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inkskinned · 10 months

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so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

#writeblr #the book....#coming soon #hey so if ur someone who has ever said “you need to write a book”#i wrote the book #it's ... probably the best thing ive ever written #this is maybe too honest lol #okay to reblog thank you for asking i love u i am in love with u our wedding will be in may

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folkloresthings · 23 days

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❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track two: wendy.

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

. . . SEPTEMBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. september twenty—seventh.

liked by niallhoran, lizzymcalpine and 761,320 others

yourusername first song from the good witch! i wrote wendy after a day huddled under my duvet rewatching every adaptation of peter pan that exists. it’s all about falling for lost boys and trying your best to see the best in them even though your heart tells you better. it’s about not making sacrifices even though you want to, learning to put yourself first despite how much love might blind you to do the opposite. what about wendy!

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user STOP these songs are going to tear lando apart i just know it

charlottesiine wendy darling 🤍 lock the windows!!!!

user is lando her lost boy 😭😭😭

REWIND… AUGUST 2022.

for just under three years, heaven was all you knew. lando was a dream, all wrapped up in his love for you and forever devoted to your attentions. maybe the effect of being locked up together for months as the pandemic reigned had given you both a taste of stockholm syndrome and left you with nothing else to focus on. or maybe it was just time.

the beginning of summer break was when you felt the first shift. every other year, lando whisked you away on a holiday to the sunniest place he could find. he wined and dined you, making up for all of the lost time between the racing season and touring. only, this time, he had booked a trip to ibiza with max and his friends.

“what about me?”

“i don’t see them that often either, you know that,” he defended.

it was understandable, you supposed. he liked those kinds of places, you didn’t. so while he partied there, you spent a little extra time in the studio. but then it was a week in spain with carlos, another in croatia with daniel. the compromise came in the form of monaco. you would take some time off, leaving your london flat behind, and come stay with lando in his monte carlo apartment.

you were all excitement, until you realised your time there was scheduled around lando’s meetings and dj sets and boys night out. the desperation to be close to him trumped all else and so you followed him around like a lost puppy, forever blinded by the sweet kisses and doting promises.

“i’ll take you to dinner tomorrow night, just me and you,” lando would murmur in your ear, letting your frustration subside long enough to let him go back to his friends.

it took that whole month in monaco to realise that this is what lando wanted: someone to follow after him and live for the short term magic, only to be let down by the endless maybe’s, trusting that he’ll catch you when you fall. it terrified you, and yet your undying love kept you playing along.

“i have a show in brixton next week,” you told him on your last morning in monaco, shoving the last of your clothes into your case. “it’s low-key, for some of the really devoted fans. i got management to put your name on the list.”

lando zipped up the last of your belongings, soft thumbs caressing your cheeks. “i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

you grinned happily, uncaring for whatever doubt sank in your stomach when it was just the two of you, his lips soothing on your warm skin. he loved you, truly.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—first.

liked by nicolacoughlan, hozier and 780,629 more

y/nupdates y/n in brixton tonight! 21/8 🤍

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user1 the intimate shows w her are my fav 🥺🥺🥺

user2 mother!

user3 was lando there? i heard she gave him a shoutout

⤷ user2 she sang feels like this and dedicated it to him!

⤷ user4 yeah but it seemed like she was looking out for him in the back when she said it and it didn’t look like he was there ☹️

⤷ user5 ouch 🥲

“are you alright?”

it’s the first thing you ask when he answers the phone, and you know it’s horrible that you hope something bad has happened — but it’s better than the truth that weighs heavy on his lips.

“i’m so sorry love, i meant to call you earlier,” lando groans through your speaker, your dressing room door clicking closed behind you. still in your stage outfit, you await the excuses. “the flight was delayed and then cancelled. i would get the next flight but i’ve got that thing tomorrow evening.”

“oh, i see.” your eyes sting.. “are you back in the apartment now?”

“huh? oh yeah, i just got an uber back from the airport and i’m ordering some food now.”

if you had the energy to scoff and argue you would, for you can hear the distant bouncing of club music on the other end of the phone, most likely muffled by where lando has hidden away in the bathroom.

“that’s nice,” you whisper, picking anxiously at the skin around your nailbed. “well, the show went really well. i think that—”

“babe, you’re breaking up. i’ll call you tomorrow okay?” lando’s voice raises as the bathroom door on his side opens to let the loud music peek in. “i’m sorry again.”

“okay, bye,” you sigh, but the call ends before he can even hear it. sinking into the small sofa of the dressing room, curling into yourself, the tears flow over your perfect makeup — fading the lipstick you’d chosen just for him.

you couldn’t live like this, is what your friends told you when you spent your evening crying on their sofa. but you loved him, and you would follow him to the ends of the earth. you could be married soon, waiting up at night for the sound of the door unlatching. it’s a life you could have and you knew it — even if it wasn’t what you wanted.

INSTAGRAM. august twenty—second.

liked by charles_leclerc, taylorswift and 722,784 others

yourusername a week in neverland

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user1 boyfriend lando pics!!!

carlossainz55 so great to see you!👸

⤷ yourusername time for you to come to london now!!!!

⤷ carlossainz55 ✈️🏃🏻💨

user2 ofc lando brings her to the track even on summer break 🙄😅

landonorris my wendy darling ❤️

⤷ user3 does this make lando peter pan?

⤷ yourusername 🤍🤍🤍

user4 still sad we didn’t see lando at the london show :(

writers note: did i promise this new chapter ages ago? yes but just be happy you guys have it now 🫶❤️‍🔥

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

#💋 HEAVEN KNOWS.#lando norris #lando norris smau #lando norris drabble #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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cxrsed-angel · 1 year

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I ♡︎ DILFS

word count: 3k

Warnings: smut 18+ only (minors DNI), Daddy kink (kinda expected), established relationship, age gap (reader is between 24-25, Joel is in his 50s), oral (male receiving), fem!reader

A/N: I've always thought Joel was hot but Pedro Pascal playing him really did it for me, trying to improve my smut so I hope this is better than my last one. <3!!

You were going through an old building as a short cut you didn't realize it at first from the decay and rubble, but the more you looked around, you could see that it used to be a mall. You looked inside a store seeing if you could find anything useful when you spot it. It was a sign from fate; you go and grab the shirt and hold it up to look at. Considering what it's been through, it was in pretty good condition, like it was saved for you. You quickly take off your backpack and put it on. It was a little small; you assume it was a baby tee from the fit of it, but you had a long sleeve under, so you were still covered. You hear Ellie call your name and grab your stuff and run over to them. Joel starts walking, leading you out once he sees you, “Took you long enough come on lets get out of here” You see Ellie looking at the shirt, trying to read it.

“I heart-i heart, whats a DILF?” Ellie asks more so to anyone than directly to her you could see the gears turning in her head trying to figure out what each letter means.

You wish you could take a picture of Joel's face when he heard that, he turned around so fast, “Where the hell did you find that at” “C’mon Joel you know this is my brand, my whole motto, this is me, it was fate that brought me and this shirt together and Im never taking it off.”

“Dead I Like, Deadly I-ok I give up what is it” you both ignored Ellie trying to figure out what DILFS are.

“I can't take you anywhere, how do you always manage to find the most ridiculous shit during an apocalypse.”

“Hey! what is it, I don't get it.” You hear Ellie shouting at you clearly annoyed, but youre more focused on Joel at the moment.

“Aw Joel don't be jealous you know you're the only DILF for me”

“Can you shut the hell up.” You giggled slightly at the clear annoyance in his voice. You loved messing with him when you can, and when it wouldn't put you in danger of course, you added some much-needed fun to his life.

You finally leave the mall and walk out onto the road; you were so excited about your DILF shirt, you had an eye for things like this. You knew you couldn't take back everything you find but if it was small or something you really liked you took with you like when you found an old hello kitty watch, it didn't work, but it was still cute. Another time you found a Britney Spears poster in decent condition that was currently hanging up in your room, but the DILFS shirt was definitely your favorite after the poster. You were happy to add it to your little collection.

“Can someone please explain what is a DILF I don't get it and why is Joel one?” Ellie asks for the billionth time, getting frustrated at you both for not listening to her.

“Its da-” You were interrupted by Joel his deep voice, a little upset at you for almost telling Ellie, you didnt think it was too inappropriate but he clearly disagreed.

“Absolutely not youre not telling her she doesn't need to know, way too young for that, Im surprised you even know what it means” he responded, looking back at you mortified at where you had learned it from.

“Hey! I was born before the pandemic you know” you tell him, reminding him that you’re not that young. Although compared to him, you were.

“You were what 4, 5 when it happened can’t have remembered much before.” you heard the sass in his voice but you continue trying to prove that it shouldn't be surprising that you know what a DILF is.

“Okay, Im not ancient like you but still I had older friends, and we would talk about-” He interrupts you again, staring at you with frowned eyebrows.

“Please stop there I really don’t want to know what you and your friends talk about, can we just change topics please.” If they told you about DILFs, he really didn't want to hear what else teens talked about in this world.

“Dude c’mon, why can't you tell me, Im not a little kid.” Ellie says again, trying to get both of your attention and get you to explain it to her. You know now she’s not gonna let it go since Joel told her no. But you decided you’ll explain it later, especially after the whole playboy magazine situation, and she was around the same age you first heard it from your friends so you didnt see the issue.

“Alright from here until we get to where we are headed we are quiet, no one says a word unless you're dying got it” you could tell Joel had heard enough, and considering that you were outside you told it was best to listen to him and not distract him or yourself.

“got it” “yes sir” you lean towards Ellie. “He’s in a mood today huh” deciding to bother him one last time before you would have be serious.

She was about to respond until you walked right into Joel, giving you a yet intimidating glare frowning his eyebrows at you. “alright alright, i’ll shut up.”

After a couple hours of walking, Joel found a small safe building to sleep for the night, and you had been talking to Ellie until she fell asleep; you walk over into the room Joel was in, deciding to tease him again.

“Hey daddy whatcha doing?” you call out in his direction, watching as he rolls his eyes at the name.

“Stop.” he responded flatly, clearly not amused by your jokes, but you decided to keep them going.

“What's wrong Daddy does it make you flustered?” You thought he was going to give you another flat response or tell you to shut up. But you were wrong, instead, he stands up and walks over to you, standing closer than you anticipated, you try to step back slightly, but his arm around your waist prevents you from going too far. You feel the blood rush to your cheek and ears, your mouth goes dry, not knowing what to say or how to respond.

“Oh look who’s flustered now, sweetheart.” His deep voice teases you back, having more of an effect on you than your teasing did on him. You feel yourself get hotter, your brain is unable to focus anything except on how close he was and his rough hand around your waist forcing you closer to him, though you didn't mind. You continue blinking up at him, speechless.

“Youre so quiet now what happened, thought you were teasing me baby?”

You continue to stare at his brown eyes, the only thing you brain was thinking way, wow hes so hot. You look up into his face, taking in his features. The wrinkles around his pretty brown eyes, the scars and cuts around his face. God you always thought he was attractive but it still amazes you how hot and pretty he was. You could look at him all day.

He wraps both his hand around your waist, pulling you to him,places his lips on yours. You loved kissing Joel. It was rare having him kiss you while you weren’t in the safety of the QZ. He usually couldn’t relax enough to kiss you, needing to be alert and focused just in case. So this took you by surprise but his kisses always made you feel warm and safe, and in that moment, you didn't have to worry about anything. All that mattered was him.

You wrap your hands around his neck as you deepen the kiss, pressing your lips against his rough lips, closing your eyes as you melt into his embrace; his hands lower down your waist and squeeze your ass, which surprises you so much that you let out a small gasp against his lips. Joel pulls away slightly, smiling at you “youre cute” His actions confused you; you rarely ever are intimate outside the walls, but you trusted him and if he felt comfortable you knew you were safe so you decided to mess with him “hmm I dont daddy youre pretty cute yourself.”

He guides you over to the makeshift bed, leading you by your waist, making you walk backward, as you continue kissing him, parting your lips slightly, allowing his tongue to slip inside yours.

“You ain’t gonna stop are you” he asks he sits down and pulls you down onto his lap; you couldn’t tell iif he seriously was tired of you calling him that or if he just teasing too.

“what you don't like it Daddy?” you ask, trying to gauge his reaction you didn’t want to push it too far or actually make him uncomfortable.

“I never say that now did I, sweetheart?” again, he confused you does that mean he liked it or that he didn’t mind you joking about it? you stare at his face trying to see.

Your thoughts are interrupted by him pulling your lips onto his again. But more aggressively than earlier, moaning into his mouth and rolling your hips against him as he gropes your ass through your jeans.

“Joel” You moan against his lips before you lean your head into his neck.

“Aw baby what happened to daddy huh” you pull away, looking up at him with wide eyes, surprised. Did he like it? You look at his face and see his eyes full of lust, and you realized he liked it. He liked it when you called him daddy. You look down, suddenly getting shy and embarrassed about saying it. It was one thing saying it as a joke and teasing him about it, but to moan, it was different; it was dirtier.

He saw you getting shy and flustered in his lap, avoiding eye contact with him. Unlike you, he could read you like the back of his hand; he could easily tell you were embarrassed.

“c’mon baby no need to be shy, I can tell you like too don’t you” he softly stroked your waist when one hand and squeezes your ass with the other. you take your gaze off the floor onto him. nodding in agreement with him.

“C’mon baby need you say it, you like calling me daddy don’t you” you could tell he wanted you to say it out loud, his hand rubbing small patterns on your waist encouraging you, reassuring you that you didn’t need to be embarrassed.

“Yea i like it daddy” you mutter quietly, still ashamed to say in a serious setting. Not quite ready to admit to yourself that calling Joel daddy turned you on as much as it did.

You didn't think you would like it or find it this attractive. Maybe it was your lack of a father growing up, and Joel being older than you. You didn't know why; all you knew is that once you said it, you felt yourself getting wetter.

“hmm good girl” he takes your face into his hands, kissing you again; you slip your tongue into his mouth, his deep voice letting out a moan against your mouth. You couldnt help but grind and roll your hips against him, searching for any type of release.

He goes to lift your shirt but stops slightly, rolling his eyes “Want me to fuck you in the I heart DILFS shirt dont you?” you look at him, nodding laughing a little “you know me so well.”

He sighs and shakes his head. Although there’s disappointment in his voice, you can tell there’s also amusement. “ I do, dont why I tolerate you”

“You love me, cant live without me, I bring adventure into your life you’d be so bored without me.” you remind him why he puts up with you.

“Shut up” he mutters, though you sensed the amusement in his voice because he knows you’re right. As much as you annoyed him, he couldn’t imagine living without your teasing and antics.

You unbutton his shirt and take it off, lightly grazing your fingers across his chest, admiring his chest and body, you see more scars and healed wounds but you also see his muscles. You’ve always loved his body. You remember the nights in your apartment placing, kissing along his waist, his chest, his stomach.

You thought about placing marks on his chest but were interrupted by him unzipping your jeans and lifts your hips up to slide your pants off, you get off his lap, taking off the rest of your pants. You unzip his pants, pulling them down, you stare at his bulge through his boxers and press kisses onto his dick, teasing him through his boxers.

“Wanna suck you off” you mumble quietly, focusing on how much you need him in your mouth. You weren’t even sure he heard or understood you until you hear his deep voice speak to you, breaking you away from your thoughts.

“What’d you say darling couldnt hear” You know he heard you he just wanted you to say it louder.

“Can I please suck your dick daddy” you look up at him batting your eyelashes while you rub your hand against his hard dick. You feel his dick twitch against your hand while he bites his lip, suppressing a moan.

“Goddamn darling you’re killing me” his texas accent getting stronger as he gets harder in his boxers, you loved hearing his deep texas accent come out as he gets more turned on by you.

He pulls down his boxers, and no matter how many times you’ve seen his dick, you’re still in shocked at how big he is. You can’t help but to stare for a couple of seconds taking it in, you smile up at him before teasing him licking the tip gently as you lightly stroke him, you continue placing kitty licks on his dick. He shivers against your tongue, and you love it, love watching him fall apart because of you and seeing how much your mouth affected him.

You gather some spit in your mouth before you drool some onto his dick. He rolls his eyes back as you slowly stroke his cock in your hand, using your spit as lube. You hear his deep voice moaning as you lean down and lick the tip while still stroking him. You start to slowly speed your hand when you feel his hand lightly tugging your hair making you stop and stare up at him.

“you’re gonna have to speed it up sweetheart.”

That was all he said before his hand grabbed the back of your head and forced your lips onto his cock. You hollow your cheeks and take him in further, feeling your nose brush against his hair at the base of his cock. He moves his hips gently fucking your throat

“Fuck you feel so good” he murmured under his breath, his voice deeper than his usual tone. You closed your eyes as you felt yourself starting to choke on him,he started to thrust his hips faster into your mouth.

“C’mon baby look at me, look at daddy.”

You couldn’t help but moan around him at his words, feeling yourself getting more turned on as he called himself daddy. You listen, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you continue taking him down your throat.

“Atta girl, so pretty looking up at me like that.” you feel yourself getting warmer from his praise, loving how vocal he was, you wish you were back at his apartment so he could be louder without the risk of drawing unwanted and dangerous attention.

He moves the hair that was falling in front of your face behind your ears “you look fucking gorgeous sucking my dick darling” feeling butterflies in your stomach as he compliments you.

You take him out of your swollen lips when you start feeling dizzy from the lack of air; you continue to stroke him in your hands as you catch your breath until he puts his hand on your head, guiding your mouth back onto his cock. His deep voice moans out your name under his breath as he gets closer to his release.

“fuck darling i’m close keep on-yes like that baby god you like this huh like having daddy’s dick in your mouth sweetheart?”

You nod as best you could, trying to agree, but all that comes out is your moans against his dick. You could tell he was close as his started to get slightly louder, but you could tell he was trying his best to be quiet. His deep voice, making your head go fuzzy in arousal. He start making you gag as he thrusting into your mouth faster , sloppy fucking into your mouth as he closer to his release. After a few more thrust you hear him moaning your name as he cums into your mouth. You feel his cum shoot into your mouth and down your throat.

You held your head onto his cock until he finish before you slowly took him out your mouth. He holds your cheek in his hands, lightly caressing them.

“Open baby girl let me see.” you happily open your mouth, showing how you swallowed his cum. “Good girl baby c’mere” he pulls you onto his lap again before placing a kiss on your lips , softly biting your bottom lip before pulling away. He holds you in his lap for a couple of minutes. you lay your head on his shoulder as he softly rubs his hand up and down your back.

“if we were at home you know i’d take care of you right baby” his deep voice makes you lift your head off of him, looking into his eyes. Before you met Joel, you thought older men didn’t have much of a sex drive, you didn’t know if it was just Joel or all men in their 50s but he proved you wrong. There have been many nights in his room where he would fuck more than one time; the first time caught you by surprise. Of course, you both paid the price in the morning; both sore, aching muscles had to spend the next day in bed, not being able to do much. So you know he would have fuck if you were back at home.

“Of course i do” you play with the hair at the back of his neck for a little while before getting off his lap so he could put his clothes back on, and you do the same. You didn't mind; you knew sucking him off was as much risk as he could take, and you didn't really feel comfortable enough to fuck out in the open like this. After you both have your clothes on, you lay down with Joel, wrapping your arms around his waist as he turned, pressing your back into your chest, falling asleep. Trying to rest before you’d have to walk back to the QZ in the morning.

#angel writes #joel <3 #Joel miller #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller smut #Joel miller x reader smut #pedro pascal

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mrsparrasblog · 23 days

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Mission save the human race Pt1.

Pt2

2090 Days since it happened since your life changed completely. You can still remember the day of the outburst like it was yesterday. You were stuck performing an appendectomy on a five-year-old, and then there were shots – the military evacuating us. You didn't take it seriously at that time; thought it would be like every pandemic, and there would be a cure soon. But after weeks spent with your family in a military camp, you knew it was nothing like this. You remembered how the military shot women who even got near to a zombie – too much of a risk that they could get infected. The irony of the whole thing was that women were the carriers of this unknown virus, while men only turned when they got bitten. Women turned by a simple scratch of a zombie, or when they died of any cause, they would turn in a glimpse of a second into these brainless creatures.

After it went completely downhill and more healthy people got shot without any remorse, your dad, brother, and you tried to flee out of the military base, resulting in your dad and brother getting shot, screaming you should just take their gun and leave as fast as possible. You never felt more remorse than leaving their corpses behind, but you had more than enough years to mourn them and pray for forgiveness. On the way to a safe place, you noticed small details, weird details. You got scratched, even bitten on the way, expecting to fully turn into a brainless monster – but you didn't, and to this date, you didn't know why. Well, there wouldn't be a lab anymore to find out anyway, so you just accepted it as a blessing first. But after a while, you learned the true curse of living in this shithole.

The survivors were scarier than the zombies and almost as inhuman as them – while most didn't try to hurt you since a surgeon always could get handsy in a zombie apocalypse, you still saw the horrors of self-proclaimed "Leaders" who killed in the most inhumane way just to prove their dominance. They weren't better than animals. You saw how different groups tried to start wars with each other to win resources and territory. There was still enough place and enough resources in the world for both of them to survive, so it was just a power play. If you had had a say in this, you would have tried everything to start a civilization with many people trying to rebuild humanity with strong people as guards, people farming, and people working in the infirmary, but no one ever listened to you. Why should they, as the Apocalypse proceeded, the hatred of women got only worse – "The reason for the apocalypse," resulting in women getting used, tortured, and raped if they weren't useful in other ways, and you thanked every day your mother who practically forced you to study medicine instead of law.

After months, you finally had enough and ran away from the camp – not tolerating the inhumane ways. You wondered if you were the inhuman one for leaving people there who you could have healed if you had stayed, but sometimes you needed to be egoistical, and you at least tried to stay as innocent as possible through the apocalypse. You lost everything but not your good heart which made you incredibly proud of yourself.

You didn't know how you survived this. You didn't have a particular skill set; sure, you were a pediatric surgeon before all of this, you were capable, you were smart, which probably led you to survive. But you weren't something that was of use like a soldier or police officer. God, before this Apocalypse, you didn't even carry your groceries to your apartment. You were screwed but somehow you still survived, with your one handgun that you nicked off the corpse of your dead dad. The irony was you didn't even use it in three years; you never used your gun – god, did you even know how to use it? You highly doubted it.

You claimed yourself a small cottage in the forest. It wasn't much but pretty well-hidden, and you built-in safety measurements so no walker could surprise you by night. You lived in a shithole but at least in a comfortable manner. The house had three small bedrooms, a kitchen with a tiled stove, a fireplace, a water source, and enough space outside so you could grow all sorts of vegetables and fruits. Pumpkins, potatoes, cucumbers, tomatoes, strawberries, and raspberries highlight your perfect garden. You even had some apple and cherry trees you took great pride in. Before all started, you couldn't say you were good at gardening; even your cactus didn't survive the neglect you put them through – but you used all your remaining time learning about farming and providing for yourself, growing plants you can use as medication. In your imagination, you would somehow manage to have some chickens and cows, but you knew it would draw way too much attention, and you liked your hidden lifestyle way too much for this to happen. You were quite naive; you thought this would stay this way until-.

You heard sounds from your garden – nothing unusual since some local animals came and tried to steal a carrot or two, but then the sounds of multiple men echoed.

"Fuck."

They blundered in weird ways, talking about finding a safe place and raiding something. You ran upstairs, grabbed your handgun, and hid in the closet.

"Fuck, here isn't anything useful," a man with a hoarse voice and a British accent cursed all my cabins violently.

"Johnny, you will get through this; you won't die on me," a man said with a worried voice.

"He has a fucking bullet in his shoulder; how can he fucking survive this?" A bullet in his shoulder, probably not gone through. If it didn't hit anything major, his survival rate would be 80% in a normal world, depending on the material of the bullet; he could survive or die. If it's lead and stays inside his body, he will be dead in at least 4 days from lead poisoning. If the wound isn't properly cleaned – blood poisoning. If they take it out of him and don't properly sew him – death. This man hasn't a high chance of surviving. You could at least triple the chance of his survival, but if you get out there, you would probably lose the chance of survival by several digits. Your morale was high; you swore an oath to help every human you were capable of saving, but was it worth more than your own life?

"Shut the fuck up," the worried man screamed at the other.

You decided to stay in the closet, a choice you'd later regret, your lack of courage weighing on you as survival seemed uncertain. Tears slowly started to fall from your eyes, running against your soft rosy cheeks. Your handgun was clutched tightly in your sweaty palms, your breath trembling from pure horror, convinced that today might be your last.

With a sudden grunt, the closet door swung open. Before you stood four imposing men, each holding big machine guns, and a fifth man, held by another, similarly armed.

In front of you was a middle-aged man with brown hair, a fishing hat atop his head, and the most amazing blue eyes you had ever seen. He was tall and muscular, with a well-groomed beard for an apocalypse. Handsome and scary simultaneously.

The second man was one of the most attractive individuals you'd ever laid eyes on. He had brown-golden skin, trusting brown eyes, and a cap perched on his head. His gaze held a mix of awe and confusion as he looked at you.

The third man was colossal, ripped with muscles, and possibly the tallest person you'd encountered. He sported a blonde buzz cut and blue eyes that glowed red, giving him an intimidating aura. With an unhealed scar across his eyes and some stubles, he probably was incapable of growing a beard because of the scar tissue.

The fourth man looked similar to the one with the fishing hat; the only difference was his dirty blonde hair and tattoo sleeves. You noticed the prosthetic leg and wondered whether it had been dealt with properly – you sure as hell could help him too.

The last one was the man who got shot, and held by the scary men. He was the shortest of the group but still taller than you by several inches. His hair was in a funny mohawk, and he was ripped – not a bit; he was built like a fucking powerhouse. You couldn't shake the thought away that if you had known him through med school, learning anatomy would have been different – all those muscles – focus.

You thought that your potential killers were all good-looking, each in different ways. Despite this, you still pointed your gun at them, and they held their machine guns at you.

"A woman – I thought they were all dead," the man with the cap said, making you curious. All dead? When you last left your forest two years ago, there weren't many women, but there were still some out there.

You gathered all your remaining courage, shaking as you said, "Leave me alone, or I shoot." They laughed at you. Okay, they had more people and bigger guns, but you could still harm at least one of them.

"Oh, dove, your gun is still secured," the man with the fishing hat said, trying to hold out a laugh.

You tried to fidget with your gun, but you didn't know how to unsecure it. So, you just lowered it and held your hands up in the air.

"We don't have time for this shit. Knock her out or something; we need to fucking save Johnny," the scary man said, sending shivers down your spine out of fear.

"If you don't kill me, I'll save your friend." Win-win situation; you'll survive, and your morals are saved.

"Shut the fuck up. How could a stupid girl who can't even use a gun save him?" the scary man screamed. You were sure that he had a special bond with this Johnny, sure as hell best friends or lovers by how he acted.

"I'm a surgeon; I can remove the bullet," you said.

"You're a surgeon?" the tattoo man asked in disbelief at your claim.

"Which field?" the scary man asked you.

"Uhm, I was a pediatric surgeon."

"Does he look like a fucking child to you?"

"Simon, we don't have much choice. It's better than nothing; he will die if we don't do anything," Fisher hat man tried to convince Simon.

Simon agreed. "What do you need?"

You were afraid to be a bit rusty, but you'll make it. "Okay, one of you will bring me as much water as he can gather, one needs to guard the door. I don't need any interruptions in my surgery. One needs to stay in the room; this will hurt as hell without proper numbing. My surgical equipment is in the closet by the bathroom, as well as the medication I produced. You need to tie him to the bed; I don't know how, and I don't care, as long as he doesn't try to kill me while I try to fix his shoulder, and I need a promise that I won't be killed if he doesn't survive."

"Yes, ma'am," the tattoo guy said and was on his way. All the men worked efficiently, making you wonder if they had some military background since they listened better than my old residents, at least.

The man who introduced himself as Kyle - by the way, the only one who introduced himself to you - tied Johnny to the bed. Everything was now prepared, and you tried to make this place as sterile as possible.

You sat down on Johnny since you couldn't stand properly by the bed for the surgery and had the advantage of holding him down with your body weight.

"Hey Johnny, this will hurt a bit, okay, but you need to be strong, okay?" You talked to him like with your child patients, but that didn't matter right now. Right now, it mattered to save him.

Johnny spoke completely drowsy from the pain, "Am I deid, Lt? Or how come dae I see an angel oan tap o' me?" You chuckled; even in pain, you noticed that that man was a total flirt.

"Shut up, Johnny, and survive," Simon said.

"Love ya, Lt."

"I love you too, idiot." You were right in your thoughts; they were indeed a couple and a handsome one. You couldn't shake the feeling away, though, that he probably would kill you in the most vicious way if Johnny didn't survive.

You slid your scalpel through him and started the surgery after at least six terrible hours of fear and exhaustion; you were finished; you saved him. You were a bit envious of Johnny; Simon stayed the whole time by his side without being grossed out or yawning for a second; they loved each other. You never experienced that kind of love and never will...

Now he only needs to survive the aftermath of the surgery, which will be harder for his body than the actual surgery since the adrenaline wore off. You were glad that you were able to nick some antibiotics and real medication from a nearby emergency station. You were always better safe than sorry.

You removed the blood from yourself and washed yourself with cold water, which felt like an eternity till you pronounced yourself clean enough. You put on some cozy clothing and walked to the living room where three men sat sandwiched on the small couch. Simon stayed by Johnny.

You planted yourself across from them and looked at them until Fisher Man Hat spoke.

"Thank you for saving our man; I'm John, by the way."

"Alex."

"Well, you already know my name; how can we call you?" Kyle asked you.

"Uhm, everyone always called me Dr. Angel, since the kiddies compared me to one," you replied, telling them the truth.

"Beautiful nickname for a beautiful woman," John said.

You couldn't hide a blush, and Kyle asked you how it came that you lived alone. You explained your life story without boring them for one second.

"Tell me something about the six of you."

"Uhm, we were special forces back in the days before everything went downhill. We protected some scientists who worked on a cure, but they didn't make it and died in one of their experiments. We are originally seven, but the other two are on a raid right now for our camp. I know we probably scare you, but if you want to, you can stay with us, no strings attached. We know how humanity changed, and being the only woman alive makes it even scarier, but we will protect you since you saved one of our own," John explained. You were still confused, only woman alive? How is this possible? Well, you were immune to the virus, but you didn't need to tell them right now since this would make you even more vulnerable.

"Only woman alive?"

"Yes, dove, the woman's got instinct with them, the human race." You gulped; your moral codex spoke to you again. Shouldn't you prevent that from happening? Or is this nature's plan? You didn't want to think about it further.

"Does anyone of you want to eat something? I'm starving," you exclaimed, trying to change the subject to something less uncomfortable.

"You don't have to feed us; you already did enough," Kyle said.

"Nonsense! I'm hungry, and I have more than enough vegetables to feed a whole army," you protested and walked towards your kitchen. You took out the preserved tomatoes and potatoes and wanted to slice them, but a tall figure already removed your knife from your hands.

"Let me help; it's the least thing I can do after you did so much for us," Alex said and started to slice the vegetables while you tried to heat your pot. The other two put plates on your small kitchen table, making it feel incredibly domestic for you. They looked like husbands caring for their wives, and you wanted to shake out the thoughts in your head. You were just underfucked from the whole apocalypse, but deep down, you knew they did something to you, made you feel a tight knot in your stomach.

You took one portion up to Simon, who still gathered around Johnny's bed. With a sudden movement, the tall man hugged you tight, almost crushing you with his sheer strength.

"Thank you for saving him and sorry for being mean to you."

"I understand; I'd do the same if someone I dearly loved would be injured in this hell of a life," he tried to pull a smile at my words. "Here's some hot food, and give Johnny his antibiotics in an hour, okay?"

"Hot food? I haven't had that since forever."

I laughed, "Get used to it, big boy." He raised a brow but didn't question it.

You went downstairs and saw the men laughing while waiting for you like true gentlemen. Kyle blushed a bit when you came down, and they instantly stopped their talk. You asked yourself what they talked about, maybe something that would be dangerous. They ate like starved men and told you how long they didn't have anything warm in their bellies, making you realize how lucky you were in your cottage with your grown food. The only thing you were missing was someone to warm your bed—stop it, you said to your inner thoughts.

You gave the remaining boys some blankets and showed them enough places to sleep, and as they didn't mind sharing, everything went perfectly. Alex took the patrol for the night, telling you it needed to be done even if you never patrolled for the last two years. The other men called you naive for it. You checked one time on Johnny if he had a fever or anything like that, but to your luck, he was fine, still asleep and high on medication. Simon slept beside him, and you couldn't stop yourself from putting a blanket on top of him. He deserved the comfort after taking care of his boyfriend that way.

John walked you down to your room, talking a bit to you, which gave you more comfort than you wanted to admit. You were a human after all, and humans missed humans when they lived two years in isolation to survive.

"Did you ever think about what it means for you to be the only woman alive?" he asked you.

"It's pretty weird to think about it."

"Kinda."

"I guess the human race will go extinct then."

"There are ways if you decide to—you know, save the planet and everything. You seem like a girl who always wants to do the right thing."

"You mean getting pregnant?"

"Exactly, saving the human race and everything."

"Would it be selfish if I let it die?"

"A bit, but it's your choice. I will always protect you from everyone who wants to take advantage of you. You're part of the team now."

"And what if I decide to want to save it?"

His eyes lit up. "Then, of course, I'd support you, like every man on this team. I think most of my boys wouldn't be repulsed by helping you to reach this goal." You blushed hard. Did he just tell you—shit.

"And what about you, John?"

"I'd be more than willing to participate. You're incredibly looking, dove, and I'm just a man behind all this."

"I'll think about it," but you couldn't shake away the feeling of them—you could have all of them.

"Take your time, dove." He kissed you on your rosy cheek and left you completely crazy alone with your thoughts. It was too long ago, and you felt the familiar feeling building up inside of you. Fuck it, you thought and decided to speak with them about it tomorrow. You're a good person after all, right? And that's what a good person does?

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heartpascal · 9 months

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omg plsss do more platonic father-figure joel fics comforting the reader please i begggg they are so good

carved over the door

▹— joel miller x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you’ve been hiding something from joel, and he finally found out. his reaction is… not what you expected.

▹— a/n: ok this isn’t even like. close to being a favourite but i think the idea is cute, execution just isn’t great!! to be clear, things like this are NOTHING to be ashamed of, but this is gonna touch on how it can make the person feel!! (EDIT as of july, i have no idea how this fic is looking so please go easy, i haven’t proofread it, only tagged a bit of writing on the end to finish it up, so it’s not great)

▹— warnings: father figure joel, reader is illiterate, r is embarrassed about it, therefore says some bad things, is ashamed almost, so please be wary, cute lessons ensue, swearing, lazy writing at the end, use of ‘sweetie’

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree @sleepygraves @wnstice (everything), @auggiesolovey @just-kaylaa @evyiione @lemonlaides @fariylixie0915 @erensloveinterest @dazedshoon @faceache111 @randomhoex @canpillowscry @pedropascalsrealgf @star-wars-lover @coolchick333 @soobsdior @ilybbg @rvjaa @oliest19xx @pedropepsi @sunflowersdrop @truthfuleeyours (pedro)

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Being born into the end of the world probably should have killed you off early. Most kids your age were either dying or dead, or being trained to become child soldiers. It was rare for kids born in the pandemic to live, you had been told. Risks of death were everywhere, from Infected, to FEDRA, all the way to all those diseases you hadnt been vaccinated against.

Survival odds were bleak, to say the least, but you were one of the lucky ones.

Life had put you in the path of the only two good people you knew — Joel and Tess. It was them who had saved you from FEDRA’s clutches, though you had never understood why. They had consistently told you that they only looked out for themselves, so was the way of life in the apocalypse, but each time you needed them, there they were.

There was that time you had an infection, and despite the weather being awful and security tight, Joel and Tess had gone out on a supply run, getting a hold of the antibiotics that had saved your life.

You tried to be useful, hopeful that if you helped them enough, as much as they helped you, that they wouldn’t kick you out any time soon.

It’s why you always took it upon yourself to clean their bloodied clothes, to sew up the tears that would have ruined them, to wash the dishes you all ate your rations off of. It’s why you always made sure to use the coldest water, refusing to take any that may be the slightest bit warm from them. Little things like that would surely keep you at least somewhat helpful.

It’s also why you kept your biggest secret quiet.

You had done your best to prevent them from ever finding out, and had they not decided that you could join them in visiting Bill and Frank, you were sure they never would’ve.

They’d known the two men for a while before you had arrived, and this would be your first time meeting them. Joel usually insisted upon you staying at the QZ, too worried over the journey and the risks it posed for you to attend any of their supply runs, but they seemed… content to let you join.

The three of you would be heading straight to Bill and Frank’s, and then straight back. No pit stops, no detours, just one confirmed route.

Your nerves had been playing up the whole time, causing you to jump at any sound, your hands shaking at the sight of Infected, hell — you had listened to every word that Joel and Tess said, though they didn’t blame you. It was your first time outside of the QZ, and they understood how frightening this could be.

You couldn’t decide if arriving at Bill and Frank’s made your anxiety better or worse.

It kept you quiet the whole time you were there, even as Bill tested the three of you, nodding when the screen flashed green. You stuck by Joel’s side as the four of you set up the table, Bill inside the house cooking dinner.

The four of you finally sat down, with Frank and Tess starting up conversation quickly, before Frank stopped, turning to you and saying, “Oh, would you mind going and grabbing a bottle of Barbera, sweetie?”

He was nice, and you didn’t want to get Joel and Tess in trouble with them by bringing you if you didn’t help them out, so you nodded with a nervous glance at Joel. “Sure, in there?” You pointed towards the house, and Frank nodded with a smile, turning back to his conversation with Tess.

You stepped away from the table, glancing back and seeing Joel looking at you with a quirked eyebrow, frown marring his features. You smiled tightly toward him before opening the front door, stepping inside and following the smell of cooking until you found Bill. “Um, Frank said to grab the bottle of… Bar—Barbera?”

Bill grunted, a grumpy expression covering his face, and nodded his head toward another door. You went through it quickly, down some steps, and you just about stopped yourself from crying when you saw the number of bottles around the room.

By the three minute mark, the stairs creaked, and Joel appeared at the bottom, looking increasingly concerned as he saw your distressed expression. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—it’s fine.” You replied, your voice shaking slightly, and you looked away from him, continuing to scan all the bottles on the shelves in front of you. The labels meant nothing to you, and you couldn’t help but get more upset by Joel’s presence.

He placed a hand on your shoulder as he approached, and didn’t say a word as he grabbed a bottle up towards your left. He led you out of the room, handing you the bottle and guiding you to where the other three were now settled at the table, food set out in front of them.

“Thank you, sweetie.” Frank said kindly as you set the bottle down at the table, quickly pulling your hands back before anybody could see the shake to your fingers.

You sat through the rest of the dinner quietly, barely able to enjoy the actual nice, home-cooked food through your racing thoughts. You answered Frank when he spoke to you, still knowing that you needed to be polite, but you were starting to feel sick.

When the three of you finally made it home, Joel and Tess had shared a number of concerned glances, eyebrows drawn close together as they murmured between one another, still talking quietly even when you dropped down on the sofa, a sigh leaving your chest.

It stayed that way for the next few weeks, and there was an awkward energy growing in the apartment the three of you shared. With your uncharacteristic quietness, and the way Joel and Tess would converse quietly, as if you hadn’t noticed, something was up.

That much became increasingly obvious when Joel sat you down on the couch you slept on, the crease between his brows as deep as ever.

He said your name nervously, and cleared his throat before he continued, “When we were at Bill and Frank’s, I, uh— I noticed somethin’.”

“Noticed what?” You responded when he didn’t continue, your anxiety leaking into your voice in the way it shook as you spoke, and you knew exactly what was coming. He’d realised your secret — he and Tess must’ve been deciding what to do during all of those talks.

“Fuck,” He muttered, clearly unsure how to go about this conversation, “Don’t… take this the wrong way, but, can you read?”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you swallowed nervously. “‘Course I can read, Joel.” You replied, snapping at the man, who just frowned more at your response.

He nodded, and reached into the backpack by his feet, pulling out a relatively thin book. He looked almost remorseful, pulling this out when he knew you were lying, and you hated the way that shame pulled at your stomach, making you feel sick as you looked at the letters you couldn’t make any sense of.

“Y’know, there’s nothin’ wrong with not knowing.” Joel said, voice softening as he looked at your panicked expression.

“Except that you don’t want me around anymore, right? It’s fine, but it’s not good enough. Don’t want some dumbass kid who can’t even read hanging around, is that it?” You snapped, anger firing up in your chest as you stood from the couch, fists clenched at your side as you averted your eyes from the book in his hand.

Your cheeks were burning, embarrassment flooding your expression, and your eyes were beginning to fill with tears.

“What? No, kid, sit back down.” He said, pushing you back to your seat by your shoulders. “Don’t go ‘round making assumptions like that. I’m offering to teach you.”

“Oh.”

He snickered at your response, though he looked almost embarrassed to be making the offer, like he was unsure what your response would be.

“So… you’re not kicking me out?”

“‘Course not. Getting ahead of yourself, there.”

“You really wouldn’t mind… teaching me?” You asked, heart still hammering in your chest as you stared at the man, his face softening at your nervous questions.

In response, he moved to sit right beside you on the couch, and opened the book in his hands. “It’s been a while for me, kid, so go easy.”

You smiled at him, wiping your tears before settling close to his side, head gently resting against his arm to get the best angle of his book. He pointed an index finger at the words as he read aloud, pointing new letters out each time they came up. Some familiar words came up, spelled phonetically, and made sense once you’d learnt the full alphabet on paper, but others made much less sense. Like fight — where did the gh come from?

By the time the two of you had made it through the first chapter, you could recognise letters on paper, know the sounds that the letters made, and even read majority of the simpler words, the ones that came up often.

Tess came home a bit later on, after you had fallen asleep against Joel’s shoulder. She raised her eyebrows, a hint of something like a smile on her face as she looked at the two of you, and asked, “Good first lesson?”

Joel wiped a hand down his face, his muscles tense in his efforts to keep still in order to not wake you, and stay awake himself. “Made some good progress.” He acknowledged, his voice barely louder than a whisper as he looked down to where you were slipping from his shoulder. Tess nodded at him, before heading down the hall to get on with unpacking her backpack.

From then on, these sorts of evenings happened a few times a week, almost always ending with you falling asleep against Joel. Your reading ability improved, and when the two of you finished the short book, you started rereading it immediately, now able to follow along more clearly as the stuttered words flowed more easily, and soon enough, Joel was promising to grab a new book from Bill and Frank’s.

The new words were tricky, when starting the new book, but each time you got stuck, Joel was there to help, and eventually, you got used to reading without his help. Sounding out words you were stuck on yourself, just waiting for his confirming mmhm to be muttered before you would continue on.

When finally, you finished an entire chapter without a murmur from Joel, you pulled away from his side excitedly, looking towards his face and seeing his expression being nothing short of filled with pride. He pulled you back to his side, one arm wrapped around you this time, and squeezed your shoulders before urging you to continue.

Feeling your eyes start to slip, words going blurred on the page, you asked, “Could you keep going?” Without questioning you, he continued from where you left off, reading the words out loud and keeping his arm wrapped firmly around your shoulder.

It was strange, hearing that softness to Joel’s voice, when before these lessons, you’d only ever heard the gruff voice he usually had. It made sense, you supposed, given that he remained rough around the edges for everybody who wasn’t you and Tess, but it made you feel… almost comfortable. It was like a safety net was wrapped around you, like nothing could happen to you if you stayed at his side.

You yawned, eyes still trying to focus on the book that Joel continued to read, his finger subconsciously moving along the page whilst he spoke the words.

It wasn’t long before you fell asleep against him, his voice fading to a whisper when he realised. It became something of a tradition between the two of you, these lessons where Joel taught you, and then eventually read to you until you fell asleep. He didn’t mention how much it reminded him of before, of her. And you didn’t mention how much more comfortable you had gotten since the lessons had started.

No longer were you on the edge of your seat, waiting for them to give you the boot. Now, you finally felt… accepted. In a way you never had been before Joel, before being taught something that wasn’t just for survival.

Strangely, it was almost like you could live, rather than survive. You didn’t voice it aloud, but you suspected Joel felt similarly, if his change in behaviour said anything.

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sea-salted-wolverine · 1 month

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In honor of the moose/Iditarod rule 34 chaos post reaching 1000 notes and then Dallas Seavy winning the Iditarod here are all the unhinged stories and things I know about that race

They changed the rules and schedules so you can't do this anymore, but there was a subset of mushers who would race the Yukon Quest and the Iditarod back to back. That's a 1000-mile race followed by another 1000-mile race through some of the harshest terrain on earth in late winter. And the Yukon quest doesn't even finish where the Iditarod starts. To do this required putting dogs in a plane OR having another team of dogs waiting in anchorage and someone to deal with both teams of dogs.

The first woman to win the Iditarod was Libby Riddles in 1985.

Only to have her finish promptly blown out of the water by Susan Butcher who won the race in 86', 87', 88', and 90' while setting speed records the whole way.

Susan did race in 85' but she ran into a moose early and it killed two of her dogs and hurt the rest so she scratched. Dallas got lucky this year.

She was also the first person to mush a dog team up to the summit of Denali, the tallest mountain in North America. This is not what dog teams are intended to do, I don't know why she even wanted to, other than to prove it was possible. I don't think anyone has since.

The race now requires GPS trackers on all the racers and you would not believe the bitchfit everyone threw over those. Mushers can either hop between checkpoints or camp on the trail and it may surprise you to learn that these are the kind of people who have secret camp spots in the woods that they don't want anyone to know about. So now, everyone has acquiesced to the tracker requirement but you must have an account on the race website if you want to see them.

The race has 2 paths that alternate even and odd years with different checkpoints but every year includes a section of race that crosses the sea ice, approximately 50 miles from Shaktoolik to Koyuk. so forget landmarks. point the sled north and hope you're going the right way.

the race is in honor of the 1925 Serum Run and the diphtheria outbreak, but the trail itself is the old freight route which is almost twice the length. also, it's a freight route for hauling freight which means the the racers are going at more or less lightspeed as compared to the intended use.

the most effective way to avoid frostbite on your face is a fur hood and duct tape on your cheeks and nose. Cold-related injuries are rare but far from unheard of. The average number of toes and fingertips among mushers is lower than that of the general population.

The finish line is a massive burled arch in the middle of main street in Nome. There is not a lot going on in Nome at any given time and this time of year is the exception. Every racer who finishes the race gets the same reception, which is everyone in town crowding into the finish chute to cheer them on and the city fire siren going off. The last racer in gets the Red Lantern Award which means that they finished dead last but didn't scratch.

the 2020 race had started and was fully underway when the pandemic lockdowns came into place. as far as social distancing goes, you really can't do much better than being isolated 100 miles into the middle of frozen nowhere but the checkpoints are itty bitty villages with no medical infrastructure and the finish was reportedly terrifying because instead of a crowd to cheer at the burled arch, it was just the siren going off in a ghost town.

there is no way I can tell this story that doesn't sound like I'm making it up as I go. The sign says no sniveling and they fucking mean it.

no really, click that link. here's the YouTube vid (non-graphic, after-the-fact interviews)

#from the far north #wolverine warbles #iditarod #dog mushing #alaska

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mostlysignssomeportents · 1 year

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When you hear "fintech," think "unlicensed bank"

Tomorrow (May 2) I’ll be in Portland at the Cedar Hills Powell’s with Andy Baio for my new novel, Red Team Blues.

In theory, patents are for novel, useful inventions that aren’t obvious “to a skilled practitioner of the art.” But as computers ate our society, grifters began to receive patents for “doing something we’ve done for centuries…with a computer.” “With a computer”: those three words had the power to cloud patent examiners’ minds.

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/2023/05/01/usury/#tech-exceptionalism

Patent trolls — who secure “with a computer” patents and then extract ransoms from people doing normal things on threat of a lawsuit — are an underappreciated form of “tech exceptionalism.” Normally, “tech exceptionalism” refers to bros who wave away things like privacy invasions by arguing that “with a computer” makes it all different.

These tech exceptionalists are the legit face of tech exceptionalism, the Forbes 30 Under 30 set. They’re grifters, but they’re celebrated grifters. There’s a whole bottom-feeding sludge of tech exceptionalists that don’t get the same kind of attention, like patent trolls.

Oh, and the fintech industry.

As Riley Quinn says, “when you hear ‘fintech,’ think: ‘unlicensed bank.’” The majority of fintech “innovation” consists of adding “with a computer” to highly regulated activities and declaring them to be unregulated (and, in the case of crypto, unregulatable).

There are a lot of heavily regulated financial activities, like dealing in securities (something the crypto industry is definitely doing and claims it isn’t). Most people don’t buy or sell securities regularly — indeed, most Americans own little or no stocks.

But you know what regulated financial activity a lot of Americans participate in?

Going into debt.

As wages stagnate and the price of housing, medical care, childcare, transportation and education soar, Americans fund their consumption with debt. Trillions of dollars’ worth of debt. Many of us are privileged to borrow money by walking into a bank and asking for a loan, but millions of Americans are denied that genteel experience.

Instead, working Americans increasingly rely on payday lenders and other usurers who charge sky-high interest rates, on top of penalties and fees, trapping borrowers in an endless cycle of indebtedness. This is an historical sign of a civilization in decline: productive workers require loans to engage in useful activities. Normally, the activity pans out — the crop comes in, say — and the debt is repaid.

But eventually, you’ll get a bad beat. The crop fails, the workshop burns down, a pandemic shuts down production. Instead of paying off your debt, you have to roll it over. Now, you’re in an even worse situation, and the next time you catch a bad break, you go further into debt. Over time, all production comes under the control of creditors.

The historical answer to this is jubilee: a regular wiping-away of all debt. While this was often dressed up in moral language, there was an absolutely practical rationale for it. Without jubilee, eventually, all the farmers stop growing food so that they can grow ornamental flowers for their creditors’ tables. Then, as starvation sets in, civilization collapses:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/08/jubilant/#construire-des-passerelles

As the debt historian Michael Hudson says, “Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid.” Without jubilee, indebtedness becomes a chronic and inescapable condition. As more and more creditors attach their claims to debtors’ assets, they have to compete with one another to terrorize the debtor into paying them off, first. One creditor might threaten to garnish your paycheck. Another, to repossess your car. Another, to evict you from your home. Another, to break your arm. Debts that can’t be paid, won’t be paid — but when you have a choice between a broken arm and stealing from your kid’s college fund or the cash-register, maybe the debt can be paid…a little. Of course, digital tools offer all kinds of exciting new tools for arm-breakers — immobilizing your car, say, or deleting the apps on your phone, starting with the ones you use most often:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/02/innovation-unlocks-markets/#digital-arm-breakers

Under Trump, payday lenders romped through America. A lobbyist for the payday lenders became a top Trump lawyer:

https://theintercept.com/2017/11/27/white-house-memo-justifying-cfpb-takeover-was-written-by-payday-lender-attorney/

This lobbyist then oversaw Trump’s appointment of a Consumer Finance Protection Bureau boss who deregulated payday lenders, opening the door to triple digit interest rates:

https://www.latimes.com/business/lazarus/la-fi-lazarus-cfpb-payday-lenders-20180119-story.html

To justify this, the payday loan industry found corruptible academics and paid them to write papers defending payday loans as “inclusive.” These papers were secretly co-authored by payday loan industry lobbyists:

https://www.washingtonpost.com/business/2019/02/25/how-payday-lending-industry-insider-tilted-academic-research-its-favor/

Of course, Trump doesn’t read academic papers, so the payday lenders also moved their annual conference to a Trump resort, writing the President a check for $1m:

https://www.propublica.org/article/trump-inc-podcast-payday-lenders-spent-1-million-at-a-trump-resort-and-cashed-in

Biden plugged many of the cracks that Trump created in the firewalls that guard against predatory lenders. Most significantly, he moved Rohit Chopra from the FTC to the CFPB, where, as director, he has overseen a determined effort to rein in the sector. As the CFPB re-establishes regulation, the fintech industry has moved in to add “with a computer” to many regulated activities and so declare them beyond regulation.

One fintech “innovation” is the creation of a “direct to consumer Earned Wage Access” product. Earned Wage Access is just a fancy term for a program some employers offer whereby workers can get paid ahead of payday for the hours they’ve already worked. The direct-to-consumer EWA offers loans without verifying that the borrower has money coming in. Companies like Earnin claim that their faux EWA services are free, but in practice, everyone who uses the service pays for the “Lightning Speed” upsell.

Of course they do. Earnin charges sky-high interest rates and twists borrowers’ arms into leaving a “tip” for the service (yes, they expect you to tip your loan-shark!). Anyone desperate enough to pay triple-digit interest rates and tip the service for originating their loan is desperate and needs to the money now:

https://prospect.org/power/05-01-2023-fintech-ewa-payday-loan-scam/

EWA annual interest rates sit around 300%. The average EWA borrower uses the service two or three times every month. EWA CEOs and lobbyists claim that they’re banking the unbanked — but the reality is that they’re acting as sticky-fingered brokers between banks and young, poor workers, marking up traditional bank services.

This fact is rarely mentioned when EWA companies lobby state legislatures seeking to be exempted from usury rules that are supposed to curb predatory lenders. In Vermont, Earnin wants an exemption from the state’s 18% interest rate cap — remember, the true APR for EWA loans is about 300%.

In Texas, payday lenders are classed as loan brokers, not loan originators and are thus able to avoid the state’s usury caps. EWAs are lobbying the Texas legislature for further exemptions from state money-transmitter and usury limit laws, principally on the strength of the “it’s different: we do it with a computer” logic.

But as Jarod Facundo writes for The American Prospect, quoting Monica Burks from the Center for Responsible Lending, a loan is a loan even if it’s with a computer: “The industry is trying to create a new definition for what a loan is in order to exempt themselves from existing consumer protection laws… When you offer someone a portion of money on the promise that they will repay it, and often that repayment will be accompanied with fees or charges or interest, that’s what a loan is.”

Catch me on tour with Red Team Blues in Mountain View, Berkeley, Portland, Vancouver, Calgary, Toronto, DC, Gaithersburg, Oxford, Hay, Manchester, Nottingham, London, and Berlin!

[Image ID: A stately, columnated bank building, bedecked in garish payday lender signs.]

Image: Andre Carrotflower (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:30_North_%28former_Pontiac_Commercial_%26_Savings_Bank_Building%29,_Pontiac,_Michigan_-_entrance_and_Chief_Pontiac_relief_sculpture_-_20201213.jpg

CC BY-SA 4.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #cfpb #earned wage access #digital armbreakers #loansharks #payday lenders #tech exceptionalism #jubilee #debt #fintech #usury #michael hudson #graeber #debts that can't be paid wont be paid

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avatar-anna · 1 year

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Love on Tour: The Documentary, Part 2

we all know harry is working on a documentary, so this is my take on how young dad!harry would approach it!

and now a little key:

bold and italics: camera directions, or what you would be seeing as a viewer of the documentary in person

just italics: interviewer questions, or people who are speaking off camera

Young dad!Harry x Young mom!Reader universe

Part 1 Part 3

In the interview room with Harry.

“There are some pretty heavy songs on Fine Line.”

Harry scratches his chin and looks away from the camera. “Yeah.”

“You’ve said in the past that you write from personal experience. Where did songs like ‘Cherry’ and ‘Falling’ come from?

“Uh...Not the uh…not the best time of my life.”

Cut to Y/n’s interview.

“Harry is…the most hard working person I’ve ever met. He wants to do everything he does with a hundred and ten percent. Almost to a fault, and there—there were moments where I felt like he was choosing his career over his family. You know, once One Direction went on hiatus, I thought things were gonna be different. I thought we would have more time together as a family, but we started falling into the same cycles. Write, promote, tour.”

Cut to Harry.

“Were you choosing your career over family?”

“I know how Y/n felt back then, and we’ve talked about it at length since then,” Harry says. “I think…I think at the time I only knew one way of having a music career and providing for my family, and it worked, so I almost felt like I had to keep that momentum. After the first tour ended, I came home and we spent time together, but…All I’ll say was it was tense.”

Cut to Y/n.

“I often think the pandemic was a blessing in disguise.”

“Really? Why?”

Y/n looks down at her lap before answering. “Because I was done.”

Cut to clips of Harry in Japan and in recording studios with his team.

Harry’s voiceover: “I’d never felt truly alone until we separated. To some it may seem odd because I was touring so much anyway, but I spoke to my family every day. I don’t think a day had ever gone by that I didn’t speak to Y/n. I wanted to give Y/n space, and I felt so lost, so I just kind of…stayed away. It was so hard. All I kept thinking was, ‘I did this. This is my fault.’ I eventually started writing down how I felt, but…yeah. Not something I look back on with pride.”

Back to Harry’s interview.

“Why talk about any of this at all?”

Harry’s eyes are red and watery, as if he had just been crying. “It was part of this whole journey. It wouldn’t be authentic of me to only share the good parts. Fine Line is introspective. It’s an album about high highs and low lows, so it only makes sense to kind of…express what I was going through to make me feel a certain way while writing.”

Cut to Y/n’s interview.

“What was it like to hear Fine Line for the first time?”

“Jeff told me H jetted off to Japan to write songs for the next album, and I didn’t see him until after it was nearly ready to be released. I wanted him to fight for us, but he just left. It solidified for me how much we needed to take a little time apart and figure out what we wanted. I was…resentful going into it. It felt like his music was tearing us apart, and he went to write more. But…”

Y/n wipes a tear from her eye.

“He…He was hurting as much as I was, and I was partially to blame.”

When asked to elaborate about the children during that time, both Harry and Y/n refused to comment.

Cut to an interview with Jeffrey Azoff, Harry’s long time friend and manager.

“I have a lot of respect for the both of them,” Jeff says. “What the two of them went through together, what Y/n endured all those years. Being a parent is hard enough, add everything else they put up with on top of that?”

Jeff shakes his head.

“But Harry went on a huge tour under your management.”

“An error on my part. And his,” he says. “I think we were so excited to start his career, and as a manager who has a client who loves live performances, it felt like a no brainer. I could tell that H was going to be someone explosive in the music industry, and I let that kind of cloud my vision.”

Jeff also reveals that he has since apologized to Y/n and that they are on good terms.

“So how did you go about promotion for Fine Line?”

“It was tricky, you know, because to the outside world, why wouldn’t H be doing all the talk shows and interviews and things like that? To everyone who didn’t know what was going on, he had all the time in the world and no obligations, but that obviously wasn’t the case.”

“Were there ever conversations to reveal his family to the public?”

Cut to Y/n and Harry in an interview room together.

“We talked about our options moving forward,” Harry says. “But we decided the best way to protect the kids’ privacy was if no one knew I had a wife and kids.”

“Definitely not easy,” Y/n says, but not impossible.”

Clips of Harry on various talk shows (Late Late Show, Ellen DeGeneres, Graham Norton) and at the Jingle Bell Ball, and One Night Only at the Forum appear. Some are of him performing, others are of him rehearsing, and one in a green room with Y/n, Simone, and Collette sitting on a couch.

Harry’s voiceover: “We decided on a couple talk show appearances in places where I could drive home afterwards, and longer breaks between tour destinations,” he says. “I was prepared to hold off on the album release so that I could spend more time at home, but Y/n wouldn’t let me.”

Back to Y/n.

“Keeping him from doing what he loves was never the goal,” Y/n says. “I just wanted there to be a balance. The kids were getting older and had more things going on, and I didn’t want their earliest memories of their dad to be that he was gone all the time. H wouldn’t be the same person if he didn’t have his music, but he also wouldn’t be the same without us. I never wanted him to give up his life for us, but things needed to be different.”

“Global lockdown was certainly different.”

She nods. “I think H saw it as an opportunity to…make up for lost time. It was difficult for obvious reasons. Online learning, keeping the kids entertained all day, staying inside, the toilet paper thing, but we’d never been the kind of family that spent so much time under the same roof before. It was strange, but also really nice.”

Back to Harry.

“You know, obviously I was bummed that I put out this album that I was really proud of and couldn’t perform it the way I wanted to, and there were already so many fans who bought tickets. I felt like I was letting them down too. But at the same time, it forced me and Y/n to share common space after so much time apart. I wasn’t about to take that for granted.”

This was all Harry and Y/n were willing to talk about concerning their separation. They did not say how long they were apart or when they officially mended things.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.

In another interview room are four children.

“Can you state your name for the interview, please?”

“Simone Styles.”

“Nicoletta Anne Styles.”

“Maeve!”

When the fourth child doesn’t answer, Maeve does it for him.

“And that’s JuJu.”

“No it’s not!”

“Then say your name!”

“My name is Julian.”

“Do you know what your dad does for a living?”

“He travels a lot,” Maeve says. “Sometimes we get to go with him!”

“Daddy sings onstage,” Julian says.

“And on the radio!”

“He’s a musician,” Simone says.

“Do you have a favorite song that your dad sings?”

They all begin to talk over each other.

“I like Adore You!”

“As It Was!”

“Only because you were in it.”

“Baby Shark!”

“I like his One Direction songs,” Collette says.

“So you know who One Direction is?”

“Yeah,” Simone says while the rest nod.

“Simone, do you remember anything about your dad being in One Direction?”

“Not really. But Mom likes to tell stories about all the cool places we got to go together.”

“What is the coolest thing about your dad?”

“Did he tell you to ask us that?” Maeve asks.

The whole crew laughs.

“No, he didn’t.”

“I like when he plays with my toy cars. Sometimes we make a really big racetrack with, like, loops and stuff,” Julian says.

“I like when he plays tea party with me!”

“I like it when Dad picks me up from school early so we can go shopping together,” Simone says.

Back to Harry and Y/n’s shared interview.

“You do what?”

“It was only a couple of times!” Harry says in his defense.

Y/n gives Harry a stern look before she says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Mmhm.”

Harry looks at the camera. “She does this to scare me. Pretends like everything’s fine and then grills me later.”

Back to the interview with Simone, Collette, Maeve, and Julian.

“What was it like being in lockdown together?”

“It was really fun!” Maeve says.

“We played lots of games and did campouts in the backyard and stuff,” Simone added.

“I learned how to ride a bike!”

Collette tilts her head to the side. “Well, it was mostly fun. When Mom and Maeve got sick it was not so fun.”

“I think Daddy was in over his head,” Julian says.

Cut to Harry and Y/n’s interview.

“I was not ‘in over my head.’ We were fine. Better than fine, even.”

Y/n looks at the camera, clearly amused. “He called me crying several times.”

“How did you and Maeve quarantine while you were sick?”

“We took our bedroom,” Y/n says, gesturing between her and Harry. “And they would bring us meals and everything. I was a little worried because GiGi was only a couple months old, but we made it work.”

“Why were you crying so much, Harry?”

“It wasn’t so much. But…I think we’re all used to having Y/n around, and sometimes Simone and Collette would argue, and Julian missed having Maeve around, and you know, was looking after a newborn during all of it. Y/n is truly the glue that holds this family together.”

“He got really good at braiding my hair!”

Everyone laughs at the little voice off camera, which turns away from Harry and Y/n to where Collette is sitting in a director’s chair. Then the camera swivels back to Harry and Y/n.

“She’s right. I am a master at the French braid.

Cut to a home video of Simone and Collette with Harry filming.

“Welcome to our home!” Simone says. She spreads her arms wide as she presents the front room of the house to the camera.

Both Simone and Collette proceed to give a tour of the whole house. They show a kitchen, a home theater, what they call “Daddy’s office,” which appears to be a converted recording studio, and the twins’ bedroom.

“This is my room. I share it with Simone,” Collette says.

Simone shows off the bedroom, which has white walls with pastel accents. Lots of stuffed animals on two beds with princess canopies and a small sofa. There are two rugs on the floor, a white one with a textured pink and purple smiley face and another white one with an orange pattern. A teddy bear bean bag chair sits by one of the beds. There’s a bay window with a small mattress and curtains with hand-stitched cherries on them. “A project completed by yours truly,” Harry says about the bay window bed. “I’ve become quite the handyman during lockdown. And an interior decorator.”

“Dad!” they both cry.

“Sorry, sorry. I’ll keep quiet from now on.”

The “tour” ends in Harry and Y/n’s room, where Y/n lays on the bed. Her belly is big, clearly several months pregnant. She smiles as Simone and Collette approach.

“What’s going on here?” she asks.

“We’re giving a house tour!” Collette says as she jumps on the bed. “This is our last stop.”

“We’re gonna send it to Nana and Auntie Gemma and…”

Simone rattles off all the names they plan to send their video to.

“Wow! And I see you have your own cameraman,” Y/n says.

“He’s good, but we have some notes,” Collette says, and Simone agrees.

“That’s it. No more cameraman. I’m the tickle monster,” Harry says.

Simone and Collette scream and run away, and the video ends shortly after that.

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

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siriusleee · 5 months

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i. hidden caches

Zombie Apocalypse AU | SIMON RILEY x f!READER

↳ SUMMARY: The world is trying to knit itself back together after fracturing apart. You're trying to put yourself back together with it; Simon Riley is just trying to stay alive. ↳ WORD COUNT: 2.2K ↳ TAGS: mentions of cannibalism, mentions of shooting things, mentions of dying. smut to come. canon typical violence to come. additional tags to come as the story progresses. female reader. no mentions of "your name". reader is given a nickname later on. nc-17. ↳ AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the lovely anon who asked for a scene from an apocalypse au, and this idea was born. If you'd like to donate to my Ko-Fi (my bed frame broke this week and a new one was $200 I didn't have), I would appreciate it. ↳ TAG LIST: There will not be a tag list for this story, as Tumblr has issues with letting me tag people. To get notifications of updates, please subscribe on AO3 or turn on notifications for my blog.

additional chapters | ao3

The ending had come quicker than anyone expected. The epidemics and endemics and pandemics of the years past had given false confidence to everyone. We survived the last thing, the news reporters had said, gray building beneath their eyes, and we can survive this. Behind them images of towns being devoured played.

Bodies can decompose in as little as nine days. The first to go is the soft tissue: the eyes, the tongue, the soft flesh of the cheeks. When bacteria and insects are introduced, the flesh breaks down faster. Bones take longer - sometimes years to fully wear away into the dust that collects underfoot. But these things - whatever turned them kept them covered in a thin layer of adipocere to protect them from the elements. They kept shuffling along long past the time when they should have reverted back to a primordial soup where they lay.

But they still decomposed. The trick was to stay ahead of them, away from the gnashing teeth that transmitted the virus, away from the hands and feet that never seemed to tire. So few people could. Whole towns and cities were decimated, felled beneath the hordes of horror that ambled slowly past, swallowed up by the feet that didn’t stop moving until they wore themselves down to stubs, which were them pulled forward by hands and knees that never tired.

But yours did. The familiar path towards the north was more overgrown this year than in the past. For a few years, there had been wary companions, eyes that lingered until the snow and frost rolled in to freeze the Biters where they stood. But as the years wanned on the crowd grew smaller and smaller until you only caught hints of others moving north: horse prints, trash left behind, the occasional Biter left decomposing in the bushes.

This year there was nothing. Either you had moved too early or there was no one left. The latter is too terrifying, so you push it away and think about whatever groups may wander through here after you.

The woods loom tall above you, the snow that fell earlier in the morning just barely dusting the branches above your head. None of it had reached the leaves that are too waterlogged from recent rains to crunch beneath your feet. A blister is rubbing itself raw at your ankle; you know that if you don’t stop to treat it, it will be unbearable tomorrow, but you brush the thought off. You need to reach the marker before nightfall.

The markers had appeared between one trip north and your trip back down.

West Village - 20km

The first year it had appeared left the group you were with in a tizzy. The group had fractured down the middle. If all of you found each other, how hard was it to think that a larger group had finally banned together? Civilization needed to rebuild eventually.

You didn’t trust the shaky scrawl that printed the words, so you had been with the group that refused to go. The next year there was another marker tacked to the first.

Body snatchers. Beware.

It was amazing to you: how well rumors could start and spread without phones or the internet. For months, every person you and your group came across would give the same warning, and ask you all the same questions. Have you seen the body snatchers? Are you the body snatchers?

Humans turned cannabolids. Farms where people were forced to reproduce. Spits with babies roasting above the fire. You wanted to think that it was the stuff of fiction.

In the third year, there was another argument. The group cleaved in half again when the promise of civilization reared its head. Your group had divided again at the markers, disappearing into the thick woods.

Almost no one survived the winter that year. You’d held the hands of all the dying and covered them under a thick blanket of snow before dividing their possessions up between the remainder of the group. In the end, there were just three of you. And when the winter rolled away you all broke apart, whatever ties that held you all together broken by the cold.

The next year you were the only one in your camp.

The markers had become a sort of prayer to you, that one day you’d meet someone else on the road - some scream and shout that there were others out there even if you were too wary to speak to them.

But it’s been two years - the crude paint of the West Village sign fading, the body snatchers warning falling to the earth unceremoniously. The wood started to rot.

And you were utterly alone. Around you, the sound of nature getting ready for the winter fills in the ever-present silence that usually surrounds you. It’s been weeks since you’d last seen a person: a lone traveler moving in the opposite direction as you. And you’d hid from them, worried that they were the sort of feral people turned into when they were alone for too long - a body snatcher. Worried that you were that kind of feral.

You know the markers when you approach them like your body’s memorized the number of steps it takes to reach them. Your chest thumps as you approach the spot where they should be nailed to a tree, growing taller into the air each year. Your boots falter against the wet leaves as you approach the place.

The markers have been repainted. Or at least the West Village one has. This time it’s nailed to a post in the ground; you bend down to inspect the dirt around the post. It’s packed underneath a thick layer of loam - whoever put it up must have put it up much earlier in the year. The thought sends a shiver down your spine. You wonder if any members of your former group are still there.

For half a second, you think about following the arrow, but before the thought can fully form in your head, you let your feet carry you forward on the path. Just ahead is the rest area you’ve always used. Your tree, one with branches high enough that the only things who can see you are the birds whose nests you disturb, erupts from the ground ahead of you.

You climb up like you were taught; throwing your rope onto the first branch you can physically reach and lash it to yourself. It’s more difficult to climb the tree with your pack and bow, but you don’t want to risk leaving it behind for anyone who may come through after you. When you reach the point where the rope reaches the tree, you pull yourself onto the branch. The blister on your ankle is screaming, but you don’t pause until your hammock is secure and your harness is wrapped around you. The cool wind cuts through the thin fabric of the hammock, but it’s not too cold as you peel back your socks to reveal an angry raw spot crawling across your ankle.

Too tired to do much more, you slide your other boot off, tying them together and then to your pack. The gentle sway of the trees makes your eyelids heavy, and you let yourself drift off into the first good night's sleep you’ve had in a while.

The bitter cold wakes you up, the wind moving your hammock back and forth gently. The darkness spins above you, clouds backlit by the moon. Not for the first time you think about how easy it used to be, curled up with another warm body beneath the thick blankets - how easy it was to switch on the percolator in the morning and wrap your hands around a warm cup of coffee, how easy -

You press the heel of your hands into your eyes and try to press away the thoughts that are racing through your brain. Remembering the before drives people crazy; you’ve seen how it can eat people up and you refuse to let it eat at you. So you pull your thermal blanket closer around yourself and try to get some sleep.

But the sun rises earlier than you expected and extra sleep never comes.

It doesn’t take long for you to pack what little you have back in your pack and descend back down. At the bottom you dig out the little bit of jerky you still have saved from the summer months; it’s disgusting, but it’s enough to push you forward to the next place.

You walk the entire time with your bow in your hand, waiting for some animal to run out in front of you and meet its mark, but the forest is silent today as you push towards the next stop in your journey north, a small nameless village secluded away from the rest of civilization - just good enough to sleep in for the night.

The sun has just started to sink below the treeline when the village finally springs into view. The blister on your ankle has popped, and you think you can feel blood rushing into your sock, but you don’t dare stop and check; you don’t want the scent of fresh blood to attract any Biters that may be hidden away for now. Your fingers cramp around the bow and your stomach growls. You’d picked a smooth rock up from the ground hours earlier and popped it into your mouth to try and trick yourself into thinking you were eating something, but it hadn’t worked. If anything it made your hunger worse.

There was salvation coming - on your second year coming through here you’d snuck off from the group and buried a cache. Each year you did your best not to touch it unless it was to refill something inside of it, but this year you knew you’d have to empty it.

You crunch over tire tracks that crisscross over each other on the main road into the village; they’re dry enough that you know whoever managed to scrape up enough gas to drive in and out was gone, but the thought of someone driving up on you made you nervous, and make your steps quicken. If people were driving through here then you needed to be gone before sunlight tomorrow.

Weary, you push yourself towards the back half of the village to a little two-story you know well. It had been the same house your group, and then yourself, slept in each year on your way to the north camp; in the back, beneath an overturned chair that was slowly rotting with time, your little cache was stored.

You shoulder your way through the half-rotted back gate and freeze. The chair is tossed to the side, rusted parts puzzle pieced across the ground. And directly where your cache had been buried is a hole, smoothed over from time and rain.

You could cry if you had any water left in you to cry. So instead you walk numbly into the house - habit making you click the lock on the door even though it’s long since stopped working. The same thick dust that was here last year is still across the floor, so thick your steps don’t even disturb it. You pass through the living area and up the steps. On the landing, you don’t pause - to the left of you is the nursery that’s always been empty. The first few times you’d stopped here the sight of the broken-down white crib and sage walls made something ache inside of you, and you’d learned not to look. It’s better to just let things alone and try to stifle your imagination.

The attic ladder swings down with ease and you test your weight on the rungs before climbing up - any broken bones and you may as well just shoot yourself where you lay. It creaks ominously beneath you but keeps as you clamber through the hole. You let yourself collapse on the floor beside the ladder after pulling it up, and wrapping a rope around the ladder to keep anyone from pulling it down in the night. All at once, hunger and exhaustion pull you down towards the floor.

You’ll have to shoot something tomorrow and check the well for fresh water. There are still to many miles before you make it north enough to be safe for the winter, and you won’t make it without water and food.

You try to distract yourself from the cramping of hunger and how little water is left in your jug by peeling your boots off. As you’d thought, the blister had split and bled, but thankfully your sock had caught most of it.

You clean up the best you can in the dusty light filtering in from the little window that looks out the back garden and wonder who could have known the cache was there. An old group member who spotted you checking it in the past? Or was it a lucky guess, someone who came through after you and spotted the freshly disturbed dirt and came to the right inference?

You try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter as you pull your thermal blanket from your pack and lay down, but you can’t quite convince yourself of that lie.

#my fics #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost cod x reader #ghost #simon riley x you #cod x reader #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #mw2 #ghost mw2 #cod ghost #zombie au #simon riley zombie au

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tothosewhoyearnforit · 1 year

Text

surf's up pt.1 ?? - kazuha + minju

-this was originally meant to be a birthday fic for Minju but I couldn’t sit down and complete it so I incorporated one of my dirty thoughts into this fic. I’m not sure if people would like this as much as my mind did. threesome, creampie, nothing way too crazy, maybe a bit of overstimulation. please do tell me if this is straight trash, i’ll consider not writing a second pt to this.

-length: 2145 words

-minju, kazuha x male reader

The beach. The perfect place for just about anything. Surfing, picnics, volleyball, swimming, going on dates. That’s what made it your favorite haunt.

Just kidding.

You absolutely hated the beach. Especially sand. It’s coarse and it gets everywhere. The sun was a bane to your existence. The constant chaos of seagulls cawing, children screaming and the waves crashing just did not sit well in your mind at all. This was probably the first time since the pandemic that you’d come to any beach. You moved from your hometown to the city just a week ago and since your apartment was close to the beach, you figured why not got for a jog now that you were done unpacking everything into the new residence and get to know your environment a bit more.

Midway through your run, at a slightly more deserted area of the beach, you caught sight of two fine bodied female surfers. Both of them were dressed in one piece singlet swimsuits that accentuated their lovely figure. The one on the left was a tall slender bodied woman that had a body to die for. Her abs were well toned and her arm muscles were extremely defined. But what caught your eye the most was her legs, they were long, sleek and slender with thighs that you wanted to wear as a scarf. They led your eyes up to her cute perky ass that was asking to be spanked. The woman on the right was a bit bustier. The swimsuit accentuated this fact by hugging her chest tight and exposing her buttcheeks to the world. As you were admiring the sight before your eyes, the whole world suddenly started to fall as the two vixen faded away from you into the darkness.

“Is he awake?”

The warmest, gentlest voice brings you back to earth. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by the same two damsels that you were admiring before ending up in what seemed like a small foresty area by the shoreline, laying on a sky blue beach mat with an ice packet to your head.

“Are you okay? You look like you took quite a fall back there.” It was the taller girl. Her doe eyes fluttered as she spoke to you, melting your heart as well as the stinging pain in your head.

What happened to me? Why am I here ? Why are you both so awfully perfect ? You had a million questions you wanted to ask.

“He looks okay.” said the shorter, bustier girl. “Or at least that’s what his little friend is trying to tell us.” Pointing down at your crotch, turning all attention to the bulge starting to form.

“Fufufu…guess it's time to get acquainted huh Minju.” says the taller girl, moving her hand down to your crotch and rubbing your cock through your pants.

“Take it easy Kazuha, you don’t want this poor guy fainting again.”

“Wha-” You’re cut off by Minju diving head first into a kiss. She smells absolutely divine, a mixture of ocean air and rose petals. Meanwhile, Kazuha is wiggling your troublesome clothes out of the way, and in a matter of seconds, you’re stark naked on the beach mat, visible to any fishing boat that may go by. The two girls gather at your cock and begin to shower it with their affection, arching their backs to show off their juicy hindparts.

“Gosh, who knew we’d be getting railed by such a monstrous thing today huh Minju”, Kazuha says while kissing the base of your cock, the warm air from her nostrils gently breezing against your skin, sending tingles up your spine. Minju is unable to answer, working her magic on your balls, taking one in her mouth at a time and covering it in her saliva. She gets to work first while Kazuha backs off to begin a deep makeout session with you, while your hands survey her specimen of a figure, admiring how toned yet delicate her muscles had developed. Meanwhile Minju is absolutely going to town on your cock, not even needing time to acclimate to how big your length was. She would bob her head down in a rhythmic manner, going down twice while looking at you lustfully before staying there, allowing your dick to take 2 seconds of rest before slowly detaching her mouth. Minju was also extremely skilled with her tongue. It snaked around your cock as she worked her magic, moving over your sensitive points as it disappeared and reappeared from her mouth. Soon, she got off and let Kazuha have her way with your throbbing erection.

Kazuha leaves a deep kiss at the tip of your cock, before taking your length in her mouth. She, unlike Minju, starts off safe, taking in no more than a fifth of your cock, then a quarter, then a half, until your whole length disappears into her mouth hitting the back of her throat, her lips touching the base of your cock. Her mouth is warm and snug, you could leave your dick in there for eternity. Then, Kazuha moves her head up and down furiously, never letting more than a quarter of your dick out of her mouth. You throw your head back in pleasure, Kazuha’s mouth was perfect, it was like it was molded just for taking your dick in. Meanwhile, you begin tearing off the swimsuit that Minju was wearing, kneading her sizable tits and squeezing her juicy ass and smacking it while making out intensely with her, earning a few moans that escaped from Minju’s mouth. Sensing that you were about to cum, you stand up and grab onto the sides of Kazuha’s head and begin facefucking her. She maintains eye contact with you as you continuously thrust your length deep within her sinful abyss with eyes that begged you to abandon life and surrender to her. Soon, your cock could not take it anymore.

“Fuck! Kazuha!”

You cum right into Kazuha’s mouth and she tries to take it all, but there’s just too much and it starts to overflow as you withdraw your length from her mouth. Minju instinctively knows what to do, licking the cum around her mouth, cleaning it up. Kazuha opens her mouth to show how much you’ve let loose within her, before swallowing it in one gulp and sticking her tongue out again to show you that she ingested it all.

Consumed by lust, Kazuha pounces onto you, pinning you down onto the beach mat. Your lips crash against hers as you start to lose yourself in the hot and passionate kiss as your hands work to peel her annoying swimsuit away. Soon, her bare body was right on top of your own, both her legs on your sides, her textured abdominal muscles on top of your own, her breasts pressed against yours, her arms wrapped around your neck as beads of sweat start to collect on both your bodies and her dripping shaved pussy touching your ever hard cock, just waiting to be destroyed by the latter. Your hands work to squeeze and slap those juicy butt cheeks that you were admiring before. You position your cock with Kazuha’s pussy and press her down on it, slowly moving your entire length inside of her. Kazuha then lets out a loud moan once the whole thing is inside.

“Fuck! You’re so big, you’re gonna break my pussy…”

Minju, not wanting to be left out, climbs on top of you, sitting on your face, demanding to be eaten out. At this moment, you’d die to see what kind of sexual artwork the three of you were making. But that wasn’t to say your view beneath Minju’s lewd body wasn’t visually appetizing. From beneath you could admire Minju’s perfectly sized tits, swaying from left to right as she rided on your face as well as a close up of her picture perfect pussy whose scent you could not get enough of.

In the meantime, Kazuha was having the time of her life, bouncing up and down on your cock. Her pussy was really tight. Every hip movement she made brought so much pleasure to your mind that it was numbing. The only sounds you could hear at the beach were the moans of the two girls on top of you, the slapping of Kazuha’s bubble butt onto your pelvis and the crashing of the waves against the shore.

“Shit! I’m about to cum!” Minju arches her back and squeals as a hot wave of her girl juice gushes out of her pussy, coating your face in her slick. She wasn’t the only one about to cum though. Moving Minju to the side, you sit up and reverse the positions you and Kazuha were in, pinning her arms above her head to restrict her movement. She squirms beneath you as you push her legs up to her chest, moving into the missionary position for even deeper thrusts. You nuzzle your neck into hers, devouring her sweat-filled scent as you fucked her senseless, her moans getting louder and more frequent as you upped the pace of your thrusts.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me lose my mind…Fuck…FUCCCKKK!!!” Kazuha screams, her eyes rolling back to her head as she reaches her own high. Her pussy clenches even tighter around your cock and her back arches to acclimate to the pleasure, causing you to reach your own breaking point, releasing spurt after spurt of sticky white stuff into her swollen pussy. You pull your cock out, to see a small river of yours and Kazuha’s byproducts flow out of her filled pussy. Kazuha is absolutely spent, panting relentlessly as she mutters “so good…so warm…” over and over, showing how you absolutely broke the girl.

“Hope you didn’t forget about me.” says Minju, as she places Kazuha to the side and pins you down.

“I want you to fucking pour whatever’s left inside me. Fill me up to the brim. Fuck me like the slut I am” she whispers into your ear.

Her words are lewd and arousing, consuming you in yet another wave of lust. You hug onto Minju’s busty body tightly and without wasting another second, furiously fuck her like you were both animals in heat. If somebody were to walk by, you definitely wouldn’t pull out of her and would continue fucking her relentlessly. Minju’s eyes roll to the back of her head, her mind absolutely overwhelmed by pleasure. Her fingers dug deep into your shoulders, grabbing onto them for stability and to try and reassemble her lost sanity. Too consumed by passion to stop and get her to loosen up, you fuck her even harder and faster, her words resonating within your mind. Pour whatever’s left inside me. Fill me… like the slut I am. You lean into Minju and get a good whiff of her scent. She no longer smells like the ocean and roses. She now smells like sweat and sex. Freeing a hand from your deep embrace, you reach down and squeeze a buttcheek, slapping it. Then, you had an absolutely dirty idea. Using your middle finger, you feel around for her asshole and insert your finger inside. Minju, completely unexpecting of your lewd action, screams in overstimulation. Her hips buckle as she squirts a geyser of her cum for the second time. Her head drops onto your shoulder as you continue railing her limp body, wanting to fulfill her wishes. With one final push and a low growl, you release all you had into her slutty pussy. Wave after wave of your cum flows into her. Even after you pulled out you were still shooting some cum onto her midriff.

“Shit that was amazing…Maybe I should take the “scenic” route more…” you say as you slump in between Minju and Kazuha’s sleeping bodies, of which you had done an absolute number to.

HONKKKKKKKK

You are awakened from your slumber by the loud blow of a ship's horn, seemingly scolding you for doing such a sinful deed under the sky where anybody could see. Kazuha and Minju are up as well, getting changed and preparing to leave.

“That was the best fuck we’ve both had ever in our lives. Here’s our numbers. We live not too far from here. When you want to have a bit of fun, call us and we’ll be right over.” Minju says with a tinge of lust in her voice, handing you a small sheet of paper with both their numbers and names. She leans in and whispers in your ear, “Maybe you can call only me and use me as your personal cumdump.”

“Ya! Don’t leave me alone!” Kazuha exclaims in rebuttal, shoving the shorter girl gently. She tiptoes and pecks you on the lips before winking at you and leaving.

You glance down at the paper. You were definitely enjoying moving into your new home.

#izone smut #minju smut #kazuha smut #le sserafim smut #kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader

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morganbritton132 · 1 year

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First, I adore you and your brain. Second, I have a silly little ankle tattoo of a doodle (it’s a lemon man) my sister made and fully love poorly drawn lil things so Eddie’s octopus is my favorite. Third! I picked up crochet during the pandemic (the first bit lmao where I got laid off and super depressed) and it’s so therapeutic when i need to just shut down and focus on one thing because I’m stressed or overwhelmed. I’m working on coasters right now, and god they’re so much easier than the first coaster pattern I tried (that one put me off for a while). I just had a funny thought though, of when Steve gets fully into it and does what a lot of us crafters do and stocks up on yarn for future projects.

I bought a big ass show organizer for all of mine and have to restrict myself to just what fits in there

(Also I’m picturing Eddie in a wonky hat like the one I just tried to make for my sister’s cat but he’s still wearing it super proud)

At the start of the pandemic, I got a new job where I was working half in the office and half from home. I also moved out of my parents’ house so I suddenly alone all the time and to kinda cope with that, I picked up knitting. I originally tried crochet but I just couldn’t get my hands to work right, but I’ve gotten it down (at least enough to do the second row), and I agree with you. It is very therapeutic and I’m happy that it was able to help you through a rough time.

And lol, but all of us crafters are the same because I have a whole shelf dedicated to yarn I bought for future knitting (and now crochet) projects.

It’s not Steve’s intention.

He is just trying this hobby out so he can tell his physical therapist that he gave it a go and it didn’t work. Steve is not crafty or creative like Eddie, so he doesn’t need to buy all this stuff.

But he did need to buy melting chocolate, so he agreed to go when Robin asked if he wanted to go to Michael’s with her. And yeah, maybe he did pick up a new crochet hook but that’s because there’s clearly something wrong with his. What other explanation is there for why he keeps skipping stitches?

And maybe he did get a new skein of yarn, but he’s just being practical. If he’s going to make Eddie a hat than he is going to need a color that compliments Eddie’s complexion, right? He might as well get this blue too. It’s a pretty color and there’s only like, five skeins left. It could disappear forever.

Then he bought a bowl to hold his yarn but it was cute! It was shaped like a sloth. And yeah, he got the yarn winder thing. That’s just practical. And okay, well. Joann’s has magazines with patterns in them so Steve’s going to need that.

And it all kinda just snowballs until, “Babe, what the hell did you buy for a hundred and fifty dollars at Michael’s?”

Steve, surrounded by yarn in each color, “Nothing.”

Also, Eddie absolutely wears anything that Steve makes him. A fan took a picture of him buying cigarettes in a lopsided hat. Another fan took a picture of him at show where his guitar strap has a single crochet chain wrapped around it. There’s a Tiktok where Eddie is pulling his hair up with a crocheted scrunchie.

#Every crafter I know has way too much stuff for a hobby they’re going to drop in a couple weeks #eddie munson tiktok saga #eddie munson #steve harrington

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magicalrocketships · 5 months

Note

☔

☔Is there a fic concept you have that you'd like to just explain and share because you're not sure you'll ever write it? If so, what is it?

Oh, I'm sure I've talked about this before but L U C K I L Y I retain zero information, particularly when I'm tired, so this means I get to explain it again.

SO, the plot which I won't ever write because it gets pretty dark and it also requires me to make up an injury (I got the idea from the first series of Chicago Fire, where the dude whose name I've forgotten (no, really, I retain no information anymore) has a life-changing made-up ?neck? injury where he requires surgery and it will take one year+ to recover from the surgery so he self-medicates and then it's miraculously fixed by a dazzling new surgery in one episode after making it an entire plot for an entire season):

Canon divergence somewhere along the way, maybe the pandemic doesn't happen, maybe he never really got as publicly involved in streaming, whatever, but what's key is that Max doesn't have anything really going on outside of racing and it's this year

So Daniel's left RB/Mcl, and Max is focused focused focused on racing and maybe he gets his first world championship a year earlier but whatever happens, he doesn't build that strong sense of home outside of racing (no cats, no partner, no online streaming, just what's becoming an unhealthy focus on racing and winning at all costs)

Then there's an accident. It happens off-track, so it's not a racing incident, and it's not Max's fault. His car gets hit. And Max is injured. He breaks something in his neck (I am assured this injury does not exist in the manner employed by Chicago Fire. For the purpose of this imaginary not-to-be-written fic, it 100% exists).

Max is told he can't race, maybe forever, but likely for at least a year post surgery

(and at this point I'm just going to c&p from the chat fic doc I saved months and months ago, and it's going under a cut with a content warning here for suicidal thoughts, some mention of disordered eating and childhood abuse, look after yourself, pals)

surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story (~3k)

Anyway max realises that he has exactly one (1) thing in his life, racing, and it's just come crashing down and he's v emotionally unhealthy as we know and has nothing else going on so when he loses racing he believes there is literally no other reason to keep going plus he's in hospital

anyway daniel ignores all of max's emotionally unhealthy bans on hospital visitors and sneaks in to see him and he's like... "something is very wrong here"

he leaves and max thinks he's chased him away but then daniel comes back later that day and he's like, "you don't have to have the surgery in this hospital, you can have it done in any of these places *presents a list* so pick a place and we'll go there instead"

so yeah they just go somewhere else and daniel rents them a house and just hangs out with a secretly suicidal max who sees precisely no reason to wake up every morning if he's not racing

and daniel has precisely zero idea that max is still here/alive/whatever just because daniel is there every night and every morning and max doesn't want daniel to have to see him like that

ANYWAY max is very clearly not in a good place and his dad sends him messages telling him how he can improve his recovery and get better faster

it becomes more difficult for max to hide the fact that he's alive mostly by virtue of not being dead right now

and he's had the surgery or whatever and he's looking at a 12 month recovery so he's definitely out for the whole of the next season so daniel's like, "It doesn't matter how long recovery takes, take your time" which of course he has precisely zero idea of how to deal with since he's been racing so long and has nothing else in his life

Something happens idk he breaks a glass and Daniel finds him with cut hands and a piece of glass idk and Daniel's like, "a new crisis! I can help with that! this is clearly not something that max has been dealing with daily for weeks now, it's a new thing!"

so he's like, IT'S THERAPY TIME BABY, no more clutching a handful of broken glass and bleeding everywhere, superdaniel is here to help

yada yada finds max a therapist and max HATES IT, HAAAAATES IT, he's uncomfortable and the therapist makes him feel worse and he still wants to like... not be here if he can't race today, he can't wait a whole year

and daniel asks him how it's going and Max lies because why wouldn't he and he's been doing miserable things his entire life that he didn't want to do so what's another thing on top of everything else

meanwhile Daniel's like... hmmmm this is scary Max looks worse

and he sits in on a therapy session and half way through he's like, "nope, we're ending this, sorry, bye, you can have the money for the whole hour but we're never speaking to you again"

points out to Max that that therapist was awful and why didn't Max just tell him how awful it was and how it made him feel

Max, who's never had a choice over anything in his entire life: "..."

anyway he gets max to try another couple of therapists and in the end there's one who is NOT monstrously awful and does not make Max feel like he wants to scratch his own skin off

so Max gets THERAPY and it becomes clear that max's childhood was weaponised beyond belief and he doesn't even know what foods he likes and doesn't like

because he never got a choice and he was always on some kind of food plan that his dad could withhold or not according to how max was doing in every other area of his life

well of course, he gets a whole year of therapy and it turns out his dad was an abusive asshole and he is BLOCKED from Max's phone

and Max has to do things like "make sure his life has more than just racing in it"

so he reads a book

the first one he's ever read

he tries food and tries to figure out if he likes it or if it's just a source of energy he has to eat anyway

he gets a PLANT

it DIES

anyway whatever he gets therapy and he lives in a house with daniel and is allowed to feel some things because he never really felt anything before

and daniel goes off and does some promo stuff idk and films some shit from the house and max is maybe in the background or something and no one's heard from him in ages and in fandom it's all like MAX IS IN DANIEL'S HOUSE etc

and the drive to survive people get in touch and are like, can we interview you for the series even if you're not on the grid, do some stuff about your recovery etc etc

and max is like... i guess

he's not, like, actively suicidal any more because his life has actual pillars of stuff that isn't just racing

his life isn't just like dependent on one jenga tower of racing with the pieces falling down

like, he can't wait to get back to racing but he's like, six months in to therapy or whatever and he's been living with daniel and it's... nice to just... watch movies with him and eat stuff and play computer games (daniel banned racing games so max has had to... compromise)

and maybe there are some... warm feelings

some best friend shit when he's never had real time for a best friend

some "i could probably spend more time with daniel in a forever kind of a way and not get tired of it" you know

BUT ALSO, daniel blowing up his life for max, he saw max in that hospital room and didn't once question what it would mean to him to step back and just... fuck shit up so that max would be okay

anyway drive to survive team show up and they do a bit of interviewing and it is VERY CLEAR that this isn't a natural fit for an episode because Max has, for once, got some shit to say

so they come back with an idea for a spin off documentary that's just Max and this injury and getting back to driving

because Daniel has kind of been fielding red bull this whole time, saying "he's not racing this year, leave him alone, give him some space", and he's got to go out and talk to them or do some promo stuff with them, whatever, he's going away

Max says the timing is good because he can do the main body of the interviewing about what's come before etc, then Daniel can come back and do his bits

and then the docu team are like, "where do you think you'd be right now if you hadn't crashed" and Max looks at the camera and says, "dead, I think" and the team know they're on to a winner because Max has realised that actually, driving like you don't care if you're alive if you don't win isn't actually okay

anyway Max does the documentary interviews and Daniel comes back and Max tells him he can talk about whatever he wants, it's fine but when the team ask him about helping Max when he realised he wasn't coping, Daniel won't give any details and says it's Max's story to tell and he just wanted to make sure his best friend was okay

not realising that he looks very much in love during this idk

ANYWAY SOME TIME PASSES and they do a bit more documentary stuff and Max is preparing to race again and Daniel is doing some stuff with red bull and he flies out somewhere to do an interview and photoshoot for some magazine or other.

The first clips from the documentary are released and they're on youtube and clipped up for instagram and Max posts them but the first picture is just like, 'this contains discussion of suicidal thoughts' etc

Daniel is preparing for this photoshoot and interview

anyway the first clip is about Max in hospital and they go straight in for the kill, Max saying, "I didn't want to live if I couldn't race.

"I didn't want to see anyone, I didn't want to speak to anyone, I shouted at the nurses, I just wanted to get somewhere so I could figure out how not to wake up again. And then Daniel walked in.

"He didn't know how bad it was, he didn't know anything specific, but he knew something was wrong and he got me out of there and he brought me here and got my surgery moved. And he didn't know he saved my life that day. He won't know until he sees this. But he saved my life that day."

END OF CLIP ONE, start of clip two

"You were suicidal," the interviewer says

"Yes," Max says. "The only thing that stopped me was that I didn't want Daniel to find me. He'd moved me to a different hospital and he'd rented this place for us so it was close to the doctors, and every day I woke up and he never knew that he kept me alive just by being here."

"But he found out in the end."

"Not how bad it was. Just that it was bad. And he got me help. And when that help didn't work, he got me more help. He's the best friend I've ever had, and I still haven't been able to tell him how bad it got."

end of clip two, start of clip three

except this clip is DANIEL

"I snuck in to see him in hospital. he wasn't doing great. He was kind of lost, and I didn't really know what I could do, but, like, I figured he needed some space so I got him some. Different hospital, different views, nothing to remind him about racing."

"But he was struggling?"

"Yeah," Daniel says. "He struggled. It was hard to see him when he couldn't race. He's my best friend. It was hard when he wasn't doing so well. But he's doing great now."

smile smile etc Daniel being happy

then a final max clip i think

"Do I still have that drive to win? God, yes. I'm going to win. That hasn't changed. I just want to live as well. I want to wake up tomorrow, and the next day, and the one after that, and win."

then a final slide with the documentary logo on and some suicide prevention helplines, idk

ANYWAY imagine Daniel, if you will, at a photography studio about to have pictures taken, crying his eyes out in the toilets because he's just found out Max wanted to die

so Daniel, who is always very professional, entirely bails on both the photo shoot and the interview so he can go home because he needs to see max

and Max lent him his plane because that's a normal thing excessively rich world champions have so it's not a fucking nightmare getting back from... wherever the interview is, somewhere not that far away in europe

and Daniel chooses to respond to Max's documentary clips on instagram

[ASIDE, my beloved friend as I was telling her this over Telegram, in response to that above: WHY????

Me: because this is MY 4am hurt comfort fic baby]

so anyway he makes a text post that just says Max is the bravest and best person he knows, he's fought so hard to be here, and that there hasn't been a day in Daniel's whole entire life that would have been better if Max wasn't here on this planet, and he's so glad he stayed

and then another one which is like, if anyone else feels like they don't want to go on, please stay, people love you, here's some helpline numbers etc

and Max just replies to him with a blue heart

important to understand that this is my four am comfort fic so it is ENTIRELY appropriate that Daniel walks through the door and both hugs him and starts to cry

and Max hugs him back but does not cry because Max has broken through a lot of shit in therapy but he is not a crier

but he IS accidentally in love with Daniel

and Max makes some Choices in his life, as Daniel does, but this choice involves touching Daniel's cheek and glancing at his mouth and then up at Daniel and Daniel kind of nodding and then there is a KISS

which is badly timed really considering that today has been very emotional and Daniel is still crying and has been travelling etc and they've never actually addressed any of this

so Daniel needs a moment and he goes into the bathroom to stare manfully into the mirror and wash his hands and face and when he comes out Max doesn't let him say anything, just launches into a multi point in-person powerpoint about how they should be together

[my friend: maxplaining his way into a relationshippp]

which Daniel, it turns out, entirely agrees with, but he's really kind of emotionally burnt out right now and would really just like a hug and a sit down, so he tells Max yes, of course, but could they just talk about it later and hug right now

How good is Max at listening to instuctions to stop talking?

not marvellous it turns out but daniel kind of likes it when max gets enthusiastic about stuff

even if the stuff in this case is a multipoint argument in favour of them being quite gay together

OH OH OH now we skip forward a bit

to when Max is racing again

first or second race out there for red bull

and daniel is kind of tied to red bull again

anyway Max WINS

hurray etc he's a conquering hero with a recovered broken neck

so once he's out of the car idk he's done the bit with the team and he spies daniel and goes over to hug him, which the cameras in general love, and then he goes off to do some kind of next step celebratory thing, cool-down room, whatever

only partway there he's like... um

has a feeling, one or two, you know the kind of thing

max hasn't historically been very good at feelings

or healthy choices

but anyway, he decides to act on this one, which is to go back to where Daniel is, and kiss him

which is as much of a surprise to daniel as it is to the whole of the media who are still around to film him

and then Max just turns back around and heads for the podium, so there's a very nice accidental shot of Daniel, afterwards, just smiling and ducking his head and touching his thumb to his lip

which turns into a very popular gif

for reasons

Anyway!! there is a LOT of discussion about Max losing his edge now his focus is not only racing

the documentary talks a lot about Max's childhood abuse and limited food intake etc etc but doesn't mention his dad by name

Daniel races again somehow but probably not in the fic

daniel ends up losing some bet or other and has to do a computer game live stream from his living room of some cosy game idk and the whole thing is interupted by max just living his life in the background

max getting up and sleepily saying morning, max going for a run and kissing him hello, max going in and out of the sim, idk, the two of them making weird noises at each other because they still do that

OH I forgot they buy a house together like immediately after getting together

somewhere green again and it's in both their names because they've lived together for a year already and whatever

and still don't tell anyone they're together even though red bull has them residing at the same address

and ZERO people realise until after the kiss on screen

and obviously the docu clips suggest they've been staying together

and Max gets to say to Christian that they literally own a house together when he expresses some degree of surprise at kissing in public

not their fault no one noticed

Forgot to say that max and Daniel get filmed driving about and max stalls his car and doesn’t know if he likes olives and maybe they forget they’re being filmed

And also that when the documentary finally airs all its eps Netflix on Twitter are like “lol bet you can’t figure out which bits we filmed after they got together and which were before because we certainly can’t, lol”

And Daniel’s in the comments, like “do I get a prize if I get it right”

He gets 9/10 clips right but no one but max knows

Anyway when they buy their house max has zero shits to give about the decor so daniel just gets a decorator in and the only thing max wants is a fancy catio for when they’re not there and his new cats want to go outside

Daniel arranges this because he’s a sucker for max.

anyway that's general plot of surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story, the end.

#my fic #fic i wish i was writing #except actually this one is just staying my 4am comfort fic #but i've just told it to you too #content warnings for:#suicidal thoughts #mentions of childhood abuse and disordered eating #surviving to drive: the max verstappen recovery story

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notwiselybuttoowell · 1 year

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In 2014, the Guardian asked me to nominate my hero of the year. To some people’s surprise, I chose Russell Brand. I loved the way he energised young people who had been alienated from politics. I claimed, perhaps hyperbolically, he was “the best thing that has happened to the left in years” (in my defence, there wasn’t, at the time, much competition).

Today, I can scarcely believe it’s the same man. I’ve watched 50 of his recent videos, with growing incredulity. He appears to have switched from challenging injustice to conjuring phantoms. If, as I suspect it might, politics takes a very dark turn in the next few years, it will be partly as a result of people like Brand.

It’s hard to decide which is most dispiriting: the stupidity of some of the theories he recites, or the lack of originality. He repeatedly says he’s not a conspiracy theorist, but, to me, he certainly sounds like one.

In 2014, he was bursting with new ideas and creative ways of presenting them. Today, he wastes his talent on tired and discredited tales: endless iterations of the alleged evils of the World Economic Forum founder, Klaus Schwab, the Great Reset, Bill Gates, Nancy Pelosi, the former US chief medical adviser, Anthony Fauci, Covid vaccines, medical data, the World Health Organization, Pfizer, smart cities and “the globalist masterplan”.

His videos appear to promote “natural immunity” ahead of vaccines, and for a while pushed ivermectin and hydroxychloroquine as treatments for Covid (they aren’t).

He championed the “Freedom Convoy” that occupied Ottawa, which apparently stood proudly against the “tyranny” of Justin Trudeau’s policies. He hawks Graham Hancock’s widely debunked claims about ancient monuments.

A wildly popular clip from one of his videos about the Dutch nitrate crisis offers a classic conspiracy theory mashup: a tangle of claims that may be true in other contexts, random accusations, scapegoating and resonances with some old and very ugly tropes. He claims that “this whole fertiliser situation is a scam”. The real objective is “to bankrupt the farmers so their land can be grabbed”. This “shows you how the Great Reset operates”, using “globalist” regulations to throw farmers off their land. He claims it’s “connected to the land grab of Bill Gates” and the “corruption of companies like Monsanto”.

In reality, the Dutch government was forced to act by a legal ruling, as levels of nitrate pollution, largely from livestock farms, break European law. Its attempts to curb this pollution have nothing to do with the World Economic Forum and its vacuous rhetoric about a “Great Reset”. Or with Bill Gates. Or with Monsanto, which hasn’t existed since 2018 when it was bought by Bayer. So why mention them? Perhaps because these terms have become potent click triggers.

Brand is repeating claims first made by far-right conspiracists, who have piled into this issue, claiming that the nitrate crisis is a pretext to seize land from farmers, in whom, they claim, true Dutch identity is vested, and hand it to asylum seekers and other immigrants. It’s a version of the “great replacement” conspiracy theory, itself a reworking of the Nazis’ blood and soil tropes about protecting the “rooted” and “authentic” people – in whom “racial purity” and “true” German identity was vested – from “cosmopolitan” and “alien” forces (ie Jews). Brand may not realise this, as the language has changed a little – “cosmopolitans” have become “globalists”, “aliens” have become “immigrants” – but the themes have not.

On and drearily on he goes. He manages to confuse the World Health Organization’s call for better pandemic surveillance (by which it means the tracking of infectious diseases) with coercive surveillance of the population, creating “centralised systems of control where you are ultimately a serf”.

Some of his many rants about Bill Gates are illustrated with an image of the man wearing a multicoloured lapel badge, helpfully circled in red. This speaks to another widespread conspiracy theory: those who wear this badge are members of a secret organisation conspiring to control the world (so secret they stick it on their jackets). In reality, it shows support for the UN sustainable development goals.

Such claims are not just wrong. They are wearyingly, boringly wrong. But, to judge by the figures (he has more than 6 million subscribers on YouTube), the audience loves them.

Some of his theories, such as his recent obsession with UFOs, are innocuous enough. Others have potential to do great harm. There’s the risk to the people scapegoated, such as Fauci, Schwab and Pelosi: subjects of conspiracy theories often become targets of violence. There are the risks misleading claims present to public health. And bizarre stories about shadowy “elites” protect real elites from scrutiny and challenge.

While I’m not suggesting this is his purpose, it’s a tactic used deliberately by powerful people to disarm those who might otherwise hold them to account. Donald Trump’s former chief strategist, Steve Bannon, had a term for it: “flood the zone with shit”. As Naomi Klein has shown, the Great Reset conspiracy theory was conceived by a staffer at the Heartland Institute, a US lobby group that has promoted climate denial and other billionaire-friendly positions. It’s a bastardisation of her shock doctrine hypothesis, distracting people from the malfeasance of those with real power.

#russell brand #british comedy #conspiracy theories #george monbiot #uk politics

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bonefall · 7 months

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Since the ask box commands to vote Bumble in that tourament (which I did, cuz she was SCREWED over to the extreme) could you talk a whole lot about BB!Bumble's dyspraxia? Since we are talking about the *everything in canon* she got for the High Crime of being a fat foreigner woman and abuse victm in warrior cats, let's talk about the universe where we add disabled to her list of High Crimes but she isnt done dirty as balls(sorry if all this is worded weird)

Plus, I'm personally having issues writing a dyspraxic character (mostly because i kinda suck at absorbing information about things like disability when not using characters as exemples) and you've really helped me in the past with making characters with BPD, so it would be personally useful in character making

(Sorry if I'm rude, I deeply respect your work and it greatly inspires me, especially Clanmew)

All righty! BB!Bumble's dyspraxia!

First off, for newcomers;

WHY I ADDED DYSPRAXIA TO BUMBLE

In canon, Bumble is called a fat, useless kittypet, before being dragged back to her domestic abuser. She then dies while trying to survive on her own, starved to the point of emaciation before Clear Sky murders her.

A very common fandom response to this is essentially, "shes NOT useless! She could hunt/fight if you taught her!" And a lot of AUs will have her survive, learning how to be Truly Useful with all the same skills as everyone else.

I won't lie; I think that's very disappointing.

You're not refuting the rotten heart of this ideology, you're just doing what DOTC already does with Jagged Peak. You're AGREEING. You're saying she WOULD be useless if she couldn't hunt or fight like a wild cat, giving her Coolgirl Badass moments to haha embarass her bigots, and Actually the only problem here is that they didn't give her a chance.

What if they GAVE her that chance, and she COULDN'T hunt or fight like them? Would it be okay to send the battered housewife back to her domestic abuser? Hopefully fucking not!

Let's be frank; None of the groups in DOTC are starving. Not even after the prey sickness pandemic.

"Starvation Rhetoric" is an excuse, only ever rolled out by monsters like Clear Sky as justification for stealing land, murder, and throwing out cats the groups deem unworthy of life.

Yet, this gets rolled out for Bumble specifically, by the MOOR CATS, who are supposed to be opposing his ideology.

And that's where I'm starting from.

Okay. What if she couldn't perform physically like other cats?

What if she was part of a group that DID have real concerns about not having enough food?

How does Bumble herself cope with her feelings, and her desire to help her friends and contribute to a group that loves her?

Let's go through all that, and attack the heart of the idea. In fact, we're going to be doing a lot of it, with a significant portion of early ThunderClan being disabled cats.

(Thunder Storm has three legs. Bright Storm has asthma. Sunlit Frost loses the use of both front paws and ends up with chronic pain.)

Bumble's Dyspraxia

The first thing to know about dyspraxia (or DCD, Developmental Coordination Disorder) is that it comes in a LOT of different forms. The next thing to know is that it's RIDICULOUSLY common. Some estimates say 5% of the population has it-- 1 in 20 people.

It's heavily associated with autism and ADHD. The "classic" symptoms are general clumsiness and motor control issues, like having a hard time tying shoes. But these are also symptoms of dyspraxia;

Short-term memory issues, but not long-term

Being constantly covered in bumps and bruises

Having a hard time telling lefts and rights

Difficulties holding pencils or writing in general

"Wobbliness" including tripping mid-step or tripping over your own feet

Issues in the acquisition of "muscle memories," being slow to acquire physical skills.

Stuttering and taking long pauses before responding to someone else speaking

Most dyspraxics won't have all of these, these are symptoms. Not a checklist.

My partner describes theirs as like "constantly working with cold hands through a layer of gloves." The stiffness of being in a freezer, paired with the general delay of having a cover over your skin.

Mine is more focused on the mental side, acquiring new skills is unnaturally difficult, my reaction time is delayed, and I stumble into things.

Every person with dyspraxia is different, but what links us is that we're uncoordinated. We can't help it, telling us to try harder or pay more attention doesn't work. We aren't being careless-- our brains don't send signals to our bodies properly.

I'm basing Bumble's off my own. Her mate, Turtle Heart, shows her over and over how to hunt. It never sticks. She tries to pick up battle moves from Thunder Storm to help defend herself from Clear Sky's goons. It doesn't work.

She's really trying, she really is. The Moor group quickly loses patience with her, and Bumble is well aware that she's only tolerated on Turtle Heart's vouch. Her worst fears come true when Tom steals their children, and her mate is killed trying to retreive them.

That messes with her, and makes her believe that she really is worthless and a burden.

ThunderClan was FOUNDED on Thunder Storm's fury, breaking off his supporters to retreive her from exile, and Bumble's struggle with self-worth begins in earnest.

There's one thing she's confident about, and really loves. Bumble is trilingual, outgoing, and confident in her ability to talk to others. That's what she can add, and what she wants to do.

ThunderClan is different. It works with every strength and weakness of its members, and values diplomacy to keep it afloat against the odds. Bumble really is needed, but eventually even her translation work becomes less special as more kits grow up bilingual. Eventually, this too feels taken from her.

And then it's back to square one. Her mate is gone, one of her kits betrayed her, Owl Eyes is a big strong man who doesn't need his mum anymore. She's left with her fumbling paws, taking more from the pile than she puts in.

One can only hope she realizes that ThunderClan was born out of love for her. That it was never about what she could add. She didn't have to confront it in the main story because so much was happening, but as peace settles over the forest, it's time for her to start to unpack that idea.

#better bones au #BB!DOTC #BB!Bumble

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