to follow him and you felt like there was a ball in your throat that wouldn’t go away. Your heart sank even more the longer you stood there watching Bradley process your words, but you had done your part. You told him the truth. There was nothing more for you to give him.

“I’ll see you up there Rooster,” you said for the first time in years. The name felt odd on your tongue.

He flinched as if you’d slapped him across the face and you wanted to feel sorry about it. Only you couldn’t.

Not anymore.

“You are a go,” Maverick’s voice echoed in your ear as the jet flew through the air.

Phoenix and Bob were right behind you, Rooster having taken the front for Payback and Fanboy. After climbing into your jet and only acknowledging him through his callsign, you simply allowed yourself to become numb to your emotions one last time. Today would be routine, just like every day. You would flip the switches, bring the jet into the air and follow the directions Maverick laid out, because that’s the only way you would survive finally cutting Bradley Bradshaw off.

For good.

You couldn’t go on like this. Being wracked with guilt for leaving him all those years ago, only to suffer the brutal consequences in the end by his hand. Love wasn’t supposed to be this painful. Here you thought he’d forget your existence, move on and get married, but instead you were left with a man who didn’t seem to know what he wanted. Let alone if what he wanted was you.

“You with me Phoenix?” you asked through the radio, pushing the control stick forward to remain close behind Payback and Fanboy.

“I’m with you Panther.”

Bob’s voice followed after hers, telling you exactly how far out the target was and like you were on autopilot you responded with the reminders to check his lasers. If you missed the first round, you’d have to try again. Until eventually you got it right every time, but your gut instinct told you something wasn’t exactly right. You were stupid enough to shove it away—having told yourself that this was just training. You could make mistakes in training and try again to right your wrongs.

“We’re coming up on the target. Stay sharp for the second missile,” Bradley’s voice felt jarring at this time, but like everything else…you shoved it down.

“Copy that Rooster.”

You fucking hated using his callsign. The feeling as if you were just anybody else on the team had turned your body cold, but as of right now…you were just that. It was clear to both of you that whatever happened before wasn’t meant to be brought up here. Not when things were life and death. Except you couldn’t help but notice the edge to his voice as he let you know the first missile had been fired. You played it off as your mind overthinking again; changing the manner of his tone to fit your heartbroken demeanor.

“Coming up on the target,” Bob said. “Laser is all good.”

“Phoenix?”

“After you Panther,” she replied. You could hear the smirk in her voice, letting you know that it was now your turn to show them who was leader and who wasn’t.

Flipping a switch, you took a deep breath before pushing the control stick forward, flipping the jet as Maverick had explained and coming into a dive. Evening out the jet, you heard Bob line up the shot through the radio and without a second of hesitation you took the chance the second he said go. Now came the hard part. You heard Maverick’s voice in your head, explaining that the pilot would be pushing Mach 9 in order to get out of Coffin’s Corner.

“Fuck,” you spit, feeling the pressure on your body become excruciating.

Breathing was painful, turning your head was painful, fuck even surviving this felt as if you were being torn limb from limb. The gravity pulled against you as the jet took off even higher—Phoenix right behind you. All you needed was to push on just a bit further, but that gut feeling from earlier reared its ugly head. A beeping started to echo in the small cockpit, a red light flickering above you, and a cold chill went down your spine as flashbacks started to return in full force.

“Smoke in the air! Smoke in the air!” 

Hunter’s voice practically screamed in your ear, the beeping only getting louder the more you continued to push the jet to its limits. You could see his face, see the image of him lying dead on the ground, and suddenly…getting air to your lungs wasn’t your biggest problem. Phoenix’s voice shouted through the radio, trying to shake you out of your nightmare, but nothing worked.

The jet was dropping altitude too quickly. Yanking on the stick, you tried to even it out, but another red light flashed in front of you, altering you to the right engine dying.

“Fuck!” you shouted, pressing the switch to extinguish it in the hopes that would be enough to get you back on the runway.

“Panther what’s going on?” Maverick called, his jet not far behind.

“The right engines out!” You’d been trained for situations like this and without another thought you began to even out the jet, gaining altitude as you shook your head to rid yourself of the flashbacks.

You’d managed to even out, the sight of the runway coming up in the distance, but another sound began quickly after the first. The echo of your left engine now going out—leaving you dead in the air. You panicked. Hunter’s face was all you could see and for a moment you felt your lips form around the letters of his name. Perhaps he was there with you. Finally ready to take you with him after all these years going it alone. The prospect of crashing didn’t scare you as much as it should.

No, what scared you was that…you weren’t afraid to die at all.

“Panther bail out! I need you to eject!” You barely heard Mav’s voice.

“I can’t outrun them. I’m going to get a bit lower, enough for you to eject.”

“I’m not leaving you here to die.”

“Eject Panther! Eject!” Maverick was practically screaming at you now, but your head had gone hazy—the force of hitting Mach 9 causing you to fade in and out.

“Either you eject now or we both die!”

Gasping, you flipped another switch, trying to slow down the jet, but you couldn’t see straight—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. You heard Phoenix yell at you through the radio, her voice trying to bring you back and you wanted to scream that you were trying. That you could see the hill coming even closer, yet you were unable to reach down and pull the chord beneath you.

Why couldn’t you move?

“I—” you gasped, trying to get air into your lungs. “I can’t.”

The radio crackled, another voice coming in clearer than the others. “Panther I need you to eject!” Bradley’s jet was diving down towards yours, his panicked voice causing your heart to twist.

“Roo—” you mumbled.

His jet was right beside yours, the dive he was in breaking the rule of the hard deck. “Do it now Panther! Please!” You could vaguely make out the terror in his plea. “You can do this. Just breathe.”

Fumbling, you felt the roughness of the rope scratch against your hands and you inhaled, shutting your eyes tightly as Hunter’s face showed up vividly behind your eyelids. Yanking it with all the strength you had, you felt the gust of wind hit you harshly in the face—the echo of your chute opening a few moments later. You could hear the distant crash of your jet, the explosion nearly rocking the ground below, but your vision was fading with every passing second.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, tilting your head to the side, the sunlight blinding you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

You hit the ground hard, your knees taking the brunt of the fall and on instinct you unlatched yourself from your chute. Leaving your body to collapse—the breath leaving your lungs. The exhaustion refused to leave your body even though you fought against it. Pulling that many Gs left you in a state of disorientation. One that you couldn’t get out of.

The air was stale from the heat of the day. The sun still beat down as you lay there, sweating the longer you drifted in and out of consciousness. You fought to stay awake, but your mind seemed to have other plans entirely. It had decided to be cruel today—forcing you to relive things you wished to forget at a time like this.

“I know I say it every time we fly,” Hunter said,  glancing up at the sky like he’d find his solace in the clouds. More often than not every pilot preferred to be up there rather than on the ground. 

Up there…heartbreak, grief, pain it all disappeared. Probably why so many refused to retire; why they remained until they were forced out or lost in the heat of battle. You knew which path you were on long ago—the futile choice already made for you.

He turned his eyes to you, a sorrow in them that you recognized after knowing him for so long. “If we don’t make it back, Panther. If I don’t…” He blinked, wiping away his pain and slapping an all too false smile on his lips. “Tell my girl I was flying back to her.”

It was an omission of truth, a terrifying thought no pilot wanted to consider, but you did it anyway. Returning his smile you clapped him on the back lightly. You didn’t know then that you’d be delivering his message after all these years. That he’d leave his final words with you, but there it was…the reality of being an airman. One day your heaven became your ultimate hell and nothing would ever be able to change that.

You were jolted awake by the sounds of a chopper landing near you, someone running out and grabbing you quickly in order to get you on board and back. Pain erupted in your side, searing down your leg as they shifted you, but you had no energy to cry out. Everything shifted as the chopper took off; someone reached down to gently pull your helmet off as they attempted to check your pulse. You wanted to say you would be fine. All you needed was a moment, but even this was too extreme for your body to handle.

Before you could open your eyes, you were pulled under again.

The bar doors swung open as you sat there finishing the bottle of whiskey you and Phoenix were meant to drink together. She’d taken off in a hurry after learning what choice you made, but at least she promised things were okay between you two. You just wished you could tell her the truth—why you were so adamant on running in the first place. But you didn’t even know what the truth was. You were just a hopeful idiot, waiting for life to hand you love on a silver platter rather than fighting for it yourself.

“I thought I’d find you here kitten,” Bradley’s voice bounced off the empty bar walls as he took the stool beside you.

“You told me to come here.” You didn’t want to say it, but he looked almost…bashful. “Why…did you ask me here, Bradshaw?”

He poured himself a glass, taking a deep breath as he drank before meeting your eyes for the first time that night. “I know we’ve graduated and you and I have done nothing but try and kill each other, but…”

“But?” Fuck, you hoped what you thought he was going to say next actually came out of his mouth.

“I want to be with you,” he blurted out. His face turned red when he caught you staring at him with your eyes wide. “I…I care about you kitten. Fuck I don’t know if it’s love or if it’s just some crush, but…I know I want you.”

Your throat felt dry as you tried to swallow, his words sinking into your mind. “You…”

“Yes,” he replied.

“And what if…” You could barely get the fucking words out. “What if this—” You gestured between the both of you, your hands shaking slightly. “Is just an itch that needs to be scratched to get me out of your mind?”

“It’s not.”

You couldn’t stand the way he was watching you with so much calm in his expression; as if he was so sure about what the two of you shared. “How do you know?”

He leaned forward, lips twitching as he heard your breath catch in your throat at his close proximity. “Because you’ve been in my mind since day one, kitten. Believe me when I say nothing could get you out of it. Nothing would make me want you to leave it.”

“She’s fighting being unconscious,” someone said over the loud echo of the helicopter blade. “Her body’s gone into shock.”

They moved you again swiftly and you could barely make out the sunlight through your shut eyes. Vaguely in the back of your mind you knew where they were taking you. The hospital no doubt. You’d taken a hard hit on the way down—your body unable to handle the sustained G’s in the training. The gurney was stopped suddenly, jolting you again and bringing back the pain in your side. You nearly cried out, but not even your voice would work.

Footsteps pounded against the asphalt, your name echoing in the distance; the paramedics stopped them halfway to you and you tried to raise your head to see them. Why was it so fucking hard? Why…were you still drifting in between being conscious and unconscious?

“I need to see if she’s alright.”

Bradley.

“Lieutenant, I need you to wait with the others. She’s going to be taken to the hospital—”

“I just need to see if she’s okay!” he shouted, the scuffle of his feet echoing on the ground.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw I can’t let you—”

“Let him through.” Maverick. Your brain registered they were there and for the first time, you managed to slowly open your eyes—able to make out the shape of Bradley rushing towards you.

He looked so blurry as he stood there, his hand dropping to your cheek before cupping the back of your neck when he leaned over to get close. This is what you longed for. This is what kept you afloat when everything else was falling apart around you. Hunter’s face, the memories, they all retreated to the back of your mind as a new image took form. A bright eyed pilot who had stolen what was left of your already shattered heart—his crooked smile enough to send your entire being into overdrive.

“Kitten, can you hear me?” he asked softly, tilting your head. “Fuck.” Something wet fell on your chin. “Fuck I’m so sorry.”

“We have to take her.”

His grip got tighter, the broken tone of his voice nearly breaking your heart again as your eyes fluttered slightly—the ability to move returning. “Is she going to be okay?”

You could easily tell them that it was just a panic attack. You were used to them popping up at random times, but you were so tired and Bradley’s skin felt warm pressed against yours. Vaguely you felt them move you, his warmth leaving you for the cold bitterness of the outside world. Except by the time you could open your mouth, attempt to reach for him, they were already slamming the doors shut on the ambulance.

“Bradley,” you faintly breathed, the paramedics shifting around you to continue and attempt to check if you were comfortable where you were.

Yet you couldn’t tell them that your only source of comfort had been left behind. Bradley’s face flashed in your mind again, his voice whispering in your ears as you were finally sucked under into the darkness one last time. The panic, the pain, all of it…finally gone.

#bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick #my writing

[finelinevogue]

Does Harry's house Harry and YN have morning rituals like their schedule

of course they do they’re so organised… not

this also turned out just… not… what you asked for apologies

June 24th 2022

“H, get off.”

You said tiredly, trying to push him and his lips off your stomach and up out of bed.

It was another day of tour and you were aching to get up. Yesterday had been a long on, after travelling to Ireland, but now you got to rest for a day. This is why you were so thankful for his management team, because they always factored you and Harry time into his schedule.

Today was just a you and Harry kind of day.

“Baby no!” Harry whined. “Wanna stay in bed with you all day.” He wrapped his arms around your middle, underneath you body that laid flat on the bed.

When Harry slept next to you now, he had to lay halfway down the bed because he wanted to be as close to your baby as possible. Even though they were still nothing more than a blob, it still excited him to no ends that that blob was his and yours.

You always woke up in the mornings to him either kissing your belly or talking to it. Your stomach would taste his lips before your own did now. Not that you minded one bit, because seeing him like this brought the greatest happiness into your day.

It was a perfect wakeup call.

“And do what?” You chuckled, stroking some hair back off his forehead, his sleepy eyes remaining closed, as it rested on your growing tummy.

“Stay like this. Kiss you. Eat a whole box of Maltesers together.” He listed and you smiled because that did sound like a perfect way to pass the time.

“But there will come a time when I literally can’t do anything else but that, so I want to get up and move now.” You explained.

Harry understood, but he was just too in love with you to share you with the outside world. He adored you too much to want to see you interacting with anyone else but him, or maybe that was just his overpowering sense of jealousy kicking in.

“You were up and about a lot this weekend, lovie.” Harry said concerned.

“That’s cause you invited a bazillion people to your shows, as you should. I had to pretend to drink so much champagne on Saturday that I then had to pretend to be drunk. I was fucking stone-cold-sober, H.”

Harry belly chuckled at that. He was aware of what had happened in the VIP room and his only regret was that he hadn’t been there to see you pretend to be drunk.

“It would be easier if we just told people, y’know?” Harry suggested, feeling so relaxed with your fingers stroking through his hair.

“I’m just worried it’s too early still, no?”

Harry opened his eyes and popped his head up to look at you, feeling this conversation deserved more attention than he was giving it.

“I don’t think so baby. We’re nearly two months now. I think we’re okay announcing.” He encouraged, snaking his hands out from underneath you so he could clasp his own hands with yours. “Also, the amount of times that I look for you during Cinema and Kiwi is probably making it so fucking obvious.”

You giggled.

“B-but how would we do it?”

“However you want. I’ll pay for a billboard in Times square if you want it.” He joked, knowing you’d enjoy nothing worse.

“Shut up, y’knob.” You laughed, flicking him on his forehead.

“We could just do an Instagram post? Post the same thing?” He suggested.

“I like that.” You nodded securely.

“Sure?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, let’s do this.”

liked by mommaL/N and 17,926,113 others

harrystyles With my experience of surprises I’m surprised I kept this in for so long 🤍

view all 1,092,233 comments

jeffazfoff A tiny Harry? Oh no…🤣🤣

harryfan1 WAKE THE FUCK UP? HARRY AND YN ARE HAVING… A BABY?

harryfan2 ok… but my parents are actually having their first child :((((

annetwist Congratulations my loves🥰❤️

yourinstagram we made a little person <3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #finelinevogue #harry blurb #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry’s house blurbs #harry’s house #harrys house blurbs #harrys house finelinevogue #harrys house series #harrys house fluff #harry styles blurbs #harry styles fluff #dadrry

[ethereal-engene]

future husband | sangyeon

pairing: bf!sanygeon x fem!reader

genre: humor, slice-of-life, and fluff // warnings: brief mentions of food, drinking, and cursing… and 2 suggestive lines

summary: A dinner date in celebration of Valentine’s day with your boyfriend leaves you two to recount your first encounter with each other.  // wc: 1148

note: I hope everyone had a good valentine’s day !! AHHH LESS THAN WEEK UNTIL TBZ CB, oml the highlight medley has me gone, it all sounds so so so so good! Enjoy & please reblog with feedback if you liked it! also @sungbeam​ 😏 it’s here (I hope I did soft sexy sangyeon right 😭 & also good luck on your exams again Jiayou !!) 

“Sangyeon. If I had known we were going to eat here, I would have dressed nicer.” You half-heartedly wail while staring at your boyfriend. Everyone knows Sangyeon cleans up very nicely and is always so handsome. It would be unlike him to not dress his best especially for a date with you. Even though, personally speaking, you like him best when he’s wearing less. 

He chuckles and watches as his eyes crinkle the way they always do whenever he laughs. “Well if I told you, it would have spoiled the surprise. Besides, what you’re wearing right now is stunning. If we were in a couples contest, we would win best dressed.”

Even when his words of flattery annoy you, it always manages to get a smile out of you. “Sweetheart, flattery will get you nowhere in life.” Your hands find their way into giving him a pat on the back. They only get a few pats in before he takes your hands to hold them. “Well, it got me you. So I would say it did get somewhere.” All of the while said with a teasing smile and tone.

“You’re fucking insufferable sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah, but you still love me for it.” He shrugs his shoulders as he leads you to the table for tonight. Your eyes roll when you hear him say that. And of course, he pulls out the chair for you like the gentleman he is. “Didn’t know that I could get your eye to roll outside of bed too.” A gasp is let out before you try to gather your thoughts to respond.

“Did Sunwoo give you some of his water to drink today? It’s been like three years since we started dating and never in a million years would I have guessed that I would hear anything like that come out of your pretty little mouth.” It only takes a minute or two for Sangyeon to realize what he said to you and attempt to excuse himself from the table because he’s flustered. “No, no. Sweetheart, it’s okay. It’s a bit out of character but they’re funny.”

“It just slipped out so easily, I’m so sorry. Maybe I’ve been spending too much around Sunwoo and Kevin. They’ve been speaking more nonsense with each other lately and yeah.” Your head falls back in laughter. “Oh lord, I know. I’ve seen their conversations from Deobi online. I can’t say I’m not surprised by Sunwoo but Kevin too? But then again, Kevin’s a wildcard so I’ll admit, I’m not too surprised.” With your hands on top of each other, you softly squeeze his hand to reassure him that he’s fine and really it’s not a big deal.

After ordering your food, Sangyeon animatedly talks about their comeback. Based on everyone’s reaction, they’re really excited for it to come out. You love hearing him talk. His voice is so soothing.

“I’m sure that this comeback will be successful. Eric is back with y’all and you guys worked hard for this comeback. Deobis won’t let you down and neither will I. Fighting!!”. Reassuring him will never not help put his heart at ease. He’s always super thankful for your support. As more time passes, your food gets placed and is ready to be eaten. Unknowingly, you both ordered the same dishes as your first date. Only after a minute goes by before Sangyeon’s light bulb turns on as he remembers something.

“Babe, don’t you remember how we first met? God, what an unforgettable moment that was.” He even starts to chuckle before continuing. It only takes a minute for you to remember and you start to laugh along with him. “I can’t believe I said that to you. To be fair, I still think that what I said is true.”

As if on cue, you both get ready to re-enact the scene. You had gotten out of your seat to take a seat in front of him while he was sipping his wine.

- start of flashback -

“Do you know who you look like?” You teasingly ask and for him to nod his head no. “You look like my future husband!”

With that, he’s left frozen because he’s never had someone try to flirt with him that boldly, much less in front of his friends. Oh yeah, he wasn’t out having dinner by himself. He was out with some of his members. If you must know, it was Jacob, Hyunjae, Eric, Younghoon, and Kevin. A quick kick under the table from Kevin to Sangyeon is heard. An attempt to get him to respond to you as the silence is taunts them. A fake cough from Eric whisper yelling him to “ask for her number or something, hurry up hyung!!”

It’s hilarious seeing this pan out because you’re still there as if you don’t see and hear all of this happening. “Oh yeah, well you look like my future wife. Let’s call it even but I guess we can’t really call it even unless we exchange phone numbers.” He hands you his phone and watches as you gracefully enter your number into his phone. When you give it back to him, he expects for you to hand your phone over but you don’t.

“I know you’ll call me so why bother? Also good save lover boy. Almost thought I was going to be left hanging there.” You get up from your seat and with a click of your tongue, you take your leave. Not even getting very far before a hand reaches for your arm. In doing so, he pulls you back and with his soft smile “Even if I did leave you hanging, I’d be there to catch you.”

“You smooth motherfucker. I knew you had it in you but you still got some work to do before you really catch me.” As expected, he didn’t know what to say next and before he even realized you were out of sight. Staring into the distance like a deer caught in the headlights. Hyunjae was the one to call him to come back. It’s safe to say that you were the talk of the table until the dinner ended.

- end of flashback -

“Your confidence struck me like lightning that day. You wouldn’t believe how red I was after I went back to the table.” You’re sipping while listening and it takes a lot in you not to spit it out from laughing. “Oh, lover boy. I could imagine it. Gosh, you’re still as cute and lovely. I still think you look my future husband.” His eyes find yours and they light up like a million stars in the night. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s heard that, it will always make his heart flutter.

“And I still think you look my future wife. God y/nnie, the things you do to me. I love you so much!”

Heh, the ending is a bit abrupt but I’m ngl I like how most of this turned out so I’m not too bothered by this. 

BUT AH SANGYEON?? man is really husband material. I’m so excited for the kylo x tbz video/episode. As always, please reblog this with your feedback or send me an ask/dm about what you liked about it. They mean so much to me and I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I liked writing it :)

please support your favorite fanfic writers and content creators <3 take care

signing off with love

- ash 

#kflixnet #sangyeon x reader #the boyz x reader #the boyz fluff #tbz imagine #the boyz #sangyeon x you #tbz fluff #tbz scenarios #tbz drabble #sangyeon #sangyeon fluff #sangyeon drabble #deobi #tbz imagines #tbz