#2000's swing

[epithelium]

Sorry I can't hang out today, I'm gonna listen to every live recording of Jaipur by the Mountain Goats and compare them. Yeah it's gonna be an all day thing.

#at some point in the mid 2000's he changed the last chorus from ''swing low sweet sweet sweet chariot'' #to ''swing low swing slow swing low sweet chariot'' #so

[hellishjoel]

cherry 

7.6k / pairing: dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3 pt. 4

summary: Joel invites you over for a movie night with your parents and Sarah out of town. How are you supposed to focus on the film with his hand on your thigh? 

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, neighbor!joel, age gap (reader is in their early 20s while Joel is in his 40s), cursing, alcohol consumption, use of pet names, softdom! Joel AND dom!Joel (restraint by command), oral sex (m receiving), praise kink, reader titty appreciation, super descript about Joel’s bulging biceps (we all know the picture that came out with him holding onto his luggage and I have not REST)

A/N: I wrote all of this today.. I don't know what's wrong with me. I hope you enjoy! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope these two are growing on ya'll as much as they're growing on me <33

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him.  You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder.  “You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

A few times throughout the summer, the lakehouse was yours and yours alone.  While on vacation, your parents always make it a point to go out to dinner and drinks with their old friends that lived in a neighboring town, leaving you in blissful solitude. 

You used to go with them when you were younger, too young to be left home alone. You’d hang out with their son, Nathan, on the tire swing or go swimming in their pool. 

Once you and Nathan both turned thirteen, you found that Nathan was involved in a lot of sports leagues that summer, and therefore he wasn’t going to be around much. Your parents didn’t want to punish you and force you to hang out with four grown adults all day, so they let you stay behind at the lakehouse. 

It was your first sense of freedom, taking care of yourself, having your own routine. You remember breaking into your piggy bank and riding your bike into town with Sarah that day to play at the arcade. You came back home with your lackluster arcade prizes and made mediocre hot dogs. It was a little lonely, the house often bustling with noise from your parents, but it was also serene to be alone. 

Needless to say, you were at peace to wave your parents off this morning as they backed out of the driveway and left you and the lakehouse for the day. 

Your eyes flitted over to the Miller’s. Both Joel’s pickup truck and Sarah’s used and abused 2000’s red Saturn were parked in the shade. Part of you couldn’t believe Sarah could even drive. That five-year-ish age difference felt even more profound as young adults. 

You tried to find ways to busy yourself tonight until your date with Joel. Date? Not a date. Hang out. Movie night. Meet up. Rendezvous. Literally any other word besides date. 

You needed to distract yourself because tonight was a ways away. 

You busied yourself with cleaning your room and bathroom, followed by reading on the dock. When it got too warm, you took a refreshing dip in the lake, followed by some leisurely sunbathing. After a shower, you found solace in jotting down your thoughts in your journal, channeling any residual nerves about the upcoming night.

You found that documenting your summer experiences provided you with a sense of clarity. You aimed to revisit these entries later in life, reminiscing about the intensity of your emotions. These pages held memories of your first boyfriend, the elation of passing your driving test, the ache of lost friendships, and the journey to college.

After the bonfire, before you couldn’t even think about sleeping, you were ferociously writing in your journal. The way your heart raced, the way you were so proud of yourself for taking a leap of faith with Joel. Because it was so, so worth it. 

In the decades to come, the memories you once experienced that felt so fresh would naturally fade. That’s the point of your journals, to document how deeply you felt about your life at the time. Pouring your emotions onto the page felt like tending to a wounded heart. In hindsight, those entries about sadness and turmoil elicited a little giggle. Your mom always told you that it was better to feel anything than not to feel at all. 

You wondered how much Joel felt, like, really felt. On the surface, he was as cold and unmoveable as stone. What was he like with his passions and the people he cared about? You knew he loved Sarah to an unimaginable degree. He would do anything for her. But besides his own blood, what were the things he cared about? 

After putting pen to paper, you shoved your journal under your pillow and started to get ready. You over-dicked-around, and now the clock was ticking.  

You wanted to look somewhat nice. After your recent interactions with Joel, one where you quite literally looked like you just rolled out of bed, you were keen on looking at least somewhat presentable. 

But it was a movie night, after all, and you wanted to be comfortable. You opted to wear something simple, not too date-ey, not too casual. But you did wear Joel’s hoodie. It wasn’t for any overt purpose but because Joel’s house consistently seemed to mimic an icebox. Joel struck you as someone who could thrive in Alaska, content in solitude amid the cold. 

The hoodie still smelled like him, mixed with a little residual bonfire smoke, but his scent was still deeply lodged into the fabric. A navy hoodie with fraying material around the neckline and cuffs. Well-worn and well-loved. He must have loved it enough not to take it to work because it was free of any stains and rips from what you could tell. 

You twirled your finger around the hoodie’s strings, looking yourself over slowly in the mirror. Your eagerness practically floated you over to Joel’s house, Sarah’s car now gone. She must have left for her camping trip. 

After taking cautious steps up Joel’s rickety porch, you sent a rhythmic knock against the Miller’s front door. You heard a few heavy steps on the other side, hearing a lock flip before Joel appeared in front of you.

“It’s about time, I was starting to sweat.” You said as you pulled open the screen door that divided you two before walking past him, catching his subtle eye roll as you did so. 

The house looked like the same as it did ten years ago. Lots of dark wood, a cozy living room with a fireplace, and a lamp in the corner by the window. Joel had the perfect view of the lake. You naturally gravitated further into the room to look at the water glisten as the last hits of sunshine glided over the horizon. 

“You want somethin’ to drink?” 

Your head snapped to Joel, your arms already crossed at the cooler temperature piercing through the material of your clothes. 

“Yeah, what do you have?” Your small steps trekked into the kitchen, finally taking a full look at Joel. Your face faltered at the sight of him. 

Joel had traded in his usual tattered green flannel for a nicer, cleaner denim button-up. He had on his staple worn-in jeans, and for whatever reason, he still had on his work boots. But his hair was sort of run-through, freshly showered and combed back. He looked handsome, clean, like he was trying. 

You slyly smiled at him. He seemed to quickly catch your drift, already avoiding your eye contact with a huff. “I got... Whiskey,”

“Ew, no.” 

“Root beer,”

“Nope.”

Joel let out an excruciatingly long sigh as he ducked his head further into the depths of his fridge, mumbling something about you being a piece of work.

“It’s water, or,” with a groan, he stood up from the fridge, “this bottle of wine. Probably old.” 

Old? The bottle looked nothing but. No dust, fresh label, barely chilled. You didn’t want to call out the poor man for trying to make tonight classy, but you knew Joel had purchased this bottle of wine for tonight. For you. 

If it were any other date or any other guy, you would have pushed his nose into it a bit. Teased them for caring and being so sweet. But this wasn’t any other guy, this was Joel. And if you ever tried to admit that you saw right through him, he would clam up for the rest of the evening out of his adorable bashfulness. So you let it be. For now. 

“Wine’s good.” You say casually with a little nod, trying to relax your cocky smile. Even when he turned around to fetch some old wine glasses inside the very top of a kitchen cabinet, you could tell he was satisfied with himself. Hiding a smile with his back turned. 

You pulled the bottle closer to read the label. You rolled it around in your hand, your thumb tracing the stamped lettering. Cherry wine. 

“Haven’t had a chance to eat all day, got us some pizzas,” Joel said as his head nodded to the side, following the direction to two pizzas still warm and in their cardboard box homes on the counter. 

“Can’t have a movie night without pizza.” Your voice cooed as you set down the wine to take a peak inside, seeing all of its cheesy glory. 

Joel topped off a singular wine glass, your head twisting curiously at just the one. He clinked your glass with his beer bottle, and you rolled your eyes. 

“Thanks.” You murmured, turning on your heel to grab your glass and one of the pizza boxes before walking it to his living room. 

You sat right in the middle of the couch, not giving Joel any excuse to sit too far away. 

“Scootch,” Joel said as he motioned with his beer bottle to make room on the couch. You made a little noise of disapproval toward him. 

“Mm-mm.” You shook your head.

“What?”

Your sneaker tapped the heel of his boot. 

“Take those off. You can’t relax during a movie still wearing work boots.” 

He looked a little perplexed before looking down at his boots. Probably forgot they were even on. They were practically his spare feet at this point. 

“Fine. You too.” He said as his steel toe gently nudged your sneakers in return. You softly nodded, both of you undoing your laces. Sitting on the couch arm, Joel worked to loosen one boot and then the other, hearing the methodical snap of the laces. You slip yours off with ease, picking them up by the upper heel collar and tossing them by the door. Joel just kicked his aside and sat down next to you with a thump into the cushion. 

“We’re watching Pride & Prejudice.” You commandeered the remote out of his hand, his eyebrow cocking to you in disbelief. 

“The hell is that?”

Disbelief tangled your facial expression. “You’ve never seen Pride & Prejudice?”

Joel’s cocked his head to the side, face sitting like stone. Really? 

“Do I look like the type’a guy that watches Pride & Prejudices?” 

You rolled your eyes and huffed. 

“It’s based on the novel by Jane Austen. About... literally so much. The independence of women. Societal norms relating to gender and marriage. Any of this ring a bell?” 

“I know Sarah likes it. That’s about it.” Your smile quips up as you click play. “Perfect.” 

“Do we have to?” His annoyance held no restraint. 

“This movie night is to get back into my good graces, is it not?” You asked as your body leaned away, getting a good look at him. 

Through tight lips, he held back a smile before nodding a little and turning to the opening credits. “Yes, ma’am.” 

It didn’t take long for Joel’s arm to settle around your shoulders, bringing your body into his side. His thumb was stroking the hoodie you wore, his hoodie. 

In his close proximity once again, your senses pick up on his now all too familiar scent; Woody, minty, a little bit of citrus from his body wash. He smelled good, you wonder if he wore cologne tonight or if this was his natural musk. You wouldn’t put it past Joel to naturally smell this good. He was good at a lot of things without even trying. 

A few slices of pizza and two glasses of wine later, you started to feel the weight of Joel’s unbearably heavy arm. You released yourself from him and opted to turn and rest your side against the back of the couch cushions, putting your legs in his lap. 

You hadn’t been watching the movie for the last twenty minutes. Couldn’t stop trying to subtly look at how handsome Joel looked in the flicker of the television’s light from your peripheral. You couldn’t help it. He looked so big and hot, like a lumberjack, his stupid build alone making you fold. 

You bite at the inside of your cheek as Joel’s large and warm palm gently make slow strokes up and down your calf. Your body was trying not to twitch. Your heart was thrumming in your throat. You glanced up at him again, his eyes lasered in on the television. 

“Why’d he…” Joel’s voice trailed off, bringing your attention back to the screen. 

Your eyelashes fluttered, your brain trying to get you out of Joel Fantasy World and back into the film. “Hm? What?” 

“Why’d his hand cramp like that? Why’d they film that part?” Without intention, Joel’s curiosity was evident in his question. It immediately made you smile as you watched the television again, your body slumping into his side. 

“It’s not a hand cramp, he’s flexing it. It’s the film’s interpretation of his like… emotional turmoil and struggle. His feelings are evolving for Elizabeth, though he’s trying to appear all aloof and distant towards her. But their physical connection, he can’t really hide it, y’know? He can’t hide how he feels. So he flexes his hand because he’s affected by her presence and her touch. He can’t help it.” 

Joel’s hanging onto every word you say. You’re not so sure if he’s interested in the film as much as he is in hearing you talk about it. The hand that was messing around on your calf was now trailing higher up your thigh. And flexing the higher it climbed.

Your eyes looked from his amber ones to his lips, your heart racing faster in your chest. With one hand still clutching your wine glass, you managed to swing one leg over his lap to straddle him. You folded first. You couldn’t take Joel’s achingly slow touches. 

His enjoyment was obvious in his movements, his calloused hands slowly pushing up your thighs until they landed on the security of your waist. He was gripping the hoodie in his fists, observing your silhouette. 

“This mine, too.” It wasn’t a question, he was pointing it out to you. Joel giving you his own clothes to wear was by no mistake. It was a way of marking what was his, even if it was just in his mind. 

“Mine now.” Your words were whispered, leaning down and kissing at the hook of his jawline. 

“Like you in it. Wear it a hell’uva lot better than I do.” The shift in his voice was clear, huskier, and a little touch drunk. The film’s volume seemed softer now, playing as white noise and falling abandoned. 

His words made your stomach flip, your teeth purposely grazing against his skin. The motion made his hands trail down lower to the globes of your ass, humbly squeezing the flesh with the spans of his palms. A weak moan left your lips against his ear as he planted kisses on the inner side of your neck and on your shoulder. He was so fuckin’ greedy for you. 

“Joel,” you whispered between kisses along his jawline, lips coming up to his chin as one of your hands gently cupped the side of his neck while the other clutched your wine glass for dear life. 

As soon as your lips came close to his, you faltered. And Joel could tell. 

Suddenly both of your eyes were open, soft, and holding contact. Your lips parted, but nothing came out. The only thing that actually came from you was a little sigh of disappointment, your eyes shyly flitting away. 

Joel could sense the shift, his hand coming to gently cup your cheek and bring your eyes back to his. He didn’t look mad like you maybe expected of him. 

You could feel his jaw going slack under your thumb, your mouth sucking in the side of your cheek as you sat in awkward silence. You sort of wanted to leap out of his lap and return to the movie. But he wouldn’t let you, he planted you there with his hand on your hip and forced you to look at him. You teetered your wine glass on his shoulder. 

“You wanna kiss me?” His voice was barely above a whisper, causing a few syllables to be cut out due to the raspiness. You slowly nod. A beat passes. “Why won’t ya let me then?”

This was Joel’s second or so attempt to kiss you. The first time was on the tailgate of his truck, you didn’t even think about letting him kiss you in his woodshed. 

You weren’t trying to remain mysterious or aloof, something he managed to do so naturally. You shifted in his lap uncomfortably, your eyes drifting to the window behind his head and watching the water shift in the black of night. 

“It’s not that deep, Joel. Just don’t want anyone to get attached.” You shrug and shake your head. “I don’t know, who cares?” 

“I care.” Even blasted on movie pizza and beers, he was as quick as a whip. His care wasn’t soft, it was strong. He cared like a fiercely loyal shield. 

You exhaled a deep sigh, your chest reflecting your breath as he slowly brought you back to him.

“I’m scared that I’ll like it.” The movie’s distant volume was comforting white noise to your nerve-wracked conversation with Joel. This was perhaps the most you’ve talked with him in one sitting. And about something so deeply personal, too. 

He took in what you said, slowly beginning to shake his head as his hand cupped more seriously against your jawline. 

“”t’s just a kiss.” His tone was seductive, sincere. Whispering like no one else in the world could hear. “Kiss me.”

You didn’t feel pressured, Joel was looking at you like he genuinely cared about what you had to say. About the movie, about the kissing. He bought you wine, he got pizzas, and he’s suffering through a period drama to sit beside you on his couch. Damn you, Joel Miller. 

You felt your body relax into his again, no longer cold and rigid. Your bodies meshed as you fell into the front of his chest, your hand on his neck moving up to cup his jaw. You tilted up his face and received no resistance. Just kiss him. 

You met his lips, soft and sweet, delicate and gentle. Your hand slipped from his jaw and landed absentmindedly on his chest, feeling his thumping heartbeat against your palm. 

You didn’t pull away. It was impossible. 

He tasted like mint and whiskey, with hints of residual smoke from a cigarette earlier in the day. You wouldn’t know he smoked unless you were tasting him like you were right now. 

Joel was encouraging something out of you, deep and primal, as you let the kiss deepen. He took the lead with a heady mix of softness and urgency. 

He set a scorching fire between your legs, purely drunk on his lips alone. It sent a shiver down your spine how intense this stone-like man could be. Your mouths moved with desire and rhythm, feeling an electric spark that sent your senses ablaze. 

Goosebumps had sprinkled across the skin of your arms, your once soft hand on his jaw now clutching him there and tugging lightly at his curly tendrils. You weren’t letting him go. 

Your sounds filled the room, hot and wet kisses punching the air from both of your lungs. 

A breath was shared, your forehead on his as both of your chests rose and fell together.

His eyes caught yours. More?

You gently nod. Please. 

He was back with you in a hot heat, both of you wanting, no, needing more of one another. 

He balanced a tantalizing fusion of passion and longing, a magnetic pull that had you grinding your hips down into his lap. 

The world around you faded into a blur as you felt his tongue glide across your lower lip, asking permission. Your lips easily parted, tongues dancing and melting, your hands shaking a bit in excitement. 

Joel was consuming you. His tongue marking his territory as he explored your mouth before kissing you heatedly once more. You realized that the kiss wasn’t an exploration of feelings at all, Joel wanted to languish in your taste, stake out the claim of your mouth. Taste and territory. 

 A low grunt left the depths of his throat as your hips ground over him with desperation now. You could feel his dick swelling against your ass. 

Your lips quirked up in a smirk against his, you liked that you could feel his facial expressions, and he, yours. 

Without thinking, you went to cup his face in both hands, your wine glass dropping onto Joel’s chest, and what little wine you had left was splashing his denim button-up red. He didn’t even notice. 

“Joel--, wait,” you were breathless as you pulled away, his lips moving to the open expanse of your neck instead, his arms tight around your lower back. He could care less about his shirt, or the wine, or the spare glass rolling around between your stomachs. 

You laughed breathlessly, closing your eyes as you kept your chests apart, careful not to get wine on his favorite sweatshirt next. Your head fell back, your hair fanning out as you grinned at the ceiling. 

“Joel, your shirt is stained.” You tried to point out, both of your hands clamped onto his shoulders weakly to keep him at a distance. But his lust-filled lips had a taste of you that he couldn’t replace. His teeth grazed the soft skin of your neck, wincing lightly as you let out a broken little whimper. 

“Don’t care.”

Oh my god. Fuck. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, desperate for more, but you weren’t going to let him stain one of maybe three decent shirts he owned. And with wine, you had to be fast acting. 

“Come on,” you said weakly, not even convinced yourself to break away.  “Joel, your shirt-”

“Don’t. Care.” He growled through gritted teeth, eyes hungry as you felt him lick a hot, slow stripe up your neck to your jaw. Fuck, he felt so good. 

Despite his clear lack of empathy for his shirt, you felt bad because it was your spill, your accident to try and make up to him. 

You rolled your eyes playfully and shook your head. He didn’t stop until you planted both palms against his pecs and pushed him back with little force, watching as he fell into the cushions with a lazy smirk on his face as he looked over you. Joel was drunk off your kiss. 

You found your footing on the hardwood floors, grabbing his hands and attempting to pull him up and off the couch. He playfully resisted, just kept sitting there as you weakly tried again. 

“Stop bein’ such a dick.” You huffed. His laugh filled the room, nearly startling you. It was always quite the opportunity to hear him laugh so big like that. 

“Couldn’t pull me up no matter how hard ya try.” 

“Shut up. Stand up.” You ordered with little follow-through from Joel.

He yanked his hands from yours and planted his palms onto the tops of his thighs, pushing himself off the couch and following you aimlessly to his master bathroom. 

“Do you have some hydrogen peroxide? Dishwasher detergent?”

He stayed silent but looked at you quizzically. You rolled your eyes and started looking through different cabinets. 

“Baking soda?” Cocking your head to him, he nods and disappears before returning to you with the little orange Arm & Hammer cardboard box. 

You cleared your throat and looked at him expectantly. 

“Joel, I can’t clean the shirt with you wearing it. Take it off.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you shouldn’t have been surprised to see his lips upturned in a cocky smirk. Sometimes you just wanted to smack it clean off his face. 

Fine. With a sense of ferocity, you began to take him down button by button. He lets you. He even steps closer to your body, and you try not to get distracted by him. 

“I don’t wanna be the one that messes up your nice shirts.” You murmur. 

“t’s fine.” He cups your cheek again and tries to divert your attention once more. He’s not even actively trying to kiss you, he just wants to get a rise out of you now. You’re trying not to smile at him in the reflection of his bathroom mirror. Your elbow jabs into his bare abdomen after you’ve peeled the wet material from his torso. 

“Quit it.”

“Quit what?” 

Forcing yourself to turn away from him wasn’t enough. Now he’s behind you planting kisses down the side of your neck with his hands on your waist and toying with the hem of your sweatshirt.

You had to admit being on his lap like that got you hot and bothered to the tenth degree. Now you were nursing a stained shirt and the ache in your core. 

“‘lright, fine.” Oh, thank god. You could breathe again. You were this close to caving, and caving to Joel was a losing game. 

He found a towel and wiped at his chest and torso while you blotted away with a paper towel the excess wine in his shirt. After getting out what you could, you sprinkled the baking soda over the little splashes of red and added a few drops of water to make somewhat of a paste. Now you just had to wait for it to dry and toss it in the laundry. 

You hoped you didn’t ruin the denim shirt, you quite liked how he looked in it. The blue denim complimented the soft silver in his curls, and the cuffs rolled up accentuated his biceps.

Speaking of biceps. Your eyes innocently watched him move around the bathroom shirtless. He was somewhat toned, a handsome mix of dad bod and muscle. Like a sexy lumberjack. He was big and broad, wide in the shoulders and smaller in the waist. With all the summer log chopping, his biceps were toned.  

A shaky breath left your mouth, his eyes catching yours in the mirror before you quickly looked away, washing your hands of the baking soda paste you had made. 

“It’s uh… It’s good now. Just let it dry and put it in the washer. Alone. Without anything else in there.” You quickly nodded, over-clarifying again. You braved looking at him again in the mirror. Mistake. A smug little smile that beat up your guts was laced on his lips. 

Your hand was quick to reach for the door handle, but his hand was already on your other wrist and pulling you into his front. 

“Get back here,” Your name drips off his lips, and it’s drenched in lust. 

Fuck it. 

Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, feeling his raised trap muscles under your forearms as your lips reunite with Joel’s. 

Getting that first kiss between you two out of the way was a blessing in disguise because now you knew him. You were acquainted with his lips. You liked his taste, you liked how soft he was, you liked the stubble of his beard, and you liked the way his warm palms were on you as soon as you entered his space. He embraced every inch of you, his kisses were feverish, and they left your mind in a tailspin. No one had ever kissed you like this before. 

You ducked your head down before he could stop you, kissing over his wine-spoiled chest. You kissed lower and lower before licking a slow stripe up his sternum, tasting residual cherry and sweetness from the wine. 

Your lips parted as you looked in the mirror, realizing now that he had pinned both your wrists behind your back and planted them at your tailbone. 

Your doe eyes innocently looked up at him, his face masked in desire and an appetite for you. 

“Get on your knees.” 

A breath hitched in your throat, your eyes trying to focus as you looked over Joel’s face. Your eyes fluttered down to his biceps, strong and defined with veins lining like rivers coursing along the curves as they held your wrists back. You didn’t hesitate to drop down to your knees. 

He had let go of your wrists, so you brought your hands up to undo the button of his jeans, but he tsk-ed you. 

“But I-”

“But nothing. Put your hands behind your back again.” You pouted but obeyed. You wanted to touch him. 

Your lips parted as you watched Joel pop open the button of his jeans, his thumbs lining the hem of his jeans and boxers at his hips before pushing them down to his thick thighs. His cock was already half-hard from when you were grinding on him back on the couch. 

Your breaths grew heavier, you couldn’t manage to stay in his hoodie. You peeled the heavy navy sweatshirt off, leaving you in nothing underneath, which earned sweet praise from Joel as soon as you laced your hands once more behind your back.

“So fuckin’ pretty.. Look at you.” He lightly leaned over and cupped one of your tits, massaging it in the heart of his palm and rolling your taut nipple around with his thumb. A quiet whine was elicited from your throat, face crumbling as your hands fought hard not to release themselves behind your back. 

You wanted to touch him, cup his face, hold his thighs, wrap your hand around his dick that was flush against his stomach. 

A harsher tug to your nipple left you moaning, watching as he leaned down and let a long, long dribble of spit connect from his lips down onto your chest. Your head fell back at the cool sensation, feeling it aid the heat of your breasts. 

He stood up tall again, broad and towering, as you glanced over to the mirror. The dynamic was almost charming. You on your knees for Joel, his blushing cock swelling against his happy trail. He was so handsome, so greedy. 

Without thinking, you released your hands from around your back and moved to steady yourself on his thighs. 

“Not gonna tell you again, pretty girl.” You paused and looked to Joel. “No usin’ your hands tonight. Just that dirty mouth a’yours.” His accent was drenched with lust, dripping like syrup. 

You whined as you assumed your position with your hands away, not knowing what to expect if you tried to use them again. 

You attempted to crawl closer to him, your knees practically between his slightly parted legs. 

You kissed up his inner thigh, grinning lightly at the slight taste of his sweat. Your tongue kitten licked at his balls, hearing him seethe in a breath through gritted teeth. Sensitive, a little wrinkled, lightly groomed just for you. It made you smirk that he cared enough to trim. 

You tested the waters, letting your warm mouth coat him in saliva, going from one ball to the other until they were both practically dripping. His cock was twitching for your attention, but Joel was above begging and groveling. For now. 

With devilish eyes, you looked up to him as you suckled one of his balls. He didn’t stop you, just cursed a little under his breath as his chest moved faster. You picked up the suckling from him when he nursed your sensitive, throbbing clit between his teeth and tongue. Now, it was your turn to repay the favor. 

Your lips released him with a pop, and you watched as Joel let out a breath he was holding in. His hand loosely fisted your hair in a loose ponytail atop your head, a little moan leaving your mouth as your scalp tingled with his tug. 

Your eyes closed as you worked over the other ball, suckling and licking and doing it all just to watch his cock grow angrier and more jealous of the attention. Your own spit was falling down your lips and chin, coating your breasts in a glistening sheen. 

Working without your hands, you used your core to balance yourself against Joel. Your knees dug uncomfortably into the floor. He liked watching you work to suck him off. 

You had to look to Joel for assistance, his shaft so hardened now against his stomach that you couldn’t reach. You sat up as straight as you could, Joel smirking down at you and watching you struggle for a few brief moments. “Come ‘ere, pretty girl.” He used the free hand not tangled in your locks to guide his tip down to your open mouth, your lips wrapping loosely around the head.

You made the mistake of releasing him out of habit, whimpering as your knees scrambled on cold tile to get him back to the warmth of your mouth. He opted to help you again, guiding his tip onto your red, wine-stained tongue. 

This time, you learned not to release him. Your tongue salivated his tip, swollen and sensitive. You could tell by how tight Joel clutched your hair and nearly pulled you off. 

You smirked lazily around him as you took him deeper, your watery eyes on his as you interlocked your fingers by your tailbone. 

You were slow at first, little nods back and forth, up and down his shaft. You blinked through any residual tears, slicking him up with your spit and proceeding farther down his shaft. You clenched your eyes closed and choked lightly as you took him to his base, a low groan of praise leaving Joel as his thumb stroked up your cheekbone. 

“Fuck me, so fuckin’ good for me, darlin’.” His words were broken by his rasp, but the praise sent you into overdrive. 

You bobbed your head at a good pace, Joel guiding you by your hair up and down his shaft, slicked by excess saliva that was dripping onto your tits and your stomach. You had to take a breath, but you learned from earlier. Your head came to rest against his thigh, head foggy as his tip sat plump against your cheek. You looked at the two of you in the mirror, and it was quite a sight. 

Joel’s body was planted by his heels, his toned torso and biceps protruding with hints of sweat. You had black-smudged tears on your waterline, and your face was filled with warmth. Your hair was a mess, Joel gently stroking it back from your sweat-glistened forehead as you breathed through your nose. You liked watching you work in the mirror. Watching him get ruined in the mirror. Watching yourself get ruined in the mirror. 

You started your rhythm again, this time your eyes locked loosely on the mirror in your peripheral. Joel’s cock made you choke each time you took him deep, but you didn’t let it stop you. He was so close, you had the heady taste of his precum on your tongue. He liked it messy. 

“Fuck- can’t,” Joel let out a rugged moan, it felt like it vibrated the tiles under your aching knees. Your wrists were throbbing from keeping your arms back, hands clenched together tight as you followed his rules. “Can’t hold on when you take me so-- so goddamn good.”

You whimper-whined against his cock, hollowing your cheeks as you moved with intent up and down his shaft. You opted just to take what you easily could now, focused on keeping the pace and working towards his orgasm. You thought about Joel fucking your mouth, but he wanted you to feel some sense of control since you had your hands back. Maybe you wanted to lose all control. If it was Joel you were losing it with. 

Joel was close, he couldn’t hold back how messy he had gotten. He had a steel-tight grip on your hair, and his breaths were laced with broken moans and grunts of your name. He kept wiping away any tears that slipped past your eyes and onto your cheeks, despite being devastatingly close to an orgasm you knew he was drunk on. 

“Yeah, fuck me,” He murmured under his breath, his cock twitching deep in your throat now. “Take me so well... The fuckin’ best, babygirl.” The best. 

You watched through blurry, head-dizzy vision as Joel’s ab muscles contorted. “Gonna cum, baby, stay with me.” He panted, eyes locking on yours as you nodded on his shaft and continued your sweet rhythm. 

You whimpered as his tip pulsed against your tongue, going down on him as deep as you could and clenching your eyes closed, waiting for Joel’s impending climax. And he kept you there as he painted your throat white. 

His cum came out in hot ropes, moaning lowly against his shaft as you focused on tasting him and breathing through your nose. He was salty, little beads landing in the back of your throat as you swallowed around him. 

Joel’s moans were glorious, breathy, and aching to say your name. His eyes had fallen closed, his stance still tall and broad. You wanted to touch him, kiss him. You decided to lay your head against his thigh, still breathing around his dick as you watched yourself in satisfaction through his mirror. 

“Fuck,” he murmured low, pulling you off of him with a pop. Your jaw lightly throbbed, but god, you felt like you were in the clouds. 

“Hands?” Your raw voice whimpered. He gave a silent nod of approval, and with his permission, you released your interlocked hands and lightly toppled back on your ass, leaning against the door to his linen closet. 

Joel observed you for a few moments, making sure you were okay before he grabbed a spare washcloth and ran some lukewarm water over it. Your eyes peeked open when you heard his zipper go up on his jeans, seeing he had straightened out his bottom half. 

You tried to focus your vision, seeing him squat down beside you and lightly press the cold washcloth to your temple, cheeks, and up your neck. It helped, you were settled, safe, and with Joel.

“Holy fuck.” You finally said once you had come down from your high. Your eyes met Joel’s, seeing both of your mouths were quirked up in lopsided smiles. 

“Too much?” He asked, the washcloth now delicately cleaning up the saliva on your breasts. 

You slowly shook your head. No, never too much. Just new. 

You looked around, feeling an ache in your knees and in your wrists. You rolled your wrists in circles to relieve some pressure on the joints before you pushed your palms up and down your kneecaps gently.

“Hey,” Joel’s words caught your attention, turning to him as he lightly cupped your cheek. “You were fuckin’ perfect, darlin’.” A weak mewl left you, a tired smile on your lips. 

“You said the best.” 

“Was perfect. Was the best. Did a perfect job.” His praise punched excitement through your veins, regaining your strength to stand back up with Joel’s honorable assistance. You murmur a thanks before you make a grab for Joel’s hoodie. As if he was going to steal it back from you. 

Joel excused himself to go clean up the kitchen, leaving an attentive kiss on your cheek before he left you alone. 

You took a few minutes to rinse some water around in your mouth and try to brush your fingers through your knotted, matted hair. 

“Need to get yourself a brush, Mr. Miller.” You murmur as you pass him in the kitchen, seeing he pulled on a new t-shirt and that he had put some of the leftover pizza in spare Tupperware containers. 

“Can’t eat it all by myself, and Sarah won’t be home for a few more days.” 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He could so totally finish that pizza if he wanted to. He could do it tonight as soon as you leave. 

Reading your mind, he shoved the container into your hands. “Just-- fuckin’ take it, why you gotta make things so damn difficult.” 

You smirked and patted the container softly. “My specialty. Irritating old grouchy men.” 

He rolled his eyes and shook his head at you, picking up the wine bottle next and figuring out what to do with it. Your eyes softened, watching the gears turn in his head for how he was going to handle this situation. 

“Do you care if I take the rest of it home, actually? I know it’s yours, and it’s been yours for a while, but it was really good.” Lame excuse. Joel leaned into it though, nonetheless. You were at Joel’s side now, looking to him with gentle eyes and a tender smile. He teetered on his feet for a moment before he nodded and handed it over. 

“Yeah, you’re doin’ me a favor so it doesn’t just keep sittin’ in the fridge.” 

You nodded softly and tried to jam the cork back in as well as you could, Joel swiftly taking the bottle from you and popping it back into its home with ease due to his sheer strength. 

You turned to the television and huffed, seeing the credits of Pride & Prejudice roll. Dammit.  

Joel joined you at your side, crossing his arms and giving the television a once over. “So did they, y’know, end up together?” There was Joel’s pure curiosity again. This time, he didn’t hide it so well. 

“Guess you’ll have to watch to find out. Don’t forget to throw that shirt in the washer.” You said with a cocky grin, holding up the wine bottle and pizza leftovers in gratitude before walking to the door. Joel followed you out, and you looked at him curiously. 

“Gotta make sure you get home safe.” 

Your head rolled to the side, watching as he shoved his hands in his pants pockets. “What?”

“Joel, I’m staying right next door. You could see me go inside from your living room window.” 

He just shook his head and looked beyond you to the water. 

“t’s dark.” 

Your chest fluttered with warmth, a smile on your lips growing past one you could deny. Let him have this one. 

“Thanks, Joel. Thanks for the pizza and the wine and… stuff.” Now it was his turn to let you have this one. The stuff. The kiss. The multiple kisses. He didn’t make it a big deal, just rolled with the punches. You appreciated it. 

You wanted to know what was next for the two of you. The feeling of your cores grazing one another set a fire in you that only Joel could put out. 

You pondered whether or not to kiss him goodnight and find a lame excuse to try and thank him again for the wine bottle when you saw two pairs of headlights coming down the road. 

“Shit,” you murmured under your breath, looking to Joel with a pained expression. He looked disappointed. 

You didn’t say goodnight, you didn’t kiss him before you left, you just… left. You moved down Joel’s rickety wooden porch steps with haste, sneaking into the lakehouse through the garage door as your heart thrummed at a face pace. You felt like a child getting caught by your parents. 

You didn’t know what to do with Joel’s pizza container and the wine. You could figure out an excuse for the pizza later, so you shoved it into the fridge, but definitely not the half-drank bottle of red wine. You double-checked that the cork was in there tight, and of course it was because Joel pushed it back in, but you couldn’t help but check because it was going to be stowed under your bed for safekeeping. 

You changed out of Joel’s hoodie and into an oversized band tee, walking out of your bedroom with a book when your parents returned through the door. 

“Hey, kiddo. You’re still up? ‘t’s past eleven.” 

You try not to roll your eyes, biting down on the inside of your lip as you tightly nodded. “Yeah, I know. I stay up late a lot at school and stuff, working on papers or out with friends. Staying up past eleven isn’t that weird for me.” 

You didn’t mean for there to be so much venom in your comment, but you weren’t a baby. Nearly every day at the lakehouse so far this summer has elicited a few don’t call me kid, I’m an adult, I make adult decisions, comments from you. 

Your parents looked too tired to care, which somehow stung worse. 

“Okay, sweetie, we’ll see you tomorrow morning. Your dad and I are headin’ to bed.” 

Now you felt bad. You pursed your lips and nodded, putting your hands behind your back and resting them on your tailbone absentmindedly. This was the same pose Joel had you in tonight. You already wanted to go back there. 

“Sorry, goodnight.” You whisper, seeing your dad give you a tired smile before patting your shoulder. 

“Hey kiddo-” He paused at the nickname and took a breath. “Sorry.” You playfully smiled and shook your head. Go on.

“Do me a favor, grab the steaks out from the freezer and put them on a plate in the fridge. Wanna have Joel and Sarah over for dinner tomorrow night. Feel like I haven’t seen them all summer.” 

Your face went ghastly blank, feeling yourself fall hollow like a collapsing building. If it weren’t for how tired your dad was, he would have seen right through you like a ghost. “You- Oh, you want to have them come by for dinner? I don’t think tomorrow’s gonna work. Sarah’s camping and-”

“Oh, well, Joel can still swing by for dinner. Need to eat up those steaks. Every time I open the freezer, they stare at me. They’re beggin’ me to eat them, it ain’t fair.” 

You forced out a laugh, but of course, your father couldn’t tell. Just thought he made one hell of a zinger. 

“So-So Joel over for dinner tomorrow night?”

“Yeah, kiddo. And don’t forget to take out the steaks. Love you.” He turned the corner down the hall, and then he was gone. 

You sighed and lightly chewed at the skin around your thumbnail. Great. One big happy family dinner. And Joel. 

---

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(idk why so many of my tags aren't working. Might make a notifications blog instead where you'd follow it and turn the notifications on and I'll only reblog my work on that account. ugh a problem for another day, okay ily ttyl I'm gonna go watch twilight)

#joel miller #joel miller smut #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal the last of us #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller one shot #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #therapist joel #tlou #tlou fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #hellishjoel #joel miller x reader #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller #dad's best friend #neighbor!joel miller #joel tlou

[mostlysignssomeportents]

How to screw up a whistleblower law

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me THIS WEDNESDAY (Apr 17) in CHICAGO, then Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Corporate crime is notoriously underpoliced and underprosecuted. Mostly, that's because we just choose not to do anything about it. American corporations commit crimes at 20X the rate of real humans, and their crimes are far worse than any crime committed by a human, but they are almost never prosecuted:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/12/no-criminals-no-crimes/#get-out-of-jail-free-card

We can't even bear to utter the words "corporate crime": instead, we deploy a whole raft of euphemisms like "risk and compliance," and that ole fave, the trusty "white-collar crime":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/12/07/solar-panel-for-a-sex-machine/#a-single-proposition

The Biden DOJ promised it would be different, and they weren't kidding. The DOJ's antitrust division is kicking ass, doing more than the division has done in generations, really swinging for the fences:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Main Justice – the rest of the DOJ – promised that it would do the same. Deputy AG Lisa Monaco promised an end to those bullshit "deferred prosecution agreements" that let corporate America literally get away with murder. She promised to prosecute companies and individual executives. She promised a lot:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/22/reality-distortion-field/#three-trillion-here-three-trillion-there-pretty-soon-youre-talking-real-money

Was she serious? Well, it's not looking good. Monaco's number two gnuy, Benjamin Mizer, has a storied career – working for giant corporations, getting them off the hook when they commit eye-watering crimes:

https://prospect.org/justice/2024-04-09-reform-groups-lack-of-corporate-prosecutions-doj/

Biden's DOJ is arguably more tolerant of corporate crime than even Trump's Main Justice. In 2021, the DOJ brought just 90 cases – the worst year in a quarter-century. 2022's number was 99, and 2023 saw 119. Trump's DOJ did better than any of those numbers in two out of four years. And back in 2000, Justice was bringing more than 300 corporate criminal prosecutions.

Deputy AG Monaco just announced a new whistleblower bounty program: cash money for ratting out your crooked asshole co-worker or boss. Whistleblower bounties are among the most effective and cheapest way to bring criminal prosecutions against corporations. If you're a terrified underling who can't afford to lose your job after narcing out your boss, the bounty can outweigh the risk of industry-wide blacklisting. And if you're a crooked co-conspirator thinking about turning rat on your fellow criminal, the bounty can tempt you into solving the Prisoner's Dilemma in a way that sees the crime prosecuted.

So a new whistleblower bounty program is good. We like 'em. What's not to like?

Sorry, folks, I've got some bad news:

https://www.corporatecrimereporter.com/news/200/stephen-kohn-on-the-justice-department-plan-to-offer-whistleblower-awards/

As the whistleblower lawyer Stephen Kohn points out to Russell Mokhiber of Corporate Crime Reporter, Monaco's whistleblower bounty program has a glaring defect: it excludes "individuals who were involved with the crime." That means that the long-suffering secretary who printed the boss's crime memo and put it in the mail is shit out of luck – as is the CFO who's finally had enough of the CEO's dirty poker.

This is not how other whistleblower reward programs work: the SEC and CFTC whistleblower programs do not exclude people involved with the crime, and for good reason. They want to catch kingpins, not footsoldiers – and the best way to do that is to reward the whistleblower who turns on the boss.

This isn't a new idea! It's in the venerable False Claims Act, an act that signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln. As Kohn says, making "accomplices" eligible to participate in whistleblower rewards is how you get people like his client, who relayed a bribe on behalf of his boss, to come forward. As Lincoln said in 1863, the purpose of a whistleblower law is to entice conspirators to turn on one another. Like Honest Abe said, "it takes a rogue to catch a rogue."

And – as Kohn says – we've designed these programs so that masterminds can't throw their minor lickspittles under the buss and collect a reward: "I know of no case where the person who planned or initiated the fraud under any of the reward laws ever got a dime."

Kohn points out that under Monaco, the DOJ just ignores the rule that afford anonymity to whistleblowers. That's a big omission – the SEC got 18,000 confidential claims in 2023. Those are claims that the DOJ can't afford to miss, given their abysmal, sub-Trump track record on corporate crime prosecutions.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/15/whistleblown/#lisa-monaco

#pluralistic #whistleblowers #doj #false claims act #finance #bezzles #crime #dodd-frank act #lisa monaco

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

East Side

When I Was Young, I fell In Love

Bill could always remember the day he met you. Love at first sight was how he would always remember it from then on.

From years on he would remember sitting next to you on those old playground swings, no friends except his older brother by ten minutes, Tom.

"Hi."

Bill looked up, seeing your expantant smile. He could only return with confusion as he felt something fester in his chest.

"I'm (Name)."

He would remember your name for years on, saying it in his sleep and his wedding vows.

We Used To Hold Hands, Man, That Was Enough

"Your hands are nice."

Bill giggled at your words, sitting next to you in the small flower bed in the school courtyard, waiting for your parents to pick you up.

Then We Grew Up, Started To Touch

You sat across from Bill on the couch, leaning closer to one another at a mere fourteen years old.

Your lips were locked with his, deeming and experimental kiss as you both wanted to give each other your first kisses instead of someone else.

Bill's hand went up to your waist, pulling you closer to him as you both broke away for air only to come back for more.

Used To Kiss Underneath The Light On The Back Of The Bus

You leaned your head onto Bill's shoulder on the tour bus, watching the trees flying by.

Bill held your hand in his as you lulled off to sleep, pecking the crown of your head.

You looked up at him through half lidded and sleepy eyes, smiling tiredly as Bill smiled back before locking lips with you under the glow of the back of the bus.

Oh, No, Your Daddy Didn't Like Me Much

"How many times do I have to say, kid, get lost." Your dad scoffed, holding the door open barely as he saw Bill standing on your porch.

You watched from the hall, locking eyes with Bill as he could see your sadness from there.

"Oh, come on, sir! I love your daughter! I swear!" Bill didn't stop, pleading with your father for one chance.

Didn't Believe Me When I said You Were The One

"I don't believe you, Bill." Your father shook his head, a rock in Bill's way to you.

"You think I don't know your kind? Some 'rocker' tryna sleep with my kid?" Your father scoffed once more, about to close the door but Bill held it open abruptly.

Bill looked at your father with wide eyes, barely believing he did it but there was no backing down now.

"Please! I'm not trying to hurt her, I love your daughter!" Bill couldn't say anything else, looking at you with bare tears in his eyes.

"Sorry kid, answer no." Your father said simply, stern and strong before he pulled the door to a close.

Bill was left there for a moment, staring down at his feet with the closed door in front off him.

It didn't take long for him to need to walk off the porch, hands in his jacket pockets before he stopped just in front of the lawn at a tapping sound.

"Bill!"

Bill's head shot up at the familiar and harsh whisper, looking up to see you in your bedroom window.

"I'll meet you later! Be quiet!" You smiled, reassuring Bill in a whisper before your father called you, and with one last smile, you disappeared.

Bill stood for a moment, hope sparking once more in his chest before his face bloomed into a smile, jogging off to his house to get his things.

But Everyday She Found Her Way Out Of The Window To Sneak Out Late

"I'm coming!" You hissed out in a harsh whisper, throwing your legs over the window sill with an expectant Bill waiting below.

"Come on, before your dad kills me!" Your boyfriend laughed, matching your smile as he helped you down by your waist.

"Go, go, go!" You laughed, adrenaline filling your veins as Bill matched your laughter, dragged along with you as your dad and mother's room light lit up as you two ran into the night.

She Used To Meet Me On The East Side

Bill sat in the old recording studio, freshly eighteen and single without you, barely words through the early years of the 2000's.

Until you walked back into his life.

"You look like shit."

Bill froze, hands stopping and completely still on the spinning chair he sat upon at the familiar voice filled with the same love and teasing he remembered.

Bill finally looked up, eyes wide and searching before his eyes fell upon your dazzling smile as he remembered, older and more mature, still as beautiful as the day he left.

"(Name)?" Bill muttered, a smile breaking onto his face as you laughed, nodding and opening your arms.

Bill didn't waste a moment, getting up so fast the chair knocked over, lifting you up off the ground as he hugged you around your waist.

You laughed, yelling as he did so and wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

You pushed the hair out of his face as you finally stole a kiss you waited forever for.

In The City Where The Sun Don't Set

You laid nuzzled into Bill's side in the meadows grass, the sun never seeming to fully settle behind you guys as Bill held you.

Bill wouldn't let go, stealing kiss after kiss to makeup for the years behind you guys.

And Everyday You Know That We Ride Through The Backstreets In A Blue Corvette

"You're crazy!" You yelled, head out the window and laughed as Bill laughed along, the empty street in the middle of nowhere as he pushed the gas.

"You were the one who wanted to do this!" Bill protested along, barely missing a bush.

"Yeah, because you guys did this before in an episode! But I just remembered that it was Tom and Georg…"

"I was there too!" Bill yelled out.

"You won a go-kart race!" You yelled back, smacking his hand.

"Still counts!"

And You Know That I Just Wanna Leave Tonight

"Will you come with me?" Bill could barely hear his small voice over the fear of being shut down.

"To LA?" You asked, sitting next to him on the bed as he ran his thumb over the back of your hand in his house, the house he and Tom no longer felt safer in, much less the country.

"We can't stay here. Fans break in, they stole our shit, they're threatening you." Bill listed off, the fear evident in his voice as he looked into your eyes.

"So, yes, to LA. Will you come with me?" Bill said, completely serious and genuine as his eyes practically begged.

You stared into Bill's eyes for a moment, going over it before you came to a conclusion.

You left to be with him.

What's stopping you from leaving with him?

"...okay."

"...alright. lets- let's go."

We Can Go Anywhere We Want

It was almost a ritual, sitting next to Bill with your head on his shoulder no matter in what type of moving vehicle.

This time it was in a plane, watching your old home country disappear from under you as you took off.

But all that Bill could think was how lucky he was.

His hand in yours, your head against his shoulder and his lips kissing the crown of your head, leaving once more to stay with you.

Drive Down To The Coast, Jump In The Seats

"Bill!" You laughed, jumping into the open roofed Corvette that was parked on the beach in the middle of the night.

"What was that?" Bill laughed as you settled into the seat, feet bare and in your swimsuit as you smelled of the coast.

"The Pelicans! They're after me!" You laughed hysterically, Bill's eyes widening in horror and amusement as he finally spotted them.

"Why?!" Bill exclaimed, starting the car as fast as he could.

"I fed them and they want more!"

"There's fifty signs not to for that exact reason!"

My Love Is Yours If You're Willing To Take It

"You're leaving though." You mumbled out sadly, against Bill's chest on the trunk of his car as he broke the news of the tour when you guys were just fifteen, years before.

"I know. I'm sorry…" Bill couldn't help but apologize again for the next time you lost count. Everything to be with you was going down the drain to his career.

But he had to go.

"It's okay. Got to love you while you were here." You sniffled, wiping your tears as you placed your chin on his shoulder, smiling sadly up at him.

"You'll keep all my love, I know you will." Bill smiled back sadly, pushing back a tendril that fell in front of your face.

"...take mine with you?" You said, mumbling out as Bill nodded, kissing your temple with his arm around your shoulder.

"Of course, I'd never leave it behind." Bill laughed softly, his fingers running through the ends of your hair as he kept your legs in his lap.

"Not even when you find someone new?" You joked almost, but Bill shook his head immediately, massaging your thigh before he punched it playfully.

"There'll never be someone new. Can't be after there's already you."

Give Me Your Heart Cause I Ain't Gonna Break It

Bill held your hand with one of his with his other on your waist, relishing in the sound of your laughter as he spun you in the hotel room.

You laughed, tripping over your own feet as he yelped while laughing even more, catching you into his chest as you two collided into a pile of limbs on the floor.

As Bill held you in his arms on the floor with a smile, he couldn't help but admire and share a kid with so much love in his eyes

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

@billsjum6ie @bigbootahjudy @ilovebill-and-gustav @r3dheadedw0rld @kiwitsune @V4mpyboyy @novaaisstupid @billybabeskaulitz @yas-v @iischafer @dilfverz @ahswhore0 @graciegizmo3184 @sweetpuffy12 @80s-tingz @ryiana @yuriayato5 @bunnysenpai31 @banshailey @bellastoner420 @victryzvv9 @stxngnr @killed-kiss @stilesandjames @m00nzyblogs @sylisan @lyzit @trixiekaulitz @laylasbunbunny @5hyslv7 @limaswife

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel imagine #tokio hotel x reader #bill kaulitz #bill kaulitz imagines #bill kaulitz x reader #Spotify

[hetalia-club]

Breaking down America's raw power

I think the best way I can describe how I see Alfred's strength is that of a Mantis Shrimp. Like imagine how strong a Mantis shrimp is but in human size. Never heard of Mantis shrimp? Let me lay it out for you. A mantis Shrimp can throw a punch at 50 miles an hour and when it swings its hand the kinetic force around it makes the water so hot that it boils. The average Mantis shrimp can punch with a force of being hit with 340 lbs of force. Just in one tiny little claw. and that is the average shrimp not one that is seasoned and has been at it awhile the big ones can get u to 1 ft long and the bigger they get the stronger they get. If their punch happens to form a bubble underwater when the bubble pops it is as hot a the surface of the sun. If a human gets punched by one apparently it feels like being shot by a .22. They can easily fracture human bones. People do keep them as pets but they don't make that great of pets because they can shatter aquarium glass.

Now I don't feel like Alfred utilizes this strength very often but that being said I do fully believe he has the strength to punch a hole through someone's chest if he wanted to.

Let's just sort of break it down a little.

Alfred First Discovery:

Has the ability with little to no effort to pick up a full grown bull bison and swing it over its head.

The weight of an average bull bison is 2000 lbs.

Alfred 1940's:

Drug around England car with a single hand for over an hour because he simply wanted to drive it. Again this looks like a Ford model A of some kind and the typical weight for that kind of car in this time period was about 2,500 lbs. Mind you when America finally found England he was not out of breath or even sweating. This was just a regular Tuesday for him.

I think it is just something the Hetalia fandom doesn't really play off of much and everyone just kind of forgets that America is basically a superhero when it comes to strength. I think of him as having One Punch man level strength where he can be as strong as he needs to be for parody's sake.

______________________________________________

I have this theory that the reason that the cold war happened (I am talking Hetalia here not IRL) Is simply because America and Russia were bored. Because I firmly believe America is not alone in having this massive strength though his might be the most intense. I believe Russia has it as well.

We never 'see' it on screen we do get to hear about it from other nations and when Russia was late to a meeting he did tell America that he "Got a raw deal, I had to stop tanks with my bare hands" Everyone was surprised except except America who just said. "Dude that's sick". He wasn't impressed or afraid by it and simply was like "That's a cool way to spend the afternoon". Then in the same instance when they were acting like they were going to get in an actual fight both France and England had to separate then both seeming extremely concerned while doing so like they were trying to prevent a DBZ style fight.

The cold war was just trying to get the two of them not to get into a fist fight because everyone else was afraid what would happen if they did.

There are a couple others who are rumored to have this strength Sweden being one of them. I think Finland said there were a couple more but I can't remember who. Himaruya said before that Italy is extremely powerful but doesn't often show it because he's a 'coward' Now if we think about it, it would be true based on history. He has beaten a lot of powerful nations by himself. Turkey, Spain, Austria, Empire, France, His brother, Hungary-Austria and many others. Italy has historically won more wars than they have lost by a land slide. Epically after they were unified. They were damn near untouchable after that. In fact Italy has lost very few wars and a lot of wars they have fought have ended in a forfeit which there is nothing wrong with understanding when you've lost and throwing in the towel. It's stupider to keep fighting when you're continuing to lose.

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People seem to think that the UK follows America into battle whenever they go but that's simply not the case if you look up American wars you will see a little green, white and red flag with us even when the UK and Canadian flag isn't there.

I know I'm rambling but I fully believe what I'm saying is true. Maybe starting my HFC poll is sparking it in me thinking just how strong they would actually be.

#hetalia #hws america #aph america #hws russia #aph russia #hws italy #aph italy #alfred f. jones #ivan braginsky #feliciano vargas #original #sometimes I just get passionate about things no one else cares about

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Hollywood’s Angel 🎬 | Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado Imagine

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: Javy ‘Coyote’ Machado x actress!reader (romantic)

Content warnings: slight profanity, fluff | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 5k

Requested 📨 Yes/no (for @stephthestallion 🤍)

Premise: Lights. Camera. Action!! Whether it be on the big screen in movie theaters across the globe or at home streaming the latest hit show, the name Y/n L/n would forever be known one of the world’s greatest entertainers. From humble beginnings the odds didn’t appear in her favor at first, but sometimes taking a risk could lead to endless opportunities. And maybe even love along the way…..

Note: This was so fun to write and I’m so sorry it took so long. I’ve been so busy lately with work and trying to get stuff settled. I hope I did this work justice for you 🥹 Also Y/Z/S stands for your zodiac sign.

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“Hello, my name is Y/n L/n,” A beaming smile was sent to the camera once the producer gave a thumbs up. “And I’m here to do the Wired autocomplete interview.” She clapped her hands, “Let’s do this.” Handed a card stock with a printed google web search filled with blanks save for the, ‘Who Y/n L/n….’, her eyebrows rose with curiosity.

“You know I’ve watched dozens of these interviews in my free time. My favorite being the one with Ryan Renolds and Jake Gyllenhaal.”

“Have you ever searched yourself?” The producer asked off screen. Y/n’s response was a cheeky smirk.

“A long time ago when I was teenager and social media was first becoming a thing—you know when we had MySpace, but since then I have not. While I love the internet sometimes it can be a little,” she makes a face, “too much you know.” Focusing back on the card stock, Y/n takes a deep breath as the nerves start to arise. “I’m starting to feel a little worried but what I’m gonna discover is searched about me on Google.”

Her fingers grip the first piece of paper, reading off the statement as it peels away, “Who is Y/n L/n?” An instant chuckle leaves her lip, turning to the camera. “Y/n L/n is um…,” she shrugs, not sure how to really answer the question, “a 28-year-old woman who started out as a child actress in the mid 2000s. She’s a Y/Z/S, a newly-wedded wife, producer, and sometimes sings and dances or models in her free time.”

In truth, Y/n L/n was so much beyond that. Her name and legacy was embedded into history at such a young age the whole world knew who she was by the time she was 14.

Born to a middle class family in 1995 in New York City, Y/n’s parents were hardworking people who raised her and her siblings to appreciate the beauty in life. Though there were times of struggle, living paycheck to paycheck and having to sacrifice the lights in order to have food on the table, there was always love, support, and care in their family. Y/n witnessed her parents do everything they could to provide for them, her mom working double shifts at the hospital and dad on the road thirty weeks out of the year as a truck driver, and made the vow to repay them. Whether it be working her ass off in school in order to graduate from a prestigious university with a degree that would get her a stable career, or succeed in her dreams of breaking through in the entertainment industry.

Acting, singing, dancing. One could consider it the love of her life. Being on stage to a crowd made Y/n feel on top of the world. Playing dress up and house with her friends and family, pretending to be someone else was so much fun to the little girl. Y/n loved the little school plays she would do in preschool and kindergarten.

“One day,” she said to her childhood best friend while they swung on the swing set, “I’m gonna be on Tv like Disney Channel,” a squeal left her when she leaned back a little too far. “In front of cameras where I get to be someone else.”

Little kids always tend to dream big. Their desires and goals often shift. One day they wanna be a popstar. The next a veterinarian or an astronaut. But Y/n always knew what she wanted in life. To be in Hollywood with her face on the big screen for the world to see. To give back to her parents and support her family so they could accomplish their own dreams and aspirations.

She was destined for greatness. Now fast forward to the present, and Y/n is celebrating 20 years of being in Hollywood.

“Who was Y/n L/n’s first TV role?” The next question read, mentally traveling the actress back to the year 2003 when she was eight years old. She had been in Los Angeles to visit her grandparents and practically begged her grandma to take her to open auditions. Whether it was for a commercial or as an extra in a show, Y/n simply wanted to at least try despite being so young. She’d maybe auditioned for six roles in various media before getting a call back.

“My first role,” she begins with a grin at the memory, “was Rosie Whittman on Law & Order: SVU. Season five, episode 25 which was the season finale and the most viewed episode of the season,” Y/n remembered how intimidating the whole experience was, but loved every minute of it. “I was eight-years-old. No agent, no experience in Hollywood and was only in town to visit my grandparents for the summer. My grandmother took me to auditions that were open—because I didn’t have an agent and was a nobody,” she couldn’t help but laugh. “My parents obviously let me watch SVU as a child, but I wanted to audition for every open casting I saw so it took a lot of convincing on my part for my parents to allow my grandma to take me.” Boy it sure was a lot. Y/n was fighting for her life on the phone while her mother voiced disapproval.

“I was a pretty confident child,” a smirk takes her features, “I went in and did my thing—impressing the casting director, the producers, and Mariska Hargitay who happened to be there to do a chemistry read— since the character I was auditioning for was being questioned by Olivia Benson for what she witnessed.” Y/n pauses for a brief moment. “And yeah, Mariska was very impressed with me, going as far as to set me up with my first agent. I really owe my entire career to her and I love any chance we get to work together. She took a chance on me when I was just a child with big dreams with little connections and,” Y/n lifts her hands, “look where it got me. Here with Wired to see what people have been searching for about me over the years.”

After a few more questions about her personal life before she was an Emmy winning actress, Y/n moved to the next card. “What was Y/n L/n’s breakthrough role?”

Y/n made a face to the camera, “This is an interesting question. And I say this because depending on who you ask, the answer might be different.” She tilted her head back and forth, “Most would say Wren Stone—after all I played that role for nearly a decade. I got quite a bit of recognition in the 2000s as Magik in the X-Men films and of course as Padaline in the Hunger Games franchise—you could say people who grew up with those films know me best by that. But,” she licks her lip, “I would consider my run as Jodie Pip to be my breakthrough role.”

Jodie Pip, the longest running companion to the Tenth Doctor in the BBC hit series Doctor Who threw Y/n into worldwide recognition. After appearing in episodes of television hits like Criminal Minds, Grey’s Anatomy, Gossip Girl, and Dexter, Y/n took a risk by traveling to England in hopes of securing a main role in a show rather than a supporting one. She was itching to play a character for longer than one episode. And sadly, Hollywood just wasn’t doing it for her.

Therefore going across the Atlantic seemed to be the solution. A decision which would change her life for the better.

“Picture this: you’re twelve-years-old in a country you’ve only been to maybe once and this time around you’re looking to permanently move there. Your family is back in America waiting for the call from your Agent, who’s your legal guardian at this point, to tell them you’ve got a contract and will be there for God knows how long.” Y/n lets out a sign, reliving the nerve racking first few months in England with only her agent and Godmother with her. “It was a stressful time. I was losing hope while waiting patiently for a sign. Getting the call that I got the part—I was going to be the companion to one of the most iconic television characters of all time…” she shrugs as if it was obvious, “Getting to work with David Tennant, Freema Agyemen, Catherine Tate, and Alex Kingston….It was the best day of my life.” Placing her hand on the next slip, she adds, “I cried for a good couple hours—pure happiness.”

“Is Y/n L/n British?” A full blown laugh escapes, hand flying up to muffle the sound. “Oh my Gosh this is too funny. The amount of people I meet every year—whether it be costars, colleagues, or fans at cons—who are so surprised to discover I’m not British,” she raises a hand in defense, “It doesn’t happen quite as often as it did ten-fifteen years ago. And I understand why people assumed I was because for so long I played characters who were.” Making herself comfortable in the chair, Y/n explains her career further in depth.

“First was Jodie, who I played for three years from 2007 to 2010 and then again in 2013 for the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special. Playing her put me on the map in the UK. I was on Skins for several episodes, one season of Merlin. I had supporting roles in the Golden Compass and Nowhere Boy. And because I had worked with Steven Moffat and Chris Chibnall on Doctor Who, I booked Eurydice on Sherlock and Shania on Broadchurch years later—getting to work with the lovely, talented, and amazing David Tennant for a second time.” Y/n’s face turns semi serious, “I love that man. He’s like my work dad for real—he was at my wedding,” she counts off on her finger, “I was at his. I’m Godmother to his daughters..he’s my ride or die.”

Getting back to the original point, Y/n snaps her fingers twice, “But back on track. Jodie, Eurydice, Shania..then of course playing Wren Stone on Game of Thrones for eight years had everyone on the planet believing I was British.” Wren Stone was the bastard of Jon Arryn in HBO’s critically acclaimed series Game of Thrones based on the books by George R. R. Martin. A ward of the Arryn family due to her status, Wren was introduced in the first season and went on to become a close ally to the Starks as well as a one of the longest running characters on the show when she appeared in all eight seasons. A fan favorite, her surviving the last season was one of the only good things to come out of it.

Cause…well we don’t talk about season 8.

“The last BBC show I did, what had me move back to the U.S permanently, was Killing Eve since it was with BBC America. By the time I booked Hunger Games and Ellie,” she corrects herself, “Negasonic Teenage Warhead in Deadpool, people were like, ‘you do a great American accent.’ And I just smile and nod, going, ‘yeah, I’m from New York.’ Their reaction,” she laughs, “every time was priceless.” Going to remove the next strip, Y/n pauses and looks back at the camera, ending with a wink, “Considering I’m joining Bridgerton this upcoming season as Sophie Beckett, I feel I will be having this question come up again a lot.”

‘What are some movies Y/n L/n has been in?’

“Well,” the actress rubs her chin with a knuckle, deep in thought. “I’ve been in a few—give or take,” she winks again. “My first movie role was X-2 in 2003, playing Magik although the role was minor compared to what it was in The Last Stand and Days of Future Past. In Spider-Man 2 I was in the train scene for a brief moment,” she pauses to laugh, “now that I think about it I have been in several projects related to Marvel. X-Men, Spider-Man and Deadpool. Not to mention I'll be taking on the role of Felicia Hardy in the MCU—that I’m really excited for. Umm what else,” she clicks her tongue to think.

“I had a small part in Constantine with Keanu Reeves, who along with David Tennant is someone I’ve worked with several times and love him to death,” she points a finger up, “The Golden Compass and Nowhere Boy as I mentioned earlier. In the 2010s I was in several features like Snow White and the Huntsman, The Help, New Year’s Day, Furious 7. I was in Catching Fire and parts 1 and 2 of Mockingjay—again I would say is one of my most recognizable roles. John Wick Chapters 2 & 3. In 2017 I was in The Greatest Showman. Oh!” She exclaimed with a grin, “Can’t forget I was in three Bond films: Skyfall, Spectre and the most recent No Time To Die. Another example of why the whole world believes I’m from England. Honestly England is my second home and where my career initially took off. I miss it there terribly, but coming back to the States has been a blessing—being close to my family and getting to do projects in Hollywood which was my dream since I was a little girl.”

Biting her lip the actress finishes up with, “my most recent movie roles have been Annihilation in 2018, Knives Out, Dune, The King’s Man, Uncharted, and Mortal Kombat—both of which are based on popular video games.” If she were being honest, playing Mileena in Mortal Kombat was one of her favorite movie roles to date—especially after having to fight with the studio to give the character justice when they were the ones calling her for the role. As a fan of the game and character, Y/n wasn’t going to settle for a small cameo. Ed Boon loved her interpretation of the character so much he asked her to voice Mileena in the next installments of the game.

Not to mention in the last several years any project with Y/n attached to it already had support and a loyal fan base to promote the show/film. After winning five Emmy’s—for her roles in Doctor Who, Game of Thrones, Sherlock, and Euphoria—Y/n was a household name.

So yeah, she wasn’t gonna be cheated out.

“Last year I was in Elvis plus back to back features with A24. X and Pearl were a lot of fun—and we’re currently filming the final installment to the trilogy, maXXXine.” Moving on she revealed the next statement, “Who was Y/n L/n in Euphoria?”

“In Euphoria,” she clears her throat, trying not to physically cringe at the thought of its creator, “I played Rue’s cousin Reece, who like every character on the show was dealing with difficult issues. I did a lot of research into my role so I could remain authentic and true to the character and the real life struggles people like her face.” Y/n softly smiled, “I won the Supporting Emmy next to Zenday’s leading—and it was a wonderful feeling to be recognized for a fifth time by the Academy while next to one of my best friends. Zendaya and I met when we were teenagers and have been so close. Working together on Euphoria was a wonderful experience and I’m so blessed to have received the honor alongside her.”

‘What episode of Black Mirror is Y/n L/n in?’

“Nosedive,” she turned to the camera, “it was in season three with Bryce Dallas Howard and Michaela Coel—both whom I adore. Aaaaand the episode was terrifying.” She simply said with a blank expression. “Watching it back gave me actual chills because one day technology will be so advanced that what took place in the episode could become our reality. And when I read the script my immediate reaction was like, ‘this is gonna be intense,’ and sure enough it was.”

‘Does Y/n L/n sing?’

A childlike grin appeared once again, “I do sing! Anytime I get a chance to sing I immediately say yes. It’s something I love. All the time on set I’ll be humming a tune or belting out lyrics to whatever music is playing. I got to sing a lot in The Greatest Showman so I was very happy about that. It’s my actual voice in the karaoke scene in season 2 of Euphoria. The one at Maddy’s birthday party—I had to beg them to let me do it live and not pre recorded. So when you see Lexi, Maddy and Kate filming me it’s actually Maude, Alexa, and Barbie using their personal phones, not the ones their characters use.” Offering a smirk she finishes with, “A little BTS you may have not known.”

‘Who does Y/n L/n model for?’

“Hmmmm” the actress puckers her lips. “As someone who was a fashionista growing up, I am filled with gratitude at being able to answer this.” Where could she really start with this? Having been labeled a fashion icon in 2020 Y/n had a long resume of working with brands and designers. “To start, I am an ambassador for Prada as well as its subsidiarie Miu Miu. We’ve partnered together for years and I’ve gone to the Met Gala with them a few times—most recent being in 2022. I’ve done campaigns for Calvin Klein and Stella McCartney. I recently did a collaboration with Dior. This year I went to the Met with Chanel—wearing vintage Chanel and ended up doing a campaign with them. Donatella Vesache and I have worked together.” Y/n scrunches her nose, “Every year I look forward to fashion week as you can imagine.”

‘Does Y/n L/n have a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame?’

“If you asked me this the other day I would’ve said no,” she replies cheekily, “But….if you’ve seen the news recently then you would know that I’ve been selected to receive one this year and I….can’t even put into words the feeling. I better stop before I get emotional,” she felt her eyes well up slightly. “I’m extremely honored and blessed to receive such recognition. All I dreamed about as a kid was to have my name on one of those stars and now it’s coming true. I’m overjoyed.”

‘What did Y/n L/n win the Tony for?’

“I won the Tony back in 2018 for my role in Wicked.”

“Will Y/n L/n be in DW 60th special?” Throwing a look to the camera, smirk threatening to appear on her lips she goes, “I don’t know…you’ll have to watch and find out.”

“Is Y/n L/n in Stranger Things?”

“I am not, but I would love to be,” she shrugs with a smile. “I love that show and everyone is so talented. I can’t wait for season five—it needs to hurry up before I lose my mind.”

‘Who is Y/n L/n in Star Wars?”

“So I voiced the absolute badass and Jedi master Ahsoka Tano during Clone Wars from 2008 to 2014, returning for the Rebels series form 2014 to 2018,” she pauses to cross her legs to make herself more comfortable. This was one of her favorite characters to play and despite the criticism and dislike for Ashoka in the beginning, she grew to become a fan favorite in the Star Wars fandom. “I was thirteen when I first voiced Ashoka and I got the privilege to bring her to life again by playing her in live-action for the Mandalorian and Book of Boba Fett—not to mention getting to have a voice cameo in The Rise of Skywalker.” Y/n gets ready to move on, “Now you’re about to see Ashoka again for her spin off show coming this summer on Disney plus.”

‘What all has Y/n L/n and David Tennant worked on?’ The question made her chuckle, surprised it was a top search on Google.

“David Tennant—the man, the myth, the legend. I’ve been lucky to work with him on several projects over the years,” the memories appear in her mind as she recalls them. “We first met in 2006 after I got the role of Jodie Pip opposite his Tenth Doctor. That lasted almost three years but during that time we both did Clone Wars—he voiced Huyang and he actually will be retuning as Huyang for the Ashoka series.” The moment she got the news the woman had FaceTimed him screaming. Although he was only voicing the droid they still made plans to reunite since they hadn’t seen each other since before Covid when Y/n moved back to the states.

“Broadchurch happened a few years after we both left Doctor Who—around the same time as the anniversary special—and then I got to work with him again when I appeared in an episode of Good Omens as one of the demons passing judgement on Crowley. Finally I wanna say before the Ashoka series the last thing we did was Staged back when quarantine was a thing.” Y/n’s face turns serious, “Anytime I get to work with David I take it. Like I said, he’s my ride or die,” she crosses her fingers, “we like this. And I love when people send me those YouTube videos where it’s like, ‘Jodie Pip and The Doctor sharing a brain cell for 10 minutes straight,’ or ‘David Tennant and Y/n L/n being a father-daughter duo on and off screen.’ Really brightens up my day.”

A few more questions went on, Y/n answering as best as she could with details. Doing this interview really gave viewers a more personal outlook on the actress. She was known for being reserved and private in her career expanding two decades. As a child star, her agent really shielded her from a lot due to the cruel nature of Hollywood and the media. And as a result of criticisms Y/n only was active on social media when it came time to promote projects and events.

She had a large and loyal fan base. Probably one of the largest for a celebrity due to her being in so many popular shows and high-grossing movies. On TikTok she & her characters were the most edited when it came to fancams. Pinterest had its own board dedicated to all the outfits Y/n wore.

She was Hollywoods Angel. Fans loved her, celebrities adored her. Before joining the cast of Bridgerton she met them at the Bafta’s the year prior and had them all starstruck when she approached. Nicola Couglan, who plays Penelope Featherington, even mentioned in an interview how the cast pretty much lost their minds when they found out she would be coming onto the show.

“No one knew about the end credit scene at the end of series three,” she told Graham Norton, seated alongside her costar/leading man, Luke Newton aka Colin Bridgerton on the show. “It was a big secret between Shonda and the crew. After we wrapped up, they went ahead and secretly filmed the scene with Sophie getting ready for the masquerade ball,” Nicola raises her hands, grinning from ear to ear, “and when I tell you we all were freaking out.” The audience laughed, Graham leaning foward in his seat with an awe-struck expression.

“So how did you find out? Was it when you watched the finale?”

Luke was the one to answer. “When I watched the episode,” he points to Nicola, “and I think you said you did this too—same with some of the others, I exited Netflix once the credits started to roll. Not thining much of it,” he shrugs, “then later that night Claudia Jessie who plays Eloise FaceTimes the iMessage group chat we have—.”

Nicole gently cuts in, “I’m surprised so many picked up.” That ignites a laugh from everyone.

“Yeah,” Luke agrees as he sits up. “Luke Thompson, Johnny Bailey, Simone, Nicola, Bessie, and I all answer—one after the other—and Claudia is shouting, ‘Did you see the end credit scene!?!’ Of course I’m confused because I’m like, ‘what is this, the MCU?’” Nicola bursts into laughter along with Graham. “Everyone’s asking what the hell she’s talking about because we’ve all seen the finale and were texting about it—but nobody mentioned an end credit scene. It completely went over our head. So…as you can imagine we all turn our tv, still on FaceTime mind you, and low and behold not only is there end credit scene….but Y/n L/n is gonna be Sophie Beckett.” Just the name alone ignites eruption from the crowd.

“Wow,” Graham exhales, “And you guys met her at the Bafta’s last year, yes? I remember seeing a picture of you two and other cast mates from Bridgerton with her.” Nicola nods excitedly.

“We did. It was such a surreal moment. She was with her then fiancee and the Euphoria cast—it kinda looked like a school mixed with Euphoria cast on one side and us on the other. But she came over and we were all buzzing in the corner, ‘Y/n L/n is coming over here. Oh my God-oh my God.’ Most of us have been watching her since she was on Doctor Who so this was like meeting your childhood idol,” Nicola used her hands to emphasize the point, “And she expressed how she was a fan of the books and loved the show. She even made a joke like, ‘Tell Shonda to call my line.’”

“And did you?” Graham asks for the audience and viewers at home, on the edge of his seat. “Cause didn’t they work together before on Grey’s Anatomy and Scandal?”

Luke nods, “we brought it up during press for series 2. I forgot Y/n was on those shows actually so when I told Shonda I thought ‘there’s no way they’re gonna get her’.” He glances at Nicola, excitment on his features, “I think everyone is ready to get back to set and start filming series four. I know I’m already missing everyone and I’m excited to pass the torch to Luke and Y/n.”

Coming down to the final cardstock, Y/n was sad to end the interview. It was fun seeing what people searched on the web and giving a more in-depth look at her life.

Peeling back the paper on the final card, the statement read, “Who is Y/n L/n’s husband?” Cue the butterflies in her stomach, picturing the man’s gorgeous face. “My husband is Lieutenant Commander Javy Machado. Although he is known to his colleagues as ‘Coyote’.” Lowering the cardstock she went on to say, “Javy and I met four years ago in 2019, he’s a fighter pilot for the Navy and was stationed in San Diego for an assignment. It happened to coincide at the time I was filming a small part in ‘Friend of the World’.” A small independent film her friend was producing and asked if she would take a small role to help promote the project. It’d been the first film Y/n had taken on after moving back to the States following her nearly 12 year residence in the United Kingdom.

If she thought hard enough, Y/n could feel the warmth of the sun on her arms and smell of the ocean salt water as her eyes landed on a group of people playing football with two balls. Instantly drawn to the man sticking his tongue out at his friends when running backwards to the end line. “My costars and I had wrapped up for the day and decided to go to the beach. We were waiting for this bar to open at five so we strolled for a good bit to pass time. That’s where I saw him playing football with his colleagues,” a shy smile stayed on her lips the entire time Y/n relayed the story.

“And then when the bar opened that night we formally met.” Man what a night it was. Every social media platform was buzzing with pictures and videos of Y/n behind the bar of The Hard Deck surrounded by patrons. The bartender, Penny, was so cool and didn’t mind the actors coming in despite the madhouse they caused. She did, however, have to close the doors once it got too packed due to locals sending word the five-time Emmy award winning actress was there. Before she knew it, Y/n was making drinks with her while taking pictures and signing autographs to everyone who approached. Y/n even rang the bell a couple times and bought the first round for those in attendance.

And when Javy appeared in front of her, it was like time had stopped. The noise eloping them was muffled, movement slowed to where the only clear focus was on each other.

“Hi,” he beamed, looking at her like she was the only person on the planet. “I know you’ve heard this all night, but is it alright if I get a photo with you?”

“Of course,” Y/n found her voice after a second, smiling wide as she inched closer to the bar counter. Javy thanked her, moving so his back was to the surface since the bar stood in between them and positioned his phone so it captured both of them. They posed, Javy snapping a couple pictures with Y/n making a kissy face at one point. When it ended Y/n motioned to the draft beers beside her, “Can I get you anything? Round is on me.”

Well Javy couldn’t say no could he? Pocketing his phone he replied, “Whatever you recommend, I’ll take.” Had he been to the hard deck several times in the past two weeks? Yes. Did he know what all was on draft and bottled? Sure did. But he wasn’t gonna pass on the chance to flirt with one of the greatest actors Hollywood had ever produced.

It was Y/n L/n for Christ’s sake. Hollywood’s Angel as they called her.

But what the pilot didn’t expect was to have found the love of his life. The same went for Y/n. Sure they had a moment movies often depicted as ‘love at first sight’ but c’mon, that was only in the movies…right?

Well perhaps it wasn’t just in the movies.

“Okay I see you!” Javy hollered from the side, standing on the red carpet a few paces away from where Y/n was posing for the cameras. Dressed to the nines in a black tux, Javy hyped up his fiancée like he always did at premieres and carpet events. This one happened to be at the 2022 Cannes Film Festival for the premiere of Elvis. “Give me face—yes ma’am! Work it-work it! Mmmh.”

Giggling the whole time, Y/n reaches out with her hand for him. He skips over, stopping to snap a picture on his phone. Pressing a kiss to her cheek, the two embrace for the photographers—who eat up every second they get with the couple. Ever since they announced their relationship in 2020 they were the it couple of Hollywood despite Javy not being in the industry. But his energy, personality, and of course his adoration for Y/n, made him well liked by her fans.

He worshiped the ground she walked on. Never did he give any indication he was with her for malice. Social media accounts he had were private and mostly to keep in touch with people he worked with. Her family loved him and his loved her. Whenever reporters approached him to try and ask invasive questions Javy would redirect to whatever project was staring in. “Isn’t the show amazing? I would say this is her best work yet—and the cast was amazing throughout.” He was definitely a keeper.

With similar personalities, though Y/n was more reserved in the public eye, the two were like a lock and key. Fitting together with a love so natural they couldn’t believe they got to experience it. They enjoyed going to concerts and the movies—getting into disguise whenever they didn't want the paparazzi following them. Sang and danced in the kitchen while they cooked, having their own karaoke parties with friends.

At one point in their relationship Y/n was to play a fighter pilot. So, what better way to prepare for the role than to shadow her partner and his colleagues. Once they got the green light from the Navy, Y/n had to do all the necessary training a pilot did to get into a jet. From there she was allowed to get in the backseat with either Javy or Natasha flying.

Flying with Natasha went smoothly….but her boyfriend was a different story. Of course she trusted him with her life and knew he would never put her in harm's way, but damn did he unlock his inner Maverick when she got in the plane with him.

“Javy Machado!!” She screamed, holding onto her seat for dear life when he flipped them upside down. “I swear I will kick your ass in the afterlife if you kill us!”

“Relax, baby,” he laughed, earning a groan from his girl. “I promise we’ll have a graceful landing.”

“It won’t be graceful when I’m puking my guts out!” She actually did vomit in the bag he provided her with before they took off. Instead of embarrassment she was just annoyed with him, but still enjoyed the ride no less. “I’m sticking with Natasha from now on.”

When it came to the squad, they were Y/n’s biggest supporters. After the initial shock and fangirl/fanboying—nearly shitting their pants at the fact their best friend was dating an absolute Icon—Y/n became part of their family. They pre-orders tickets to her movies, attending midnight premieres and after parties the actress invited them too. Sunday nights were reserved for watching her HBO shows, while Netflix series that were to binge watch were planned accordingly.

Nat loved having another gal in the group. It was a breath of fresh air and the two would go to lunch or have their own movie nights. “I’m surprised Machado hasn’t crashed in yet,” the pilot commented with a mouthful of popcorn as they sat in Y/n’s living room. Javy was in his office playing COD with the guys after pouting when Y/n said no to him joining in on their girl time.

“He’s occupied with his game. I’m surprised we haven’t heard any screaming at the tv yet.”

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT, JAKE??”

“Spoke to soon.”

The couple were stars at award shows. It was no surprise they were always the best dressed. People constantly tweeted their excitement to see them attend, and expressed disappointment when they would not. And often the two’s reactions to cringe/unexpected moments resulted in them becoming popular memes—something Y/n already had a reputation of long before they got together.

2022 Oscars? Y/n’s Twitter froze due to the amount of tags from the snapshot of her and Javy’s expressions to Will Smith slapping the shit out of Chris Rock. “Did he just—?” “he did.” “Holy shit. Where’s the popcorn—I feel I need some right now.”

2023 Met Gala? People kept replaying the moment the couple did a double take at seeing Doja Cat dressed up as Karl Lagerfields cat. “What the actual…” “now that’s what camp should’ve been.”

And of course they couldn’t forget the most recent one of their unimpressed look from Jimmy Kimmel’s monologue at the most recent Oscars. “Should I go up there and pull a—.” “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Machado.”

Expect YouTube to be filled with videos complications titled, “Y/n L/n & Javy Machado being flabbergasted at award shows for 15 minutes straight,” and, “Y/n L/n & her husband Javy being Hollywoods favorite couple.”

Then there was Javy’s to die for reaction to Y/n recieving her star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at only 29 years old. The only other day besides their wedding day where the man was in a heap of tears. “I’m just—,” he sniffed, “so proud of you, baby. You’ve earned this.”

When it came to live reactions at events years after getting married and Y/n embedding her legacy as the greatest actress of her generation, let’s just say Hollywood’s Angel and the Navy’s Coyote would always be its champions.

………….

TGM Tag List: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

#javy machado x reader #javy machado x you #javy machado fic #javy machado imagine #javy machado x y/n #javy machado fluff #javy coyote machado #coyote imagine #coyote x reader #top gun maverick fanfiction #top gun maverick imagine #tgm fanfic #tgm x reader #tgm fluff #top gun maverick #greg tarzan davis #actress!reader #tgm au #tgm imagine #javy machado headcanon #javy machado #Spotify

[spicywhenspeaking]

For @madomens !

Noah smut & giggles so 18+ nerds (affectionately)

unedited b/c lazyyy

🤪✌️

You haven’t seen Noah and the guys in over a two months since he went on tour. Your last year of grad school has been kicking your butt! Thankfully it’s finally over and as a graduation present Noah rented out a lake house for all of you to enjoy for a week of fun in the sun, swimming, jet skis and hours of lounging by the pool. You were so excited! About relaxing and having fun of course, but mostly excited to see Noah again. You missed him so much and even though you call and text constantly nothing can compare to being together.

The plan was to meet at the lake house since they where and heading strait there from the airport and my apartment is only an hour and a half away from the house they rented. I spend the drive listening to a mix of my boyfriend screaming and early 2000’s club hits making it a head banging and hip swinging car dance party.

The boys got to the house a few hours before me, I had a late start to the trip. In other words I woke up and had a flat tire and it took me 3 hours to get a new one on, no way I was driving long distance on a donut.

Pulling up to the house I’m shocked at the size, it’s massive with a long paved drive way. Noah must have been following my location because as I’m driving up he runs out the front door with a huge smile oh his face that I know I’m returning and looking like a love sick goof. I park the car and quickly unbuckle and he’s already half way there because of his long legs.

I’m out of the car soon and within a few steps in throwing myself up into his arms and wrapping my legs around his waist. “Oh baby I missed you so much” he says with his face buried in my neck. “I missed you too” I tell him back and begin peppering his face with kisses until our lips meet in a searing kiss. I’m not sure how long we’re lost in each other but at some point the other guys come out the door and see us. “Alright you two! Reel it in! You’ll have all week to suck face!” Nicholas yells and the two other laugh. Noah places me back on the ground and tousles my hair slightly. “Hey!” I call out and jump to mess up his hair in retaliation. He giggles and lunges out of the way towards my car to unload my bag. I sigh happily and head towards my friends to say hello.

Folio and Jolly both wrap me up in big hugs and congratulate me on my graduation. “Thanks guys!” I say to them returning their hugs with love. Nicholas come and puts his arm around my shoulder, ushering me inside. “Congrats dude, I brought my tattoo gun if you wanted some celebratory ink ?” I wrap my arms around him and thank him profusely. “Amazing! But maybe later in the week so I can go swimming,” he nods and we walk the rest of the way into the house.

It’s huge! With a huge front entrance and a double staircase that leads upstairs. We keep walking forward into the large living room. It has a big could couch that we all pile onto. Noah is following behind with my bag and leans behind where I’m seated. “Hey” he kisses my forehead and gestures his head back towards the stairs. “Let me show you our room” he sets my bag down, reaches over and picks me up off the couch and puts me next to him. Picking the bag back up and grabbing my hand he leads us to the stairs, “be right back guys!” I call towards the group that’s settled onto the couch.

Noah leads us up to our room, he picked the corner bedroom that has a en-suite bathroom and a small balcony. “Wow, this room is beautiful Noah! I can’t believe you rented this whole house just for me” I say in awe. He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. Humming a quiet “I’d do anything for you baby” he nuzzles into my neck and leaves hot open mouth kisses and then sucks lightly at my pulse point.

“Ah, Noah what are you doing?” I ask surprised but leaning into his touch. It’s by no means unwelcome. His hands wander under the hem of my shirt, his fingers gently toying with the skin above my jeans. “I’m saying hi to my girlfriend.” He spins me around so we’re face to face. “Properly” he kisses me passionately and everything else fades away.

He hoists me up so I can wrap my legs around him again, this time we thankfully have privacy. He holds me close and walks us back towards the end and once we’re there he throws me back towards the pillows. He strips off his shirt and crawls up the bed until my let’s are on either side of him and his hips are flushed with my own. I drag my hands up his torso towards his broad shoulders and then down to feel the muscles in his arms. “You’re getting so strong, it’s hot” I wink and he grins, “yeah, pumping some serious iron” he jokes.

“You’re such a dork!” I respond and he laughs before moving to pull off my shirt. “Yeah well, you’re into it so just be a good girl and take the rest of your clothes off so I can finally fuck you. I’m dying over there”

My mouth hands open slightly, taking a moment to recover from both the pet name and the sexy demand. I scramble to unbutton and shimmy out of my jeans. He expertly unhooks my bra with one hand. Leaning down he places a tender kiss against my lips as his hands squeeze my breasts and tweak my hardening nipples. He kisses down my cheek and neck and down further biting and sucking onto my skin, taking my nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the tight nub and I moan at the sensation.

Noah continues his path down my body until he reaches the top of my panties. Hooking his fingers down the sides be drags him slowly down my legs and tosses them aside. Pulling my legs apart his eyes darken, “oh I missed this” he says before diving in. “Fuck ! Noah” I yelp as his tongue flattens against my core, dipping in slightly. He starts sucking gently on my clit and my body bucks off of the bed. He adds a finger and pumps it in and out, angling to hit that perfect spot. “Ah! Noah, yes. Right there,” I moan and tangle my finger in his hair. He hums into me and adds another finger, stretching me and getting me ready to take his thick cock.

“Fuck, Noah. It feels so good. Need more.” I moan. “I need you inside me.”

He sits up and takes his finger out with a wet pop. Standing up he pulls off his pants and underwear and his cock springs up, slapping his skin. “Fuck, I missed you so much baby, can’t wait to feel you taking my cock” he says as he climbs back up and pulls my hips forward towards his own until they’re flush. He slaps his cock against my pussy and it makes an obscene sound.

He pushes in slowly and my wet core takes him in greedily. “Fuck” we both moan out in unison and he settles in when he’s fully inside.

He starts with an even pace and gradually picks up, he folds my legs up as he snaps his hips against mine with a carnal slap as he hits the spot inside me again and I see white.

Suddenly our door flys open and my orgasm is raking through me so I don’t have the ability to stop the low moan that leaves my mouth.

“Hey- pizzas her- OH FUCK!” Folio screeches and his hands fly to his eyes as he scrambles to exit. “She’s been here for like ten minutes man!! Have you no control” he continues to yell from the other side of the door.

Noah just rolls his eyes, his hips not slowing down for a second despite the interruption. “Are you okay?” He checks in mid thrust.

I nod and he readjusts my legs so he can circle my clit, he leans back slightly and spits down adding more wetness to our joined bodies. Soon I’m cleaning down on him again and calling out in pleasure as another orgasm rips through me.

“Okay, now you on top.” He says and swings us around to switch positions. Settling back onto his cock it feels even bigger and fuller inside of me. “Oh, Noah. It’s so good, fuck.” I rock up and down, bouncing and feeling him hit the deepest parts of me and it’s perfect.

“You feel so good baby” Noah says and pushes his hips up to meet mine, fucking me from below. The new angle is everything. I feel overcome with pleasure and third orgasm shatters me as I fall onto Noah’s chest trying to catch my breath. As my walls clench and pulse around Noah’s hard member, he gently pulls out and flips us back over moan as he spills his hot cum over my stomach and breasts.

“That was fucking amazing.” Noah says as he collapses next to me on the bed. “Fucking amazing babe.” He kisses my shoulder lightly and try’s to even put his breathes before getting up to run and grab a towel to clean off my stomach and chest.

After cleaning up and showering quickly, I throw on a clean outfit and we head back downstairs to join the others. We are welcomed with chorus of wolf whistles and hoots, “damn! You two can’t keep your hands off each other for ten damn minutes before getting nasty!” Jolly says. “Yeah, the pizza got delivered and I bet Folio fifty bucks he wouldn’t go up to tell you guys” Nicholas laughs and I throw a pillow at them. “You pervs, I can’t wait until y’all being girls around. I can tell them all about your fart contests and horrible taste in candy” I send a glare towards Jolly at the end. “Hey! Lots of people like licorice!” He contests. I roll my eyes, “yeah! A lot of old people, people in their nineties! Sorry grandpa” I joke and we all fall into a fit of laughter.

We flop onto the couch together and cuddle close.

“Put on a movie!” I say excitedly as I reach for the pizza and open the box.

“Alright, what’s your usually post coital movie choice” Folio asks with a shit eating girl.

“Hmmm” I tap my chin. “Let me think, what about the 40 year old virgin? Maybe then I’ll finally understand you guys” I joke and then I feel a pillow hit the side of my face.

Hope this is what you where looking for!!! 🫶🏻

#noah sebastian #noahsebastian #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #Noah Sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens smut #bad omens fic #my fic #smut #smutty #smutty fic #author : spicywhenspeaking

[floofery]

This is just some speculation: do we even know if Sunny actually lost his left eye?

Of course, it's missing in all post-true ending fanworks but, I'm curious.

We know Basil most likely stabbed it with the shears and that Sunny lost vision in it until he blacked out. But does that equate to permanent vision loss? A bandage covers his left eye in the True Route, but I suspected that even without eye removal bandages would be put over a healing eye, so I did a little research.

I did minimal digging (only five or six websites and a couple of accounts from people who've sustained eye injuries) so, take this all with a grain of salt! (reblogs with more informed answers are great!!)

This is written rather sloppily as it's wednesday morning and I'm sick, but here's what I got.

It is entirely possible that Sunny kept his eye- and maybe recovered some of the lost vision.

A large puncture with the shears damaging his optic nerve would result in permanent vision loss- and damage to the retina is most likely to also end badly. It is possible for parts of the retina to heal, creating spotty vision with areas being completely blacked out and other areas visible, but usually the eye's done for.

Damage to anywhere else, however, is able to be fixed (with surgery).

If only the lens or the whites/sclera of the eye was stabbed, it is highly likely Sunny would be able to regain vision. Replacing the lens with an artificial one is a common type of surgery, which is also used in the case of cateracts (if no other treatment works).

Damage to the cornea or iris isn't as easy- a pierced iris is able to be treated but afterwards our guy would have to wear sunglasses around everywhere as it controls how much light the pupil lets into the eyeball. A damaged cornea would be far worse as the only way to get a new one is through a cornea transplant- however the cornea, iris, pupil, lenses, ect have no important nerves vital for vision- only the nerves that help you focus your eye or change the amount of light going in. Replacing them are complex procedures but they are possible (though it is important to note that cornea surgeries have high risk of failure).

I think it really depends on how Sunny was stabbed. I'm pretty sure the fight happened with both Basil and Sunny standing up- so Basil taking a swing and grazing Sunny's eye would cause bleeding and immense pain but is likely to be treatable. However, I see a lot of fanworks of Sunny being knocked to the ground and Basil driving the shears into his eye. I... don't believe this happened in canon (it wasn't mentioned in the little top bar "BASIL pushed SUNNY to the ground", ect) but if it did, this would have ten times the impact. If the shears gouged deep enough (and take this as an even bigger grain of salt) it could very well kill Sunny- right behind the eye is the brain. And even if they didn't, the wound would be much deeper with piercing of the retina and possibly the optic nerve.

thank you for coming to my ted talk LOL

Some notes:

-Omori happened in the '90s-2000's. I do not know if some of the surgeries (especially cornea transplants) had the same success rate back then as they do with more modern technology.

-I am NOT A DOCTOR. I found this out via multiple sources online. and please, I doubt anyone would ever do this but do NOT refer to this post if you or someone around you sustains an eye injury. I suggest calling 111 (or 911, or whatever the emergency number is in your region.)

-that's it! Ja!

#omori #omori game #omori sunny #omori basil #omori fandom #omori analysis #speculation

[dumbfanficsbylena]

heres this (ragatha x pomni)

“Gather ‘round, campers, because we’ve got a long road ahead of us!” Caine nudged Zooble slightly, making as bemused a face as one could make with a pair of dentures for a head.

“See, it’s funny to me because I know what’s going on.” Rolling their eyes, Zooble made their exit stage left.

“C’mon Zooble, where ya goin’?” Jax said with a shit-eating grin and hands firmly on his hips.

“I’m not getting stuffed in another @*#*ing gloink hole. Later.”

“Sorry m’dear, this one’s not optional!” Extending his arm, Caine wrapped it around Zooble, rapidly swinging her back into place.

“Hope you don’t mind.” Caine said with a light punch to the shoulder.

“Go *#*# yourself.” Despite his words, Zooble merely crossed his arms and realized he had no say in the matter.

“Great to hear!” Letting go of Zooble, Caine shot up from the ground, cracking his knuckles. With a snap of his fingers, the tent dissolved away in a transition fitting of an early 2000s powerpoint animation. Around the cast members was a vast expanse of plastic-sheen desert. A few low-poly cacti dotted the landscape, and the skybox seemed to have a few mountains drawn onto it. Although it gave a certain illusion of a continuous landscape, Pomni was pretty sure she could see a cliff between the mountains and the ground.

Most notably, was a rounded block of a bus, sporting an exaggerated face on the front bumper. Being a shorter bus, it contained only around eight seats. Still, it was enough to comfortably fit the whole cast.

While for most of the cast this sort of vibrant teleportation is a normal Tuesday, Pomni looked around anxiously, not nearly as used to it.

“So, look. I know we’re all a little shaken up after... Ahem. Kaufmo.” At the mention of the abstracted character, Caine tugged at his shirt collar a bit, refusing to make eye contact. Likewise, the cast didn’t seem too terribly comfortable at the mention, except for Jax, who put on a veneer of apathy, and Kinger, who looked like he didn’t quite comprehend the situation.

“So I’ve decided to make it up to you by bringing back a human tradition! I- I think anyways. Far back in time, humans used to travel via large, motorized contraptions across the desert. This was largely considered to be ‘fun’ and ‘mentally stimulating’.” Caine paused after this, looking around to gauge the group’s reaction.

“So what, you’re gonna drive us around in circles all day?” Jax asked with a wave of his hand.

“No!” Looking to each other, everyone waited for the ring master to explain the plot of the adventure. When no answer was forthcoming, Ragatha spoke up.

“So-”

“YOU’RE gonna drive yourselves around in circles all day! And nobody leaves until we’ve had a nice long.... say, eight hours of continuous driving? Anyways, have fun!” With that, Caine shrunk slowly away until he was too small to see, leaving the gang around to decide what to do. After a few moments of awkward silence looking at each other, Jax was the first one to speak up.

“I vote Kinger drives.” he said with a chuckle, folding his arms. Ragatha just gave him a dirty look.

“I don’t-” Gangle said before immediately being cut off by Jax.

“C’mon guys, let me have this.” Without waiting for a response, Jax began slowly pushing Kinger towards the vehicle.

“I don’t care. Wake me up when we’re done” Zooble gave a wave of her claw. Gangle slunk after the three and Ragatha took a few tentative steps towards the bus. Stopping to turn around and look at Pomni, she saw her looking nervously around her new environment before speaking to Ragatha.

“So we’re just… driving around for eight hours? That’s it?”

“Well… Not all of Caine’s adventures are winners. We can still have fun though! C’mon, new stuff.” Ragatha held out a linen hand and offered a reassuring smile.

“O-okay.” Gently taking the offered hand, the two set off towards the bus, loading up with the rest of the cast.

The interior of the bus was simple. A nondescript driver's seat with zero indications of speed or gas, just a digital timer stuck at eight hours and a big red button labeled “start” Evidently Caine even skipped on the gas and brake pedal. There were three rows of seats behind the single driver's seat with no walkway, which ensured that anyone wanting a back seat would have to crawl over the fore seats to get there.

Zooble, with arms crossed and a brow furrowed in annoyance, had already made the trek to the furthest back seat. Gangle, who had donned their tragedy mask, sat beside zooble toward the other window. Jax sat smugly in the front seat right behind Kinger who held the driver's seat.

“Well… I suppose we can take the middle seat!” Ragatha said before flopping over the first seat to reach the middle. As Pomni followed behind, ready to jump over to Ragatha, Jax gave them both a raised eyebrow.

“What? Is… something wrong?” Pomni raised her own eyebrow at Jax.

“Oh nothing.” A smirk laced Jax’s words before he turned his attention back to Kinger, leaving Pomni to awkwardly hop over the seat to join Ragatha.

“Wow, my very own colored pencils.” With a solid grip on the wheel, Kinger slammed the start button.

“This is gonna be fun” Jax leaned forward in their seats, with everyone else anxiously waiting to see what would happen. Pomni looked down at her lap as her brain chose that moment to notice the lack of seat belts.

With a jolt, the bus started moving. Slowly at first, but picking up speed to a brisk pace. To everyone’s surprise, the bus didn’t immediately swerve off into the desert. Instead, Kinger now had one hand on the steering wheel, and was piloting it smoothly in the right lane.

“What? He just drives? There's no way he just knows how to drive.” Gesturing with open palms, Jax looked behind him to Ragatha. All Ragatha could do in response was shrug.

“Well, that was boring. Anyways I’m going to sleep.” Plopping her head on the window with a plastic clink, Zooble closed her eyes.

Jax frowned, adjusting in his seat to face the rest of the group.

“So… Road trip. Not Caine’s best work.”

“Yeeeeah. He’s been less… present lately too. Wonder if he’s busy with something.” Ragatha scratched her head as she spoke.

“You mean this isn’t normal?” Pomni ventured. After all, she had one other adventure to go off, and that one wasn’t great either.

“I mean is anything normal here? I was hoping it’d at least be funny.” Adding a sigh to his sentence, Jax flipped back around to face the front. Letting out a loud and dramatic sigh, he leaned back into his seat

“I’m sure Caine has something in mind. Despite his quirks, he’s pretty good at putting on a show!” Ragatha turned to face Pomni, holding up a patchwork hand for emphasis.

Trying to keep a positive outlook, Pomni’s expression turned to that of cautious optimism. Compared to being chased by a colossal abstract beast or seeing a character gloink’d it was a relatively tame experience.

Setting out on their eight-hour journey, the various characters passed the time. Road trip games were offered, but since the only thing they passed was an identical cactus every few minutes, hopes of that quickly died out. Eventually, even the conversation sunk to a lull. Growing bored, Pomni yawned, stretching an arm above her head. Did digital characters get tired? She didn’t feel tired, but with how bored she was, she didn’t particularly feel energized either.

Looking around the bus, everyone looked like they felt about the same as she did. Ragatha held her hands in her lap, tapping away with her rounded legs. Zooble, of course, was still asleep, having seemingly adjusted her antenna positions in her sleep. Gangle seemed to be tearing up at some unknown tragic thought. She couldn’t see Jax’s face, but heavily suspected he was bored as well, and Kinger hadn’t so much as moved an inch in the past two hours.

Typically, stimulation and mental activity was what staved off insanity in the digital world. Sat on a desert island where nothing changes, and they do the same repetitive task for eight hours? After only two of eight it seemed to be straining everyone. Zooble was probably the smartest one here, sleep would be the best thing to keep sane. Closing her eyes, Pomni shrunk into the seat, awkwardly trying to lean on the window for support.

Pomni awoke to the gentle hum of the bus motor. Rather, she awoke to what sounded like a crude sound file of an engine. Looking at the clock, it’d only been an hour since she fell asleep, and there didn’t seem to be much more going on than when she fell asleep. Deciding her sleep was cozier than the alternative of being awake, she nuzzled back up into the arm she was leaning against. Pomni began to drift off back to the land of artificial dreams.

“Wait.”

Pomni’s eyes shot open as she realized what she was leaning on. With a small yelp, she shot upright. Scrunching her face up in embarrassment, she retreated from Ragatha’s arm, scooting slightly away.

“Ah! Sorry!” Ragatha looked at her, slightly confused for a moment before catching herself.

“Its okay! I would’ve woken you up buuuuuuut you looked like you could use the sleep.” Ragatha ruffled Pomni’s hat slightly. Pomni felt her face flush under Ragatha’s smile.

“T-thanks. It was nice. I mean – the sleep that is. The sleep was nice.” Pomni covered for herself quickly, while trying and failing to not seem like an anxious mess. First widening her non-button eye, Ragatha then broke into a small chuckle, earning a slight smile from Pomni.

“Riiiiight. Say, I wonder how Kinger’s doing. He hasn’t said anything in an awfully long time.” Looking past Jax, who’d fallen asleep at some point, to Kinger, they saw the cloaked chess piece sitting stock-still in the driver’s seat. Pomni held a hand up to her chin in thought.

“Where’d he even learn to drive so... perfectly straight?” For the first time in hours, Kinger decided to respond at this very moment. Without looking behind him, he waved a hand in a vague gesture.

“I was a bus driver before I came here you know!” This statement brought odd looks from the girls. After all, nobody remembers their life before the circus, right? Ragatha wrote it off as another strange Kinger statement, but Pomni questioned it.

“You... You remember your life?” Maybe there was a clue here, she thought. Perhaps memories weren’t entirely lost? A few moments passed before Kinger slowly began turning around to face Pomni. Locking eyes, she quickly averted her gaze. Kinger held the stare for a few beats longer, before letting out an unprompted blood curdling scream.

Only taking seconds, the bus swerved off course, flinging the characters to the side and then flinging them forward as the bus stopped dramatically when hitting the side of the road. Zooble fell into pieces across the car, Gangle smashed her mask on the seat in front of her, and Jax fell face first forward into the clock. Thanks to Ragatha’s quick reaction time, Pomni only slammed into the soft doll hand in front of her.

“What the @*&# was that!?” Jax yelled, holding a hand in pain to his forehead. Pulling back slightly from the dashboard he found himself thrust into, his vision centered on the clock in front of him. It read a full eight hours remaining on the trip.

“What happened!? Why’s the clock zeroed out!?” Yelling angry, he hit the clock a few times to no avail. Zooble was yelling and complaining and asking for someone to put them back together. Ragatha obliged, but only after checking in with Pomni and Gangle.

“You @#*#ing $#*$!” Various swears and insults spilled from Jax’s mouth. Dramatically lifting the king up and out of the bus, he quite literally kicked the man to the curb.

“Jax! What are you doing? It’s your fault for having him drive!” As Ragatha stood with hands on her hips confronting Jax, Kinger’s eyes welled up like a puppy outside the bus’s closed door.

“Oh relax! Caine just said we had to drive eight hours, not that we all had to be on the bus. Besides, look at ‘em - he’s having a blast.” Sitting back down in his seat, he gestured outside the door window.

“Tell me more about your insect collection!” Somehow procuring a tea set and small table, Kinger raised his empty teacup to the cactus. Beautifully draped over the table sat a delicate pink and white checkered cloth. Pinky out, he took a loud pretend sip from the teacup. Back inside the bus, Jax snapped his fingers and looked at Gangle.

“Alright Gangle, you’re up.” Pointing to the driver's seat, Jax stared at Gangle expectantly. Looking shocked, she frowned deeply.

“W-why me?” Merely rolling his eyes Jax gestured around the rest of the bus.

“You’re the least likely to make it difficult and I’m sick of this adventure. Hop to it now.” Despite seeming like she really didn’t want the responsibility; she also really didn’t want to fight with Jax. Reluctantly, she slunk up to the front seat, easily sliding past Ragatha and Pomni with her ribbon body.

“Once more this time, gang. With feeling.” Although he was still trying his best to be funny, there was a certain edge to his voice. Somehow, Gangle ended up a worse driver. What wasn’t clear with Kinger was that the bus did not travel in a straight line of its own accord. Instead, it veered slightly on occasion. Poor weak Gangle didn’t have the strength or dexterity to pilot it straight.

While definitely embarrassed, Pomni couldn’t get her mind off how Ragatha’s soft and plush fabric felt. Finding her mind unable to stray from the thought, she kept peeking over at Ragatha. For just a moment she considered pretending to fall asleep but wrote that off as too courageous of a task...

At first Ragatha was just looking out the window. That was boring, so she turned to Pomni, only to find her staring at her shoulder. A hand over her mouth, she couldn’t help but let out a giggle.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about, new stuff?” In her chest Pomni’s heart nearly burst. Embarrassment flooding her cheeks, she tried her best to be smooth.

“Uh – sand – you – wait no I meant cacti!” Had it been possible to melt in the digital world, Pomni would have discovered that. Jax, noticing what was happening, decided to insert himself into the conversation.

“C’mon, kiss already.” Of course, this earned him yet another glare from a hot-cheeked Ragatha. Reduced to a blushing mess, Pomni closed her eyes and grabbed at her hat. For fear of causing spontaneous combustion, Ragatha decided to wait for her to recover. After all, they had nothing but time.

Then she tapped on Pomni’s shoulder and was met with a confused look. About to say something, Pomni was stopped with a quiet shushing gesture. Patting her shoulder, she silently invited Pomni to rejoin her on her shoulder

Still cautious, Pomni glanced from side to side, but saw the cast members asleep. Not entirely sure she was interpreting correctly, she didn’t move. Rolling her eyes, Ragatha wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders, pulling her closer.

Underneath her arm Pomni was stiff as a board. Although she desperately wanted to be close, the suddenness of it had her paralyzed with fear. Anxieties crept into her brain, and she feared she didn't deserve it.

As the moments passed, however, the soft caressing hand around Pomni’s shoulders eased her into it. Relaxing at first, she grew adventurous and nuzzled into Ragatha’s torso. Having felt Ragatha a few times, it wasn’t a complete surprise how she felt. Opposed to the normal blocky or smooth plastic texture of everything else in the digital world, the characters themselves had a texture reminiscent of their virtual form.

Ragatha’s, for instance, felt like a real doll. Her soft fabric skin softly rubbed against Pomni’s own and pomni’s head felt the patchwork rags of her dress. Unlike a doll, though, a soft warmth flooded through Pomni from Ragatha, reminding her subtly of what it was like to be human. Now she was leaning entirely into Ragatha. Drifting gently off to sleep, Pomni closed her eyes once more.

Eventually, she awoke again. This time it was a lot less violent. Instead of wildly swinging the bus around, Gangle had merely failed to maintain its trajectory. Jax... lost it. As opposed to Kinger, he stood towering over the fragile girl.

“#@*$ you can’t do anything right, Gangle!” It wasn’t witty like his usual demeanor, just plain mean spirited. Twitches and black digital artifacts spread across his body. Shrinking in her seat, the poor girl curled up, wrapping around herself slightly. Grabbing her by the mask, he walked to the door, dropped, and then kicked Gangle out of the bus.

“What the @*#& Jax!?” Ragatha stood up in her seat, ready to confront Jax. Her fists tightened and her eyes twitched.

Why do you have to be such a... such a @##*!? All the time!” Ragatha shouted. Given what Pomni knew of the cast so far, it seemed uncharacteristic for them to be so... enraged. Genuine vitriol laced their words.

“Oh, I’m a @*#* am I? Gee, if only I could hear what you were saying.” Jax's face was lined with a twitchy wide grin. Digital artifacts blinked in and out around their heads and faces. Pouring from Ragatha’s eyes were black sludgy tears.

“R-ragatha?” Nobody had told her exactly how abstractification worked -- Pomni was beginning to think it went something like this. Nervously glancing around, she also noticed that Gangle and Zooble had left the car at some point. In addition, the clock had been reset to eight hours, and the bus remained motionless some distance away from the single cactus that populated the landscape.

“Stay out of this pomni, I-” Stopping her in her tracks was the horrified look on Pomni’s face. Snapping her back to reality, she lifted a hesitant hand to her face. When she pulled it away, black stringy globules of matter pulled away and all at once she realized what was happening.

“I-I-I'm sorry. Everything’s gonna be okay Pomni! Don’t worry!” Though the black sludge had stopped falling they left dark trailing stains on Ragatha’s face. Forcing a smile, she reached tentatively toward Pomni.

Sudden movement didn’t help Pomni as she recoiled slightly in fear. Looking up at Ragatha’s face, Pomni saw a scared girl trying her best to keep it together. Blueish tears edged their way onto her face from her eyes. Flashes of her first day drifted into Pomni’s mind, and of Ragatha being dashed to the ground by Kaufmo’s broken mind. Fears aside, she rushed forward into Ragatha’s arms.

“P-please don’t go crazy. Please?” Ragatha’s arms wrapped tightly around Pomni, who began to burst into tears. The two girls embraced one another, laughing out of pure anxiety.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up! You’re so annoying!” The words sounded like they were ripping their way out of his throat. Standing up from his seat, the digital artifacting around Jax’s body began to intensify as sludge bubbled its way out of the edges of his mouth.

“Pomni, run!” In the digital world, weight wasn’t so much an issue, at least relative to Pomni and Ragatha. Thus, it was little issue for Ragatha to quite literally toss Pomni out of the door, where she landed on the sand-colored ground with a dull thud. Next to her was the lone cactus they’d passed a thousand times, along with Kinger. Evidently, he’d continued to have his cactus tea party.

“Oh hi, Pomni! We were just talking about you!” While the cactus remained completely immobile, Kinger joyfully waved, completely oblivious to the problem at hand. As Pomni slowly tried to stand, loud banging could be heard within the bus. Tens of eyes and various black tendrils writhed around inside the bus. Doors swung open on the side of the bus as Ragatha was tossed outside onto the ground. Just as the last time she had an encounter with the abstracted, she was a glitchy mess on the floor. Only this time, the difference was that she didn’t seem to be conscious at all.

“No no no no no no, not again!” Freezing up, Pomni saw behind Ragatha that whatever was left of Jax was now struggling to get outside of the bus, squeezing its large form through the comparatively small doors. She couldn’t grab Ragatha, not without hurting herself in the process.

“I-I-I...” Ragatha had wanted her to run, right? Maybe she would have wanted her to escape, even if she didn’t make it. What good was that though, living on in a world where she abandoned Ragatha?

“Aghh!” Then it hit her. She couldn’t touch her, but the rest of the digital world was completely unaffected by her presence. Twisting around, she yanked the pink cloth off the table, shattering bits of tea ware in the process. From there she was able to wrap it around Ragatha’s arm, and begin pulling her away from the bus, making her escape from the abstraction.

“Kinger! Run!” Where could they run though? As far as she could tell, the entire area was nothing but a single repeat of land and a road that led in a circle. Either way, Pomni ran as fast as she physically could, Kinger rushing just behind.

“Caine!? Caine!” That wouldn’t work, she tried it before. She could yell her throat out and Caine wouldn’t hear. Behind her, Pomni saw the beast bursting from the bus’s doors, tearing parts of the bus apart as skidded on to the floor. Spindly appendages pounded on the ground, quickly gaining ground over Pomni.

“Ooooookay Pomni. This is fine, this is fine! Just gotta think.” Thinking out loud to herself, she glanced from side to side. Last time Caine came, she had been in the void. Where would the void be? Without slowing down, she began running to the left, straight for the edge of the desert island.

“Kinger! Go jump off that cliff!” Without so much as a second thought or objection, Kinger rushed forward ahead of the two. Glancing backwards, he gave a heavy nod and a salute, and continued his way toward the horizon.

“Please...” Although it wasn’t necessarily difficult to carry Ragatha, it did slow her down a bit. That tiny bit was enough for the abstraction to gain fast ground on her. Only a little further now, and she and Ragatha would make it over the cliff. What was over the cliff, anyways? Would it lead to the void, or would she never return. It didn’t matter, it was the only place she could go.

She wasn’t going to make it and Pomni knew it. The edge was just barely too far. With how loud the pounding behind her was getting, she didn’t have to look to know that Jax – or what was left of him – was seconds away from reaching her.

It was a split-second decision – one she didn’t have time to think about. Stopping a few meters shy of the edge, she spun Ragatha around in a full circle before launching her straight at the cliff’s edge. The doll’s body sounded soft as she bounced across the ground. As Pomni watched her body slide just over the point of no return, a searing pain pierced her back. She didn’t even have time to scream before her world went black.

“Well, this is awkward.” Using his cane to scratch the back of his head, Caine looked away from the remaining cast members. She was alive. Glancing around erratically, she saw the whole gang gathered in a scattered group around Caine. That is, save for a certain rabbit. As soon as she laid eyes upon Ragatha, she immediately dashed towards the girl and wrapped her arms around her.

“Here I was, wanting to provide you all with a wholesome eight hours of uninterrupted featureless landscape, and it wasn’t fun.” With a roll of the eyes, he took a playful pose in the air. Nobody else seemed nearly as Jolly. Amidst the empty silent landscape, the only noises were Pomni and Gangle’s soft sobbing.

A few more quips were said, but nobody was in the mood. Caine had pushed his circus too hard and too far. Unsure of what to say, he merely returned them to the Tent. Zooble went off on her own, unusually quiet. Gangle and Kinger walked off outside to the grounds, and the two remaining girls stalked off to the dormitory hallway.

“P-please don’t go.” Pomni latched herself around the waist of Ragatha. Unable to stop herself, she’d been crying since they’d reunited. Ragatha patted the girl’s head, smiling sweetly down at her.

“I won’t go ‘til you’re good and ready for me to, sweet stuff.” One hand wrapped around Pomni’s she opened her room’s door behind her. As always, there was a pervasive fluorescent glow. The room itself, however, was reminiscent of a little girl’s room, or a doll house. Pink was the theme here, with baby pink bed sheets and white and pink striped wallpaper. It didn’t quite fit Ragatha’s personality, but it certainly fit her character. Sitting on the bed, Pomni had her head in Ragatha’s lap. Beside the bed lay her jester cap, and Ragatha slowly ran her fingers through the girl’s fluffy hair.

“I guess we’re really in this together, huh?” Her voice was soft and soothing to Pomni, who was laying still with eyes shut.

“Y-yeah” Turning her head to look up at Ragatha, her smile was tilted and awkward.

“After today... I don’t think it’s safe here.” Ragatha closed her eyes for a moment and thought, continuing to caress Pomni’s head.

“Pomni? I feel... I feel like I want to try again, to leave here with you. Will you come with me?” It took some effort to sit up in Ragatha’s lap, but their faces came close together as she waited eagerly for a response.

“Of course.” Ragatha’s soft quilted lips drifted ever closer to Pomni’s face. Distance was unbearable in that moment, as Pomni’s voice grew soft to a whisper.

“C-can… can I…” Struggling to get the words out, Ragatha answered by crossing the final distance and meeting their lips together. Although still a similar texture to the rest of her body, the lips were particularly warm and soft. Slowly they moved, as if trying to memorize the other’s lips.

Encouraged by her success, Pomni tentatively caressed Ragatha’s arm. In return Ragatha wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, running her hands along her back. After a few seconds of enjoying each other's embrace, they parted.

“We’ll be okay, sweet stuff. We’ll be okay.”

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #jesterdoll #pogatha #the amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #tadc #fan fiction #this is so cringe but i wrote it gdi

[ofstoriesandstardust]

i’d lie (bradley “rooster” bradshaw)

a/n: something cute and wholesome to make up for all the angst i’ve been putting out into the world lately. 

summary: Rooster overhears you singing at a barbecue. he can’t help but wish it was him you were singing about. little does he know...

callsign: bubbles

inspired by t swizzle’s “I’d lie” (if blondie don’t officially release this with her re-records i will cry)

main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist

warnings: teeth-rotting fluff, angst if you squint, idiots in love, the team plays matchmaker, allusions to sex like briefly for a sentence at the end, swearing

word count: 1,922

The squadron had been together for almost a year now and Rooster was enjoying every minute of it. Ever since the team had come back successful, the Navy had elected to keep them together to create an elite squadron, recognizing their compatibility as pilots and people. Maverick was their main teacher and it felt like life had finally settled into place. Except for just one thing, something Phoenix would especially not let go of. His no longer secret crush on you, given the fact that at one point or another over the last ten months the team had done the math and figured out he’d been harboring feelings for their fellow pilot. The team, Phoenix especially, was pushing for him to tell you, but for a man so sure of himself in the air, he was afraid to ruin the solid friendship he had with you. So he watched from afar, admiring the way your contagious laughter lit up a room and the way you danced like no one was watching and challenged anyone who gave you the chance. You were incredibly intelligent, and witty, and everything Rooster wanted. But he contented himself to watch from the sidelines, settling to keep the friendship. 

Which is where he found himself tonight. The team was at some barbecue with some military official’s family. The house was near the ocean and huge. As the night settled in, he found himself sitting on a porch swing outside, sipping a beer and enjoying the sounds of the nearby ocean. One of the younger pilots must have gotten a hold of the music because distantly from inside he heard music from the early 2000’s began to play. Content as he was to sit out here by himself, his friends seemed content to not leave him alone as they all wandered out on to the porch. His eyes skimmed the group, noting that Bubbles was missing. He wondered where you were, briefly wondering if you’d gone home with another pilot. He shook the thought from his head as the team settled in around him. They all conveniently left the seat next to him on the swing open. “Where’s Bubbles?” he asked, trying to be nonchalant in the way he said it. Phoenix snickered. 

“Inside. Some poor Admiral won’t let her out of a conversation. And she’s too nice to say anything.” He smiled briefly, thinking of how you were probably in the kitchen talking to some official who was droning on about his achievements and how you were politely smiling and nodding, not willing to excuse yourself from the conversation. Someone produced some cards and the team began to play as he sat back, slowly rocking in the swing. He listened to the music and after a little while, you finally opened the patio door, bright smile gracing your face. You took the only open seat next to him as if it was the most natural thing in the world and he swallowed, looking away, trying to fight his face from going hot. 

“Hey.” You said breathless, running a hand through your hair. 

“You run from that Admiral?” Hangman joked. 

“Just about. Can I be dealt in?” Payback nodding, and handed the deck to you. 

“Sure, if you shuffle for the next round.” You groaned, leaning back in your chair. Rooster’s arm had been leaned up against the back of the sing and your head just barely brushed his arm. Butterflies erupted in his stomach as he sipped his beer, desperately trying to play it off. Fanboy snickered at his face but said nothing. Distantly, he heard the sound of an old Taylor Swift song being played.

“Sorry Rooster.” You said, patting his arm and then leaning back to the table to shuffle. Rooster felt himself turning red as Bob sent him a knowing grin. He took another sip of his beer, trying to get himself under control. Your hair was falling over your shoulder and the outfit you had worn was simple and yet made you look fucking amazing... as usual, Rooster wasn’t sure how you did it.  He gently rocked on the swing as you shuffled. The team chatted around him and he soaked in the feeling of this moment. Moments of peace and pure contentment like this were rare and he would savor it for as long as he got it. 

“He’ll never fall in love he swears as he runs his fingers through his hair, I’m laughing cause I hope he’s wrong”

Rooster’s eyes flickered over to you as he realized you were softly singing along to the song. He tried not to blush and looked away, not trying to let you know that he knew. He made eye contact with Fanboy as he made kissy faces at him. Rooster discreetly flipped him off from behind his beer as he listened to you sing along. You seemed lost in your own world as you shuffled the deck. 

“He sees everything back and white, Never let nobody see him cry, I don’t let nobody see me wishing he was mine”

The way your voice followed the musicality of the song perfectly, the way your head slightly bobbed to the music (which he didn’t even think he realized you were doing), the smile that graced your face and eyes as the song played, he felt himself falling harder for you. 

“He’d never tell you, but he can play guitar, I think he can see through everything but my heart, First thought when I wake up, Is my God he’s beautiful, So I put on my make-up and pray for a miracle”

“Gee Bubbles, with the way you’re singing that song, you’d think there‘s a secret crushy-crush we don’t know about.” Hangman said, smirking at her while Coyote made kissy noises. She shot him the side-eye and slammed the newly shuffled deck of cards into his hand. 

“You’re annoying. Deal.” Hangman chuckled and began to deal out the cards. The rest of the night passed without event, but Rooster couldn’t help wonder if you did have a crush on someone they didn’t know about. He knew he had a solid friendship with you, but he wasn’t Phoenix or Halo, wasn’t as open as Fanboy or Bob, couldn’t offer you advice like Coyote or Payback, so maybe there was a crush he hadn’t known about. The thought made the alcohol in his stomach began to feel sour but he had to remind himself that he did this to himself. Finally, you called it quits, leaning up against the back of the swing, head just barely resting against Rooster’s forearm. He wanted nothing more than to move it down and wrap it around your shoulder, bring you into his side, and rub your arm as the two of you chatted with your friends but it wasn’t like that and never would be. Wouldn’t ever be his place to do something domestic like that. A few more rounds got played as you chatted with Bob and Phoenix, but eventually the team called it quits. He elected to spend just a few more minutes outside, enjoying the night as the party still raged inside. Phoenix gave him a look as you stood up to hug Bob and he flipped her off as you pulled away. You sat back down next to Rooster, despite there being a bunch more empty seats. He tried not to let the butterflies in his stomach get carried away. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a while, the swing slowly rocking and you scrolling through social media. He didn’t want this moment to end as he sipped the last of his beer. Finally, you sighed, locking your phone and setting it down on the table in front of you. He looked down at you as you shifted slightly to be fully facing towards him. “Can I talk to you?” You asked softly and he nodded, setting his beer down on the table. 

“Of course. Always.” He said, concern filtering in his voice. Was something wrong? Were you going to leave the squadron? Had you figured out he liked you? He was slightly panicking. You picked at the skin near the corners of your nail, a nervous habit of yours. Did he make you nervous? That was the last thing he wanted. 

“Um, I need to tell you something just to get it off my chest because Coyote thinks I really should and um, I don’t want you to like freak out or anything, but I just need to tell you.” He nodded slowly, still mildly confused. And yet, there was kernel of hope growing somewhere in his heart that maybe, just maybe- You took a deep breath and shut your eyes. You leaned your forehead against his arm and groaned. “This is so fucking difficult.” 

“Hey, it’s just me.” he said gently, reaching out to place a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah, and that’s the problem.” You said, not moving your head. Something chipped away at his heart at that but he tried not to show it on his face. He rubbed his thumb on your shoulder gently. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” He whispered. 

“Yes I do because I’m gonna hate myself if I don’t.” 

“Okay, well, take all the time you need.” The two of you sat there for a few more minutes before you finally lifted your head to look at him. He left his hand placed your shoulder rubbing small circles because you hadn’t pushed him off yet and it seemed to be bringing you the smallest amounts of comfort. You took a deep breath, hands settled in your lap as you looked at him honestly. 

“Rooster, I like you. I’ve liked you for a really long time. In fact, I know I’ve liked you since that first night we were all together in the Hard Deck and you winked at me while singing ‘Great Balls of Fire’ despite the fact that I was still at the pool table with Coyote and Hangman, who were just giving you shit. And, um, you don’t have to return the feelings or anything but I just thought you should know.” His breath got caught in his throat as he took in your words. Holy shit. He quickly moved his hand from where it was placed on your shoulder to cup your cheek. 

“I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay.” You nodded and he leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. His other hand came to sit gently on your waist as your hands found a place on his shirt. He pulled away, kissing up your jawline. “I do like you too, by the way. Don’t know if that was obvious.” 

“Hm, I don’t know, you might have to kiss me again so I can really get it.” You teased, eyes lighting up. He chuckled at you, pulling you back in. After a moment, he pulled away, chuckling. “What?” You asked, hands clutching at his shirt as you leaned against his forehead. 

“Coyote was just giving me shit this morning for not tell you yet.” He whispered. 

“Well, thank God for him because if he hadn’t given me a whole pep-talk in the kitchen, I never would’ve done this.” 

“Everybody saw it but us, huh?” 

“Apparently.” You said, giggling. “It’s okay though, you make up for it in kissing.” 

“Oh well, if I make up for it kissing, just wait until I make up for it in other ways.” 

#bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw imagines #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster fics #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagines #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fics #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagines #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fics #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fics

[brucewaynehater101]

What music genres do you think the batfam members listen to?I ask this because of how little Alternative music fan headcannons there are. I personally think Tim enjoys grunge and or nu metal(Specifically bands like limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, Korn, and System of a Down)

I'm not too familiar with genres, so I'll be giving this my best shot. I typically listen to music by the vibe it gives. My playlists include music that makes my brain go brr (the nice dissociation), songs for muses, ones to scandalize my mother, music a garage band would play, songs that make God fear me, and a long playlist for pleasant company.

Anyways, I've seen a few fics where people say that Bruce and Tim share a love of those genres. I could definitely see Tim listening to the ones you mentioned. He probably plays it through his preferred headphones as he fixes electronics, codes, or plots destruction. He also, because he suppresses his anger a lot, probably listens to music like Ghostemane, Kim Dracula, and Freddie Dredd.

Jason definitely enjoys musicals. Dick as well, but Jason isn't as vocal about it. Instead, Jason will listen to 80's rock and 2000's girl bands if others around (he ofc listens to TLC).

I like to think that they all enjoy music in different languages. For Dick and Damian, they especially like music they grew up listening to in their respective cultures. The others, because the batfam is multilingual, just enjoy all kinds of different tunes in multiple languages. The batfam playlist, especially for hanging out in the cave, is chaotic. Bruce nearly had an aneurysm the first time he heard Touch You (Yarichin Bitch Club) over the speakers. The only reason the kids didn't get in trouble was because Damian was out with Colin at the time.

I hc that Cass likes lofi hip hop music. She typically enjoys all songs but prefers those without words (because understanding words still requires energy from her and can prevent her from fully relaxing). She does listen to a lot of classical music, a passion she shares with Alfred.

Alfred, the man the myth the legend, enjoys swing music the most. He'll put on a variety of music in the kitchen (different classical eras, opera music, the occasional musical, jazz, some more modern instrumental music, and some movie background tracks), but the whole fam knowns he's in a really good mood if swing music is playing.

Bruce is the type of person to just listen to what's on. Unless he dislikes the music, he will be fine with whatever his kids or Alfred have playing. He particularly enjoys alternative rock and old country music (like Garth Brooks), but he doesn't usually fight for the aux cord.

Barbara has playlists depending on her mood. Birds of Prey mission prep? Bruce being a dick? Dick being a dick? Batfam drama she has to once again intervene in? Coding nights? Can't get out of bed days? She also has a few playlists for each person she regularly interacts with. For calm or bad nights, she'll put the playlist in that person's comm. She also likes to hack speakers around Bruce and play her revenge music when he's being a petty asshole. Some of her revenge music includes "They're Coming to Take Me Away" by Sloppy Jane, "OoOo1" by galen tipton, "All I see is Poop" by Hobo Johnson, "I Swallowed Shampoo" by Soupy Garage Juice, "I am now going to bark at you" by thquib, and "I hope You Die in a Fire" by Grand Commander.

Duke is most definitely a Mitski, Hozier, Crane Wives enjoyer, and you can pry that hc from my cold, dead hands. He probably also likes songs similar to "Ancapistan" by Jreg or "The Fine Print" by The Stupendium.

Dick's music is either super high in energy or sad as fuck. He loves the songs "Has Anbody Seen My Will to Live" by The Tin Knees and "Copacabana (At the Copa)" by Barry Manilow because they are both sad and happy :) I hc that he likes songs by TV Girl, Yot Club, Joji, and Cosmo Sheldrake. He also has a few playlists he follows of Zumba music. The song "The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer is one of his favorites.

This is already a pretty long post, so feel free to reblog with more ideas! I didn't get to Steph or more in depth with Damian :(

#dc comics #duke thomas #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #yes i do listen to every song and band I've mentioned regularly and for enjoyment #thank you for the ask!!!! #i will probably add damian and steph later #ignore any bad writings with this one cause I'm currently at work while writing it

[mandoalorian]

lost in nightmares (leon s. kennedy x reader)

Summary: You comfort Leon after he wakes up from a nightmare in which he relived the hellish events of Racoon City. Leon, who is suffering with PTSD, is struggling to shake the past, and only you can bring him back to reality.

Word count: 2000 words.

Warnings: PTSD, trauma attacks, hallucinations, implied self injury. Hurt/comfort.

Inspired by the note from Leon found in Resident Evil 6 that reads: “To tell you the truth, I even thought about ending it. Several times actually, with just a quick bullet to the head. But I didn’t give up.”

Masterlist

Leon’s body was burning hot when he woke up, his palms sweaty and his finger nails indented into his skin where he’d made fists in his sleep. You were fast asleep beside him, lightly snoring, at peace. He looked at you momentarily with tired eyes and a small part of him envied you. The way the corners of your pretty lips were slightly upturned into a smile, even when you were sleeping. It eased him slightly, knowing you were there next to him, and he was safe. It has been getting easier for Leon since you’d moved in with him, but the nights were still the hardest. He didn’t want to wake you. He didn’t want to worry you.

Leon’s throat was dry and he was so sure that if he didn’t get a glass of water soon, he might just choke on the air around him. He needed to feel the cool liquid run down his throat. He needed to feel the contrast. As Leon sat up in bed, he saw a bright flash, a figure standing at the foot. Tall and Tyrant-like… all too familiar. He gasped loudly and shuffled back towards the headboard in fear, but when he blinked again, the figure was gone. Nothing but a mere figment of his imagination. A memory.

Leon took a few seconds to recuperate and worked on regulating his breathing, before swinging his legs out of the bed and standing up as quiet as he could, still making conscious effort not to wake you. In the darkness, Leon stumbled to open the bedroom door. He slipped out of the room and began to pad down the hallway, which was illuminated by a small amber nightlight. The rain outside thrashed against the window and it reminded Leon of that night, September 28th, when big fat raindrops fell atop of him as he navigated to the Racoon City Police station, dodging the undead who roamed the streets. Leon rubbed his eyes and saw one of them. A zombie— a monster— the undead. Blood stained and ripped t-shirt, still looking almost human if it wasn’t for the greying skin and white eyes. Leon blinked furiously, begging the image to go away.

“Go away,” he whispered. His skin began to tingle, and it was getting hard to breathe again. “You’re not real— go away.” His voice became a little more loud and a little more stern with fury. He was mad at himself. Why couldn’t he shake these images? These feelings?

It should have been different. He was working for the US government now; not by choice, but they had him training under the influential Major Krauser. Krauser was tough and rough and had been through a lot, just like Leon. He’d fought in wars all around the world; and yet, he seemed unfazed by it all. It had been two years since the Racoon City Incident, and still, not a day goes by when Leon didn’t reminisce. He wished he didn’t— he wished he couldn’t. Leon wished for a lot of things, but life goes on.

‘I’m not a kid anymore,’ Leon thought to himself. ‘So why am I still scared of monsters under the bed?’

After a long moment of fighting with himself in the hallway, Leon made it to the kitchen and took a glass from one of the cabinets. He opened up the freezer drawer and took out an ice cube, but stopped himself before he could put it in the glass. The cold against his skin soothed him and Leon took a breath of relief as he made a fist around the ice cube, the sharpness of the corners cutting slightly against his skin. He didn’t wince though, he barely even felt it. Leon let the ice melt into his hand and the water seep in between the gaps of his fingers until it made a puddle on the floor beneath him. Then, he wiped his hand with a towel and turned on the tap. Water.

Leon filled up his glass and turned off the tap before spinning around on his heel.

What he saw next, made his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. The RPD uniform, skin turning purple but still those big, empathy-filled brown eyes. Marvin.

“Save me, Leon,” Marvin choked out, and extended his arm towards his employee.

Leon dropped the glass of water on the floor, the cup smashing beneath him and shards of the glass cutting his leg and feet open. But Leon couldn’t move, it was like his feet was stuck to the tiles. Like his mind was stuck back-in-time.

“Why didn’t you save me?” Marvin called out again, his voice edging more into a pained croak.

“No, no, no…” Leon shook his head, tears filling his blue eyes.

“They’re all going to die, Leon,” Marvin mused. “Just like me. Just like Ada…”

“Stop— stop it,” Leon pleaded. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be.

“Claire… Sherry…” Marvin sighed, shaking his head. He then made full eye contact with Leon, his face straight and sour. He said your name.

“Fuck you,” Leon spat. He reached down to his waist hoping to find his pistol holstered there, but was instead met by nothing. He wasn’t in his cop uniform like he’d pictured, but instead, a white v neck t-shirt and a pair of light grey sweatpants. He was in his pyjamas.

Leon made a fist instead, letting his fingernails dig into his skin. If he was hard enough; maybe the pain would wake him up from this real life nightmare. He wanted a gun. He wanted to shoot Marvin— kill him for good— and then maybe, maybe he’d kill himself too. Put an end to all of this finally, so he could stop being an inconvenience to you, and Krauser, and everyone else around him. Leon had changed so much since the Racoon City Incident, there was no telling who he was anymore.

Leon fell to his knees sobbing, the glass beneath him now itching against the material of his sweats, begging to cut through. Leon’s cries were hysterical, terrified wails coming from a petrified 23 year old boy who just missed the person he used to be.

“Leon? Leon!” You’d been calling his name for ten or so seconds before Leon finally heard your voice. He opened his eyes, which were now red and sore, and instead of Marvin standing by the door, he was met with you, your eyes wide and doe-like as you analysed what was before you. Your boyfriend kneeling on the kitchen floor amongst shards of glass and spilt water and specs of blood staining his pants. His cheeks were tear stained although he wasn’t crying anymore.

“I— I—“ Leon choked, unable to force his words out.

“Oh baby, it’s okay, it’s okay,” you promised, taking big steps over to him and taking his hand, carefully helping him to his feet as you tried to avoid the glass. Leon wrapped his big arm around you and held onto you tight as you walked alongside him, leaving the kitchen and heading into the living room.

Leon slumped down onto the sofa and you curled up beside him.

“Did I wake you up…?” Leon sniffed.

You paused momentarily. He did wake you up, but you knew the immense amount of guilt Leon would feel if he learned that. It would be another thing that he’d blame himself for.

“The rain woke me up,” the little white lie left your lips like velvet. “It’s so loud out there. I think there’s a storm coming.” You frowned.

Leon’s expression matched yours and he looked down at the floor beneath him. Your eyes followed his gaze and you noticed his foot was still bleeding from the glass.

“Oh— oh sweetie, you’re hurt,” you acknowledged, standing up. “Let me go grab a Med Kit.”

Before Leon could reply and even attempt to reassure you that he was fine, you bolted to the bathroom cabinet and grabbed an unused First Aid Spray, before returning to Leon in the living room. You dropped to your knees in front of him and began to tend to his wound.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” you said, concentrating on stopping the bleeding. “You know, talking about it might help.”

“I think— I think I’m losing it.” Leon said plainly and without any emotion.

“Losing what, exactly?” you beckoned him further.

Your boyfriend shrugged. “My mind?” he returned your questioning tone.

You stood back up and sat down next to him. You placed both of your hands on Leon’s face and traced the height of his cheekbone with your fingers. He sunk into your warm embrace, his heart rate slowing down from the panicked and erratic speed that it was. You ran your fingers through his tousled dark blonde hair, making sure it was out of his eyes and you could say his beautiful face.

“Is it… the incident?” You use your words carefully after having a conversation with Leon’s therapist about it. You discussed how it was best to not bring up certain words as it may just trigger him more.

Leon nodded silently and you gave him a minute to gather his words. Sometimes, time was all he needed.

“The nightmares have been getting better since you moved in, since we— share a bed. But, I still get them sometimes. This one was a really bad one. I was in the NEST lab, finding all this dirt on Umbrella when… he came. Birkin— mutated— that ugly fuck—“

“And then you woke up?” sensing that he was about to spiral, you made your choice to interrupt Leon.

“Yeah… and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. So I got up and went to get some water but I kept seeing things— feeling things—hearing things. I can’t escape it. It’s too much…”

You grabbed a hold of Leon’s hands and squeezed them with all the strength you could muster. “Leon Scott Kennedy, you are a hero. You and Claire… you saved that little girl. You made it out of that hellhole alive and able to tell the story. You fucking did it! You’re a natural born survivor and you’re brave and— holy shit, you’re the strongest person I know. All the odds were against you and you made it.”

You watched as Leon’s face hardened.

“I won’t rest until Umbrella are done for,” Leon interrupted you. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure the world doesn’t see another Racoon City Incident…”

“Okay, good, keep fighting. It’s what you’re best at,” you beamed at your boyfriend and he offered you a small, weak smile. “Leon, I want you to know this won’t be easy but I’ll be with you, every step of the way. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you so much.” Leon sighed, leaning into your body and inhaling. You curled up beside him and placed a kiss into his neck.

“I love you too, my hero.”

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #fan fic #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil 4 remake

[jasongracestan12]

Y’all I saw a music taste of the seven post that I felt was really inaccurate, so I had to make one of my own lmfaooo (I mean this is all subjective, it’s never really clarified in the series; no hate) .

Maybe this is a basic take, but I feel as though Percy would be a fan of late 90’s/ early 2000’s emo/rock. Think Green Day, Blink 182, All-American Rejects.

Annabeth does give me trouble. Y’all think she listens to classical? Maybe Adele. Something elegant/mature, I feel like.

Piper, I think, for sure listens to some indie artists. Think Arctic Monkey, Glass Animals, Two-door Cinema club, and Peach Pit. “Alrighty Aphrodite” is probably a jam for her.

I’d like to think Leo probably listens to some Latin music. Maybe raggaeton? Bad Bunny, J Balvin. Something absolutely bumping while he works in Bunker 9.

Frank. I do feel like maybe he’s just not a huge music fan in general. Like he will listen to whatever, but he’s not out here making Spotify playlists.

Hazel is a fan of swing. She’s from that era and it’s still her fave. Benny Goodman. Ella Fitzgerald. Duke Ellington. “Don’t mean a thing if it ain’t got that swing” 😔 ✌🏼

Jason is a little basic bitch fr. He listens to Taylor Swift, and Olivia Rodrigo. He’s into that girly pop, TRUE pop music. Lauv and, like, Shawn Mendes as well. I saw a post that theorized he didn’t really listen to music until after becoming detached from camp Jupiter, and I liked it so I’ll use this post to say I second the theory, lmao.

#heroes of olympus #jason grace #olivia rodrigo #the lost trio #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #frank zhang #hazel levesque #piper mclean #leo valdez #riordanverse

[not-poignant]

Out of curiosity, when did the, 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon, everything is valid and good, don't give concrit unless specifically asked for' attitude become the norm? Genuine question.

I was active in fandom back in the LJ days, when sporkings and comms viciously mocking Mary Sues were the norm, but then I sort fell out of fandom spaces for the past (checks notes) fifteen years holy shit. The current attitude seems diametrically opposed to what I remember fandom being like (kinda shitty, it was 'cool' to be an asshole back then), and I'm just curious as to when and how the shift happened. I mean, I assume it was a gradual thing, but is there anything in particular that stick out to you?

(Also, because tone doesn't convey very well through ask, and I don't want to leave you with a poor impression-- this is by no means a defence of the 2000s attitudes, nor an aspersion on the current ones. I'm genuinely only curious about the evolution from one to the other; I hope that comes across.)

Hi anon!

TL;DR because my response got LONG -> Anon this existed before Livejournal as an attitude, in fact modern fandom was literally born out of being not canon compliant (*waves aggressively to Spirk shippers*) and this existed on Livejorunal too and there have always been big pockets of fandom that really frowned on sporking even there, like that was not cool when I was on LJ, unless you were a certain age, or in certain spaces in fandom.

But also AO3 was its kind of final death knell re: making it cool to bully 13-16 yo writers (who were largely the victims of sporking) and killing dreams, which was born out of meta happening on LJ and in other places about like... not trying to make people miserable for writing a free fic out of the love in their heart that someone else didn't like or think was good enough.

Anyway, the longer version of this under the read more!

(For everyone else, welcome to some of the uglier aspects of 00s fandom!)

So there was actually criticism around all the stuff you mention 15-20 years ago as well. I was also on Livejournal during that time and there was a pretty big proportion of people in certain fandoms who recognised even then that like... setting up communities to mock say, Mary Sue writers, was actually a pretty weirdly cruel thing to do to people who were providing free labour and the literal only 'payment' they could get in a kind of energy exchange was people just not being complete dickheads to them.

So things were already changing, especially in many LJ communities and awards communities. There were a lot of big debates over whether concrit should be asked for, and a growing movement of authors who said they welcomed constructive criticism for example, instead of assuming it should automatically apply. There was also a lot of meta around the function of fanfiction and whether it should even be 'good' by published standards if the author was just doing it for themselves, and for fun (esp if they were just going to get punished for it by folks who were elitist, judgemental, grammar purists etc.)

Things really changed around the time of AO3 (2009-2010 - literally around 14~ years ago, you may have just missed the big change anon!), Strikethrough and the Dreamwidth exodus. There was a massive swing away from leaving concrit unless the author specifically asked for it, and fandom became a lot more generally able to recognise that a lot of labour goes into fanart and fanfiction and that paying with public criticism is shitty actually. Also people were just more able to recognise that like most fanfiction writers aren't trying to become professional writers and many don't want to be.

(I would actually say things changed around the time of fanfiction.net too - rude comments there were definitely noticed and could create some pretty forward 'hey why are you doing this on something you literally don't have to read' responses from fellow readers - idk what fic sites you were on. The small indie fic sites where you could often only comment via email for example, definitely drew a lot more critical attention than sites that tended to have public comments).

The 'fanfic doesn't need to adhere to canon' literally exists since the very first Spirk slash fic in modern fanfiction in the last few decades. Literally, as soon as you write Kirk/Spock, you're not adhering to canon. Our fanfiction 'ancestors' literally paved the way for a legacy which is about not adhering to canon in order to see the world/s and thing/s you want to see, be entertained by, by turned on by, or enjoy, from the very beginning. You may not have been in slash circles anon, but the foundation of queer same sex fanfic is in many ways the foundation of fandom. But yeah, this is literally where fanfiction started! As soon as you're shipping characters that aren't canon for fun (or for whatever reason), you're making it pretty clear that you want stories different to canon, and you have to change things to often keep those characters in-character.

So yeah! That's been there for decades. Idk what circles you were in on that front! While it was fairly common for a while to criticise characters for being OOC (Out of Character), imho, a lot of folks started to recognise that they literally weren't paying for what they were criticising, and they could just walk away and potentially not like...blast the fanfic. Some folks started to recognise more that people were writing with ESL, or were teenagers (some 40 yos in fandom realised they were mocking literal 15 year olds in their proto-podcasts and websites and realised actually that's just...mean? Really mean? Not the way to nurture new generations of fanfiction writers. Definitely in no way encouraging), or were writing for themselves, or writing for like one other person, or writing for fun, or writing for free, or writing for personal reasons etc.

'Don't Like Don't Read' wasn't just about political stuff, it was also about just walking away if you feel the urge to slam a fanfic in the comments.

I've been in fandom for around 2.5 decades anon, and there were so many spaces that were not actually as shitty or mean-spirited as the ones you were in? Or ones that at least had a lot of different thoughts etc. Like, sporking (mocking/bullying badfics and sometimes the folks who wrote them) was disapproved of by a lot of people in fandom even while sporking was at the height of its popularity (the Fanlore page goes into more detail about this). It might have just been the fandoms you were in, or the people you were hanging out with (and that might have been dependent on your age or just if you were around people who wanted to be 'cool' back then - in the same way that being an 'anti' is cool among certain crowds today. It's possible to spend years in certain crowds and never get an image of broader fandom for example - we can all end up in spaces like that! I know I have.)

When I started writing fanfiction (which no one will EVER find lmao), generally giving positive comments was normal. Constructive criticism was actually pretty rare and there were already fanfiction aggregate sites that generally disapproved of it in their Rules of Conduct. People were encouraging and polite. And this was around 20 years ago on Livejournal and private indie fanfiction websites.

I would actually say there was never exactly an evolution from 'one to the other' because like thousands of people in fandom already believed this and argued in defense of supporting fanfiction and transformative works via accepting that people are labouring for free and that not everyone wants to become a 'better writer' etc. - the meta was there on Livejournal in the 00s. There were communities where sporking was seen as hip/fun, and communities where it was literally banned or at the very least, super frowned upon.

There were meta fandom communities where sporking was the subject of discussion and you know eventually in a lot of those meta communities, that's where a lot of folks decided actually that calling out the fanfiction of 16 yos as 'cringe' or 'badly done' maybe said more about us as human beings and what we wanted fandom to be, than it did about the actual fanfic itself. By the time AO3 came around, people built it with this in mind.

To this day on AO3 it's mostly considered appropriate to say you want concrit in your author's notes, and to otherwise assume as a reader it's never welcome if it's unsolicited. That started during the LJ era. And it was talked about at great length. There's obviously going to be people who disagree! But for the most part I'm a big believer in compassion and 'not everyone is here for the same reason' and 'they literally gave this to us for free and it's meant to be fun' (like yourself! What we do/think/argue 10 years ago on LJ is sometimes different to what we do 10 years later lol, I used to be against trigger warnings pre-AO3! Times change a lot :D )

So yeah, this was definitely something that was around before you and I came to fandom, and it was something that continued to grow as an attitude during, until finally it kind of won out on AO3. But yeah fandom as we know it was born in people literally not being canon compliant to make some gay dreams come true (Spirk shippers bless them all), at a time when there was no representation.

Even in the earliest days of fandom where comments could only happen via email, one of the earliest phrases authors used were things like 'flames will be used to roast marshmallows.' For those reading who don't know, flames are hate comments, critical 'this fic is bad because' comments etc. Except you emailed them directly to the author, because there was no place for comments on a fic.

And this started because authors in part got death threats for writing gay stuff.

So you know, from the very beginning, authors in fanfic have by and large had a very low tolerance for criticism / hate over something they're doing for free and making no profit out of, when they're changing/altering the canon as they please to create representation (or hotness lmao), that is literally a labour of love in a world of very little representation. From there, things have just grown. The whole 'flames will not be tolerated' existed even before Livejournal did.

Honestly there are still people who love sporking and you could probably find groups and Discords dedicated to that even now (actually you literally can, there's a Dreamwidth group for it), it's kind of wild but it started to get cool again. Just like 90s clothing :D (Which is also wild because I can just take that crap out of my closet and wear it again).

But yeah it also sounds like you may have been in some pretty crappy pockets of fandom! When I was on LJ in the 00s I avoided those places and still got to experience fandom across multiple fandoms (mostly NCIS, Captive Prince, HP, Profiler, The X-Files and some others) and communities.

I was super active in some fandom communities and saw a lot of meta happening, and my view during the early and late 00s was that sporking was largely pretty frowned upon after a very brief (like 3-6 month) era where it was cool for only some folks, and then everyone (including some - but not all - of those folks) was like 'heyyyyyyy hang on a minute.' It was something that the bullies did, and enjoyed, and otherwise folks kind of stayed away from it, especially once they learned people were becoming too scared to write fics, which is the inevitable outcome of mocking/bullying folks and fics that have been made purely out of love for something.

Like, publicly making a spectacle out of what a 13 yo (they were often teens - and it's kind of sad how many 40 yo women were doing the sporking :/ ) wrote out of love, just for fun/clout was not considered cool by everyone even back then, because like, a lot of us saw that as killing new generations of fandom (some folks who sporked considered it a win if a fic or account got deleted, this is not based behaviour), not actually creating good writing, internalised misogyny (Mary Sue hatred and self insert hatred), etc. It's hard to explain because I do really think we were in different corners of fandom at the time, but I don't know anyone personally from my time on Livejournal who actually liked sporking as an idea or enjoyed it or enjoyed listening to it or reading articles mocking fic.

I knew about it from very lively 'is this okay' 'actually no it's not even if it's just for fun this is trying to hurt people and saying 'it's just the fic' is not going to be the bandaid a teenager needs to understand why older folks (generally) in fandom are mocking them for being new at a skill' discussions on LJ in meta fandom communities. So this is how much I could be in fandom and not be a part of it and also have like a wildly different experience to your LJ experience!

I think if I'd been a teenager during that era it would have seemed a lot more appealing (in the same way that many teens are antis now before they grow out of it), and fuck it if I was a more bitter person who was just around people who liked to make fun of what other people created, perhaps I would have enjoyed it too, I can see a lot of reasons why a person would fall into that in LJ -> but I was an adult on LJ trying not to be mean to people or what they were creating, so yeah I was maybe just in very different spaces! (Don't get me wrong, I have my giant fucking character flaws, but I was very scared of people hating me so like I didn't want to do things that would make that happen, lol, and also I was scared to put up fic myself during the era of active sporking. I know for myself that sporkers didn't just scare away writers of 'badfic' - they...intimidated a LOT of people).

Before AO3 I was on FF.net, posting fics on LJ, posting on Schnoogle, gossamer, and a couple of other archives. So I don't think my experience was that 'narrow,' I just think I wasn't around like... anime at that time or other places where it might have been happening. I also avoided like...Draco/Malfoy where CC drama was happening and I know sporking was popular in that specific arena / pairing for a while as well (er, as well as anything to do with Mary Sues).

So yeah! That's about where that is. Generally gatekeeping fandom is just seen as not a great thing to do to people, and that creates other kind of beliefs that are generally upheld as being more inviting/nurturing. After all, if someone truly wants to get better at writing, they can ask, or do courses, but as we all know, everyone has to write some bad stuff to get good at it, but not everyone wants to be good. Folks are in fandom for different reasons. I'm rambling now so I'm going to finish my lunch! :D

#asks and answers #pia on fandom #pia on writing #god i do not miss sporking #but it's still happening tbh in some sections of the internet #and it always will!!! #there will always be fics that piss us off or that are just written painfully #generally speaking it's just encouraged to share that with afriend privately #instead of creating a website and recording an interview or discussion or slam #or writing an article for fandom to see #and using BNF energy to chase fic writers out of fandom #it's wild that it was actually around for as long as it was #on LJ #i feel like that was the mean-spirited click-bait era before click-bait then came around #anyway it's grown in popularity again because of Tiktok! #such is life :D

[lady-djarin]

oh captain, my captain

dbf!joel miller x f!reader (pt. i of ?)

warnings: legal age gap (joel is early 40's reader is late 20's-ish), no outbreak - circa early 2000’s, talk of readers fem body, reader wears a bathing suit, tension, kissing, mentions of smut, teasing, hints of exhabitionism, still kinda explicit, E 18+

a/n: i can’t stop having daydreams about dbf!joel, he haunts me. so i wanna make at least another part but idk how many yet, i like where this is going so i’ll keep y’all updated ;) <3

"That's what you want to wear on the boat?" Sarah scanned the very cute but very thin cover up that was barely hiding your black bathing suit underneath. It was one of many options you were debating to sunbathe on the boat.

You turned around and looked in the mirror at yourself. "Yea why? Does it look weird?" Sarah was your best friend partly because she was so honest, she'd never let you go out looking anything less than 'perfect'. Even if you had very different definitions of perfect.

"No, not weird, but our dads are going to be there." She made a disgusted face like she smelled something rotten.

“Oh please it’s not that bad… my ass is completely covered!”

“Girl… your tits!” She pointed an accusing finger at your chest. It was true, they were ‘out’ but they looked good. The bathing suit made sure of that. “You do you, but if your boob flies out in front of both our dads I’ll be the one laughing.”

You giggled as she went back to flipping through a magazine. The two day boat trip was a summer tradition with your dad, Sarah and her dad, Joel. Joel was also your dads best friend. He was younger than your dad but they had a solid relationship after working together for over 15 years. That’s how you gained Sarah as basically a younger sister as well as best friend. It had been just you and your dad for a long time so it was nice having Joel and Sarah around to do ‘family’ things with. The countless family trips, birthdays and holidays meant you grew up around Joel and as you got older your view of him definitely changed.

Since you matured, so had your taste in men. Your first boyfriend in high school was barely even a boy, he was a small minded child with more interest in his baseball ‘career’ than you. He did lots of things that you now realize are the exact opposite of what you want in someone.

You now find yourself chronically single with a few stories to tell along the way. You also hate to admit that over the last couple of those shared holidays and trips that your eyes had started to linger on a particular man.

A man who you definitely should not be looking at that way. Somehow your brain had latched onto the idea that Joel Miller was the perfect man for you. He was caring and sweet and drop dead gorgeous. He was gorgeous in a rugged way, his brown messy waves and deep amber eyes. His cheeks were always covered in stubble. Stubble you wanted to feel between your thighs.

Only problem is, every time you start to think like that, you're reminded that he’s your dads best friend. You hang out with his daughter. It was wrong on so many levels, which only made you fall deeper.

You had caught yourself looking at him more than you care to admit, and him reciprocating just as much. That’s why you wanted to wear the black bathing suit, you knew he’d look.

—————

The morning of the trip was here and you were starting to get nervous. You were going to be trapped on the same small vessel as your biggest crush and your dad. That would throw anyone off.

You finished packing your bag and headed downstairs to find your dad making coffees for you both. As you swing into the kitchen you see another large form, wide shoulders stretching the canvas jacket. Joel turned around with a mug in one hand and rubbed the top of your head with the other. Your heart almost stopped beating for a second as he pulled you into a side hug.

“Hey kiddo,” his voice rumbled through your body at the contact.

He messed up your hair as you pushed away. “Don’t call me that,” you scowled and pushed down your hair. God, you felt like an idiot.

Your dad handed you a travel mug and you made for the bench by the front door to put your boots on. Before you made it, you felt the weight of your backpack being lifted from your shoulder.

“I got it sweetheart, I’m loading up the car.” You almost thought it was your dad at first but you turned to find those amber eyes next to yours. He squeezed past you in the small hallway, his whole body was practically rubbing against yours as he passed. He never called you anything like sweetheart.

He was gone before you could register and left you to put on your shoes.

You made your way to the driveway and Joel held the car door open for you. You settled into the seat behind the driver and he shut the door after you. Also new. The muffled boom of Joel's voice calling for your dad was the only noise until Sarah hopped in next to you. You were starting to dread the next almost 2 hour drive to the lake, having to sit behind Joel and not go crazy as your eyes connected through the rear view mirror.

—————

The boat they rented this year was a little bigger to your surprise. Your dad always made the overnight trip really special; Joel teaching you guys how to fish, making s'mores on the tiny gas stove and stargazing on the water. This year they really went all out, they got a slightly nicer one with a fancy bathroom and everything.

The whole reason you guys started this tradition was because Joel really liked fishing and knew how to drive a boat. He just rented a different one every year. This year it came with cushy seats, full sized beds and a little seating area on the deck. Most of your morning was spent reading on that deck as Joel and your dad set sail. You were thankful your dark sunglasses covered your lingering gaze that slid over Joel's form. Fuck, how could you not? His shirt was soaked with sweat as he worked the boat, muscles straining as he went about his tasks. You had no idea what he was actually doing, so distracted by his movements.

He seemed to be finished as he wiped his hands on a rag and sat himself next to you, slumping down with a sigh.

“Hey, where’s my kid?” He squinted down at your book. Nosey.

“She’s napping. Complained about waking up early.” You yanked your book away with a frown.

“Geez, that girl.” He put his hand on your knee as he stood up. Your skin was instantly on fire. “I’m gonna make some burgers, want one?”

All you could manage was a nod.

—————

The rest of the afternoon was pretty tame. You guys found a spot on the water you liked and the men started fishing and you and Sarah went to your shared room to change. Once you were ready you went to the small kitchen to grab some lemonade… and maybe add some of that vodka your dad brought. While your dad didn't care that you drank, being of legal age and all, he didn't endorse you letting Sarah drink, since she was a few years younger than you. But what he doesn't know won’t hurt him. Plus you poured Sarah half a shot, she'd be fine.

You two sat out there gossiping and reading books and magazines. You did decide to wear the black suit, the one that made your boobs look great. And boy did it pay off.

Since Joel and your dad were sharing the small deck with you guys, you had a perfect view of him. Even better, he had a perfect one of you. You caught him looking at you more often than not. You were actually kind of surprised that your dad didn't notice, or Sarah. But why question a good thing.

After the sun went down everyone changed and you all stargazed on the deck in the warm summer night until finally heading to bed. You and Sarah were sharing a tiny room and an even smaller bed, and while you never minded before, for some reason you couldn’t find a way to get comfortable. You tried your best to fall asleep, hoping the movement of the water would put you out. Once you saw the small clock glowing ‘2:26am’ you decided to go up and get some water, or maybe just stretch your legs.

You made your way up the narrow staircase into the main area where a small couch sat. The small couch that Joel was sitting on.

“Hey, what are you doin’ up?” He looked like he had been awake for a while too. You didn't know he wore glasses. He looked cute.

Fuck.

“Couldn’t sleep,” you rubbed your tired eyes, trying to focus on his face.

“‘M sorry darlin’, need anything?” He stood up from the couch, which was really just a bench with a blanket. He led you into the kitchenette and you waited as he poured you some water.

“Thanks… why are you still awake?” You sipped your water as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

“I’m always worried somethin’s gonna happen to the boat if I fall asleep.” He watched as you finished your glass and put it in the sink. “You havin’ fun at least? I know we haven’t done much yet.”

“Ya I’m having a great time! I like doing nothing,” you admitted with a small giggle. “Plus I like watching you guys struggle with the fish.” That made both of you laugh under your breath.

“I like watching you too, sweetheart.”

Wait.

What?

You kind of just stared at him a little wide eyed while your brain processed his words. He had a sweet smile on his face like he didn’t just drop that bomb. He looked back at you and smiled wider when he saw the look on your face, the absolute shock that made your mouth slack open.

You were unsure of what to do at this point, it’s like your dreams were coming true but you had no idea how to handle it. Thank god he handled it himself by brushing his hand over your cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You were pretty sure you malfunctioned because all you could do was stand there, unsure of how to take it.

“You looked so pretty, you always look so pretty.” He was staring at your lips now, clearly past the point of hiding this.

“Joel…” You almost wanted to pull away, this was kind of wrong.

His hand was still cupping your jaw, like he was unwilling to part from touching you. He looked into your eyes as he pulled you closer. Your heart was in your chest, this was wrong, you should pull away but couldn’t bring yourself to care at this point.

Your lips connected and you instantly melted, he was so warm and big, holding you in his strong arms. He held your waist close, pressing you against him.

The kiss was… something else. No one had ever kissed you like that before, maybe that’s the difference between boys and men.

His tongue slid over yours and you were lost, you both were. All semblance of shyness was gone as you devoured each other. His lips were soft as silk and his muscled arms held you close and roamed your curves. Neither of you wanted to part, even for air until you heard a noise coming from below deck. You reluctantly scrambled away from each other, worried your dad or Sarah would be walking up the stairs.

“I– I’m sorry darlin’,” he couldn't bring himself to look at you.

“Joel, I– it’s ok. Don't be sorry.”

There was a charged energy between you, like a spell neither of you wanted to break. He was the one to break first and he squeezed past you without so much as a look your way. You could tell he looked upset, ashamed almost and that hollow pit twisted in your stomach.

————

The rest of the trip went as usual, except for the fact that you and Joel couldn't keep your eyes off each other.

The only good thing was that your dad and Sarah were none the wiser. You weren't sure if Joel regretted the kiss or not, he seemed to have a permanent guilty look in his eyes. The memory of the kiss and the feeling of his lips on yours haunted you, unable to think of almost anything else.

When the boat docked at the end of the second day and as the group was gathering up the belongings to unload into the truck, you found yourself alone below deck with Joel.

Alone.

“Hey kiddo, ready to go home?” It was almost cold the way he regarded you now.

What the hell? What did you do? He can’t act all high and mighty, he kissed you! You only managed a scoff in response. That melted his icy exterior.

“Why ya givin’ me attitude?” His voice was just barely lower than normal volume, his thick brows knitted in the middle.

“Your acting like that was my idea last night.”

The left over desire from the previous night was boiling over into burning rage, but you couldn’t deny you were still soaking between your thighs.

“You kissed me, Joel!”

“Will you quit yellin’!” He backed you up against a section of wall in the small room. His deep rumble of a voice both angered you and turned you on.

“I’m not ye—,” your voice was cut of by his thick fingers covering your lips.

“Shut up. I swear darlin’, you’ve got a fucking mouth on you.” He was practically growling in your ear. You felt kind of filthy like this; pressed between a wall and Joel’s hard body, his hand smothering your sounds.

“You wanna get caught? Hmm?”

Your eyes sparkled back at him, almost begging him to fuck you here and now. Instead of indulging you, he took one last long look at you before turning away without another word.

—————

After he left you speechless below deck, Joel helped you pack the rest of the bags into the car and thus begun the 2 hour drive back. You sat behind Joel again, on purpose this time, knowing you had power over him now.

You spent the whole way home making eye contact with those big brown eyes in front of you. You did your best to convey your wanton need through your gaze, licking your lips and watching his eyes track the movement.

After you all said your final goodbyes, your dad ran inside to go to the bathroom and Sarah was passed out in the backseat, leaving you once again, alone with Joel.

“I had fun Joel, hope we can do it again sometime.” You refrained from hiding any of the sarcasm and giddy in your voice.

“You better watch yourself darlin’.” You could tell he really was worried about getting caught.

This was going to be fun.

#joel miller x reader #joel the last of us #joel miller #joel miller smut #the last of us #tlou #reader fanfiction #smut

[ultramegagigamax3]

1: its just not my year / toby rogers

but im all good here

sunday morning

hands over my knees in a

room full of faces

im sorry if i seemed off,

but i was probably wasted

and didnt feel so good

masterlist ~ next

!Content Warnings!: homophobic slurs, bullying, references to drug use, vomiting

Somewhere, rural America

Your mother says that God is always giving signs, to never be surprised, always be prepared, and take whatever He gives you with open arms, no matter how you may hurt. You had believed it as a child, but after that day, you aren’t so sure. It had been a day like any other, as generally excruciating today as it would be tomorrow. Perhaps the maddening repetition of each passing day was a sign in and of itself? God had made the rising hours of the day so excessively same it had crossed over into the unusual, therefore being a supernatural sign, right? Repetition is said to drive anyone insane, let alone a tweaker like you. You splash your face with water, then grip the edges of your dirtied and broken bathroom sink; yeah, you think, that has to be it. God hasn’t abandoned me yet.

<3

Earlier that day

You were lazing on the couch in your living room, one of your younger siblings lay across your chest. You were resting your head back on one arm rest and your legs dangled over the other; there had been a time when they didn’t hang like that, and you had begun to miss it. The 4-year-old is resting his little head on your collar bone, turned to the side as he has his eyes glued to the T.V. He had drooled on your pastel yellow tank top and was fighting to stay awake, so as to continue watching whatever garbage was playing. He is small and very chubby, making him heavy on your lungs. You didn’t mind though, a fat baby was better than a starving baby, you knew that better than anyone else. You stare up at the popcorn ceiling, an expanse you have studied a million times over. You had pulled an all-nighter, as per usual, and so you had been the only one awake to catch Joseph, the boy, crying from the living room. You didn’t know how to comfort him, you didn’t know how to comfort anyone, you just gave him a hug and turned on the T.V. Your eyes drift to the wall above the couch, every corner filled with tacky crosses of various styles and designs. You had stared at these crosses many times, during lectures and scoldings that you tuned out. You had once been in awe at the wall, when you were a child, but the novelty and charm was lost on you long ago. You have been like this for about an hour, and you would continue like this until the boy fell asleep. Staying still for long was a challenge for you, constantly twitching, cracking, rubbing, and itching at your hands. Your feet twist and bend in their sockets, your legs swing, bounce, and kick at the air. It was as if there was a constant electrical current going through your body. No part of your body felt relaxed, at ease, eternally nervous and tense, even in your own home. You could feel Joseph’s little heartbeat against your stomach, and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to be pregnant. You squirm at the thought, and your mind and body are filled with dread. Just the idea of it makes you feel sick, fills you with the sort of existential fear you might feel when thinking about death. Your brother’s breathing slows, and now you can finally push yourself off the couch.

You hold the sleeping body tight as you bring him to your room. Well, yours and three of your sisters. You place the boy in your bed, not your choice but waking your mother now would raise hell, and tuck him in. The sheets are baby pink with an outdated brown pattern, totally 2000’s. You placed your stuffed childhood lamb against his chest and swiftly escaped. It was early in the morning, about 6 am now, the time you should be waking up. Your steps are near silent on the stained grey-brown, once white, carpet as you begin your morning. You push open the door to the family bathroom and lock yourself in before showering and brushing your teeth. You track a trail of water back to your room and grab the first pieces of clothing you see, quiet as to not wake the tiny beast in your bed. You make your way back to the bathroom, trailing more water, and, again, lock the door. Theres a small window high above the shower, to let light in while still having privacy. It was never glazed over or given a curtain, and so you had a habit of staring at it, as if you would catch someone trying to peak in. You assess the clothing you had grabbed in the darkness: a pair of small jean shorts, a red T-shirt, and your underwear. It would have to do. You dress quickly and turn to the mirror above the sink, the countertop littered with makeup. You decide on something simple; makeup is a habit drilled into you by your mother. It wasn’t about liking or disliking in this house, it is about what Mother and Father want. You finish and slip on your white socks, escaping the bathroom to search for a pair of shoes.

When you exit, a couple of your brothers and sisters are already scurrying about the house, rushing to get ready. You dodge and weave both small and large bodies, making your way into the kitchen. There, you find the 15-year-old Laura, the second oldest girl, after you, and the second mother of the household. She has made seven bowls of cereal, all the children excluding the two babies. Laura is dressed in a private school uniform, the smartest kid in the family, and is making quick work of tying the twins’ long hair into ponytails. Savannah and Violet, a mischievous 8-year-old duo, are whispering to each other about some anime or whatever they had watched the day prior. You silently chew at your Fruit Loops as you watch Laura struggle.

“You know, you could actually, like, help, you know?” She spits, earning a small yelp from Violet when she pulls her hair too hard.

You shrug, even though she doesn’t see it, “Uh, maybe later.” You lie.

The 10-year-old Zack barrels into the kitchen, snatches a bowl off the counter, and makes a break to get away. “Zack!” Laura hisses, and the boy stops in his tracks, “What are you doing?”

“Breakfast.” He replies, innocently.

“Eat at the table.” You demand, though more casual and less irritated than Laura, gesturing in the table’s direction.

“But I don’t want to.” He states, matter of fact, as if it were stupid to even think of giving the boy a command.

You walk over to the boy and place a firm grip on the back of his neck, marching him over to the table. He sits with a defeated huff and begins to eat. You raise your brows at Laura. “There, I helped.” You smirk, before leaving the kitchen and ignoring whatever little witty quip she spat back. As you walk out, you’re almost run over by Benny, 12, followed by your mother. A strange silence falls over the kitchen.

“Get the hell out of the way.” Your mother pushes past you as she shoves Benny, still in his pajamas, into the kitchen.

You don’t bother to stick around and find out what she’s so pissed about, just keep your mouth shut and move on. Behind the muffling of the door, you can hear Laura talk back to your mother, thus beginning the first argument of the morning. Back in the living room of your tiny, dilapidated house, you find Michael, 17-years-old. He is sitting on the couch, fully dressed but not making any move to go to the kitchen.

“Food’s ready.” You slur, mouth full of cereal. He doesn’t reply, he either didn’t hear you or is just straight up ignoring you. Most likely the latter. If life had gone back to the way it was 2 years ago, you would’ve pulled his hair or pinched his cheek. But that was then, and this is now, and things between the two of you wouldn’t ever be the way they were before.

You feel itchy. You ignored it as you walk back to your room, but the ache persisted. It felt as if there were little bugs beneath the skin, crawling and mating and birthing and multiplying. Your flesh and bone suddenly felt illuminated by something like an electric shock. You shakily place your bowl on a messy dresser in your room, rubbing your hands together frantically, like a nervous fly. You knew this feeling all too well; you needed to get high. You told Laura you would stop, for her sake, but she wouldn’t notice, would she? You absentmindedly grab at your hair and scratch at your belly, no, you couldn’t do it, you wouldn’t. But you needed to take the edge off, at the very least. You grab your backpack, a brown sweater, and your beat-up converse, not bothering to finish your cereal. You leave your room and enter the living room, the whole house suddenly alight with noise. Laura is holding the youngest sibling, baby Mary, while juggling with dressing Violet, meanwhile Michael is handling Savannah and Zack. Your mother disappeared, your father now in her place, and Benny is left to frantically dress himself. You pull your phone from your backpack, an outdated and beat up little thing, checking the time, 6:40 am. Normal kids who didn’t live out in the middle of nowhere would be getting up now. The walk to the bus stop took almost 20 minutes, 10 on a good day, meanwhile Laura got to leave in your father’s car.

“Why don’t drive all of us to the bus stop?” Michael had asked once, years ago.

“Nah, I’m not doing all that! Waste of time!” Your father dismissed, the same response he would give for years to come.

You’re out the door before anyone could notice you, and the thought of rolling one up now doesn’t fail to fill your mind. You pull your arms through your backpack straps, backwards, the bag hanging off your chest. You put the hoodie of your sweater over your head, not fully wearing it, the pressing humidity (and rising heat within your body) making it too stuffy to adorn. If Laura or Benny (or Michael, if he still talked to you) were out here, they would’ve said you look stupid. You had stopped worrying about how you look years ago, a premature ego death, before you even had an ego. You gripped the sides of the bag, to distract yourself from the overwhelming desire for a hit. In the distance, you could hear the gaggle of children finally leaving the house. Distant giggles, obnoxious laughter, muffled words of conversation and “I love you”. And there you were, meters away and alone. With you gone, it almost seemed like a happy family. You hear a car come up behind you, and a loud honk pulls you out of your thoughts. You jump, your heart almost stopping, too edgy from the withdrawal. You look at the offending vehicle and spot your father and Laura waving and laughing. You can’t discern whether you feel humiliated, gawked at like a clown, or loved, noticed. That fades, and then the only thing you feel is that deep, distant itch, begging to be scratched.

Violet is running up to you, followed in tow by Zack then Savannah.

“Why you so emo.” Violet pokes at your side.

You force an offended scoff, “Shut up, ugly!” You pitch your voice in a whiny tone. The poke feels like a stab, and suddenly you’re sweating. Shit.

“[  ], can you carry me? Michael doesn’t wanna carry me!” Savannah pulls at the sweater hanging from your head.

“You’re too big. You’re a big kid, right? You sound like a baby.” Your head feels dizzy, the world begins to sway.

Savannah continues to whine. Zack pipes up now, “After school, can you take me to the skate park? Please please please please…” He continues, his little fists pulled into a prayer position.

“I dunno, we’ll see.” There’s a pounding in your head, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

“Wait, [  ], I wanna go too!” Benny suddenly appears as he chimes in, giving up his too cool to engage act.

“We’ll see.” Your body is buzzing, you feel wired. You don’t even notice that you had begun scratching at your arms, and although it wasn’t violent by any means, it certainly wasn’t gentle either.

“Why was Josie crying last night?” Savannah.

“How did you get up so early, LOL.” Violet.

“Did you even go to sleep? You look sleepy,” Savannah.

“My legs hurt, I’m tired…” Zack.

“[  ], can we skip and go to the gas station instead?” Benny.

“Benny! That’s bad!” Savannah.

“Yeah, mommy’s gonna spank us!” Violet.

“Mom’s gonna spank you.” Benny.

“Why would she spank me, stupid?” Violet.

“For being so ugly, ugly!” Benny.

“Nuh uh! [  ]! Mommy’s not gonna spank me, right?” Violet.

Yeah, you’re never having kids. You couldn’t even itch your arms anymore, as there were children hanging off each one, begging for your attention. Well, you don’t blame them, the only time they ever see you is early in the morning and late at night. Perhaps, to them, you were something special, the way a two headed rat may be special. You’re clenching your teeth now and struggling to walk straight. When you’re like this, it’s difficult to stay calm; there have been too many times where you have lashed out, saying and doing vile things. You held onto whatever sanity you had left, to stop yourself from doing something you would regret. You wondered if Michael could tell; was he just watching, waiting for you to slip up so he could call you a stupid piece of shit again? Or was he just a fucking idiot?

“[  ]?” Zack spoke up, almost tripping you as he got into your space.

“Yeah?”

“Why are you still in school? I thought you had to go to college already?”

Oh god, the dreaded question.

“Guys, come here.” Michael finally demanded, pulling the children’s attention away from you. You let out a sigh, immediately bringing your nails to your arms once again. You continued to walk quickly at your own pace, tuning out the world around you.

You look up at the sky, it’s a gloomy grey, but the wind was warm. The moist air clings to your skin, making you feel dirtied. Mosquitos have already begun their biting, leaving red spots along the exposed expansions of your arms and legs. You look out at the fields, vast and almost endless, save for the thick tree line in the distance. You liked the fields, although ugly and littered with red necks, only because of the childhood memories you had made here. You hadn’t been out in that distant wood until you turned 16, begging your father to take you hunting. You had killed a rabbit out there, and you cried, and now the ghosts of the dead cute little animals seemed to haunt that area. Dramatic. You look down at your feet, you had been walking along a gravel path, lined with wire fences meant for cows. Bugs scattered the area, a grasshopper jumped past your feet, went down the trail, and landed on Savannah. You only know it landed on Savannah because of the shrill scream that followed. You jump, again, at the sound.

<3

The grasshopper sits calmly in your palm, Zack and Violet leaning over you as they observe the creature. Michael and Savannah are sitting on an old concrete bench, having reached the bus stop, the older boy wiping at the girl’s tears. You’re holding the pest in your left hand, meanwhile your right grips the left wrist, tight as to control the shaking.

“Can I hold it?” Zack asks, polite.

“Wait, no, me first!” Violet butts in.

“No, me! Back off, stupid!” Zack snaps, polite façade gone in an instant.

You still feel twitchy, though now you’ve gotten better at ignoring it. The three of you are crouched down, careful not to ruin your clothing with the damp grass. You knew that they knew what was going on, but you and the children all decided to collectively ignore the elephant in the room, apparently. They had asked questions in the past, only to be met with being shut down or lashed at, and so they now knew better. Benny is standing over Zack, half disgusted, half fearful, and totally trying to play it cool.

“Ugh, just kill it!” He sneers.

“I’m not gonna kill it, you little psycho.” You observe the creature for a little while longer, not placing it in either child’s hand.

“It’s just a bug! What is it gonna do, huh?” Benny talks down to you, totally too cool. He reminds you of how Michael had once been, and you begin to rub your wrist.

You stand, rather suddenly. Zack and Violet whine, a chorus of small pleas break out, and Benny takes a step back, hiding his terror of the creature. A beat passes, the bus begins to approach from the distance.

“Bus is here.” You nod toward the vehicle and the children turn around. Benny is trudging away from the scene when you grab the back of his school uniform, shoving the bug inside. He lets out a scream, and the kids burst into laughter. There had been a small congregation of students and parents standing around as well, all turning to witness the commotion. Benny is cursing you out while he rips off his backpack and sweater, batting at his back. You cackle, wicked and evil, as the boy panics.

“Ugh, you fucking bitch!” Benny snaps as the grasshopper finally escapes.

“Language!” You retaliate, the laughter making it difficult to get the word out.

“I’m telling mommy!” Violet yells at Benny through her giggles as she runs off to the bus, hand in hand with Savannah.

“Benny, hurry! Before we lock you out!” Zack teases and cackles, your little clone.

Savannah is still rubbing at her reddened eyes, “You guys are so mean!”

Benny flees the scene, not before flipping you the finger, and hops on the bus.

The bus leaves you and Michael there, and you hold your stomach as you try to catch your breath. Once your laughter finally dies, you find yourself standing in silence. Michael is still ignoring you, and the other highschoolers waiting by the curb are in their own little worlds. You stare at the back of Michael’s head, and you feel alone once more. You sit down in the wet grass, not caring about the stains, and scratch, twitch, and jitter in silence.

<3

You hurry to the back of the bus, Michael in the front. Even on the bus, he tries to stay as far from you as possible. The front is quiet, nerds and losers, but the back is rowdy, losers in denial. You sit next to a girl, a skinny little thing. She’s engulfed in large hoodie and sweatpants, light grey with the school’s name plastered in red. You plop down next to her and pull off your hoodie, pulling it over your front like a blanket.

“Who’s the father?” The girl exclaims, bringing her hands to her face in fake shock.

You glance down at your backpack, still hanging off your front, “Shut the fuck up.” You reply, though with no real bite.

She is Mariah Smith, local pothead and one of your few friends. You aren’t the best of buddies, she had been a friend of a friend, but you were beginning to grow on her. She has dark skin, a rarity in this side of town, and wore short braids. She has a nose ring, done at home by one of your other friends, and had a girlfriend in the city. You two had met in pre-calculus the year before, when she was a junior and you were a senior. Then you failed, obviously, and now you two are in the same grade. You had a feeling she was trying too hard to seem cool because you were older? The thought of being respected, although slightly, filled you with both pride and dread. Pride, because someone thought you were cool. Dread, because you knew you were destined to disappoint. You almost wanted to turn to her and warn her not to get her hopes up.

“Did you see Kay?” You inquire. You had begun to dig your nails into your thighs, the overwhelming sensations of the bus would get to you if you couldn’t distract yourself.

“Yeah, fucking long ass drive, though. But her mom let me spend the night,” Mariah smirks, “very much worth it.”  A beat passes before you force out a small laugh, forgetting you had to respond. Mariah goes on to tell you the story of her eventful weekend, trying to look cool despite her giddiness. “…And then we went downtown, and holy shit [  ], we…”

You can’t help but wonder at the feeling, being loved like that. Sure, you’ve had boyfriends… in the 8th grade. That last “relationship” you had was with some new kid in marching band when you were 13, and that never moved past awkwardly standing near each other. But, as far you knew, no sane male has attempted to even look at you since then. There was a time when this would eat you up from the inside out, and there was a time when you were happy to be finally left alone. Now, you feel as if you are better off not burdening your existence upon someone for longer than necessary, even if that pang of longing still runs within you. Maybe just once, with a shitty guy whose heart you wouldn’t mind breaking once his body has done its job… But what if he wants to kill you? Men are always killing their lovers after being tossed to the side, you’ve seen it. You wonder for a moment… you’ve dealt with worse at this point, there’s no situation you couldn’t snake your way out of. How much worse could it really get?

You don’t even know the half of it.

Suddenly, you realize Mariah is silent, you are silent. “[  ]?”

“Yeah?”

“You, uh, okay?”

“Huh? What? Never better!” You shake your head and rub your eyes, “Pulled an all-nighter s’all.” Among other things.

Mariah nods, not seeming convinced but not wanting to dig any further. An awkward silence falls over the two of you for a moment. You’re biting your lips, tearing off the dead skin. Mariah eventually moves her attention to other kids on the bus, making lighthearted and shallow conversation with the boys sitting in front of you.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with a wave of sick. Your eyes are squeezed shut, you’re breathing hard, and your leg is jittering.

“Fucking shit, [  ]…” She wasn’t angry, but she disguised her worry with frustration. “Are you good? What the hell is going on?”

You shake your head, slowly, always quick to give in.

“You sick?”

You shrug, kinda.

“What, is this fucking morning sickness or some shit?” She chuckles, trying to lighten the mood.

You let out a huff through your nose, then shake your head no.

“Flu?”

No.

“Uh… cold?”

No.

“… Cramps?”

No!

There’s silence for a moment. “Did you, uh, relapse?” There is something strange and awkward in her voice. The tone you use when you get dumped with the burdens of a (near) stranger.

No, and she lets out a small sigh.

“Oh… is it, like, withdrawals?” She whispers, too ashamed on your behalf to risk being overheard. You nod. You’re terrible at keeping secrets. Mariah is different from the rest of your friends; unwavering cool with an underlying softness, and little experience with anything harder than a “special brownie”. She’s more innocent than she seems, more innocent than a creature like you. Mariah doesn’t know what else to say, so she doesn’t say anything.

<3

You were clenching your jaw as you got off the bus, leaving Mariah behind. She calls after you, but it’s no use. She doesn’t follow or chase, and you disappear into the crowd.

You lock yourself in the stall and lean over the toilet. You’re leaning a hand on the eroding brick wall and bring the other to your thigh. You open your mouth, and the vomit just slides out, leaking like a faucet. It had come up somewhere along the bus ride, but you weren’t about to just start puking all over yourself. You had swallowed as much as you could, but now you could feel it coming back up. You drop to your knees, probably bruising against the dirty tiles, and hunch over the toilet bowl. Your mouth suddenly tastes like milk and cereal again, and you look down at the rainbow mass in the toilet. At some point during your little puke sesh, the empty restroom became alight with noise. A giggling and gossiping cancerous mass infect the dingy room, only quieting when you begin to gag and puke up some more of your breakfast. Keeping quiet is no use, and you know the bitches outside the door can hear you now. Someone gasps and another giggles, soft mutters of holy shit and what the fuck fill the empty spaces between each gag and cough. When you were done, you stayed there, silent, for a moment, until someone began banging on the door.

“[  ]? That you in there? You okay?” Jessie’s hick accent is so thick, her stupid words so slurred, it’s difficult to discern what she’s saying.

“How did you…” You slur, some bile still coating your mouth.

“We can see your ratty little backpack.” A squeaky voice whines, making you cringe and bring your hands to your head.

“Maybe she’s like anorexic now.” Mutters a friend.

“Or pregnant!” A shrill voice squeals.

“Oh, hell no!” another voice gagged, and the group breaks into laughter.

“Not… pregnant…” You reply, what is with you and pregnancy today? Was that a sign? Please, God above, don’t let it be.

“Get out of there, fat ass, puking isn’t gonna make you prettier.” Jessie bangs on the door. Their words shouldn’t hurt, by now you’ve been hurt worse, but they still haven’t lost their bite. You feel so utterly small and insignificant in that restroom stall. It’s not as if you aren’t aware of how unimportant and infantile their words are, but that doesn’t stop them from sinking under the skin like venom. You aren’t sure when things became this way. Jessie had been your friend once, as children, but things took a dramatic shift in middle school. Her parents are hardcore conservatives, lived in the “nicer” side of town, your dad used to work for them, and you go against all their values. Now which one was it? Is it because you’re poor? Because your dad quit? Because you aren’t cousin-fucking hick? Hell, Jessie could be in love with you for all you know.

“Are you doing this because of some,” Your mouth started running before you could stop it, like vomit you couldn’t swallow, “like, weird sadomasochistic lesbian… fetish… thing?” The words were pushed out of you with each heavy breath. There was a mix of laughter, surprise, and disgust behind the door. You rested your head on your palm, holding your skull to dull the throbbing, but it was no use.

“Ew! I’m not a nasty fucking dyke, unlike you! You fucking… dyke!” The girl screeches.

You reach around for your backpack, thrown off in your haze. You rummage around, cigarettes, weed, something, anything. “It’s okay if you are…” You mutter to yourself, bringing a cig to your chapped, dirtied lips.

There is more screaming and banging, and Jessie had even gotten down on the floor to crawl under when a teacher barged in.

You were all sent to the office, luckily you were able to hide your cigs in time, though. They question you lightly, send you to the nurse, and she sends you to class. No true effort is put into your wellbeing. Jessie and her friends are given a stern talking to, lunch detention, and are sent back to class. No justice served, like the movies, just simply moving on to class. Utterly anti-climactic.

A counselor walked you to class, so you couldn’t skip. You walk in late to pre-calculus with Mr. Davis, being met with giggles and snarky remarks by your peers, which you try to ignore. You scurry to your desk in the back corner of the class, pulling your hoodie over your head to escape the prying eyes. But it’s all in vain.

“Alrighty, students!” Mr. Davis’ voice is booming. You could puke, again. “My apologies, Miss Jones, but I need to have a very important talk with the class.”

You hid your face in your arms, as the classroom quietly erupted into stifled laughter at your expense. Your brain was spinning, and your face was hot with humiliation. The only thing you could do was lull yourself into a dreamless sleep.

<3

The sound of the bell pulled you from your nap, the sound knocking through your skull as if it to crack the bone. You stand so quickly you almost knock your desk over, haphazardly pulling on your sweater. You zip it up to the collar, feeling exposed, and clumsily throwing your backpack over your shoulders. You speed out of the room, sweet escape. You make a B-line for the other end of the school. Through the commotion of rushing waves of students, you are able to slip out of the building and towards the football field.

The sun has risen on the dewy landscape, beaming down on you with bright hot rays. The wind chills, but the sun burns. You keep your hoodie on anyways, unable to help the bubbling insecurity within your veins. You hide away under the bleachers, practically tearing your backpack apart as you search. And, finally, you bring that little cancer stick to your lips, and inhale that nicotine infested cloud, feeling your body become warmed by the smoke. It’s not enough, obviously, it’s just a fucking cigarette. What you really needed was leagues harder than this. But you’ve quit, cold turkey or whatever they say. You’re running on pure love and spite… well, mostly spite. You were gonna prove to your stupid parents and stupid brothers and sisters, stupid Jessie and all her stupid friends, your stupid teachers, your stupid classmates, your stupid counselors, everyone you aren’t a pathetic fucking loser. Despite what other might say about you, you had a lust for life and a childishly ambitious mind. Sure, you had ruined your life two years ago, witnessed and committed many sins before you were old enough to even go to the bathroom without permission, but your life wasn’t over… was it?

You pull out your phone, you needed to call someone. You thought of the dealers on campus; Mariah, who only sold weed, and one Jack Petrović, a tall, creepy guy and the one of the other “super seniors”, besides you. Jack dealt with the heavier side of the scale, and, frankly, had some pretty shit product. You stare at the contacts in your phone; Mariah! Smith:) And Jack #6. You don’t know how long you sit there just staring, until you realize you’ve already smoked your whole cig. You groan and grab your crappy little black backpack again. It’s old and falling apart, you’ve used the same one since the 5th grade now. It’s then you notice the ringing in your ears. It’s not an uncommon occurrence, that metallic shrill is a familiar guest. However, the squealing in your skull is persistent, and only grows louder. The sound becomes so intense, you’re grabbing at your skull and pulling your head between your knees. Is this it? Is this how you die? After smoking a fucking cigarette? Eh, you had expected a worse death, but that didn’t mean you didn’t wish for a righteous one! You wanted something gentle, surrounded by your siblings and their children (like hell you’d have your own), if not, you wanted to go out with a bang, something to be talked about for years to come. But no, you were going to die with your cigarettes in your high school football field, probably to be found by a couple trying to fuck or your other junkie friends looking to get a hit before 3rd period, how ironic.

You’re squeezing your eyes shut, bracing for impact. Then it’s over. The ringing, that is. You’re not dead, though you think you are for a second. You looked up at the bleachers, “You fucking kidding me?” You hiss to yourself, “God, I really am in hell…”

“You… You could say that again!” A voice chirps up behind you.

#toby rogers x reader