#me when Ic mind has not probably been their fully own for a long time

[rima-niki]

Another Fable thought that could become fic, but nahhh

Just a silly what if Rae went into Icarus's mind to help them Characters: Icarus, Rae, Sherbert, Ashrill

Now imagine Rae going in their mind to try and save Ic, and it's either gold or a rainbow. There is no fully just Icarus, only the person that others made them.

There are different versions of ic in there, like how Rae had a different him, but at the same time, they're not Icarus. The first one Rae meets is a fully corrupted Sherb; it's how they, themselves, see them. They are corrupted, they are making the same mistakes no matter what, thats what they are. This corrupted version leads them to a patch of a rainbow, more specifically purple, where once Rae enters finds a version of ic that's an elf? They're kind, offering to help Rae with his journey, but Rae can tell the elf is lonely. There is no other building around outside if the sherb tm build style. The elf gives Rae a bead, then rae is back in the normal plain of gold and rainbow. The corrupted version of Icarus is there again, laughing at Rae, trying to actually help them; they're just like this, there's nothing you can help with. But Rae moves along, finding a new colour, one he hasn't seen before, a dark red; he goes in. The Icarus that Rae finds is another bird but very different, a roadrunner. She was admiralty put in alarm at the sudden appearance of Rae, someone who he thought they would never see again. Rae reassures her that he means no harm and is looking to help someone. The roadrunner says they'll help, and they look around the floating island that they've made a house on. Rae noticed something while they were talking this Icarus seemed to always be on edge, like they were ready to run or fly at any second. Was every version of their brother in some form of pain? They don't know. But after a moment of looking, the roadrunner found another bead and handed it to Rae with a goodbye. "Wowie, you're really trying this," The corrupted version spoke as Rae entered the field again. "Yes, I'm not giving up on you, Icarus." "You should, not like you'll find the last 2 that you need." "So there's two more."

"w-what no!" the corrupted one stuttered out as Rae continued to move forward, finding an almost fully broken part the gold on it was faded, but Rae entered. It's their childhood home, but it was a bit dirty it seemed like someone had just been baking. Rae walks around looking for Icarus. When they hear a thud coming from upstairs. He quickly makes his way over and finds a much younger Icarus on the floor, it seems they had fallen off. They quickly spot the much older Rae.

" Who are you! I'm real good with a sword" they say as they jump up to their feet. "I'm Rae. I don't mean you any harm. I just heard you fall and got worried." "Oh… you share the same name as my brother! That's cool. My brother is really small right now. Mom says I was that small once, too, but I don't believe her. Don't tell her I said that, tho." Icarus puts a finger to their mouth in a hushing motion. "I won't tell your mom, but are you okay?" "Yeah, I'm fine. I fall ALL the time, this new home, Mom allows me to go outside, and I can climb the trees, and Dad's not here to- To, I don't really know, but Dad wouldn't let me." "You fall a lot, you always do" Rae says a bit bittersweetly. "You're my brother, aren't you?" Rae just nods. " You're all big. You get such a cool horn? Do I get one? Is Mom still with us? Do we find Dad? Do I become real good at the alcemy?" Rae giggles softly." You don't get a horn, but you do get wings." "I GET WINGS!!!!!" "Yes, you do… um, Mom isn't with us right now, but I'm looking for her. You do become really good at making potions, and um, Fable is back, but he's done a lot of bad things, and he forced you to think some not-good things and a lot more." "Oh… Are we still brothers?" Icarus is saddened. "We are, and we always will be." "O-okay," Icarus nods. Icarus looks through their pocket and brings out another bead. " Then save me." "I will." Once Rae grabs it, they get brought to a different room, but one they are very familiar with, the cell that housed Icarus back in the endstone reset. "So, for some reason you still think I should be helped? Despite everything I had done to you, you really think that Icarus is worth saving?" "Despite everything you've done, you, Icarus, are still my brother. Even if you fall to Fable time and time again, I will still be there. I will still be your brother because I love you, Icarus and nothing you do will change that. You ARE my brother, that can sometimes be a bit rude and a bit harsh but you never failed to care for me. You could have left me there when you through that potion, but you didn't. You stayed and made sure I was okay. When I was turning into a beast, YOU were there. You were there when we had nothing but each other. I know Fable is promising you to bring them back, but Icarus, you'll lose so much more; please, I don't want to lose you too." When Rae looks up to Icarus, they aren't corrupted. Their ears and wings hugged close to them. "I-I don't want to lose you either, But Rae, I've gone too deep." "Then let me help you up." Icarus signs and walks over to Rae, and places the final bead in his head. "You win, Rae." -The end-

#fable smp #fsmp #fsmpblr #fablesmp #icarus morningstar #sherbertquake56 #fablesmpicarus #rae morningstar #sherbaverse #sherbertverse #fable #ashril bound #sherbert quake #angst times #I sometimes have silly thoughts that get given to some people but then I go I can share this #so here you go #me when brothers #me when Ic mind has not probably been their fully own for a long time #/pos #fablesmp rae #fable fanfic

[from-the-clouds]

bad liars (savior complex ii) - joel miller x f!reader

part one | masterlist | song inspo |

Baby, you're a vampire You want blood and I promised...

summary: It's been a month since Joel has last seen you, fully healed since your last interaction. But you haven't spoken...at all. Your radio silence becomes cause for concern when he hears about an outbreak of Infected at the hospital where you work. There's enough explanation in this part that you could read it on it's own, probably, but I'd highly recommend reading part one first to get the full experience. pairing: joel miller x f!reader words: 7.9k warnings: SMUT - 18+ ONLY, minors DNI. (porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, oral, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, age gap. dom/sub dynamics.) Heavy angst, multiple POVs, implied drug abuse, alcohol use, canon-typical suffering! Blood mention. Both reader/Joel are insanely emotionally unavailable, and love to lie to themselves and each other! (please dm for specifics if you have any questions). a/n: Ya'll loved savior complex and I'm so happy! Literally don't think I've had a fic get that many notes before, i had so many requests for a part two and because it felt like i left things open-ended enough, this came to me pretty easily! It might be the horniest thing I've ever written and also very angsty (what's new?)....but I think you'll like the ending <3 Special to @ay0nha for letting me yell at you about my writing and to @zbeez-outlet for the wonderful idea.

Joel exhales and runs his fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair – the tips of which were frozen together from standing outside for so long. It had gotten cold out. Very cold. Boston always did this time of year, and because of it, people stayed in, and crime in the QZ dropped, making it a safer place - though that wasn’t saying much. 

Of course, the cold didn’t stop him from dealing. It did make his job a hell of a lot more difficult, since FEDRA was bored, out looking for trouble, and didn’t have more pressing matters to attend to. Although today, he must’ve been in luck, because the only sign of FEDRA had been helicopters and tanks that were clearly on a mission, driving to the opposite side of the QZ. Good, he had thought. A distraction. 

Joel leans back against the brick wall of the alleyway, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his ears, stares at the ice in the cracks of the pavement. When he hears the crunch of gravel underfoot, he straightens.

The man approaching looks nervously over his shoulder, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his flimsy sweatshirt. Dave, a customer of his for some time. 

“You’re late,” Joel doesn’t bother with a proper greeting.

“I know, I know, I got held up on my way here,” Dave answers, immediately beginning his excuse. “They cleared out the hospital because of an outbreak, that whole area was locked down so I had to take the long way.”

“Outbreak?” Joel tilts his head.

“Infected. I guess a bunch of hospital staff got bit. FEDRA had to go in and put them all down.” 

Joel feels a distant pang of concern somewhere in the back of his head. “How many?”

Dave shrugs, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know, man, that’s all I know. It’s not like they’ll ever tell anyone what actually happened.”

Joel can’t help but think of you. He knows a couple people who work at the hospital, most of them through smuggling, but you’re the only one who he’s really able to bring to mind at the moment.

“So, can we, uh…”

Joel pulls the plastic baggie out from his pockets, fishing out the pills. On his end, Dave produces a wad of credits, his shoulders sagging in relief once they’ve made the trade and the drugs are in his hand. He takes one immediately, shoves the rest in his pocket. “Thanks man, I’ll see you next week?”

Leaning back against the wall, he nods, and watches his customer disappear down the alleyway. 

The second Dave is out of sight, Joel’s chest tightens, and he takes a deep breath. There’s no reason why news of Infected at the hospital should concern him. If FEDRA had been called in – they would’ve gunned down anything that moved until it was under control. He knew, better than anyone, that they would do unspeakable things in the name of keeping order. Innocent people probably died, but the dead can’t get infected.

It had been about a month since Joel had last seen you, after he’d gotten beaten within an inch of his life and ended up on your doorstep, and you were the only person that could help. It hadn’t gone at all how he expected it would – at the end of the day, he had been surprised by your tenderness. 

Still, despite that you’d let him take you on the edge of your bed, legs wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock, he wouldn’t really say that it changed anything about your relationship. He had actually been kind of afraid that it would, that your attitude towards him would shift to something more amicable.

But you hadn’t spoken to him in a month. Joel had told you he owed you one after you stitched him up, and had anticipated that you’d take him up on his offer pretty quickly. There were so many things he could do for you to make your situation better. Maybe you’d need credits…. Medicine…. Food…. Booze… Pills, something, but you haven’t reached out. You could just be biding your time until you really need the favor.

Still, the radio silence takes him aback. He should be relieved that you aren’t talking to him. But nothing? Even if it’s not about a favor…he wants some kind of confirmation that you’d both made a mistake. After all that, did you really expect nothing from him?

It dawns on him there’s now a chance you’ll never speak to him again, because you’re one of the ones that FEDRA killed. Or worse….you had gotten bit. 

Joel passes by the hospital, taking the long way home. Everything is locked down, taped off. There’s a crowd around the place – family members, he assumes, pleading with FEDRA agents for information and getting nothing in return.

“Go home. I’m sure they’ll turn up,” he hears one of them say to a weeping woman. It’s useless to ask for an honest answer, for one of them to actually care. 

Joel could go home. He could crush a couple pills, snort them, and quell the burn with a couple drinks. He could fall into restless sleep and wake up the next day as he always did, go about his business as usual. Survive. One day at a time. 

Would he ever get confirmation that you’re alive? Because at this rate, he’s not sure he’ll ever know either way. 

The feeling is going to linger. He hates it. Were you gone? If you are, he can handle knowing. Its somehow worse not to. 

He tries to justify it to himself. You’re one of his solid connections to the hospital, you’d traded with him for medical supplies before. This is business, really, if he thinks about it that way. If you’re dead, he and Tess need to find someone else to work with. 

Joel decides to take a detour on the way back to his place.

It’s past curfew when he arrives at your apartment, the sun has long since dipped below the horizon and with that comes an even harsher cold. Boston winters, he thinks to himself. If he is capable of missing anything, he’d say he missed Texas. Before all this, the last place he’d be caught dead was on the East Coast. 

Joel raps on your front door. He forgets how shitty your building is, that you sleep here alone every night, listening to your neighbors arguing through the thin walls, shady characters slinking out of shadows in the dimly-lit hallway,

A few seconds pass. When he hears nothing behind your door, he knocks again, a little louder. 

More time passes. He knocks again, louder. Maybe you didn’t hear him. 

Nothing. He does it again. Could you be asleep? His jaw clenches.

Still nothing, and Joel knocks even louder. Maybe you’re not even here, and you work nights, and he’s just missed you as you head out for another shift. But he knows that’s unlikely. Since he’s known you, you’ve never worked nights. So where the fuck were you?

Joel’s pounds on your door, yells your name into its chipping paint. He listens for something, anything, on the other side, and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, but he keeps going The side of his fist starts to hurt, but he can’t stop himself. He doesn’t even realize what he’s doing until he hears one of your neighbors yelling from the end of the hallway. 

‘Shut the fuck up!’

Joel doesn’t hear exactly where the voice comes from, but it’s enough to snap him out of it. He halts his movements, his forehead falling against hollow wood, and in the silence, hears his heart pounding in his ears. 

“Fuck!” he kicks the wall just outside the frame of your door so hard the drywall gives, leaving a hole behind. “Fuck.”

He stares at the result of his outburst for an undetermined amount of time. You were all alone. To his knowledge, you had no immediate family to inform. Who would be around to remember you? He’d never really know for sure what had happened. 

“Joel?”

He looks up, his hands still clenched tightly into fists. When he sees that it’s you, standing at the end of the hallway, they loosen. 

You look horrible - haggard, tired, your hair tangled and matted. As you move closer to him, he doesn’t miss the way your shoulders are hunched underneath the weight of your backpack. But once you’re standing in front of him, you straighten, lift your chin. 

“What is this?” you ask. “What are you doing here?”

There’s no animosity in your tone, he thinks. You might be trying to put some in there, but you don’t have the energy to do so, so it just comes out sounding very flat.

Joel realizes, suddenly, that he doesn’t have a reason. A real reason that wouldn’t….give him away. He puts his hands on his hips, thinks desperately. You do nothing to help.

When he settles in silence, offers you nothing, you just sigh and shake your head. Your teeth are chattering, lips cracked from the cold, and you seem desperate to get into shelter, twisting your key into your lock and opening the front door. Once you step inside, you flick on the lights. He follows you, closes the door behind you both, and locks it.

“Oh, yeah, come on in, I guess,” you say over your shoulder. 

Joel crosses his arms, standing in your kitchen. 

“What, am I in trouble or something?” you ask. “Because if I am, you’re gonna have to wait until I’ve showered.”

“It can wait,” Joel says, and sits at one of your kitchen chairs. 

You shrug off of your backpack and leave it on a chair, then unbutton your coat, tossing it on top. Joel swallows hard when he sees the damage it’s been hiding. Your scrubs are dirty, tattered in some places, one of the sleeves hanging, partially ripped off. And they’re covered in dried blood. It’s smeared on your arms, on the back of your neck. Not yours, he hopes. 

What the fuck happened to you? You don’t turn to see his reaction, don’t look over your shoulder to see if he’s going to ask about it. It’s almost like he’s not even there, and you clearly wish he isn’t. 

He realizes then, that he has the confirmation he’s looking for. You made it out alive. He doesn’t actually need anything else from you. And you’ve given him a perfect out. He can leave while you’re in the shower. 

But he doesn’t. Not when he hears the shower start, or the screech of the curtain across the metal rod, the sound of water hitting the basin. He stays there, motionless, until you duck out of the bathroom with your arms wrapped around yourself, wearing a sweatshirt and sweatpants, hair damp and teeth chattering. 

You pad with bare feet onto the tiled area of the kitchen, brushing past him. 

“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks. 

You finally look at him, like you’re surprised he spoke up, or even asked the question. A choked, bitter laugh leaves you, and you shift your attention away from him, reaching into your cabinet for a bottle of bourbon. “Pass.”

You pour yourself a whiskey, and Joel watches you throw it back in one go, your nose scrunching up, your hand clasping into a fist as you take the shot. The taste doesn’t stop you from pouring another drink and gulping that one down, too, without as much of a reaction as the first. It’s only when you start pouring the third that he intervenes, standing and crossing the room to cover the glass with his hand before you can grab it. 

“Slow down,” he says.

“I know you’re not telling me what to do in my own home.” Your mouth opens as you look up at him, incredulous. 

Joel looks past you, shakes his head. He supposes your right, but it doesn’t make it any easier to watch the self-destructive behavior, which is funny considering how often he engages in it himself. He gives in, removes his hand from your glass. “At least…pour me one. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

Your expression softens slightly, and he’s able to see all the pain you’re hiding, just for a flash, before you turn to retrieve a second glass from your cabinet. 

Once you hand him the whiskey, he sits in the middle of the tiny loveseat you’ve got in your front room, expecting you to sit in the armchair across from it. Instead, you approach with your own drink, nudge his knee with your own, and Joel slides over to make room so you can fall onto the couch beside him. Much closer than he’d expected. 

It’s surprisingly good bourbon, and he wonders how many times you’d wasted it by downing it like you just had, instead of taking your time, savoring. He waits for you to get settled before he speaks again.

“What happened to you?” he tries once more, a little softer this time. 

There’s some contemplation on your end, you look at him for a moment, then at your glass, then back up at him again. He can almost see you trying to figure out how much you’re going to share, but he wants to know everything.

“There was an accident at the hospital,” you answer, finally. 

Joel slings his arm over the back of the couch, angles his body towards where you’re curled up, legs tucked underneath you. I’m listening.

Your voice stays even, blase. “A guard at the border broke protocol…and someone who was infected was brought in. By the time we realized, it was too late….”

“Were you hurt?” 

“Almost.” you say. “I mean, yes, actually, I’m a little scratched up, but…it’s not as bad as it could’ve been.”

Your teeth start chattering again. Joel wonders if it’s because of the cold, or your nerves. Figures it’s probably both.

“My coworker turned and I uhm….I had to…” you say into your glass, your free hand flexing like it’s trying to shake off some unpleasant muscle memory. “I had no choice.”

“I understand,” For whatever reason, he spares you from telling the story. To him, taking down Infected was nothing. But to you…“What else?” he presses.

You shrug, avoiding his eyes, one of your arms coming to grip at your opposite shoulder. “I can’t really remember. A bunch of people died. FEDRA came in and just started gunning everything down….” you shook your head, and straightened up.

“I heard about that,” Joel offers.

“Wait…you knew about this?”

“Yeah.”

“So then why are you here, asking m-” the rest of your sentence drops off, your lips parted slightly. The look on your face shifts, slowly. Your eyes narrow. Remorse turns into something more neutral, then into curiosity. “Oh my god….you were worried about me.”

“No.”

“Yes, you fucking were,” your lips curl slightly, it’s not quite a smile, but it’s something close to amusement. 

“No,” Joel defends himself. “I wanted to hear what happened from someone–”

“No you didn’t,” you interject, but he raises his voice to finish his thought.

“–who actually works there, not FEDRA’s propaganda.”

“No you did not. You’re checking up on me. You came over here after curfew to see if I was–”

“Enough,” Joel growls with enough conviction that it shuts you up, and he’s grateful, but its not enough to wipe the self-satisfied look on your face, because it doesn’t.

“What are we, like, friends now?”

He doesn’t answer, and slugs back the rest of his whiskey.

“Or would that be too much for you?” You don’t wait long for him to give you an answer, probably because you know he won’t respond. “I mean, if we’re both being honest–” He definitely wasn’t being honest. “–Today was really fucked up.”

You’re leaning forward now, some of the space between you is gone. And though you’re trying to give the impression that you’re unphased by everything, your hand is clenched tightly around your glass, and you avoid his eyes. It’s painful to watch you resist the urge to trust him. Not that he’s ever given you a good enough reason to – he knows he doesn’t deserve it, but he wants it anyways.

“It’s funny…” you say after a while. “I remember thinking that I didn’t want to die. At least… not like that. I’ve never felt that before…That’s something, isn’t it?” you ask him. 

Joel looks at you, and is surprised at the vulnerability in your expression, sees you looking for some kind of validation from him. “....It is.” 

You finish off your drink, and put the empty glass on the coffee table, shift closer to him.

“It looks like you healed up okay,” you say, after a spell. “How’s your shoulder?”

“A little sore, nothing I can’t handle.”

“Did you take those antibiotics?”

“Yes.”

“Good. And I can’t even tell you had a black eye.”

“I’m fine,” Joel asserts. 

Another shiver wracks your body, and he can tell this one is actually from the chill – your apartment is cold as fuck, it even is starting to bother him. 

“Don’t you have a heater?”

“Kinda,” you glance over at the radiator in the corner. “Sometimes it works.”

“What do you do when it’s colder than this?” It was only November, things would only get worse. 

You shrug. “I don’t know….just be colder, I guess.”

Joel imagines you curled up in your bed alone, wrapped in a thin comforter, shaking in front of him like you are now. He winces. 

“How long are you going to stay?” you ask, changing the subject.

“I should probably go now.”

You nod, scoot closer. “But maybe…” you trail off, contemplating. 

Joel sits up straighter, prompting you when you don’t speak again. “Maybe what?”

“Maybe you could stick around for a little while longer.” There’s a warm hand, yours, that lands on his thigh, and he recoils like you’ve touched him with a fire iron. He rises to his feet. 

“Hey,” you stand along with him, step in front of him to block the pathway to the door. He could easily get past you, obviously, but it’s not as simple as that. 

Of course he’s fucking thought about what happened the last time he was here – his arms around your waist, his mouth on your neck, your chest, your hands on his shoulders, whining his name. A freak accident, a glitch in the matrix, a statistically improbable thing. 

“What?” he asks as you step forward, the fingers on your free hand sliding into the belt loops of his pants. He feels blood rush to his cheeks, to other places. And you’re still fucking shivering. You look so fucking miserable, he wants to yell at you to put on a coat, to wrap yourself in a blanket, in his arms. 

“Joel,” you say his name softly, tilting your head up, leaning close. And then your hand is on the side of his face, and he realizes you’re fucking pleading with him. He knows what you want, but he has a feeling this isn’t just about sex. You’re looking for comfort, as if he’s capable of giving it. 

“We made a mistake…once,” he tells you. “We’re not going to make it again.”

He says it to hurt you, but it doesn’t work. It’s like you knew it was coming all along. “I knew what I was doing,” you answer, earnest. “Didn’t you?”

Yes. You glance down at his hands, which are squeezed into fists so tightly, his knuckles are white. If he’s not rigid, he’s not sure how he’ll be able to resist. He wants you. God, he wants you. He never thought he’d be able to have you again. 

“I could help you loosen up.”

Joel’s walking on the edge of a one-thousand foot cliff and hoping his foot slips. He wants to surrender. The only thing he thinks might save him is to say the meanest thing he can. Maybe you’d get turned off.

“Listen to yourself,” he says, finding the strength to meet your eyes. “You want me so bad, you sound pathetic.”

“Asshole,” you step closer, your mouth twitches, your lips are inches apart. “Do you think I care what you think about me?”

Joel realizes his plan has backfired. But he really only has himself to blame, he should’ve known better. With you, he’s never in as much control as he wants to be, and deep down, he likes it. 

“Go lie down on the bed.”

It’s the only thing that seems to shock you. “What?” 

“I won’t ask you again,” Joel steps backwards, crosses his arms. “Go lie down.” 

──────

If you told yourself a couple months ago that one day you’d find yourself pinned down by Joel Miller, you’d think it’d be because he was about to kill you. Maybe because you cheated him out of something, maybe because you did something else to piss him off – it didn’t really matter. Regardless of how fucked up it was, that idea would seem more dignified than what was happening now. 

Your back is being pressed deeper into the lumpy old mattress, and he’s on you. His mouth is warm, hot, wet, and dragging down your neck, nipping, sucking, licking. Your hands are itching to reach out, to skate down his torso, trace along his jawline, tug at his hair, but you can’t because he’s got them pinned above you with only one of his own. Anytime you try to fight him, his grip only grows stronger. 

It was shameful, really, but you had asked for this – begged for it, basically. There were a number of reasons why – one of which was to blow off some steam after a near death experience, the other because you’d fucked him before and it had been good, much to your dismay. There was also a third reason that you weren’t interested in acknowledging now. 

After the night Joel had gotten jumped, and you’d taken care of him, everything has changed. It’s a cliche, but true. You’d known what you were doing when it happened, and had no regrets. But it was probably not supposed to happen again, and you tried to keep it that way, more for his sake than anyone else’s. But….he was the one who showed up tonight after he’d heard what had happened. It wasn’t nothing.

Joel pulls away from you so abruptly that you gasp, shivering in the wake of his impossible warmth. 

“Sit up,” he instructs, and you turn to find him at the end of the bed, arms crossed. 

You obey, mostly just for the view. You hope to admire him, fresh from kissing you – flush skin, wet lips, tousled hair. Only he’s frustratingly stoic, unsullied – like he hadn’t been touching you at all. 

“Look at me,” he says, and you do. 

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

“It’s nothing,” you agree. 

“I won’t be gentle.”

“I don’t want you to be gentle.”

“Good,” you watch his shoulders loosen, just a little, and he takes one step backwards, his eyes tracing down your body and then back up. “Strip for me….” 

You aren’t dressed sexy at all, you remember, a sweatshirt and sweatpants. If you had thought this through a little more, you might’ve tried to make it nicer for him. “....Okay.”

“Start with your shirt,” he says, and you grab at the hem, but he snaps at you. “Ah-ah….slower.”

You swallow, nod, and carefully lift the fabric, dragging it up over your stomach, over the swell of your breasts, revealing your tight, thin white tank top. 

“That’s it, nice and slow.” 

Joel’s voice is soft but stern, a low rasp that makes your cunt clench around nothing, and he’s not even touching you. The sweatshirt is pulled over your head, falling somewhere on the crumpled bedspread. 

Languidly, you lean back, shifting your weight to get off the mattress, and Joel palms himself through his jeans. You can see where he’s straining against the denim, and you find it hard to tear your gaze away as you go to pull off your sweatpants. Joel stops you again. 

“Turn around.”

You do, and you’re sure he has a nice view of your ass as you slide them over your hips, bending over to let the fleece pool around your ankles. Slowly, you rise back up, looking at him over your shoulder for approval. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. Your stomach flips. A month ago, you would’ve done anything to get him to stay away from you, and now, you’re terrified to disappoint him. 

That’s the problem. You’d spent most of the day fighting for your life — literally. But even after standing behind a barricade of heavily-armed FEDRA soldiers outside the hospital, you didn’t feel as safe as you did when you saw Joel at your door. You need him. For now, at least.

“Now the shirt,” he tilts his head towards the mattress, nodding encouragingly.

You get back on the bed, sitting back on your heels, and begin to pull the tank top up. It’s your last layer up top, you’re not wearing a bra, and you’re feeling a little vulnerable with him just watching you, fully clothed and composed, your gaze falling down to look at the threadbare linens. 

“Eyes up,” he instructs. “Look at me.”

Taking in a shaky inhale, you do. It’s not easy. Everything about him looks dark, animalistic. A coiled ball of energy, waiting to pounce.

But, even when you’re bare before him, he doesn’t. 

“Lie back, close your eyes.”

Of course, you don’t refuse, settling your head against the pillows. 

There’s a sound of a belt – his belt, unbuckling, the snap of a button, the dip of the bed where he kneels when he comes to hover over you. Two hands land on top of your thighs, pressing the backs against his denim-clad knees, thumbs pushing your legs further apart. 

And then…nothing. He’s still. He’s still for so long, that you actually think that something’s wrong. When you open your eyes, you’re met with a view of the underside of his jaw. You can just make out the pinched expression he’s wearing as he looks down upon you. Disdain, maybe…but it’s not meant for you, it’s for someone else….him.

“Joel,” you murmur. Instinctually, you reach for his hand.

The second it makes contact, he smacks your hand away so hard your whole body jolts. “I told you to close your eyes.”

“Sorry,” you mumble quickly, closing them again. 

You are well aware that he’s actively working through shit, probably doing some kind of mental gymnastics to rationalize why it’s okay to fuck you again, which, when you really think about it is kind of….pathetic. It’s the only thing that makes you feel any sort of power in a situation where you’ll surrender everything else. It’s a fair exchange. 

Maybe, on a different day, you would want it softer. You’d like to think he’s capable of that, even though he seems determined he isn’t. Luckily, you don’t want it softer. After today, you want to be so far gone you can’t think. 

Joel answers by leaning down and catching you in a bruising kiss. Finally. You press yourself against him cause you’re freezing and he’s so warm, and you frantically begin to unbutton the flannel he’s wearing, making it about halfway down before he pins your hands above you again.

“Slow down.”

You whine, a little frustrated because all you want to do is touch him. The fingers on his free hand hook around the elastic of your underwear, and he starts to drag them over the curve of your ass. 

He’s got to be joking with how deliberately he’s moving, anticipation only building underneath his featherlight touches.

When he’s got your panties around your ankles, you slide your legs together so he can pull them off entirely, keeping them closed as his weight shifts, and your thighs are pulled back apart.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he doesn’t need to feel you to see it clear as day, with you spread open in front of him. “So fucking desperate.”

He’s all-but glaring at you, like you’ve done something wrong, and for a minute, your eyes flick away, just for a second of relief from the tension.

“What, are you embarrassed?” he asks. 

“N-no,” you stammer, though it was supposed to sound confident. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you, his head dipping down to press his lips to your knee, then an inch higher, then an inch higher, then higher – keeping his eyes locked on yours the whole time, an arm winding around your thigh.

“I wanted to do this last time.” A confession. 

“Yeah?” you sigh, trembling. It’s maybe the nicest thing he’s said to you, but you can’t even acknowledge it, because you’re buzzing.

He turns his face, his beard scraping along sensitive skin. “Mhm,” his deep rasp vibrates directly to your cunt, and when his head dips down, you close your eyes – it might just be better to focus on only one sensation at a time, you’re not sure you can handle seeing what he’s about to do.

Joel’s mouth is on you the second you do, and you gasp. He licks up the seam of your lips, mouth latching around your clit, swirling with his tongue, and back down – firm, determined, practiced. You try to buck up, but he has an arm locked around your hips. 

He removes himself from you just enough to utter two words. “Stay still.”

You want to protest, but you realize that he’s let go of your hands, and it gives you the opportunity to thread your fingers into his hair, while you dig your heels into the broad expanse of his back, and he groans, tongue curling into you. 

“I’ve thought about this,” you gasp, answering his earlier admission.

“When?”

“At night. More than once.”

“Fuck,” Joel growls, and you wheeze when he works one finger into you, forcing you to take it along with his next words. “You know how fuckin’ bad that is? Dreamin’ about a man nearly twice your age?”

“I d-don’t care, I want you anyway. Y-you can do whatever you want to me,” It’s too early to be past the point of speaking coherently, it really is, but you’re already there. 

“F-fuck,” Joel repeats himself, and pushes another finger inside you next to the first, the stretch almost uncomfortable, but quickly fading to pleasure. “I’m going to.”

You’re not the going to tell him, though, that he’s the first man whose ever gone down on you, because you’re a little fucking scared for some reason. It’s intimate, very intimate, more than you expected. 

The truth is, you weren’t actually very experienced at all. You could count on one hand the number of partners you’d had, and still not use all of your fingers. While some of them were good enough, they all paled in comparison to Joel. There had never been anyone like Joel. 

His fingers curl as his tongue swirls around your clit and you cry out, inhale sharply. Minute by minute, you’re getting wetter and wetter – can hear yourself with each twist of his fingers inside you, bearing down on him. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good,” he grunts, and your eyes flutter open just for a second, just to see his forehead, dark eyes staring back at you, and his hips dipping, rutting against the mattress. God he’s getting himself off to this. As hot as it is, the thought of not getting to feel him inside you causes a rush of anger. 

“F-feels so good,” you’re right there, already, and it’s pitiful.

“I know, baby, I know,” he says. “You’re already so close, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, you just nod, gasping. Joel works you right up to the precipice, hands tightening in his hair, hips lifting off the bed – and then he slows a little –  just enough – to pull you back off the edge, and you let out a humiliating sob.

“Shhh!” he hisses with his mouth still on you, resuming the steady pace he had going. A little sigh of relief when you feel your release approaching again. He just lost his rhythm for a moment, it was nothing.

Again, he’s got you right there, you’re so close, hips jerking, breathing in short, sharp pants, something molten working its way up your spine. “Joel, that’s it, please I-”

He falters again – just enough. And it’s gone again.

You realize, with dismay, that he knows exactly what he’s doing. He hadn’t lost his rhythm. He’s doing this on purpose. 

If someone asked – not that anyone would – you wouldn’t be able to recall how long he keeps you in that state, being dragged and dangled, but denied the privilege of falling. It’s torture. 

And at first, you try to be patient. You figure he’ll grow tired, desperate, and eventually want to move on. But apparently, he doesn’t want to move on. He’s content to keep you this way for as long as he sees fit, and you can’t handle it any longer. It’s starting to hurt.

“Please, Joel, let me-” you gasp.

“Let you what?” he pulls back from you, frustratingly too soon, once again.

“Let me come, please, I’ll do anything, I’ll be good, please, please-”

“Just a little longer,” he dismisses you.

All you can do is pant and writhe, completely at his mercy. He keeps going like that, and you’ve stopped trying to filter yourself, the sounds he makes as he laves at you are obscene, you can see yourself glistening on his chin, and can feel the sheets damp beneath you. At this point, he’s enjoying this more than you are.

“Joel,” you plead with him again. “It’s too much, I c-can’t. Just, please I really need-”

“You wanna come for me, baby?” he asks. You nod ferociously. 

“Yes, please, please,” 

“You’re so fucking sweet when you beg, you know that? ” he murmurs. “Wish you were like this all the time.”

“Fuck off,” you manage, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. You should do this to me more often. 

Joel chuckles, and it vibrates just right, his fingers curling again and you moan, hands tightening in his hair. He’s focused now, you can tell because the constant stream of filth he’s been whispering has finally stopped. He’s persistent.

You’re unable to stay quiet, continuing to whimper just like that and please don’t stop over and over. And then all at once, every muscle in your body grows tense and you cry out, cunt pulsing around him so tightly that his fingers slow. “There you go, pretty girl, that’s it.” 

You whisper his name as he continues to fuck his fingers into you, riding you through your orgasm and licking up the mess you’ve made. 

At some point in the aftermath, Joel withdraws from you, and you hear the sting of his zipper. It takes a moment, but you’re able to see him through heavily lidded eyes, kneeling in front of you with his shirt unbuttoned all the way, pants around his ankles, jerking himself slowly in his hand. God he’s fucking huge, how had you forgotten about that? He’s a vision, beard still wet with you, looking down, watching your chest rise and fall. In that moment you realize two things. One, even though you’ve already come, you somehow want him even more than you had before, and two, you’ve never wanted to suck a dick so bad in your life. 

So you sit up, crawl towards him, and reach out with one hand to take him in your palm. He lets you, sighing, closing down his eyes. First, you have to kiss him, so you rise to your knees, and he pulls you into his arms, one of them winding around your waist, the other coming to rest at the small of your back. “You take such good care of me,” you whisper. 

He grimaces at the words like they’re an insult. You expect him to retaliate, to tell you that you shouldn’t say that sort of thing, but he never does. So you kiss him, gently, bringing your free hand to the side of his face. Once again, he lets you, and you taste yourself when his tongue presses into you mouth. You run your thumb over the head of his cock, and he hums against your touch, almost contentedly.

You’re doing whatever you want to him, and you’re shocked he hasn’t put a stop to it. It could be satisfying enough, you think, just to keep kissing him like this. Still, you sink back towards the bed to test things further. You’re about to wrap your mouth around him, but he pulls you off by your hair, so quickly, so hard that you yelp.

“No.” he says firmly. “Lie back.”

“But I just wanted to-”  

“No.” 

You consider trying to reason with him, but decide it won’t be worth whatever he’d do if you continue to argue.

Joel braces himself with one hand above your shoulder, the other wrapped around his cock, slowly teasing you by rubbing himself up and down a few times, before he gives in, finally pushing into you.

“Oh, fuck,” you gasp at the stretch, reaching out grasp at his bicep, arching your back. He’d prepped you, and it was still too much. 

“You can take it,” he says, pressing deeper into you. His hips are all the way flush with yours, he’s to the hilt, and he still snaps them even further, once, holding you there, so deep, you feel like you’re choking on him. “See? There you go.”

It seems like you can’t quite catch your breath, and you squirm underneath him for some kind of friction, some kind of relief from how intense it all is. You can feel him throbbing inside you, feel how badly his own body is begging him to move, but he doesn’t. 

“Joel,” you cradle the back of his head, look him in the eyes. “Move, please.”

He doesn’t answer, he just brings his hand to grip your jaw, his thumb and forefinger pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks. 

“Please?” you murmur again, and his thumb slips into your mouth, silencing you. You suck on it obediently, and after you do, he finally gives you what you want.

──────

Joel told you he wouldn’t be gentle, and he isn’t. 

He hadn’t been able to do this last time. Taste you, spread you open, fuck you properly. His hips snap against yours – ferociously, unrelenting, over and over. You’ve been going at it for awhile now, and he actually wants you to break. He wants you to tell him to slow down, to be a little more tender, not press into you so deep, so hard, so that if he listens, it wouldn’t mean he’s breaking his own promise. He’s got to be rough with you, because he’s afraid of what could happen if he’s not.

But you don’t break. You fucking take it, take him, each time, again and again, your nails digging into arms, your legs locked around his hips. Each time he delves into you, you’re getting wetter and wetter, and yet, you’re still so fucking tight. He doesn’t understand it. It’s been a long fucking time since he’s been with a woman like you – and you might be the best he’s ever had. 

You’re not even making any noise – you’re just panting, gasping in Joel’s ear as you cling to him, and that’s all. He can’t even look you in the eyes. If he does, he knows you’ll see everything that’s wrong with him, and still beg for him to give you more. 

Two hands land on either side of his face, turning his head so you can kiss him. Despite how he’s treating you, you keep trying to connect, to ground yourself. For as much as he wants to refuse, it feels too cruel to deny you. He lets you lock your lips with his own, feels your cunt clutch him even tighter. It’s impossible for you to kiss for more than a few seconds at a time without it getting broken up by a whimper here and there. You’re getting close again, he’s started to get better at recognizing it.

“You’re fucking so perfect on me, baby, you feel that?” he asks, and you nod, breathless. “Taking me so well, such a good fucking girl-”

A gasp from you cuts him off, your eyes squeezing shut as you are taken over by your climax. Joel groans and does everything he can not to come when you start pulsing around him, holding him closer, since there’s nothing else to do. It’s way too intimate…because it’s missionary, and he should’ve known better than to start off like this. 

Pulling out of you is the hardest thing he’s had to do in a while, and he ignores your noises of protest now that he’s left you empty. Then, he flips you onto your stomach. He takes a moment to admire the curve of your ass, how it dips into your waist….to him, your body is perfect, and you’re young, your skin still supple and smooth. There are still places he hasn’t gotten his mouth on, and it’s a shame, he thinks, but tonight his patience is wearing thin. Joel pulls you back until you’re on your knees, and slides back inside. There’s a little resistance, you whimper, but it’s easier than the first time. He wraps an arm around your waist, the other across your chest, and starts to jerk his hips upwards, into you. 

“Oh fuck, Joel,” you sigh in relief.

“I know, I know.”

You drop your head back until it falls against his shoulder, winding your arm back so you can pull at his hair, which kind of fucking hurts, but he likes it. 

Ultimately, you’re pretty easy to please, and it’s not long before he feels the telltale flutter of your walls as you drip down over him, soaking his lap. 

“You’re making a fucking mess, baby. You gonna come for me again?”

All you can do is plead with him. “I can’t, Joel. I can’t do it again, please just-”

“Yes, you can,” he interjects. “I know you can, baby, don’t worry…I’ll help you.”

“O-okay.’ 

He slows the roll of his hips just a little, focuses on deeper, longer strokes, and lets the hand that’s currently squeezing one of your tits fall to where your bodies are joined, finding your clit immediately.

You whine, arching back against him, the swell of your ass packed against his lower stomach. He sees a single tear leaking from the corner of your eye and feels a little guilty for what he’s doing to you. Only a little, though. 

Without any warning, for the third time, you’re coming around him – easier than the last time, like always – and he uses the feeling of you throbbing around him to chase his own release, his hand clapping over your mouth to muffle your moans as he becomes increasingly frantic. 

He turns his head, rakes his teeth along your exposed neck, and sinks them into your pulse point with a groan. Your breath is hot against him when you whimper in response. 

“Just a little more, honey.” He’s so close. You bob your head, though you’ve nearly gone limp in his arms.

Like last time, Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he’s not going to pull out. The thought of deliberately coming inside you is actually what sends him over the edge, and he’s cursing and moaning your name. You whine at the feeling of him pulsing inside of you, arching back for more, even though he can tell you’re exhausted. 

It’s fucking freezing in your apartment, and yet, his skin is damp with sweat when he finally regains some awareness of his surroundings. He’s panting, you’re sniffling, a weak smile on your face as you catch your breath. Before he can stop himself, he presses his lips to your cheek. 

Joel tilts you both forward – very tentatively, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist. At some point, your hand settled over top of his, and you threaded your fingers between his own, holding his hand across your stomach. You keep it there, even after you’ve settled onto the bed.  

It takes a few minutes before either of you move, but it’s you who gives in first, wriggling out from where he’s got you trapped partially underneath him. 

You retreat to the bathroom, like you did last time. Somewhere during your coupling the linens have slid down the bed, and Joel settles back against the pillows, throwing an arm behind his head.  Now that he’s stopped sweating, he’s just cold, and he reaches to pull the bedspread over him. He should leave, he thinks, before you come out and ask him to. Beat you to the punch. Maybe while you’re still in the bathroom. 

A few minutes later, and you return from the bathroom, dressed again in sweats. He hears you pour yourself a glass of water, gulping it down. You flick off the lamp on your bedside table, and fall into bed next to him, lying rigidly on your back. He should reach out, pull you against him, let you settle in his arms. Instead, Joel rolls over on his side. 

It’s terrible how beautiful you are, he thinks, watching you stare up at the ceiling, hugging yourself. So beautiful, and fucking smart. You’re strong, too, but not as strong as he wishes you were. Of course, no one could ever be that strong.

He whispers your name. You turn your head, pupils still blown wide with lingering lust.

“You need to learn to defend yourself, to shoot a gun, to fight,” he says. “After today.”

“What?” you roll to face him. 

“You said you didn’t want to die,” Joel continues. “So you need to learn. ‘Case something like that happens again.”

“Oh yeah? Lemme guess, you’re gonna teach me?” your voice is a little hoarse after what he’d done to you, and you smirk at him.

“Yes.” It sobers you up, that he’s not fucking with you, or giving you a hard time. “I owe you, remember?” 

“You do.” 

“So…. I’ll teach you.” 

“....Okay.” 

“Alright.”

Joel rolls over to his opposite side, and you’re left staring at his back. Arms wrapped around 

himself in a tight hug, he waits for you to tell him to go.

You never do. 

Instead, he feels the heat of your body as you curl up against him, slotting one of your legs between his own. Your hand grazes up his ribs, over his bicep – a gentle, quick massage – before you tuck your arm underneath his own, your palm flat against his heart. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, frozen at how tender the embrace is. It’s a foreign feeling, he can’t remember the last time someone touched him like this. 

The tip of your nose hits the nape of his neck, and he can feel your shuddery exhale.

“I’m cold,” you say, like it’s obvious, lips brushing featherlight against his skin. “And if you’re staying, you might as well make yourself useful.”

He can’t roll over and wrap his arms around you. He can’t kiss your forehead or play with your hair or murmur into your ear. He can’t offer you anything in return. Joel decides, though, if he’s going to accept comfort from anyone, it’s going to be from you.

──────

taglist (basically if you asked for a pt 2 on the last part i tagged you): @bbyanarchist @dlwrish @imaginewrites24 @captain-yellow-96 @daisyintheskyewithdiamonds @sludgec0r33 @c0wb0ym3nace

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller imagine #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #the last of us writing #the last of us fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #tlou fic #joel miller angst #writing

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

👽AITA for telling kids that aliens are real?👽

this is a bit of a goofy one, maybe not THAT serious, i just want to know the internet’s thoughts.

i (20sM) have a friend (20sF) who is a nanny for a family of 3 kids, and has one kid of her own. i won’t give the kids’ ages but they’re all younger than 10. she often brings her own kid to work so they can hang out, and on this one particular day this summer she invited me to come hang out, getting ice cream and going to a nearby park.

i have a decent amount of tattoos, and since the weather was warm, this was the first time these kids got a good look at them. of course, they’re really into it, and start asking me questions like “did this one hurt?” “will they go away?” yknow, things like that. as they find different ones, i tell them little stories about what they mean: the flower behind my ear is our state flower, the skeleton just looked cool, that one’s for a band you probably shouldn’t listen to until you’re older, etc. at one point we arrive at the one on my upper arm, which is an alien spaceship.

here’s the thing. i’m not very good at talking to kids, and never have been. i was kinda using this ice cream date as my chance to practice and watch how my friend does it. i also do wholeheartedly believe in aliens, and got this tattoo as a way of getting silly with it and feeling less embarrassed when i tell someone i believe in aliens (not that it’s something TO be embarrassed about, i’ve just been talked down to about it a lot by people who disagree so that instilled a bit of shame. but you can’t be embarrassed about something you got permanently etched into your skin!).

so when i get the “what’s this one?” question about the alien ship, i decided i’d have a little fun with it, so i answered: “it’s an alien spaceship. aliens are REAL, you know!”

here’s how i see it: these are kids. i didn’t want to beat around the bush and give a long-winded “i really like aliens a lot, some of my favorite media is about aliens, and i think they actually exist.” i feel like that’s a lot for a kid to grasp, plus with the added concept of “i think this is real, but others might not.” the debate on extraterrestrials echoes a lot of ideas one might have debating the existence of god or an afterlife, and while i’m all for questioning the beliefs you were raised with, these kids are a bit too young for that, and they’re not my kids anyway. plus, believing in aliens is relatively harmless, right? i wanted to give them a little sense of wonder and encourage them to do some research if it’s something they liked the idea of.

after the kids weren’t around, my friend kinda told me off for it a bit. she didn’t want the kids she nannies for to go to their parents and tell them that “[name]s friend with a bunch of tattoos told me aliens are real.” and in that sense… i can see where i might’ve fucked up.

fast forward a couple months, and lo and behold, these kids are now obsessed with aliens. on the one hand, i do feel a little bad for it. but on the other hand, i kinda feel like aliens are a fairly common childhood obsession? lots of kids cartoons are about aliens, and in my mind it seems no different from an obsession with dinosaurs or greek mythology or something. it doesn’t seem like the parents are actively trying to discourage it, either. at the same time tho, i can see how telling the kids something like that could’ve cost my friend her job.

i’m more than happy to talk to the kids about alien stuff more if they want, but i’m still not fully sure if i should’ve said anything at all. is that something i should’ve let them discover on their own?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[busterkeel]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/44390266

After reading this thoughts of a part two had my mind running from this prompt

Just a heads up this is going to be all over the place, but won't be too difficult to follow just bear with me, I don't usually write down my maladaptive daydream plots ideas

Either Jason ask

"... so what kind of powers am I going to have?"

Or one of the other bat-fam asks

" So, what kind of powers is he going to develop?"

[Got me thinking Danny would respond like]

"Oh that's easy I finally remembered them all, flight, invisibility, (Danny proceeds to list a crazy long list of powers)"

Or

"....Well there's flight, invisibility, ecto energy like ghost ray and force fields(he could even shoot a small one out for example), intangibility, telekinesis, uh.....increased strength and senses like hearing, smell, sight, then there’s ghost sense, overshadowing, hmm.... oh right duplication, I always forget about that one, there's creating portals but Dani and I had a hard time learning that might take you a while, uh.... did I mention ghost wail yet?.....what? (mouth gaping shock)

[Probably depends if Dani is his sister or daughter]

[And depends if she got her own core type or same ice core]

[the response depends on which bat-fam member responds]

"(shocked and asks what's overshadowing but then stops themselves) we'll go back to that one, who's Danny?

"Dani with an 'i', your sister, oh teleportation forgot that one too

"Tele-I have a sister?!?"

"Yeah older sister and aunts(I'm counting Val as an aunt) and [depends on the ship ex: everlasting trio, just Sam or just Val, I’m leaning towards everlasting trio], I have to introduce you to the rest of the family, actually I have to tell the rest of the family first....”

“You didn't tell them about me”

“No, didn't have time to, I came straight here when I sensed you"

[random bat-fam] "Wait, you said Older sister?! When did you have her?!?"

"Huh? Oh no no no she's a clone”

Or

"Who's Danny?..."

"Oh my sister, one of your aunts” 

“You guys are both named Danny/Dani? Doesn't that get confusing”

“Its Dani with an “i” or Elle, short for Danielle and she’s my clone so we make a joke out of it”

"You've been cloned?!?

"Yeah, by my ex evil Godfather... well that's another story, actually he might be able to help you with your duplication better than me when we get there

Oh and Dani has a different core so she doesn't have my full kit, you might develop a different core too, but the base powers won't be different"

[This could either be bad parents or good parents]

But if its good I imagine Maddie and Jack spoiling him with weapons aka ecoto guns

...... writing this I just remembered how Jason even came to be because they kicked Danny out......

Well damn, well Danny could make him guns

Honestly I just see the family trying to spoil him rotten

I would like for him to stick with calling Bruce Dad though he can call Danny GD like in “ The curious case of D. Grayson” for Ghost Dad

And if it's Pharoah tuck and undergrowth Sam

Val could be a ghost zone hunter or a ghost zone bounty hunter/infinite realm bounty hunter

They could be uncle tuck/uncle pharaoh tuck.... aunt Sam and aunt Val/aunt V

don't know what he would call them if its everlasting trio 

[Since Danny was 14 when Dani was made, 18 when Jason was born, he how old would he now if Jason became red hood when he was 18-19]

I'll make him 19y for a red hood vigilante foundation, kinda want to make him older but I'll just figure out the math and add on in my mind if I want him older in my daydreams

So Danny would be 37 along with Sam/Tuck/Val

Jazz is 2y+ than Danny so she'll be 39

Danny stop aging at 25

Id say both Sam and Tucker stopped aging like 2-3 years after 25 when they fully took in their liminality powers?  Now they're just waiting to die or something, got no clue i just need them to either die and revert or stop aging

What if Danny faked his death and is just waiting for them to die

Or he's just shapeshifting to appear like he's growing older but still waiting for them so he can dip from the mortal realm

I disagree with my previous thoughts now, I still want him and everyone else to have a human identity as long as possible, he could have a bunch of degrees with a job at Nasa or something

Wait…. How old would Bruce be?

So Bruce was 34y when he met Jason at 12y

22y years older than him would make him 41y, not that much older than Jazz and Danny at all especially Jazz, maybe they could be friends [Just friends.] she can help with his family connection problems or something

I high key want Jason to be small boy robin in his ghost form, but i want Danny and Dani to look older, so that would put on the possibility of him being able to change his form to look older

No wait I like it, they all still look the same age they died/were created

No wait….then he’ll appear older than both of them..., I'm just not going to think about this right now

Well at least they're tall as freaks in their human forms, which explains why Jason is the tallest bat sibling, but still shorter than all three Jazz, Danny and Dani

OP daddy Danny

... I got carried away again

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #dc x dp #jason todd #batfam #jason todd is actually jason fenton #jason is a fenton #danny fenton you are the father! #sheila haywood is a liar #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc writing prompt

[dasenergi-diary]

Thanks for the tag, @africanmorning!

Favorite Pseudonym: Das Energi is the one I have used for 20+ years. I even own dasenergi.com

Time Zone: Pacific

Star Sign: I am a Pisces. Here is the whole chart:

Favorite Holidays: Christmas Eve & Halloween. I’d like to celebrate Groundhog Day more, send Groundhog Day cards, have a Groundhog Day party.

Last Meal: Geronimo and I went to Modica’s Deli in Long Beach and I had a cold veggie sandwich with fresh mozzarella, roasted bell peppers, tomato, lettuce, pesto, oil & vinegar, and pickles. And I drank an iced mocha latte. I really should have breakfast.

Current Favorite Musician: I have been listening to @autumnluzarts a lot lately.

Last Music Listened to: Eartha Kitt, “Under the Bridges of Paris”

Last Movie Watched: Godzilla Minus One

Last TV Show Watched: For All Mankind

Last Book Finished: Francesca Lia Block, “The Hanged Man”

Last Book Abandoned: Do I ever truly abandon any book I haven’t finished yet? I fully expect to finish all of them some day. But the most recent book that has been sitting on my nightstand unread for weeks is, “The 21 Lessons of Merlyn: A Study in Druid Magic & Lore”

Currently Reading: Umm… “The 21 Lessons of Merlyn: A Study in Druid Magic & Lore”?

Books/Shows/Movies you want to get around to: Books - Oh, I have several on my to-read pile for 2024. Partciularly a few gay romance novels. I also want to re-read all of Francesca Lia Block's Weeztie Bat books. But I promised @teenakp I would read Terry Pratchett’s “Nation” next. Shows - I am eager to watch Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij’s “A Murder at the End of the World”. Movies - I am planning to rewatch all of the original Sean Connery James Bond movies. Followed by all the Indiana Jones movies. Or maybe it's the other way around.

Last Thing Researched: I looked up the lyrics to Eartha Kitt’s “Under the Bridges of Paris”. Does that count?

Last Thing Learned: Ummm… that “Under the Bridges of Paris” is totally about having sexy times under the bridges of Paris, just as I expected it to be. (It was the B-Side to Eartha Kitt's “Santa Baby” 45 RPM vinyl.)

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: Umm… Neil Gaiman reblogging one of my posts? Leslie Jordan congratulating me on publishing my first book?

Favorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Have A Resurgence: I expect I’ll probably rewatch “The OA” after watching Brit Marling and Zal Batmanglij’s “A Murder at the End of the World”. It's been awhile since I rewatched it. I wonder what it will be like this time.

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" But You Wish It Did: Heck, I am surprised that “For All Mankind” even has a small fandom at all. Most things I like aren't very popular. But two shows that come to my mind. Back in 2020 Alex Garland had a great sci-fi show on Hulu called “Devs”. It deserved a bigger following when it aired. And more recently, there was a great French/Japanese show on Apple TV based on a manga about wine tasting called “Drops of God”. I wish it had a bigger following… I wanted people to talk to about it when the new episodes were airing weekly.

Tempting Project You Don't Have Time For: I know I have a follow-up to my book “Rewrite the Stars” inside of me. Like a do-over. I put so much of myself into that one and it never caught on. I had higher hopes for it. As an artist I try to push on the accepted norms of our medium — new ways of thinking, seeing, experiencing. But society doesn’t know how to approach things it doesn’t understand. Constantly feeling misunderstood isn’t very motivating. Why put so much time and effort into something that no one will read? The follow-up lives in my mind, and right now that is good enough for me. Who has time to write another book? I'd rather sleep and dream.

Tempting Project I've Given In to: Out with the old, and in with the new. I have been going through the house and garage getting rid of things I haven't used or doesn't resonate with me anymore. For example, I donated seven boxes of books to the Friends of the Library. But there is still a lot in this house I need to sort though. My current project is the garage. Next will be the closet.

Tagging: @persepinesascent and @teenakp if you are in the mood for it.

#asks

[grumpy-zane]

(( Watched all of Ice chapter for the world building. got a little derailed, but kept to it for the most part. Here are my observations below:

Episode 1

Heavily mountainous, and snowy. High elevation, yet no icebergs.

layer of clouds, presumably blocking out the sun?

HEXAGONAL FORMATIONS, meaning Basaltic. AKA: highly volcanic.

Trees have a root structure akin to mangrove trees. Perhaps it was marshland beneath the freeze?

Wolves are dark. The marshland must also be pretty dark, they have not adapted their coat to match the camo of the snow

The inhabitants have blue garb with Red highlights. Foliage or perhaps shell-based dyes? Trade?

Live in a place surrounded by mountains, with a large pond inside. Caldera?? very large caldera?

Dark ice is sort of like mirrors.

Episode 2

Pass from the lake village to the castle, called 'mala-wojira', or Wojira's Wrath. Culturally believed that she is the one that causes avalanches. The place is highly reactive to noise/motion.

The sun is not fully blocked, at least when it is setting. Therefore, the clouds are only overhead but not too far wide.

Clouds not present at night.

people made of ice fully, some just mind controlled. ice controlled. very funny.

Episode 3

'There can be no ice without water' WRONG, Solid Nitrogen GO

I love Nya's temper. hwaaaa. She and Kai both hate being dead weight

Not all inhabitants of the realm are formlings, in fact there's some worry that they are cursed, or at least the formling village vex came from. -The magic ice can spread from those who are under its spell to non-cursed

Episode 4

UV being a fan of Lou is very funny, yet I am sure she is not the only one.

Fugi-dove's first appearance.

Kais eyes are more yellow than Nyas. Coles eyes are grey or black? hard to tell. Jays are blue ofc.

Pixal is OP.

Episode 5

Giant bird is part of the normal fauna of the realm.

Zane making note that he feels as though he has been there for quite some time, though this may allude that he was not the emperor for very long. However, this contradicts the idea that the village lady planted, in that its been cold for a stupid long time. (Decades)

Episode 6

Cole your anxiety dreams… This seems to be something he has normally. :(

THATS A LARGE TOOTHBRUSH. Jay by far must have the best dental hygiene.

Nyas struggle answers an interesting question, in that understanding similar elements is a thing that's inherently hard.

It is known in the village that travelers occasional 'stop by' and get leaves from the travelers tree to leave. This may be why they aren't so inquisitive of their sudden appearance.

It takes the wind out of Cole to do some terraforming.

Episode 7

CRAIG. ohh my god the flowers on the burial mounds probably are where the blue dye comes from.

There's small little crab apple looking things in the realm. They smell bad.

The Ice samurai have hunted the Craig species for sport. The Craig Species is an herbivorous fauna.

Travelers Tree. it creates its own heat, as well as being in a place far above the cloud line. needs Regular sunlight. Flowers are buttercup shaped, and the apple-like fruits come from it. Presumably, the tree also smells bad. I don't know why the tea is made of flower pedals, you tell me. Floral Tea I suppose.

Episode 8

'Legion of Grimfax', named after the captain. the legions are divided by generals. Assumedly, there's only one?

There are still no glaciers. There's a lot of frozen bodies of water. I have to assume that it rains a lot, or did rain a lot at some point, which also explains the marshland further down.

The shape of the rock construct is very similar to the shape of the Guardian in the Birchwood forest. Also made of Basalt.

Episode 9

Apples are native to the realm.

Chickens, bears, falcons, wolves, elk, Rabbits. (Formling types)

Vex' failure to find his animal form was 'a long time ago'. Perhaps Zane really wasn't the ice emperor for too long, due to Vex just being kind of the only icified guy. If the natural state of winter in the never realm allows for greenery, then it must not be a super cold winter.

Formling ritual includes a travel in silence, as well as a chase to ones own animal. It's granted to the formling once said formling catches their animal. Perhaps Vex did not catch his, it probably didnt show up for he is 'not worthy'. The Ritual also seems to only occur in the winter(?)

There is a type of purple berry as flora as well, in the form of a bush.

Boreas is the one who doomed the formlings. It is good to note that the ice does not kill, but freezes.

Zane and Vex did not have an army until recently it seems. He and Vex brough boreas, but no others.

Episode 10

There are a lot of large ribcages. What large fauna have been killed? large quadropeds of some sort?

The castle probably existed long before Zane inhabited it. I wonder who made it in the past?

Episode 11

The Realm tea opening to Chima Beavers. Mystake made the travelers tea recipe.

Very interesting that tea leaves open to any realm. First Realm, Chima, Underworld, Cloud Kingdom, Departed Realm.

THE DEPARTED REALM!!! Its Green and dark, perhaps the preeminent's existence there has warped parts of it.

Speaking of the Preeminent, she appears to have the whole realm inside of her. When she died, she appeared in the departed realm, though is still the embodiment of the cursed realm. Is she smaller than she was before?

Episode 12

The castle is the king of the realm(?) the samurai are clad in Red.

Zane seems surprisingly level headed when using the scroll. However, he seemed to struggle slightly to put it down.

Zanes 'I feel like I have been here a long time' does not make sense given how quickly he just spawned in the realm, but perhaps he is temporally displaced and is feeling the effects of said displacement.

Episode 13

Zane seems rather adamant on not killing. Its strange that his ice isn't killing.

Corrupted Ice behaves like Vengestone. Perhaps Vengestone is Corrupted Earth.

The Ice samurai are not fully 'evil', or rather fully mind controlled. At least, not the general.

Episode 14

'Lava Zombies' the name of an old arcade game made my Milton Dyer

Craig is 8 ft tall.

Zane spends a lot of time sleeping. perhaps constantly using his element is doing a number on him.

Episode 15

the berries are more potent than the tea leaves.

#ninjago #ns11 #stuff to think about. I feel like it could be cool of the area was more volcanically active #mun rambles

[gingerel]

matchablossom | summer '13 - part three

You can kiss me.

It’s been almost a week since Kaoru said the words, a week where they’ve spent every day together, like normal, and yet there has been no kissing. Away from the exhilaration of Kaoru’s declaration Kojiro hasn’t quite been able to muster the confidence.

He can feel Kaoru looking at him, almost all the time, his gaze heavier than normal, a touch of confusion touching his brow. Kojiro is confused by his own inaction too, but he just can’t seem to make himself do it.

The air conditioning in the conbini is almost too cold, prickles goosebumps up along Kojiro’s arms. He picks out chips for himself, then grabs the cherry-cola ice pop Kaoru demanded out of the chest freezer. The cashier eyes him suspiciously, probably because he forgot to leave his board outside by the bench Kaoru and has it tucked under his arm, so Kojiro pays as quickly as he can, not bothering to force a polite conversation like he normally would.

“Here,” Kojiro says a minute later, tossing the ice treat onto Kaoru’s lap with little warning.

Kaoru flinches, glaring at Kojiro even as he tears into the plastic with his treat. He blows the torn piece out of his mouth and right onto the floor, completely unfazed by the look Kojiro gives him over the offence.

“You didn’t get one?” Kaoru asks.

Kojiro shakes his head, chip packet crinkling as he tears it open. He wasn’t in the mood for sweet, not while he was in the store. But he watches as Kaoru sets his treat into his mouth, lips pursing around it as he sucks the already melted liquid free from the plastic and the chip Kojiro pops into his mouth tastes like nothing.

“What?” Kaoru snaps, though his usual brusque tone is garbled by the sliver of red ice on his tongue.

You can kiss me.

Kojiro takes the point of Kaoru’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting Kaoru’s face towards him and holding him place. Kaoru’s mouth pops open a little in surprise, or maybe to scold him but it just makes it easier for Kojiro to kiss him. To press against him firmly, then sweep in with his tongue when Kaoru makes a low, soft noise and starts to kiss him back.

Kaoru lips are cold, but they’re soft. He tastes more of cherry than he does cola but all of that vanishes after a few long minutes, tangled up on this bench coated in peeling paint with the sound of the conbini door swishing open and closed just several feet away. Kojiro’s chest feels tight, like something huge and heavy is sitting on it.

He pulls back to suck in a breath.

Kaoru’s eyes, when they open, are heavy lidded, the blush across his cheeks is so, so beautiful Kojiro could almost cry for looking at it.

“I thought you changed your mind,” Kaoru whispers.

“No,” Kojiro says. I’m just a coward.

Kaoru leans forward and the beat of nervous hesitation before he touches their mouths together makes Kojiro want to peel his skin off for the penance of putting that doubt into Kaoru’s head.

“Kaoru, what are we—”

Kaoru’s more confident this time when he interrupts Kojiro with his kiss.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kaoru blurts, words running together. “Can’t we just—while it feels good, we can just—you know.”

Kojiro nods, pulling him in for another kiss, softer this time, full of all the things he’s just been told not to say. They stay there, doing little more than kissing, while the sun beats down on them and Kojiro tries not to drown in the agony of a time where one or both of them doesn’t think this feels good anymore. It’s a blissful sort of pain, quiet and still for how huge this feels to Kojiro’s racing heart.

They keep going, hands and mouth eager until Kaoru’s ice pop fully melts all over his fingers and he pulls away, lips red, to demand Kojiro buy him a new one.

#matchablossom #sk8 #kojiro x kaoru #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #myficlets #sk8shorts

[circusgoth-dotcom]

An Angel in Greasepaint

Ship: Sweet Tooth x Corey Wynona Ozbourne

Word Count: 1325

Summary: The first time Corey and Sweet Tooth met. After a massive internet blackout, the world has been thrown into an apocalypse, where it's every motherfucker for themself if you don't live in a protected city. Corey Ozbourne hasn't quite adapted to the new world, but Sweet Tooth is a natural. CWs for fainting, thievery/mugging (not described), brief violence, unsanitary mentions, murder mentions.

Tag List: @canongf @futurewife

A hazy sky and blinding sun swam before Corey’s vision as he lay in the not-so-middle of the Nevada desert, barely conscious as a handful of people rifled through his belongings. It had only been a few months since the blackout caused the world to shit itself, but it was easy to lose track of time. Factions were beginning to form between the like-minded individuals exiled from the walled-off utopias, reserved for the “peak” of what was left of society.

Currently, Corey was being mugged by Vultures, human scavengers who would take what they could get- either by happenstance or force. Luckily for them, it seemed the pale man with cracked glasses carrying nothing but a backpack had been out of commission for some time now. Easy prey.

Unluckily for them, they weren’t aware of the rapidly approaching ice cream truck until it was practically on top of them, a merry tune playing from the prominent speaker situated at the front of the vehicle. They scattered as bullets cut through the heat and pierced flesh, and they wouldn’t stop running until the driver of the ice cream truck was sure their vehicles were out of sight. As darkness crept at the edges of Corey’s sight, the truck came to a halt and the driver exited. The last thing he would see before he fully faded was the large form of what he swore was a clown.

When he came to, he was lying in a dusty hotel room, a metal fan weakly oscillating back and forth in the corner with a distinct squeak. His head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and for the moment all he could do was blink up at the strangely pink ceiling and absently trace the duvet under him.

“Oh good, you're not dead,” a rumbling voice dragged his attention toward the doorway of the room. There, an intimidating man dressed in a clown mask and a leather harness stood, carrying a large jug of water. “I have no idea how clean this is, but you should probably drink it.”

The clown approached the bed and helped Corey sit up when he realized they weren’t going to move on their own. As the jug was settled into their hands, they quickly fumbled to open it and began to chug. Once their head began to clear, Corey set it aside, gasping.

“If I’m not dead… then surely I’m hallucinating…” He spoke through laboured breaths. The clown laughed.

“I assure you, I’m the real deal. Sweet Tooth’s the name,” he offered a wide hand encased in a black leather glove, though the palm seemed stained by an oddly red substance. Corey hesitantly shook it and opened his mouth to respond, only to violently sneeze.

“Jesus-- sorry, ‘m Corey…” He sniffed, reluctantly wiping his nose on the back of his arm. He winced as he brushed against a fresh sunburn.

“Ooh, that’s a cool name. Like that one guy in that band. But anyway, forget that.” Sweet Tooth proceeded to sink into the end of the bed as he spoke, “What are you doing out here? You don’t strike me as very experienced, but you’re not a shitstain on the road yet, so you’ve gotta have something more to you than noodly arms and a bad sunburn.”

“I’m not. Experienced, that is. Don’t ask me how I’ve survived this long, I couldn’t tell you. One minute, I was stocking shelves in some shitty Midwest grocery store. Next, people were losing their minds because technology went to pot. I got on a bus somewhere and ended up out here. As you can tell, it’s not my natural climate.” He took another swig of the water, frowning.

“Hey man, at least you’ve been out in the world, experiencing things. I’ve been in a goddamn cell for most of my life.” Sweet Tooth clapped Corey’s shoulder amicably, which seemed to jolt him toward some sort of sense as an alarmed expression replaced his previous one.

“So, er, what’s with the get-up?” He tried casually, scanning the room for exits. Nowhere was safe anymore, and certainly no one could be trusted. Not even a strange clown man who saved you from being picked apart by vultures and gave you water of questionable quality. Sweet Tooth rose from the bed, cocking his head to the side and scratching at his ear.

“Y’know, it was just kind of something I happened upon.” He ran his fingers over his mask. “It’s the real me.” A pause occurred as he stared off into the distance, chest heaving slightly. Keeping his grey eyes locked on Sweet Tooth, Corey inched further down the bed, planning on sprinting for his life. They froze when he spoke again. “Besides, who’re you to judge, running around looking like a rejected Hot Topic model?”

Corey’s face burned, and for once it wasn’t because of the sun. “That’s really rude, dude. This makes me happy, don’t be so quick to judge-- I wasn’t trying to grill your appearance just now, was I, fucker?”

Sweet Tooth was physically taken aback, his hand falling on his chest. “Geeze… well, now I see how you’re getting by. That tongue of yours is a weapon on its own.” Even with the exaggerated mask, Corey could hear the grin in the clown’s voice. “Y’know, I could’ve killed you out there. In fact, I didn’t even know you were there, I was focused on getting those damn Vultures out of my territory, and maybe checking out what they were so interested in. Turns out it was just some dehydrated punk- you.”

There was a pause that made Corey bite his lip. He was on the edge of the bed now, mere feet between him and the doorway of the hotel room. What were his chances of surviving if he dipped now?

“Do you kill a lot of people?”

Sweet Tooth stepped closer to them. They could almost feel his breath behind the mask.

“What do you think, Corey?” He asked seriously.

They examined the man in front of them, with his blood-stained gloves and leather harness. He could break their back like Bane if he really wanted to.

“Yes.” They answered plainly. Sweet Tooth rubbed the chin of his mask in a thoughtful manner.

“I like you. Listen, I can’t guarantee you’ll be safe if you stick by me, but you’ll definitely learn a lot. And your risk of heatstroke will probably decrease. Probably. Oh, and this’ll sweeten the pot! Stay right here.” With that, Sweet Tooth bustled off, leaving Corey bewildered. They picked up the jug again, pacing themself as they drank away the aches in their body and waited for the clown to return.

When he did, he was carrying Corey’s bag. “I saved what was left of your stuff! Wouldn’t you rather stay here, in Sin City itself, with somewhat steady access to food and comfortable bedding, than to spend your time scrounging around, fighting with the Vultures on the road? Do you even have a car??”

Though they were still wary about Sweet Tooth’s intentions and sanity, they had to admit he had a point.

“We’re in Vegas?”

“Hell yeah! You weren’t too far from reaching the strip when you, presumably, collapsed.”

Corey weighed the options in his mind before finally sighing. “Well, you’re right about me not having a car… you’re sure there’s food here?”

“Plenty of stuff that doesn’t expire until next year! Though I might avoid the frozen stuff if I were you.”

“And you're willing to share your ‘territory’ with… me? A nobody who you would’ve killed without a second glance on any other day?”

“Take the offer while I’m extending it, pal, because that possibility isn’t necessarily off the table forever.”

“Alright. Thank you for the water, roomie.”

Sweet Tooth seemed to glow with the term. “Roomie. This is going to be so much fun! I can’t wait for you to meet Harold!”

#self shipping #self shipping community #self insert #self insert x canon #self x canon #self insert oc #oc x canon #gay self ship #trans self ship #circus scripts #🍦The Greatest Show of The Apocalypse🍦 #🥤🤡.s/i

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Possessive Behavior Masterlist

Ab Aeterno (ao3) - shibesvevo

Summary: An end. A crash. A chance to correct Phil Lester’s biggest mistake: loving Dan Howell.

Or, where they get involved in a car accident and travel back seven years earlier. Or, the one where Phil looks at Dan and thinks, "God, the places we'll go."

Apple of His Eye (ao3) - sundaechii

Summary: "It shouldn't have turned this way." Tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice trembling. "I thought it was only a rumor." He continued, staring in horror at the blood splattered on the floor.

Floor 6 is a restricted floor with one security personnel that changes every few days. Everyone says that it is haunted and Dan and his friends made a mistake of going there.

Belongs to the Bad Boy (ao3) - ReallyPham

Summary: Dan Howell, the new kid, the bad boy who smokes pot, causes trouble just for the hell of it, and doesn't give a shit about who's hearts and/or bones he breaks. Someone caught his eye though, Phil Lester the shy emo kid who is named the 'Loner' of the school... Dan is intrigued by him. Dan is going to do whatever he has to to have Phil be his and only his... Dan gets what he wants... And he's going to get Phil... No matter what. *this story contains many plot twists and sudden changes of the main problem/main plot of that chapter*

blow me (a kiss) (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: - i wanna play with you a little more, is that okay? and phil nods his head before he’s even fully registered to the question, yes please

Firecracker (ao3) - AnnaSepulchre

Summary: You step on the sparks (You get in the way)

On days when his head wasn't loopy with heat and groggy with sleep, he would think of moving his hands to loop around Dan's neck to drown him.

Five Times Dan Got Jealous… (ao3) - JenCollins, WordsAblaze

Summary: …And the one time jealousy was the last thing on his mind, ft. collabs, puppies, misunderstandings, unbuttoned shirts, twitter selfies, and a happily ever after. Enjoy!

Good Luck Boy (ao3) - dannihowell (anotherdaughter)

Summary: Born of a prostitute, Dan never expected anything better for himself, until he met Phil.

Hands (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil thought he was done learning things about what he liked in bed, until he started paying attention to Dan's hands.

Hands Off (ao3) - doctorwatsonofhogwarts

Summary: While out in a bar celebrating Phil reaching one million subscribers, Dan gets overly jealous and strangely possessive when a fan starts flirting with Phil.

Ice Cream, The Beach, And Teasing Gone Wrong (ao3) - JenCollins, WordsAblaze

Summary: Dan and Phil love teasing each other but things can go wrong when they go outside, especially when jealousy, self-doubt and unstoppable love are involved... Enjoy!

Love Lead Us Here (ao3) - AnnaSepulchre

Summary: "Sorry, I promise I wasn't watching you sleep or anything creepy like that." 2009 - Dan kidnaps Phil. Phil's POV.

A repost from my old account to my new account, so if this looks familiar, you've probably read it before.

Phanthony (ao3) - toomanyboats

Summary: What happened after their videos.

Photoshoot (ao3) - auroraphilealis (peachrayne)

Summary: Seeing Dan model his clothing for the new AmazingPhil merch proves to be too much for Phil, who can’t quite bring himself to care that they’re in public.

Stockholm Syndrome (ao3) - casanddeanforever

Summary: Dan is kidnapped by a mysterious man named Phil.

The Heat Of The Water And The Heat Of Our Souls (ao3) - kuwuromi (aphrodeity)

Summary: Dan and Phil have been best friends for as long as either of them can remember. One night in a jacuzzi changes the entire dynamic of their relationship, starting with some fond memories of the past.

The Sexual Fantasies Outfit (ao3) - blissedoutphil

Summary: Based on that one instagram story of Dan being a hoe on main lmao

We Make Our Own (ao3) - queerofcups

Summary: Dan’s Name stretches from the outer edge of his shoulder, across his clavicle and stops just above his heart.

It’s not Phil’s name. Never has been. Never will be.

Wrapped Around His Finger (ao3) - Spring_Haze

Summary: Phil finds himself feeling a bit insecure and even jealous when his new boyfriend receives a flood of attention from men and women alike. Dan, who has agreed to keep their relationship a secret, finds it harder and harder to appear single. Phil sees another male hitting on Dan and feels the need to make their commitment known to others.

#phanfictioncatalogue #phanfiction #phanfic #phan #masterlists #angst #possessive #possessive masterlist

[lswro2-222]

Magicked Away

I saw this post from @ilovecharile last night and couldn’t help myself, so here’s a short piece inspired by their Forgotten AU concept!

Bill and Ben pulled into the yard at Brendam Docks and found Edward, resting in a siding. Their search had been entirely fruitless. Every engine they’d asked about BoCo so far was acting like he never even existed. They figured if anyone would tell them the truth, it’d be Edward.

“Hey, Edward,” they said together as they whistled in greeting. Edward smiled and whistled back.

“Hello, Bill and Ben,” he replied. “You look like you’ve got something on your minds.”

“We do,” said Bill.

“Why is it we haven’t seen BoCo recently? Is he away being mended?” Ben asked.

Edward was puzzled. “Who’s BoCo? Do I know him?”

The China Clay twins were shocked. They hadn’t expected that response from him at all.

“Of course you know him, Edward!” Ben said. “Y’know, the big green boxy diesel?”

“He runs the branch line with you! He has for years!” Bill added. “When you had that accident with your crankpin, he filled in for you while you were being mended, remember?”

“You told us exactly what kind of a diesel he is when we first met him!” Ben continued.

“Did I? And what is he, then?” Edward said with a grin, not fully believing them.

“He’s a… oh, no, I don’t remember,” said Ben. “I think it’s… Cosmopolitan Bickers?”

“Silly,” Bill said, “he’s a… a… Neapolitan Snickers!”

Edward chuckled. “Is this an engine or an ice cream flavor you’re talking about?”

“No, no, it’s…”

“It’s…”

The twins gasped as they remembered the words at the same time.

“Metropolitan Vickers,” they chorused. “BoCo’s a Metropolitan Vickers!”

“Hmm, a Metropolitan Vickers… big, green, and boxy…” Edward thought for a moment, then his face fell. “You wouldn’t be thinking of a Metropolitan Vickers Diesel Electric Type 2, would you?”

“Yes, yes! That’s it!” the twins peeped hopefully.

“I’m sorry, you two, but I’m fairly certain that there’s only one of those engines left. That class had a lot of mechanical problems, and the Other Railway has never been kind to engines like that. If your friend was one of that class, he’s probably long gone by now.”

Bill and Ben gasped. They were horrified. How could Edward say such a terrible thing?

“N-no, he doesn’t belong to the Other Railway, he, he belongs to the Fat Controller,” Ben stammered. “The Fat Controller doesn’t scrap his engines, you told us so.”

“Right! So he can’t be gone,” Bill went on. “He has to be around here somewhere, he has to…”

“I am sorry,” repeated Edward. “If there was an engine like that on the island, he was probably sent away for some reason years ago. And if he was, then…”

Ben suddenly went red in the face, and Bill began to tear up. “If you’re trying to get back at us for something we did, it’s not funny, Edward!” Ben shouted.

“How can you not remember BoCo?” Bill cried. “You share a shed with him!”

“He’s the only one you let call you ‘Ted’!”

“You love him!” The twins shouted in unison.

Now it was Edward’s turn to go red, first from shock, then from fury. He glared daggers at the twins. “You two should know better than to joke about things like that,” the old engine said coldly. “My feelings for other engines are a private matter. I don’t appreciate you making up stories like that about me.”

“B-but Edward, we-“

“That’s enough,” Edward interrupted. “Find your trucks and go back to the clay pits.”

“But-“

“GO,” he said firmly, and he wheeshed steam at them.

The twins were shocked. Edward had gotten cross with them before, but he’d never once wheeshed them. Bill and Ben looked down at their buffers and slowly backed away from the old blue engine. Edward watched like a hawk as they silently collected their trucks and headed back up the line as they were told. Once the pair were out of sight, he sighed and let off another cloud of steam in frustration, then went back to his own work.

As the twins rolled along the rails, Ben broke the silence.

“… Bill?”

“Yeah, Ben?”

“Do you remember the day we met BoCo, and we didn’t know what diesels were, so we thought he’d magicked our trucks away?”

“Yeah, I remember…”

“Do you think… do you think maybe he got magicked away?”

“At this point, that’s the only thing that would make sense...”

#my own writing #edward ttte #bill ttte #ben ttte #forgotten au #with a little edward x boco added in for extra angst points! #sorry if the formatting’s weird #ttte

[wiildcardd]

The Guardian of Mount Suzuka - Otakemaru

Well, here it is! Thought I'd finally detail how I'll be portraying my mountain shark Yokai. I'm going to be sticking with most of the Onmyoji canon but adding a little bit of my own flair into it just to spice things up, considering it's been about a year and Otakemaru hasn't had any new tidbits added to his story since his SP event.

PS: Forgive me for how messy this is, I wasn't sure how to format it so I'm just gonna bullet point it all XD

Choosing to remain in the mortal world, Otakemaru remains in Mount Suzuka, keeping watch and protecting the mountain even after his death. In a constant battle within his body, the many vengeful spirits that now comprise his body leave him in a constant battle to control the vessel that he now resides in and even with this in mind, he intends to honour the memories of his once beautiful home.

In this constant battle to maintain control of his mind and body, those few who choose to come to Mount Suzuka to pay respects or offer mourning gifts will find an Otakemaru who is sane and able to converse for a short while, a semi-possessed Otakemaru who is silent and brooding but nonetheless accepts the gifts, or a fully consumed Otakemaru who aggressively interacts with anyone who steps into the Mount Suzuka boundary.

If you've watched the full SP CG movie, you may see an ice statue of the original Otakemaru in front of the Torii gate that leads into the frozen beachfront. That is the boundary in which Otakemaru can walk up to without becoming a wisp. Those who step foot into the boundary must present themselves as a friend or Otakemaru will attack them, the ferocity of which depends on his mental stability and his level of possession.

For one day in a year, the spirits within Mount Suzuka and the corruption subside, allowing Otakemaru full control of his thoughts and allowing small respite from the infighting within his vessel. He still cannot leave, but in this fleeting moment of silence, he climbs to the peak of the mountain and meditates. One day, he hopes that the splendour of his old home will shine once more... But one eventually has to wake up from such dreams.

Because he is on his own pretty much all of the time, it leaves him susceptible to succumbing to rage and anger which the spirits in him cry out for. Those who come back consistently to check up on him helps greatly in him maintaining his sanity. He will still be very upset and gloomy, but he can be courted. Otake might not show it at first, but this means the world to him.

He can be taught to control his anger and these spirits, but alone it's incredibly difficult. Having someone there with him keeps the spirits at bay, and while they may peak through the seams, he's strong enough to wrestle them back as long as the person with him keeps him calm.

Finally, when someone comes to visit, he will often want to know their stories and why they chose to come to his mountain. Maintaining conversation for longer does keep him happy, and it spites the spirits who probably want to do more than just converse with an individual.

#♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━This is the place I call home. I'm not going anywhere ❪ Otakemaru ❫ [STUDY] #♡ ˙ * ✧ ━━This is the place I call home. I'm not going anywhere ❪ Otakemaru ❫ [MUSINGS] #/HNNNGH IT'S HERE AOSIDFUAI

[yangkitties]

bros before hoes ✰ chapter 04: Big Reveals

wc: 0.6k

Walking through the bright flashes of the cameras unfazed is child’s play to Sunghoon. After years of this in the rink, and some more of it as an idol, it’s practically second nature to him. 

He smiles and waves a few times, fangs hidden behind his mask. He’s glad for the mask, it made hiding his anxious energy a lot easier. 

Sunghoon had never been the best at meeting new people. Locked up either on the ice or in a studio, he was used to the sound of his movements and breathing being his only company. 

He walks into the building quickly, his manager ushering him in. He’s dragged through the white halls, feet on autopilot. 

His brain wanders on its own, conjuring up more and more unrealistic scenarios. 

What if it is actually Tsuki? What if I trip in front of her??? And if it isn’t?? Then what? Should I make friends with them? Should I ask them to help me win over Tsuki?? What if I call them by the wrong name?? What if I pour coffee all over them????? 

A wall of thoughts begin to build itself in his mind, each word adding to the wall’s height. Sunghoon frowns deeply, mind wandering farther and farther away. 

Everything crashes down as his chest hit’s Manager Na’s arm. He finally sees the door in front of him, a cutesy label reading ‘NEW MCS’ adorning the top. 

He looks at Manager Na curiously, finally opening the door when he nods. 

Deep breath, Sunghoon. As his slender fingers wrap around the door handle, the icy coldness of it grounds him. 

Pushing it open, Sunghoon is greeted to a small room with a couple mirrors and some couches. In front of the only window in the room, he spots someone sitting, looking out the glass. 

They turn around, and the sun forms a gentle halo around their face, highlighting the person’s radiant smile. 

For a second Sunghoon’s heart sky rockets, hoping it’s Tsuki. Instantly his hopes are shattered as your face comes fully into view, still adorned with a smile. 

For a full heartbeat you stare at him, drinking in each other’s presence. And then it hits Sunghoon, and both your faces morph into an expression of understanding. 

The creaking of the door cuts through tension, as Manager Na begins to leave, ‘I see you both probably know each other! Sunghoon, I’ll get going, I have somethings to discuss with Manager Choi, introduce yourself,’ the door is almost closed at this point, his face just a sliver of its full self, ‘and for the love of all the is under the sun, do not embarrass our company. See you!’ 

Sunghoon huffs before making his way to you, awkward and shy. 

You watch him intently, brain spinning in and out of focus. You take him in all his glory, his lanky legs and doubtful smile, memorising his every feature. You notice that he’s playing with his fingers, twisting one of the rings, taking it out and putting it back on. 

He clears his throat and raises his hand, a timid greeting. 

‘I’m Y/n, from NEXUS… I don’t know if you remember, but we met after last week’s Music Core stages?’ You ask meekly, hoping he does remember. 

He nods quickly, brown hair flopping up and down. 

You giggle quietly, and that is enough to break the ice. The conversation flows smoothly from there, the both of you exchanging niceties and also numbers. 

Soon enough Manager Na comes to pick Sunghoon up, and he’s out of your sight. 

You smile to yourself as you go back to the company, excitement for the next few months multiplying tenfold. 

prev | m.list | next

synopsis > with the help of fukutomi tsuki, park y/n finally gains the courage to face their long time crush, the one and only, park sunghoon. park sunghoon thinks it's love at first sight when he sees her. paired up as the new mcs of music bank, shenanigans ensue when y/n learns about sunghoon's crush...

note: life has been lifing too much i swear i'll try better with this posting schedule 😭 also this is double beta read so hopefully there are no mistakes :')

©️ yangkitties 2024 do not copy, plagiarise, or repost

#🎙️:bbh #enhypen #sunghoon #park sunghoon #enhypen imagine #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen fluff #sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fluff #enhypen smau #park sunghoon smau #sunghoon smau #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #sunghoon imagines #enhypen socmed au #enha socmed au #sunghoon fanfic #enhypen fake texts #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #enha smau #sunghoon social media au

[chrisbannor]

Elements of Change

Chapter Sixteen: What Can't Be Healed

Author: Chris Bannor

The river pulled Ezo further away from the city of Pramas and when he was sure they were safe from attack, he turned his attention from their surroundings to Kammon. “How bad is it?” he asked.

“It’s nothing,” Kammon said, but his words were clipped and his lips were held in a tight line. “It’ll be just another scar before long.”

“And you thought Eques Lestan didn’t like you enough to give you a parting present,” Ezo teased.

Kammon gave him a small smile and that meant something. Ezo tried to think of what to do, but he’d never been the sick type and Jacob hadn’t been the healing type. He’d learned a little from Alvrey over their travels, but not enough to fully heal something like this.

Ember left her vantage point in the sky and landed on their makeshift raft between them. That, more than anything, made Ezo feel safe. Ember wouldn’t leave them unguarded if there was a doubt about pursuit. Ezo didn’t know if Lestan would follow them later, but for now, they were clear of the danger.

He turned to face Kammon and let out a deep breath. “I can’t heal you, but I might be able to help a little,” he offered.

“I’ll be fine, Ezo,” Kammon said.

“Then consider it a favor. Alvrey has been teaching me to heal but I’ve never tried it on more than a scraped knee I got along the way.”

“It’s not necessary.”

“Really? We were attacked by an eques with a grudge against you. I’m worried he’d going to send soldiers out for us. I’d like to know that you’re ready to fight if they show up.”

Kammon stared at him but when the soldier’s eyes tightened ever so slightly, Ezo thought he might have won. “The best I could probably do is stop the bleeding anyway. Maybe take a little of the pain.”

For some reason, not being able to fully heal him seemed to be the argument that got Kammon to nod.

“When we got off this river,” Kammon agreed. “I don’t trust you not to capsize us both when you try.”

It was a weak tease, but Ezo smiled at Kammon for the effort. “I might leave you to bleed out, just for that.”

Ember butted her head against Kammon’s arm, then jumped back up into the air above them. “She’ll find us a safe place to land,” Kammon said while Ezo watched her flying high above them.

It would be pretty amazing to have an effigy like that, a purely magical creature brought into the world by the sheer existence of your power. Sometimes he forgot who he was traveling with. Others, he was painfully reminded that Kammon was an elemental of far higher abilities than he’d ever have.

When Ember found a stable landing, Ezo used the water to bring them close enough and helped Kammon onto land again. They were in a clearing that was encircled by tall grass, hidden from anyone passing through. It was a good place to land. And a good place for healing.

“Have a seat,” he ordered Kammon. The man opened his mouth to protest but Ezo reached over and pushed on his shoulder. He was in more pain than Ezo had realized, or he’d used up his reserves because Kammon went down with little resistance.

Kammon scowled at him, but Ezo put it out of his mind. Instead, he took a deep breath and calmed himself. He reached out for the magic around him, careful to pull equally on the elements. When he opened his eyes, he could see the warm light of healing that Alvrey had taught him. He was barely able to do anything with it, but he vowed to learn more now that he’d found the players again. He wasn’t going to go off on his own unprepared again.

Kammon’s eyes grew wide as he watched Ezo reach a hand to his shoulder. Ezo felt the magic rest against Kammon’s skin, then he felt the healing as it began to seep into the wound.

The ice blade had gone all the way through, but with its removal, Kammon’s shoulder had bled freely. Ezo did a rudimentary job of stitching flesh and skin back together. He felt the bleeding stop and though it would need time to heal, it was the best he could do. It would scar if Alvrey didn’t care for it, but they would be with her soon.

He took a deep breath as he looked to make sure there were no other wounds hidden from him when he felt the pull of something deeper. He was drawn towards it and he edged closer. Something dark was buried within Kammon, like a snake wrapped around his spine, constricting him at the very core. It moved with Kammon’s every breath, slithering across bone, etching itself even stronger in the man’s magic. It was terrible and yet Ezo could feel the power that flowed from it; he reached toward it, the healing light against the venomous beast that wanted to swallow Kammon whole.

Ezo’s magic came closer and as it did, he felt the beast become aware of him like it was a living breathing creature. He wanted to confront it, to rip it from Kammon’s core. As he turned his magic to the task, the darkness jumped at him.

Ezo stumbled backward, magic failing as Ember flew into him, knocking him away from Kammon. He landed hard on the clearing floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kammon demanded.

“What was that?” Ezo was too shaken to do anything but sit there, staring up at Kammon. The other man had his fists clenched and his face was pale.

“I warned you. Some things can’t be healed. Do you have any idea what you would have done?”

“No! Tell me!”

Kammon glared at him a moment before he turned away without answering. “Get up. Your healing is done and we’re leaving.”

Kammon didn’t wait for him but walked off as Ember landed on his shoulder. Ezo scrambled up, confused and exhausted from the day’s use of magic, but he had to follow. The quicker they got to Alvrey the quicker he could make sense of what he'd felt. As he got closer to Kammon, Ember turned to look at him. The falcon screeched at him, then launched herself into the air.

They walked quietly for a few minutes before Ezo couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Kammon let out a deep breath, then stopped and turned to face him. “The question is, are you? Do you feel different?”

“I’m fine,” he said. “I was worried about you. I must have hurt you for Ember to attack.”

Kammon rolled his eyes and began walking. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?” Ezo caught up with him, ready for another fight, but he was surprised when Kammon just gave him a small smile.

“Ember didn’t attack you. She was protecting you.”

“From what?”

“Something you don’t need to worry about ever again.”

“Kammon, whatever that was, it’s not good. You have to let us help you.”

“I know what you saw Ezo, and there is no healing it.”

Ezo was about to ask Kammon to explain what it was but the other man must have sensed the question coming because he stopped Ezo with another comment.

“But thank you. The healing you did on my shoulder is good work. It feels much better.”

It was an offer of truce and Ezo had spent enough time with the Disavowed to know that. If Ezo pushed it would only drive him away.

“It’ll do. Until Alvrey can heal you at least.”

They walked in silence for thirty minutes before they found the players on the road. Alvrey had returned before them. The wagon had been easy to get, however, she’d had to distract the innkeeper while Mathis and Tamis broke into their rooms to steal their belongings back.

When Alvrey took Kammon into her wagon for healing, Ezo sat on the outside, trying to relax. He wasn’t worried about Eques Lestan anymore. Pramas could empty and they’d deal with it if he had to, but the darkness creeping in Kammon’s soul haunted Ezo.

 He clutched his left hand against his chest and could almost feel the hunger as it lunged for him. What would have happened if it had touched him? There was a lot he didn’t know, but now more than ever he felt out of his element. He had to know more, and if Kammon wouldn’t tell him, he’d search the world until he found someone who would.

Author's Note:What is the darkness inside of Kammon? And will Ezo be able to get him to talk about it? I'm taking bets :P Wanna find out earlier? Check out episodes earlier at www.reamstories.com/chrisbannor

#elements of change #mm fantasy #chris bannor #lgbt fiction #lgbt fantasy

[marcholasmoth]

OSRR: 3437

last night my headache took the most out of me so i didn't write much.

today i woke up with the headache. it took several hours for it to go away and only did so after i took medicine to help.

i'm very dehydrated.

YESTERDAY, on the way out of stowe, we hit up a little breakfast place that had a tip jar which said "please support our counter intelligence" and i CACKLED and told the cashier i thought it was hilarious. we also stopped at the ben and jerry's factory! it was highly enlightening and a lot of fun. we got to go through and see a video about ben and jerry's beginnings and we walked over the production floor and finished it off with some ice cream :) it was delightful, just as the rest of the trip had been. on the way home, i was really tired, so once we hit new hampshire again, i pulled over and we took a break. i napped for half an hour, and when i woke up and saw the time, i asked joel to drive back for us. as a licensed driver over 25, it's perfectly legal in the state of new hampshire for me to sit shotgun while an unlicensed driver is practicing driving. i was tired and it gave joel a chance for prolonged highway driving, so i figured it was as good an opportunity as any. the roads were relatively empty and it was clear and sunny, and the roads were dry. good time for practice. so he drove us back to derry, and i took over to come back to the house. i went and worked with nancy for a bit, and then i went home. it was nice to be home for a little bit.

today was another exhausting day. why am i always so goddamn tired? i'm probably borderline anemic again. i'll have to ask my doctor to check again. my mom started my laundry early this morning, which i was very grateful for since i ran out of things to wear. i was able to pack clean clothes and some things to get back out of the house, and i managed to do that and get out of the house and down to work with a little time to spare, so i stopped at starbucks. the first thing i asked was if they had hazelnut back in stock. they did. i'm so happy they have hazelnut again. it was a tough month.

work was decent - kind of fun and kind of tiring, and a little sprinkle of stressful to round out the day along with a heaping tablespoon of slow. at one point we had two things happening which needed radio communication, which was annoying, but we got to see dana, so that was nice. i learned that adam loves his blanket and that sarah and ken were both delighted by their gifts, too. jey opened his secret santa gift and was bamboozled by the wrapping and the handwriting, citing both of those things as to why it couldn't have possibly been from me. 😂 but he loves his scarf, so i'm happy.

we had our game tonight, too, which was actually a dream sequence. a very traumatic one, and my character is now fully maxed out on stress markers, so she's incapacitated by her stress from recent shit. thankfully, she has someone she knew from her cadet days in the group with her now, who also happens to be a therapist, so callum will probably sit down with amelia for a bunch of long talks. poor kid. i say "kid" when she'd probably older than i am. i also haven't decided what gender callum is, but fuck it, we ball. he's chill. she needs a vacation. he's got so many problems that she needs to take care of. hopefully his friend amelia will be able to help him. i love her and im concerned for his wellbeing.

callum, he/him AND she/her, in the same sentence. i love callum.

anyway, it's bedtime and i'm happy to say that joel and i are in bed and minding our own business. i will cuddle with my stuffed animals and have a good night's sleep.

#molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #3000s #3400s #sunshine boy

[heyitssashag]

My Random 30 Things List:

1.) I’m not going to date my posts anymore. Looks like Tumblr is doing it …and I’m fully aware I’m looking pretty neurotic when I continue to do so.

2.) Yes, I got caught up with the Twitter/Tumblr joke and got the 2 checkmarks.

3.) Lately, I’ve been going through old posts editing and correcting grammar.

4.) Every night I get pretty severe anxiety. I can’t wait until morning where I’m comforted by a cup of decaf coffee and the day ahead.

5.) I used to think decaf coffee was for losers.

6.) I re-watch episodes of Friends to help my anxiety. I’m fairly certain I’ve seen every episode at least 10 times.

7.) I think a lot about what would have happened if I did ____ or should have done ____ and after a certain period of time of overthinking, I realize I’m right where I’m supposed to be.

8.) When I get really scared or go into shock, my eyesight goes dark, my ears ring loud and I get diarrhea.

9.) I always laugh at the word diarrhea.

10.) I self published a book on Amazon about learning to run or walk after illness or injury. I unpublished it because there’s so many mistakes that I’m horrified/embarrassed I never caught them sooner. So instead, I’m offering it for free on Kindle Unlimited until I have the motivation to finish editing it. No one can complain if it’s free, right?!

11.) I sometimes wonder if I was wrongly diagnosed with bipolar disorder when I’m probably autistic with ADHD.

12.) It’s taken years to get a grip on my mind and mood. It’s still a struggle but now I have cancer and pain to take up my time.

13.) I love to do stand up comedy but I have a terrible fear of public speaking. I end up forgetting my set so I use cue cards which looks super cool. 🙄

14.) Over the years, I’ve tried very hard to be a huggy person but I hate them. They’ve always felt uncomfortable for me and sometimes even painful. It got worse after my mastectomy and now with my neck issues. I don’t tell anyone that, though. I would put that in the same category as telling people I don’t like puppies and ice cream. (For the record, I do like puppies and ice cream.)

15.) I think about what happens after we die. Does everything just turn dark and that’s it? Is there a bright light? Do we get the option of hanging out earth-side and sending our loved ones messages? Do we meet some old white guy with a big long beard at the pearly gates? Do we get to see our lost loved ones again? Do we become all-knowing? Are we reincarnated to learn new lessons? I think I may write a blog post on this. So many questions. So many theories.

16.) I don’t get high much anymore. Yes, I have all these thoughts entirely sober.

17.) At some point in my life, I wanted to be an: artist, fashion designer, rockstar, photographer, music therapist, dancer, counsellor, floral designer, mother, doctor, teacher, comedian, personal trainer, life coach, athlete, fashion buyer, stylist and writer. I’ve been a couple of those things. I would have been good at maybe 2 or 3 more. I suppose it doesn’t matter now.

18.) If I was suddenly cured from cancer, I’d probably be back in school doing something that would be interesting (to me) but completely useless. Like majoring in philosophy.

19.) I regret not having proper therapy when I was younger and relying heavily on medications to “fix” me.

20.) I spent a lot of time volunteering or wanting to help others in order to ignore my own issues. I loved volunteering, though. Still do. However, there was a point where I kept myself very over-scheduled and I was stressed. I’m someone who always took on too much. Then if I got sick or burnt out, I let people down (at least, that’s how I always felt.) Which probably contributed to why I got cancer. If you can’t slow down and just “be” then your body isn’t able to have time to heal.

21.) Not being able to run like I did has been devastating.

22.) Not running has also given me the opportunity to reinvent myself which has been an interesting experience. Still figuring that one out, though.

23.) I occasionally have a nightmare about working at McDonalds when I was 16.

24.) If I was able to beam myself to any country in the world to visit, it would be a hard choice between England and Holland. Then, Ireland.

25.) I believe that love and connection are the most important things to heal most chronic conditions and many diseases. I’m not saying they’re the only things - they just rank at the top of the list. It’s hard to recover from anything, alone.

26.) I used to think a lot about aliens, alternate universes, mysticism and the occult. I don’t, now.

27.) I wish Blockbuster would make a triumphant return. Many a fun evening was spent picking out movies. I worked at a video store briefly when I was 19. Have to admit, was one of the most fun jobs I ever had.

28.) Netflix sucks, yet, I continue to subscribe. 🤔

29.) Given the circumstances, I’m doing okay. I tend to use the term, “hangin’ in there” a lot.

30.) Yes, really - I’m fine. ☺️

#random #bipolor #mentalwellness #mental health #neurotic #this is crazy #metastatic breast cancer #breast cancer #my cancer journey #cancer #ramblings #blog post

[anthonystan]

Since a lot of people seem to be climbing aboard this ship thanks to The Falcon and the Winter Soldier, I’ve tried to compile a list of sambucky fics (both old and new) that I love. And also, I am including my own stories, because what is tumblr if not a place for self-promotion?

I’ve tried to tag authors on tumblr, so if I recced your story but didn’t tag you, let me know!

TFATWS-Compliant (I need more of these btw)

Pick Me Up and Dust Me Off (T) Bucky asks Sam for a favor.

#notmycap (T)(Gen) In which Bucky fully embraces the 21st century and is a salty bitch on Twitter.

Fill the Hole in My Heart (NR) Bucky dives into the world of online dating. The girls are nice, but there seems to be something missing. When he goes to Louisiana to meet Sam and his family, he realizes what that something was.

if you leap i’ll come (falling too) (E) by @coffeeinallcaps “It doesn’t mean anything,” Sam agrees, suppressing a shudder as Bucky presses an open-mouthed kiss to his throat. He shoves his hands under Bucky’s shirt, feels the muscles of his back work. “And it doesn’t have to happen again.” But it does happen again. And again. And—

Stuck On You (You Suez, You Luez) (E) by @villa-kulla​ Sam and Bucky’s mission was simple: stowaway on a ship suspected of weapons-smuggling in the Suez, gather enough intel to report back, and hop off again in Port Said. Something gets in the way, and a day-long recon session turns into a week of chess, bickering, semi-successful movie references, and trying not to go slowly insane.

CANON-Adjacent

Lucky (T) In retrospect, it took Bucky an embarrassingly long time to realize that everyone and Scott's mom thought he and Sam were dating.

still feel the pull of you (E) After realizing there are some unexpected side effects for those who've been brought back to life after the Snap, Sam and Bucky slowly but surely learn that if they want to be loved, they must submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known [via soul bond].

safe like spring time (T) by @quididtch Sam knows Bucky feels fine. What Sam’s probably actually after is how he feels about the fact neither of them have anywhere else to go, not with Natasha dead and Steve wrinkly. Therapists. Even the good ones, always so circular.

hunger for your touch (E) by @coffeeinallcaps Of course it’s not the first thought that crosses his mind when he loses the arm, but. Well. He really did like those smooth hard metal fingers a lot, is all.

The Lion Sleeps Tonight (M) by @hypermania 5 times Sam and Bucky are forced to share a bed + 1 time they choose to.

within me, an invincible summer (E) by @notcaycepollard Sam knows Steve thought Sam’d be looking after Bucky. Turns out, those first few days, it's the other way around. Turns out, Sam was holding himself together more than he realized. Alone, Sam has nightmare after nightmare. During the day, his eyes ache with how tired he is. He forgot how bad this could get.

I’m in the Wrong Place to be Real (M) In which Bucky, Sam, and Steve learn to live together, Bucky and Sam learn to love each other, and Bucky learns to love himself.

and i run, further than before (T) Basically, the 5 times Sam actually found Bucky and the 1 time he tried to hide from him. Don't tell Steve.

Alternate Universe (clearly not my favorite genre, oops)

you touch me within and so i (know i can be human again) (E) by @notcaycepollard It’s inevitable, the way it goes. He’s my friend, Steve says, and he is, he is, he must be. Sam’s best friend is Steve, and Steve’s best friend is a werewolf, that’s just how Sam’s life works now.

double back (E) Sam gets stuck in a time loop. In 1943.

love is in the air (i smell coffee) (T) with beautiful art by @persehpone Sam Wilson - graduate student, part-time barista, part-time salesman, and full-time father - doesn't have time to sleep, much less date. At least, that's what he tells himself.

ALL CAPS OT3

Also, Nightingale (E) by @the-cimmerians Post Civil War: life in Wakanda is full of surprises. And eventually smut.

This Fledgling Thing (T) by @snarklyboojum They say 'a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush' but Sam has pretty big hands and he'd prefer the birds to keep their beaks out of his love life, thanks.

There’s My Territory (E) by @dsudis "That's the beauty of this stuff," the salesman said, tilting his head toward the display Bucky had been looking at. "Nobody knows what you're keeping under your clothes. That's between you and yourself."

sea-cold, sea-cold it certainly is (T) by @enemyofrome Bucky knows that going back on ice is for the best. Steve and Sam beg to differ. There are tears and cuddles and explosions, and some truly awful puns.

It’s a Moon Thing (E) In which Sam Wilson discovers the effects of the moon on enhanced super-soldiers and has a lot of sex thanks to it.

#sambucky #winterfalcon #sam x bucky #buckysam #bucky x sam #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #fan fiction #fic recs #sam wilson #bucky barnes #marvel