#thank you to anyone who reads

[non-binary-laurie-strode]

Reflections on my Universal Horror marathon

It is November 1st, 2023. As anyone can tell after being around me for, I don't know, five minutes, I am a huge horror queen. For my birthday this year, I got a big book on Universal horror, filled with production photos, background, trivia, actor bios, etc. I decided to use this book as a sort of guided reading list, where I would marathon all of the movies discussed in the book and read along. When I was first seriously doing a deep dive into horror in 2018, the classic 30s horror franchises were some of the first that I chose to get into, and so it had been five years or so since I had seen some of my old monster friends. (And many of the movies on this list I had not seen before!) I was excited for this project and decided to start it at 99 days until Halloween; I had found a Sam (1) "Countdown to Halloween" clock that counted from 99 days to 0 days last year, at the Spirit Halloween clearence sale. (2) So, 99 days to do a book's worth of movies—how hard could it be?

(1) from Trick r Treat, 2007

(2) He's currently sitting on my bedside table, at 0 days left!

Turns out, it was rather difficult! I hadn't expected the book to have so many entries in it.

The entire list of films that I did is as follows, broken down by chapter:

Silent Era (5 films): The Hunchback of Notre Dame 1923, The Phantom of the Opera 1925, The Phantom of the Opera 1943, The Cat and the Canary 1927, The Man Who Laughs 1928

Dracula (5 films): Dracula 1931, Drácula 1931, Dracula's Daughter 1936, Son of Dracula 1943, House of Dracula 1945

Frankenstein (4): Frankenstein 1931, Bride of Frankenstein 1935, Son of Frankenstein 1939, Ghost of Frankenstein 1942

The Wolf Man (5): Werewolf of London 1935, The Wolf Man 1941, Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man 1943, House of Frankenstein 1944, She-Wolf of London 1946

The Mummy (5): The Mummy, The Mummy's Hand, The Mummy's Tomb, The Mummy's Ghost, The Mummy's Curse

The Invisible Man (5): The Invisible Man 1933, The Invisible Man Returns 1940, The Invisible Woman 1941, Invisible Agent 1942, The Invisible Man's Revenge 1944

The Gill Man (3): Creature From the Black Lagoon 1954, Revenge of the Creature 1955, The Creature Walks Among Us 1955

"Universal's Lesser Known Monsters" (3+3+6): Paula the Ape Woman—Captive Wild Woman 1943, Jungle Woman 1944, The Jungle Captive 1945; The Creeper—Pearl of Death 1944, House of Horrors 1946, The Brute Man 1946; The Inner Sanctum Mystery Series—Calling Dr Death 1943, Weird Woman 1944, Dead Man's Eyes 1944, The Frozen Ghost 1944, Strange Confession 1945, Pillow of Death 1945

Non-serial horror (14): The Old Dark House 1932, Murders in the Rue Morgue 1932, The Black Cat 1934, The Raven 1935, Black Friday 1940, Man-Made Monster 1941, Horror Island 1941, Night Monster 1942, The Mad Ghoul 1943, The Strange Door 1951, The Black Castle 1952, Tarantula 1955, The Mole People 1956, Monster on the Campus 1958

That's 68 movies in 99 days by my reckoning. I also only did these on the nights that Mack worked or was dancing, which further tightened the number of days that I had. Good thing they were each about 60 minutes. I could never do this in the modern era where everyone bloats their movies to an absurd degree.

See, I thought it would be something small, with like... 30 movies in 99 days. I didn't expect all of this! Maybe I should have checked how many movies that would be before solidly deciding to do this challenge, eh? And it's not even allll of the Universal horror movies—Lugosi and Karloff did like six "duet" movies like The Raven and The Black Cat, but the book only focused on two and briefly name-dropped the others. By the mid-October, when I was in the final chapter, I was doing two or three movies per night, and it was quite a stressful thing, not knowing how I'd get it all to line up before Mack took his Halloweek vacation!

But I did it. I'm extremely proud that I stuck to it. And also, I will absolutely not do it again! Perhaps in another five years I'll have a craving for the Universal horror movies again, and I'll do my favourite 30 or so, but this insanity will not be repeated, or at least not with this time scale.

Anyway. Here are some things I wish to talk about:

Appreciating Silent Film

The silent era has always been one that I've wanted to get into, but I've never known how exactly to break into it. I've done a few silent movies before—if you're looking for a rec, Häxan from 1923 is a very disturbing and deeply effective look at medieval witchcraft—but I never felt like I had a sure footing in it.

And, well, the book starts at 1923 with Hunchback, no easing into it. And, turns out, it was mostly fine!

The 1925 Phantom was stunning. I love the tinted vibes of the silent era, and this film had a rare Technicolor sequence during the Masquerade bit where all the costumes were in colour, and it was amazing to see. There's a 19...29, I think?, scored version, which is what I watched, and the score pops off.

The 1927 Cat and the Canary ended up as one of my favourites of the whole marathon—there's no scoring option for this, but it's so fun I didn't care. The story revolves around a will reading on a dark and stormy night, a will reading, and a sudden heiress who has to prove her sanity as a condition of the will, all while an antagonistic family and a killer are loose in the mansion. It's a horror-comedy, and it is such a good time. I had rated it 5/5 on letterboxd years ago, but I had forgotten why, and I quickly rediscovered the reason!

So yeah, I got a couple silents to add to my résumé, next to stuff like Häxan and the typical Dr Caligari.

2. The Evolution of What Horror Is

One of my favourite things to think about and consider is what society's horror fixation is in a given era and how it all ties together in a sort of greater historiography.

This marathon covers the 20s through the late 50s, with most of it happening in the 30s and 40s. There's a pretty clear chain of where the focus goes in these—in the 20s, it's a lot of classic adaptations that have a gruesome element but which may not be yknow categorical Genre Horror as we recognise it and label it on a dvd box. The 30s explore the more typical folk myths and superstitions, such as vampires and werewolves; if there is science, it is either rather crude or primitive (Frankenstein using lightning bolts and sewing pieces of body together) or even has a mystical connection (Werewolf of London's Tibetan miracle flower—often this mysticism can unfortunately veer into Orientalist tropes :/). The 40s, and particularly around 1945 with the atomic bomb, the old superstitions lose steam and modern science begins to catch up, to the point that the 50s horror movies are, essentially, all a world away in terms of science—I mean, they try behavioural therapy on the Creature from the Black Lagoon in Revenge of the Creature! The later "Monster Mash" movies where all of the classic monsters join up have them turning to modern science to solve their problems—I believe it's in House of Dracula where the Wolf Man is legitimately ""cured"" by a cranial surgery based on some science, and Dracula gets cured by looking at the particulates in his blood and stuff. Anyway, continuing in the 50s, There's all this talk of atoms and radiation and such, and it's such a strong blend of science fiction and horror, such that the two genres are practically constant bedmates for this era. (Contrary to a popular tumblr post comparing Godzilla to 50s superhero comics, radiation actually did inspire a lot of monsters in America too; you just needed to know where to look, and it's here, in the giant Creature Features, where Godzilla would fit right in.)

I remember shortly after House of Dracula, I was talking to Mack, and I essentially launched into a ten minute lecture about this stuff, how it all ties into what was happening in society and whatnot. I have so much to say, but I won't word vomit it here.

3. These Movies Said, Continuity WHO?

One of the recurrent jokes I had while watching these movies is that the writers were clearly not interested in keeping continuity between films. There are two instances that I internally screamed at because of how insane they were—(1) In House of Frankenstein, Dracula is destroyed in the sunlight, The Wolf Man is shot by a silver bullet and dies, and the Frankenstein creature sinks into quicksand and disappears. Most of the plot of House of Frankenstein is quickly retold by the mad scientist character of House of Dracula; he leaves out the Wolf Man's death, probably because it would upset the Wolf Man, to whom he is speaking. Dracula is also back without explanation. (2) The Mummy's Ghost is set in Connecticut; they are very emphatic that they are in Connecticut. It is said over and over. At the end, the Mummy is chased into the swamp of Connecticut (yknow, the famous swamps of Connecticut) —at the very beginning of The Mummy's Curse, they point to a stretch of swampland, say that THIS is where Kharis sank all those years ago (it was 6 months in real time btw), and that he should still be there. This movie is set in the bayou of Louisiana, with a cheerful barkeep woman singing in French to evoke the whole "Cajun French" world. How Kharis went from Connecticut to "this is the exact spot where he fell" in Louisiana? Never mentioned.

Additionally, in one of the later Frankensteins, Ygor has his brain transplanted into the Frankenstein Monster in a scheme; Ygor-Frankenstein Monster triumphantly turns to the assembled characters and speaks to them, telling them how he tricked them and won. In the next movie, which I believe is Meets The Wolf Man, the Frankenstein Monster is a mute brute once more, and Ygor does not exist anymore. Now, the wildest thing is that this is not the writers cherrypicking what is canon and what is not—no, in the script the Frankenstein Monster-Ygor was to have deep conversations with the Wolf Man, and this was recorded. It was only in post-production that all of this was struck; all those scenes were either tossed or edited down. Apparently there are visuals of those scenes in the movie where you can watch the FM's mouth move, but the audio has been replaced with music or sound effects. Wild stuff.

There's more, plenty more, but you get the picture. I suppose in a world without home video, where your audience may not have seen the previous films or may not remember them well, you can convince them of anything and continuity matters less.

4. Some of these movies destroyed my will to go on (with the marathon)

Overall, I greatly enjoyed my time with this marathon. I found most of these movies to be very interesting and illuminating.

But there are two series in this that just crushed my spirit—The Mummy and Paula the Ape Woman. They were so awful that it made me not want to keep going.

The Mummy is just such a confused mess; the worst time I had was with The Mummy's Tomb. Tomb is the third movie in the series, so of course there's some catch-up that has to be done to get the audience up to speed. (They all do it, it's normal.) Now, this is a 60 minute movie. Tomb begins with a TWELVE MINUTE "recap" of the first two movies, using a flashback to show scenes from the old movies—all the while narrating them to construct a new story of what supposedly happened and wildly making up new stuff that directly contradicts what is visible on screen. TWELVE MINUTES out of SIXTY, one fifth of the movie, is just incredibly out of context scenes to do whatever the writers want.

And that's not even getting into the cultural sensitivity discussions around these movies, because girl........... girl. It's rough on that front, to say the least. (They reuse an Incan temple, if I remember right, as an Egyptian tomb in the last one, I think it was, and you can clearly see Mesoamerican imagery all over the walls, but they're yelling about pharoahs and stuff. And that's the tip of the iceberg.)

Paula the Ape Woman is about an ape who gets a brain and blood transplant and becomes a real woman, or at least temporarily. Now, audience, given that this an early 40s movie... do you think this uncontrollable, animalistic beast of a woman is going to be white or no? :////

The Paula movies just need to be forgotten. Not every Universal horror movie is a lost gem in the sands of time. Let's just say that.

5. James Whale, Lon Chaney Jr, and thoughts on recurring names and faces

With the studio system firmly in place for most of this marathon's concerned eras, there are many repeating names throughout the movies. It became something of a scavenger hunt to find "Gowns by Vera West" in the title credits of most movies—according to letterboxd, I think I hit 37 movies with her credited on wardrobe.

Some of these repeating names I grew to really like. James Whale really is among the greats, isn't he? Bride of Frankenstein is nothing short of a masterpiece, and his other work (especially The Old Dark House) is great. I would love to do a deeper dive just into his other works. He seems so fascinating! And he was gay, and apparently very very open about it.

A name I came to dislike, unexpectedly really, was Lon Chaney Jr, most known for The Wolf Man. I went in with a higher opinion of him, only knowing him from The Wolf Man; he eventually became a bit of a golden boy on the Universal horror sets, and so he got into a ton of different projects. And boy, did he ever only play one character across everything! He's extremely good at it, but he only ever played a sad, pathetic little man who is overwhelmed by the weight of the world! We get it, dude. Play a different character!

6. Conclusions

This is getting away from me, so I'll wrap this up. Thank you if you even skimmed this far!

I really did enjoy this marathon. It was stressful, a little, but a fun stress, all things considered.

Rapidshot overall favs: The Bride of Frankenstein, the Cat and the Canary, Revenge of the Creature, Dracula, The Old Dark House, Tarantula, 1925's Phantom of the Opera, the Raven.

Rapid boots: The Mummy franchise, Paula the Ape Woman series, She-Wolf of London, the Black Cat, Ghost of Frankenstein.

I love this era of horror: It's almost a cosy horror to me, with giant fog machines, goofy big analog science contraptions, and painted backdrops (you can see the painted backdrops and their flatness during the early 30s ones especially). I like that there are fewer cuts compared to the modern day: They hold the camera on the actors, and often the camera is not on a close-up, giving plenty of time for interesting physicality. It almost feels staged or traditionally theatrical in a way that modern movies do not. (Which makes sense, as the earlier writers and directors and actors all came from and routinely did theatre. Lugosi got Dracula after he did the stage version of it.) Many of them are very comfortable feeling, and they're short too!

I don't think I could do another grand tour like this again for years, at mininum,—and I won't revisit Paula and probably not The Mummy—but I do want to revisit it more than I have in the last few years. These monsters are my FRIENDS!

Anyway. Stan Boris Karloff, James Whale, and especially Elsa Lanchester

#my universal horror marathon #thank you to anyone who reads #i mostly just wanted to write this up for me

[possessed-pack]

As a fictive of a temporary fusion of two characters, my identity is a little bit more complicated than most others in my system. This post will be me explaining my identity as a possessed Hunter fictive in a little more depth than I've done in the past.

Warnings: Spoilers for The Owl House up until and including season 3 episode 1, very brief mentions of abuse, very brief mentions of death.

In my memories, everything was canon compliant for the most part, up until a certain point. For needed context for those unfamiliar with the source, Belos is the main villain of the series and he had made Hunter as essentially a clone of his dead brother. Hunter was raised on the Boiling Isles--an alternate dimension to the human realm--by Belos as his "nephew". Hunter was mistreated and lied to about his origins, but he managed to get out and made friends with Luz and the rest of her group.

Eventually, the main group ended up stuck in the human realm, along with Belos, who then possessed Hunter and tried to hurt his friends. In my memories, we died in the fight immediately following the possession, and we ended up here in our system, still fused together--except it's not just Belos in control anymore, it's a weird amalgamation of both of us.

We're not a subsystem, because we're not separate at all, though in the beginning it was much closer to something along those lines. We'd only have one stream of thought at a time, but it'd be both of us thinking at the same time, though it didn't blend seamlessly together into a new person. Considering both of our different views on... Pretty much anything, I'd be arguing with my own thoughts in my brain a lot of the time and trying to figure out what I actually wanted. Responding to what people asked me took time, and it was overall unpleasant.

It was hard, especially because I couldn't separate into my two parts. I didn't know how and it just made things worse because it felt like my brain was constantly tearing itself apart, but nothing I could ever do would actually separate us. It hurt a lot, knowing that I was my own abuser and my own victim at the same time. And knowing that some people were going to be scared of me regardless of me still being part Hunter, because I was also the villain of the series and I did do terrible things also hurt a lot. I felt my existence itself was a contradiction and I was fighting with myself every waking moment to properly function.

Recently though, I've discovered that as time went on, I've become more separate from Hunter and Belos. I'm not either of them anymore, I'm Mal. I'm a new person, my own person separate from them, regardless of the fact that they made me who I am. I don't argue with myself, I have a new name, I didn't do all the horrible things that Belos did even though he's a part of me, I'm less stressed overall and I have separate interests to the both of them, even if some of those interests do overlap. Over time, things became much easier for me. It felt more like we were three people rather than two people stuck together, and it felt so much better to actually function that way.

We've been able to separate since. It happened during a particularly stressful period of time, but we separated, and my components changed their names to be Horizon (Hunter) and Bait (Belos). They were unstable being separate at first, finding it hard to exist as their own people after so long. In the beginning they were both scared of each other as well. Horizon was worried that Bait would want nothing to do with him anymore and that I would stop existing forever and my partners would be upset with him, and Bait was worried the same way. They did speak though, and they'd even consider each other friends now, despite their history.

Now we fuse and unfuse whenever we'd like, and all parts of who I am are stable. When they combine to make me, I still don't argue in my own thoughts, and when they separate, they're able to be their own people. I still feel as if people who know my source and are from it see my icon on Discord and avoid me, and as much as that does hurt, I know that I'm not my source and none of us--not even Bait--have done anything bad here.

Overall, we've really improved as a whole, despite our struggles. Our identity is still very complicated, but it at least isn't causing us any harm anymore.

#alterhuman #fictive #plural #actuallyplural #plural system #plurality #toh fictive #op #i told you i would write the post #thank you to anyone who reads #and questions are welcome--our ask box is open #also yes this is okay to rb #do whatever you want with it #thats why its here #hopefully someone gains something from this though idk what youd gain lol #this was mainly just me writing for the sake of writing #mal (tox/he/they)

[stil-lindigo]

warmth.

a comic about not being alone.

--

creative notes:

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all my other comics

store

#to all the trans men and women and anyone who feels like they have to stifle themselves for their own safety #may you never feel like youre alone in this #this comic is one of my more grounded ones #it just felt right to not try to decorate this one in a lot of symbolic fanfare #sometimes i have to go above and beyond to fit the vision. this felt right being pretty understated. #i really did my best with this one and i hope it shows #you all deserve so much joy and so much love from your partners in life #and i hope you like this and if you dont thats okay too #thats all #thank you for your support #and as always #thank you for reading #comic art #lgbtqia+ #queer comics #hearteaters #stillindigo art #stillindigo comics

[milk-lover]

Sobbing uncontrollably reading through a dissertation about the college experience of students with ADHD. It is like reading a report about my life that just says over and over "My experiences are real. My hardships are real. I am not lazy, I am not dumb. My struggles were not my fault, and they were not a moral failing. The failure was with the system, not with me."

Here's a line that got me in particular:

"Hotez et al.(2022) compared the health, academic, and non-academic capacities of a nationally representative sample of U.S. first-year college students with ADHD and without ADHD. Students with ADHD self-reported lower academic aspirations and more feelings of depression and overwhelm, ranking themselves lower in their general emotional health. The fact that students with ADHD scored in the highest 10th percentile for many non-academic traits, such as artistic ability, computer skills, creativity, public speaking, social confidence, self-understanding and understanding of others, compassion, and risk-tasking, suggests that this population has strengths that are frequently underappreciated in academia."

(the paper is a thesis called "Understanding the Collegiate Experience for Students With ADHD" by Gia Long, 2022)

#adhd #actually adhd #i often hyperbolize but i am dead serious when i say sobbing uncontrollably. this is why i was putting off this assignment. #1000 years of hell to professors who assign self-reflection papers /hj #i dont feel comfy posting the pdf bc its not mine butttt.. i will share it to people who dm me. #edit: pages 80-85 #edit: thank you to everyone who reached out and asked for the pdf!! i wasn’t expecting this reaction #keep reaching out I’ll keep sending it #if anyone is interested but struggles to read academic papers pls ask me for help bc I’ve gotten a lot of practice with them and am Glad to #expand someone’s access to a paper like this

[desperate-baitmeat]

Dad told me he had an extra special dessert for me tonight. Just come see him at night when Mom’s gone to bed and I can have it. After I hear the door to their room close, I know she’s in bed, and I sneak downstairs. I am so excited to see Dad waiting for me!

“I made us some Daddy-daughter brownies,” he says gently, “just for us to share tonight while we watch your favourite movie, sweetie.”

I thank him and take the biggest looking piece off the plate as we settle onto the couch and turn the tv on. After 30 minutes sitting together watching the movie, i start feeling kind of strange.

“Dad, my body feels weird and I can’t focus on the movie anymore,” I whine.

He tells me not to worry and how much he’s enjoying our movie night together. He brings the plate over and offers,

“Have another brownie, kiddo. That should help you feel better.”

While eating more, I vaguely notice Dad’s hand caressing my leg under the blanket. He probably just likes spending time with his daughter..nothing to worry about.

As the movie continues, he gently runs his fingers up my inner thigh, getting closer and closer to my pussy.

Now anxious and having a hard time gathering my thoughts, I ask him, “Dad, what are you doing?”

“Shhh sweetheart, I just want you to feel good,” he replies softly as his hand finds the top of my pjs and slips under the waistband.

His fingers reach my clit and he starts delicately playing with it under his fingertips. I don’t know what to do other than sit there and let his hands touch my body. Soon he grabs my hand and leads it under the blanket, reaching towards his legs. I feel his hard bulge under his pants as he uses my hand to rub himself.

“You’re such a good girl for me,” he praises while putting my hand inside his pants. “Show me how much you love me, sweetheart, rub Daddy’s cock for him.”

Frozen in place and feeling warm and fuzzy in my head from his fingers continuous stimulation, I wrap my delicate hand around his thick cock and start moving up and down. As soon as my hand starts in motion, his fingers move further into my pjs and find the entrance of my pussy. He feels how wet he’s made me and laughs softly.

“Is Dad making your little cunt feel nice?” He asks.

I barely know what’s happening anymore more. I’m just focused on doing what Dad says and getting through our movie night. My nod indicating a yes makes him smile.

“I’m not going to be able to sit still very long, kiddo. Don’t you feel how happy you’re making me?”

He pulls my hand away from him and gets up from the couch. He’s got a more serious look on his face as he says,

“This might not make your cunt feel as nice, sweetie, but I really can’t help myself right now. Lay back on the couch for me and just relax, okay?”

#1cky daddy #1cky daughter #1cky d@d #cnc drugging #dad k!nk #thank you to anyone who reads this I hope it’s enjoyable to at least one person #and if you want to continue with the scenario you already know you can send me messages

[starflungwaddledee]

from: @starflungwaddledee to: @post-it-notes7

message from santa: "happy holidays post-it-notes! 🎄🥳 i know you very politely only wished for a few modest things- characters high fiving, or struggling in christmas attire- but i hope you'll still enjoy this given that i kinda went the opposite direction entirely! i'm an enormous fan of your work and most times you post anything i wind up browsing your art tag from tip-to-tail in enraptured delight. as such, i thought it was only fair i give back something a little more significant in gratitude for all the joy your work has given me. i knew i wanted to do a comic, so i was thrilled you already had a whole storyverse for me to work from!! this scene seemed the most obvious choice (chapter 8 of "wishful thinking" on ao3) given that i enjoy a dramatic fight scene 😂 i tried to stick as beat-by-beat to the writing as i could and worked in as many details as possible; i hope it'll be fun to see it envisioned this way! merry christmas! ~starflung 🎀🔔 "

#phew... this is by far the most ambitious piece i've ever posted here! 12 pages! this is why i've been so afk from other work haha! #shout out to the poor mods who sent through assignments and received no small amount of all-caps panicked screaming from me in response!! #me?! draw a gift for THE post-it-notes7!? immediately knew i had to overachieve to stand any hope of being up to the bar haha #if you feel these characters look a little different to how i usually draw them- that's totally on purpose! #i worked really hard to match post's designs and styling for them rather than my own; seeing as this was a gift! #actually think it stands out a *lot* surprisingly- given that they are still the exact same orbs. really interesting to compare to my usual #i hope some folks will notice all the details from the story in here! if you've read it and you recognised it please let me know! #genuinely hoping someone just recognises it on the first page. iconic canyon fight... what an honour to draw for this fic tbh #also thank you to the mods for handling all the wips and progress on this ridiculously sized entry from me with such grace #it's being posted on my personal blog due to length for anyone wondering. should be seamless... fingers crossed. #my art #my comics #meta knight #galacta knight #hnk secret santa #cw violence

[themeeplord]

Recently I've noticed that people have been drawing my monster dca designs (e.g. cryptid Eclipse and moth Moon) without giving me credit or mentioning me. I want to make it clear that I want to be credited when you draw my designs.

I've worked very hard on all of them (especially cryptid Eclipse who I've spent a large part of this year designing) and they're all very important to me.

Seeing the designs being used without credit is honestly very disheartening and demotivating.. so please, if you draw them (which I'm completely fine with btw!) please credit me.

#I want to say real quick too! I'm not mad at the ones who have done this! #I do not want to call them out and I do not want anyone to be mean to them! Please let them be #I understand that maybe not everyone knows that these are my designs in the first place #That's why I want everyone who knows they're my designs to credit me so people know where the designs came from #alright that's all I think #Thank you for reading ♥️

[kedsandtubesocks]

give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#I blame my heartbreak over Texas and Pedro losing but it’s okay cause I got inspired LOL #thank you to anyone who reads this I love you #Joel 🤎 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

[jethrowest]

let me see you stripped down to the bone…

- stripped by depeche mode

congratulations! you’ve been hired as homelander’s entire glam squad! what an opportunity! now let’s try real hard not to let the fumes get to you, okay?

pairing : homelander/afab reader

word count : 5.6k

warnings : homelander in and of himself, toxic workplace environment, something akin to stockholm syndrome, fingering, smut. 18+, mdni

special thanks to @blindmagdalena @sehtoast @homeb0ys and @clockworkzeppelin for letting me scream at you about this!

writing tag

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divider credit

Homelander is an asshole.

That doesn’t bother you much. You’ve dealt with plenty in this field, which means you’ve learned how to make life easier for all parties. That particular learning curve includes when to stand out and blend in, at times concurrently depending on what variety of asshole they happen to be.

As a whole, the makeup artists and hairstylists at Vought take care of The Seven and go where they’re needed. And as a cosmetologist, you were hired to provide both services for Homelander and Homelander only, which you consider to be one of the most prestigious stamps one could add to their professional passport.

Before you became official, you were colorfully threatened by a Ms. Ashley Barrett, who, after the fact, had no qualms throwing you into the lion’s den to figure your own shit out.

In no uncertain terms were you told that if you fucked any part of this up, your sparkling resume would look best as something to sit her smooth, bare ass on while getting fucked on top of her desk. No lube or protection. It would then be tossed exactly like her salad.

Not an image you could have ever predicted crossing your mind. Honestly, you should have stopped her right there and walked your happy little ass out of her office toward pastures that might have not been greener (you were being handsomely compensated), but certainly not as toxic. While the red flags were a color you couldn’t quite ignore, you were also curious about why they stood out so much more than they did regarding previous employers.

None of this is to say you live under a rock. Anyone who has access to the internet is ambushed daily by these Supes’ personal lives. Homelander’s track record as far as choice in partners went hadn’t been ideal, so you understand that made him less popular at the time. That of course has nothing to do with you or your capabilities.

You opt to wear gray-colored glasses, seeing everything with a neutral blend of black and white. As much as possible anyway.

Nevertheless, curiosity killed the cat. But hopefully not your career.

The first day was awkward to say the least. Immediately, you knew you weren’t going to like your coworkers.

Glints of sympathy changed how they perceived you. A target, whether they intended for this to happen or not, was nailed to your forehead, and it made them buzz around you like avid, greedy wasps keen on seeing how rapidly the honeybee will be brutalized. You didn’t much care for going cross-eyed while staring at that target whenever you crossed paths. They didn’t know you, yet because of who you were working under, deemed you helpless. They didn’t give you a chance to establish yourself before branding you a victim.

Why should you respect them?

Small talk wasn’t entertained either, as their judgment tarnished any future encounters. They ostracized you once you showed no interest in engaging with them. That didn’t disappoint you. You weren’t here to make friends.

You do wonder how those before you fared: if they were jaded when they arrived or if they couldn’t help but succumb to the pressures of being at the top rung of a very unstable albeit sought after ladder.

Ms. Barrett quickly introduced you to Homelander, her parting gift before leaving the two of you alone.

You weren’t completely nervous in his presence. He wasn’t any different to you than the other celebrities you’d worked on, except he could rip you in half like a piece of paper if he was so inclined. But he’s the hero of this country’s story, so really, you should have nothing to worry about.

His demeanor, you noted, suggested arrogance, annoyance, and boredom. All things you’re used to. So you offered your hand to shake, which he eyed with a slightly upturned nose before grabbing, told him it was a pleasure to meet him and got straight to business.

Looking back, he was clearly expecting more out of you. Maybe not a display as excessive as getting on your knees and professing your undying love, but close enough. Somewhere in the middle, perhaps.

Part of you believes he might have also counted on fear. To you, he’s not anything or anyone unknown. Another big name in a fancy suit with impossible demands.

You were given a routine to follow and products to use. You did as you were instructed and found the process to be simple and, as Homelander’s expression revealed, uninspiring.

While you were utilizing a face brush to apply powder, he must have decided he was done enduring your lack of enthusiasm, because he suddenly asked, “What are you wearing?”

You stopped for a split second, no longer than, and continued. “The name of my clothing designer, you mean?”

He scoffed, waving his gloved hand at you, almost knocking the applicator you held to the ground. “No, your perfume. What are the top notes?”

You laughed and that seemed to confuse him. “Why, you want a bottle?”

“I don’t like it.” He sniffed sharply and cleared his throat. “Smells like you should be on the corner selling your used body parts.”

Ding ding ding. Alarm bells and red flags galore. You enjoy a challenge, however, and are a bit of a masochist, so you persevere.

“Well, what doesn’t smell like a cheap hooker to you? I’ll start wearing that instead.”

He cocked a brow, studying you. Trying to figure out if you were being serious or mocking him.

“It’s your first day.” A warning. “Are you on your best behavior, or can you do better?” He leaned forward in his chair, forcing you backward. “You should be working harder to prove yourself. Prove your worth.” He sat back again and shrugged. “Or maybe you really are worth as much as that dumpster juice you doused yourself in.”

At this point, he more than likely envisioned your happy little ass getting offended and storming out of the room. Breaking down, sobbing. Questioning why he was being so rude. One of those or, better yet, a nifty combination.

You’ve heard worse, unfortunately for him. Not always directed at you, but that doesn’t matter. You can handle it.

“You’re absolutely right,” you stated calmly, folding your arms across your chest. He looked at you with pretentious, petulant intrigue. “It is my first day, and I want to make a good impression. Which is why I’m asking you what you would like me to wear so I can continue to keep that good impression intact and, as our professional relationship develops, stay on top of it.”

Homelander’s mouth twitched. He sighed deeply and slouched in his seat, staring at the wall to the left of him. Then he deigned to cast his gaze back at you, resting his cheek on his index and middle finger. He tapped the arm rest with his other hand.

“Ugh, fine. Whatever.” A pause followed that lasted longer than necessary. Were you meant to guess? “Just wear something, I dunno, less. If you would have done your homework like a good little peon, you’d know I have super senses. Highly developed. Can you even imagine what that entails?”

Finally, he freed the canvas you were nearly finished with, and you flicked the soft bristles across the bridge of his nose. You smiled, more to yourself than him.

Felt rather on the nose, as the saying goes.

He didn’t comment on your grin. You didn’t give him time to. But he did huff like you were being obtuse on purpose.

“I can try. And my imagination is giving me some less-than-ideal scenarios,” you replied. Another pause. At least he was letting you do your job again.

You don’t know what compelled you to keep going, but something about his lack of a real answer made you carry on. “Do you have a favorite flower or baked good? Maybe a spice?”

Homelander almost glared up at you. You say almost because, for whatever reason, it didn’t seem like he was directing that harshness at you, though former words and actions proved otherwise. Something inside, perhaps. Or outside of this enclosed space.

“I already told you what to wear. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

You took the hint and remained quiet the rest of your session. Soon, you were done.

As you were packing and tidying up your station, he took it upon himself to stand behind you. He lingered over your shoulder, watching the scene play out like he was director and star and you were barely an ant on the sidewalk he acknowledged before squashing.

The heat radiating off of him was impossible to dismiss, a wall of it barricading your backside. He clasped his fingers underneath his cape and inched closer. You thought he was as close to you as he could get without touching you. He was that warm.

When you glanced up, he was staring at you through the mirror. As absurd as it was, you managed to get chills. Goosebumps broke the surface of your skin.

“Fresh chocolate chip cookies. Straight out of the oven. Like mom used to make.” He flashed an unnerving smile before turning to exit.

From there on out, even after you bent to his will and found a gourmand scent that matched what he described, Homelander tested you. Your work ethic, clothing choice, eating habits, and most of all, patience.

Your parents would ask how you were liking your job, how it was working alongside the Supes- not to mention the most famous of all- and you’d lie through your teeth. You felt you had no choice, Ashley’s threat ringing in your ears.

Resume, bare ass, tossed salad...

Oh yeah, it’s going great! They’re all super flexible. I couldn’t be happier!

At least that pun made you feel a little better about hiding the shame of what you’ve allowed yourself to take on.

This was all in the first few weeks. It started to get a little easier after that, which is surprising considering more was added to your to-do list.

You should have moved on before starting. But, for whatever asinine reason, you didn’t.

Every time you go back to your apartment and assess your appearance in the bathroom mirror, you wonder who’s making who up here. He’s changing your looks more than you are his. You’re like his human doll.

You’ve put up with a lot over the years, but this takes the cake and shoves it in your face. As fucked as it is, the flavor is growing on you. Like a fungus. Growing, nonetheless.

You can’t stop thinking about him.

It’s innocent enough, you try convincing yourself. Making sure you have the right outfit laid out the night before, the right lunch (no onions or fish or anything “freaky”!), etc. He is your superior, after all. You shouldn’t be viewing him in any other light.

He’s the most frustrating aspect of your existence these days, but he’s also the one you’re around the most. His penchant for workplace gossip and how unintentionally funny he is tends to make him palatable, which has regrettably become an understatement.

Months go by. You’ve witnessed how alone he truly is. How he has nothing outside of performing his tricks on Vought’s all-encompassing stage. And when he begins asking for your input, starts doing things for you that are so blatant it’s perplexing, you find your stress and vexation melting into cumbersome fascination.

It’s embarrassing. You don’t have the courtesy of enough time to dwell on your feelings toward the situation either, from beginning to whatever end you might be met with. You suppose that could be beneficial in the long run.

It also hits you when you least expect it; when you really don’t want it to.

Your body doesn’t wait until you finally have a moment alone. It decides, while you’re helping Homelander with his skincare routine that he insisted upon because you know more than these vacuous corporate douche-bags, to heat up without warning and slither from your head to your heart until it grasps you unfairly between your legs.

You try not to step into momentary paralysis. You understand to what extent his powers reach. It’s not like he doesn’t go on and on about them. About himself.

Whatever he notices, it’s not right away. A palpable tension fills the air between the two of you eventually. But it takes a more significant amount of time than you would have anticipated to permeate the natural flow of things.

Fuck, you can’t even be safe inside here, where your thoughts, whatever they may be, are yours. You can’t even have yourself. He has every part of you, and you are willingly relinquishing that control.

Your evening, once you can have it, consists of combing over every decision you’ve made leading up to this strange, disorienting space you find yourself occupying. All it does is leave you exasperated in a much different way than before and with an unsettling observation (or hallucination):

Was that the tail end of the American flag outside your window?

You are unacceptably late.

Rushing around, you throw on the first top and bottoms you see from your closet and spritz some perfume on your neck and wrists. You don’t check your phone. You’re afraid of what will pop up on your screen. And, frankly, you don’t have the time.

Your only option for transportation is the subway, as you’re sure the special vehicle from Vought is long gone. Why would they wait for someone like you, even if you’re practically Homelander’s personal assistant? One of his only friends. You doubt he has more than Black Noir, and that isn’t as perfect as it appears to the casual viewer.

You dread what kind of explosion you’re without a doubt walking into once you show your miserable ass up. You’re going to smell like everyone on this train. He’s going to go ballistic.

The question remains: why are you continuing to put yourself through this? It’s not your circus, yet somehow, the monkeys have become your liability.

You know, deep down, what keeps you going back. It’s simply too ridiculous to admit aloud.

Making your way past security, hurriedly presenting your badge, you realize you forgot to brush your teeth, or at the very least, gargle some mouthwash. You thank your lucky stars when you open your purse to a pack of gum tucked away in one of the compartments.

It will have to do.

When you open the door to Homelander’s dressing room, you see a couple of employees standing near the counter where the bag of supplies has been opened and rifled through, looking like they might soil themselves, a frantic Ashley, and an extremely pissed off Homelander in the middle of it all.

Reflexively, you cringe. You attempt to wipe any trace from your features, but it’s too late. Ashley is glaring daggers at you and Homelander can hardly bring himself to look in your direction. The others don’t matter to you. They never did.

“I’m so sorry I’m late. I know there’s no excuse-”

“You’re goddamned right, there’s no excuse! I don’t give a shit if god and his whole fucking choir of angels came down from heaven and divinely called you to give them a makeover! What were you thinking?!”

You’re about to answer, though you comprehend her query is more or less rhetorical. She interrupts your slightly open mouth while gesturing wildly, proving your point.

“Oh, that’s right! You weren’t thinking at all, were you?! But I do believe you’ve thought long and hard about what’s at stake here. And you know damn well we at Vought don’t tolerate this kind of sloppy behavior. Not to mention the way you’re dressed! It’s adding insult to injury!” Her hand swipes at the air, the length of your outfit, and you glance down, recognizing how comically mismatched you are. Her correct observation affects you more than it would have months prior, stinging your ego- one of the many things that’s been shelved in order to accommodate the person who won’t even grace you with a glance.

A dramatic groan cuts short any further commentary from the redhead, perpetually stretched thin between her absurd duties.

“Jesus Christ, Ashley, why are your big fucking horse gums still flapping?” Homelander’s booming voice slices through your mind like a jarring, dense migraine. He pinches his brow between middle finger and thumb, eyes closed. “I want you and Tweedledee and Tweedledum t’get the fuck out. Now.”

Ashley is plainly dumbfounded, struggling to see where she went wrong (a pattern when it comes to dealing with the volatile leader of The Seven), mouth agape. She shakes her head. “But sir, are you-?”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or doing. Clearly.”

Ms. Barrett turns a shade paler, staring at Homelander and blinking owlishly before snapping herself out of her stupor. She hurries her lackeys out of the room, shooing them along like a pair of misbehaving toddlers. She doesn’t give a final look, no further warning. She merely shuts the door behind her.

You also hear it lock.

What the hell does she think is going to happen?

You should have stopped this while you had the chance. You should have never taken this job. You should have stood up for yourself and walked out. You should have you should have you should-

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

His caustic tone sends shivers down your spine. It’s unlike anything you’ve heard come out of him. And you’ve heard enough.

Again, you open your mouth. It fills with blood, thick and metallic and more potent than the mint from your gum. You’re silenced by it.

He stalks toward you and grabs you hastily by the shoulders, swiveling you around so you’re face-to-face with the choices you’ve made. Your mirrored image is reflected back at you, exhausted and searching for any last shred of who you might be beneath his heavy palms.

“Look at yourself! Do you even recognize who’s staring back at you?” No.

“What kind of game are you playing, hmmm? Is this… humiliating spectacle you’re putting on for the money? Your pathetic career? Like it’s goddamned rocket science to pick up a can of hairspray and use it. Monkeys have hands.” He makes a noise that’s akin to a snorting horse, exhaling forcefully past his nostrils. “I mean, did you really think you could pull a fast one on me?” He clutches your jaw, squeezing it between middle and thumb. Every muscle in your body tenses, your heart picking up rhythm.

“Spit that fucking gum out. Don’t think I can’t hear you grinding it between your molars like a dumb animal. You aren’t a mama bird, are you? Y’don’t have cute little baby birds t’force-feed your regurgitated leftovers, do you? Eugh, gross.”

You take a deep breath and exhale through your nose. It presents you with a false sense of security. You do as you’re told, and it lands on the floor in front of your shoe, saliva dangling on a thread as withered as your sanity.

Suddenly fresh breath seems like the most insignificant issue, when Homelander himself once made it out to be something earth-shattering.

You’re such a fool.

He leans in and sniffs your throat. Your fingers lengthen and bend.

You’re so many things at once. Confused, angry, nervous, scared. And, to your dismay, warm. God you’re so fucking warm. He’s heating you up from the inside out. You clench your jaw, still held in place by a firm bind.

“Get rid of those ugly clothes. I don’t care what you have to do. I can’t stand the sight or smell of them.”

You shut your eyes. When you open them, all you see is red. The other emotions are smothered in favor of that brand of heat. What happens next is a blur. You temporarily leave yourself.

“Fine. Have it your way, Homelander. You always do.”

Breaking free of his fluctuating hold, you start tearing at what you’re wearing, tossing everything- including your bra and underwear- to the ground. Your shirt winds up with the gum sticking to its loose fabric. You even take your shoes and socks off, not paying any heed to where your belongings go. Just that they’re gone.

You don’t process the glaring fact that you made yourself naked in front of your boss. In front of the most powerful man this country, and possibly world, has known. You don’t care that things have escalated this far. That they shouldn’t have. They shouldn’t have. But guess what? They did. And these are the consequences you both have to deal with.

“You wanna know what game I’m playing?” You turn around, forcing him backward. “It’s funny, I thought you’d be able to answer that for me, considering all the hoops I’ve had to jump through to not only save my ass, but make sure you had someone to talk to at the end of the day! Who on your team can you say goes above and beyond like that for you?!” He blinks at you now, eyes wide. Features fall to the floor where your clothes reside. You have his full and undivided attention.

An impressively dangerous thing to have.

“What more do you want from me, Homelander? I practically live with you without any of the benefits that usually includes! You’re really going to stand here and berate me like I haven’t given you fucking everything you’ve ever asked me for? Because I made one mistake? I gave up my entire world, which I know doesn’t mean shit to you. But it does to me.”

You fold your arms over your chest. Nothing covers it. You have to know before you lose all dignity. So you ask once more, hoping it won’t get lost in this bizarre mess.

“What do you want from me?”

Nothing. He can’t stop staring at you. You aren’t aware enough to be ashamed, but you are aware enough to be upset.

His infuriating silence compels you to bend down and gather what was a barrier between the two of you. You are no longer needed if he can’t do what he does best, which is spout off, leaking bottled words everywhere like a broken faucet. It’s a pretty simple question, you think.

That’s when the glass behind you shatters.

You flinch, pause what you’re doing and slowly stand. Cautious in whatever your next approach will be.

Surveying the aftermath, you’re relieved to find that you’re far enough away from the mirror so no injuries were inflicted.

When you finally lock eyes with the source, you see red. The atmosphere surrounding you heaves like the distended belly of a rotting corpse; hisses like an overflowing tea kettle; pierces you like lightning.

Homelander’s expression is rigid. His jaw quivers. Irises are a bright, shining scarlet. If you try anything rash, you might be next. But, having been around him for so long, you’re more inclined to believe he’s having trouble processing his own emotions. And that might have been one of the only ways to release them.

You drop the top and pants you managed to reclaim. Your brain hasn’t fully recovered from the constant devastating hit it’s taken, so you don’t want to put a name to what’s pushing you forward. You don’t stop until you’re directly in his line of vision.

Swallowing, you carefully extend your hand. The ruby color begins to crumble and give way to the vast ocean you might have drowned in one too many times. You lost track, blocking what you could out. Too real and intimate to accept for a realm that thrives off of inauthenticity and misfortune.

Homelander inhales harshly and you retreat, pupils hooking themselves to his. Searching for any sign you shouldn’t be right where you are.

Of course there are several; unfortunately, you are currently blind to them. Blind to everything but him.

That’s how it’s been for awhile, hasn’t it?

He has a habit of not granting you the luxury of time.

Quickly, he snatches your wrist and brings your palm flat against his cheek. He exhales, eyelids fluttering, nuzzling into you.

It’s so simple, yet it disarms you in ways you aren’t accustomed to.

Homelander basks in this chaste display of affection, and so do you, in awe of how enraptured he appears. Soaking you inside of his pores.

In turn, your cognizance reappears. You nearly topple over, realization infiltrating every part of you.

You’re not wearing a stitch.

A knock at the door startles you both. You glance over in that general direction and hear from the other side, “You’re on in fifteen, Homelander, sir!”

Gazing back up at him, you witness that same fire expand at a rapid rate. You use your other hand to bring him back down to reality, to ground him. It rests against his chest, delving into and cracking his ribs, flaying him open.

What strikes you is how vigorously his heart is beating. How you can feel it through his uniform.

This is how much you affect him. (Can you fathom that you’re only privy to a fraction?) Having evidence of the tiniest reciprocation drains you of any unwanted discomfort.

His fury subsides. You breathe out. He does, too.

“Go sit in your chair. I came here to do my job, after all.” The tenderness with which you speak seems to ease him further, his shoulders deflating with each word.

That aside, you’re playing with a lit match. You’re unsure who’s going to set who ablaze, but you’re willing to go down with this entire building to find out.

He does as he’s told, watching you the whole way like a mutilated mixture of a snarling cornered animal and a man fervently in love. He almost trips into his seat, not an ounce of grace in his gait.

Sacrificing his entire image just to get a glimpse of you.

Whipping his cape to the side, he sinks into the cushion. You get things ready as you typically do, your movements a bit jittery from the adrenaline sending haphazard jolts to your limbs. Despite this, you’re focused. You are more focused than you remember ever being.

You work efficiently, keeping in mind the limit that’s been put on your time.

Homelander bores holes through you. He doesn’t need lasers for that. You’re exposed and vulnerable and he pries what he fostered apart until it’s distinguishable by no one else but him.

You relearn his perfectly manufactured features. Different lights shape shadows you either haven’t seen before or feigned ignorance of. You commit to memory how he looks, smells, feels, the side of your hand grazing his cheek and hanging on.

He’s invigorating, your excitement building to a crescendo you can’t neglect. The heat in your core disperses, most of it congregating low in your belly and behind your expanding rib cage. His pupils drink you in, urgently and violently.

Your arousal is heady. He licks his lips. A hint of a whine caresses your ears and it makes you dizzy.

How could you have ever denied yourself?

You decide to take further control, testing the waters to a greater extent.

It’s your turn to watch him the whole way down. You straddle him, easing yourself atop his taut thighs.

After a few moments of humoring yourself, of pretending to concentrate on your work, dusting his nose with powder, you straighten. Eye contact has not been severed.

You motion toward his hands, balled into tense, repressed fists at his sides.

“Take off your gloves.”

Initially, it feels like maybe you said the wrong thing, or said it the wrong way. He doesn’t budge. You’re patient, however, so you wait like you’ve always done, the warmth from your cunt mingling with the hardness beneath you. Your mouth waters.

At last, Homelander nods and removes his gloves, tugging on the index of each. He places them on the armrests and transfixes himself to you once more.

“Do you want to touch me?” you ask, voice and body staying impossibly still in spite of your nerves.

Immediately, he shakes his head, “Yes,” the first time he’s spoken since your outburst, and without hesitation, reaches for your chest. You close your eyes, falling into his snooping lifts and tugs and squeezes, giving yourself permission to become possessed by the inhibited imaginations of how selfish, how rapacious his touches might be. How smooth his bare hands are, how ardent each digit is.

Leaning into you, he sucks one nipple into his mouth and palms the other, moaning and vibrating against your flesh. He digs his fingers into the pliant softness of your hip, steadying you with disciplined pressure. You squirm, attuned to every minuscule shift.

The lit match is tilted toward you now, swift and stunning. Your fingers release the brush you’ve been holding. It aligns with the slit of the cushion, forgotten and purposeless.

You wrap your digits around the hand on your curves and guide him toward your throbbing center. He doesn’t fight you. Doesn’t stop your movements. Doesn’t scold or challenge you. Instead, he curls his fingers in a way that makes you unabashedly moan, cupping your folds and pinning his thumb to your clit, adapting to your anatomy.

Your wants.

It seems like breaking away from you is a daunting task, but he does for a moment, brow furrowed, more engrossed and invested than you’ve ever witnessed.

“Fuck.” The curse sounds downright edible, your new favorite flavor. Your name tumbles from his lips like he’s been practicing, a sweet, rich icing on top. You gasp, his tongue adhering to you again, swirling around your peak before lightly biting it.

Rocking your hips back and forth, side-to-side, you grind hard into his palm. He strokes you like he’s studied what pace you prefer, how much friction you crave. You’re so wet, even you’re thrown off by it.

Once he’s finished with your chest, he’s back against the seat, unable to peel his gaze from you. Your full, swollen, glistening breasts.

His mouth hangs open, obscene, desperate whimpers slipping from it. Pupils are like whirlpools that drive you under. Drive you mad.

Homelander adeptly slips two, three digits inside your sopping cunt, unrelenting in his intentions to make up for lost time. The voracity of his actions propels you forward, balancing against his chest. He grasps and pulls at your other hip, groaning loudly in your ear, confirming his approval of how close you are to him.

It’s still not enough.

Pulling you even tighter to his blinding sun of a body, he encloses his free arm around you and desperately bucks his waist. “I want… I want… I want…” he chants. Your nails drag up his neck and along his scalp, overwhelmed by his warmth, his scent, him. Your lips ghost the sliver of skin above his collar, making him growl.

You anticipate and dread and yearn for what’s been building for so long. You clench and release, clench and release, clench and release, body chanting with him.

You’re intuitively thankful for the chair’s sturdiness; however, if it would have collapsed, you’re honestly not sure you would have noticed. Or cared.

You hear him come first. Feel the temperature rise temporarily. It’s so sudden and all-consuming that you naturally follow, his name an instinct you can’t help but divulge. You haven’t come down from the turbulent emotions rushing through you earlier, and that combination catapults you over the edge.

Your orgasm draws more deliberate, vehement grunts and sighs of satisfaction from him, as if your pleasure is inexplicably the same or worth more than his.

You can’t crumple into a boneless heap like you want to. You just can’t. You have to look at him. Look at his bliss; the glazed, barren-yet-so-full-of-you expression, of what these months of working in close quarters have done to him.

What you uncover is not what you were picturing. There’s a mixture of that haze with something almost apologetic below the teeming surface. Clouds of red to skies of blue. Destructive in and of themselves.

Sliding his fingers from your wetness, he wraps his lips around each one that was inside of you and spreads them apart. Your slick sticks to his glossy skin and stretches between digits, a generous amount. You whimper at the loss- the emptying, hollow feeling- and watch, mesmerized and delirious as he savors you.

Swallowing you whole, Homelander sweeps his knuckles across the apple of your cheek and presses his lips hard against yours. He wastes no time inhaling your gasps and moans, licking your mouth and the faint taste of mint, stealing it from you. You ingest what you can of him as well, exploring what was open to you longer than you realized.

He then seizes your wrists. It’s a rough gesture that evaporates into gentle circles along your pulse points. Still, you know you’re going to bruise where he turned the key and locked you into place: wherever he is.

A visible sheen coats his lips.

“I want you to tell me I’m good. Great. The best.”

His breathing is labored. So is yours.

He kisses the inside of the wrist smeared with perfume, your fluids, his saliva; ends with your hand and rests his cheek against the slope of it.

“I want you to be mine. All mine. Mine alone.”

You’re shaking. He moves forward and pets your hair, twirls it; grabs your nape and holds his thumb to the front of your throat. Securing you. Keeping you there.

“You have to stay. Be mine and stay.”

You thrum with an ache he forced upon you. He’ll claim you were starving and he was the only one who could satiate.

You nod. You were never going to leave to begin with.

Homelander made you his. And you thanked him for it.

#homelander #homelander x reader #the boys #antony starr #my writing #let me see you stripped down to the bone #oneshot #god it feels so good getting this out #i’ve been going through a painful writer’s block so 🥹 #thank you everyone who helped and anyone who reads #this is my first full-fledged homelander fic so i’m a bit nervous but! very excited 🖤 #love you all 🥰

[loveyourownsmiilee]

Ok no because knowing Tim is fully back as showrunner and he wrote the first episode, in which we have that Buckley Diaz family scene, I’m legit losing it at the possibilities. As @shammers86 mentioned, Tim played a huge role in Eddie’s shooting, plus the aftermath. Some things he said about that storyline were:

Tim is the same person who wrote Shannon off because he didn’t think they would ever be able to redeem her in the fans’ eyes after her leaving Christopher. So knowing what we now know of what’s to come in s7, Shannon’s letter is going to be an important factor that sets up Eddie and Christopher’s storyline for the season. And it’s such a choice to have Buck there before that whole thing goes down. We know Chris already trusts Buck and confides in him, which is most likely what’s happening when Buck is sitting on his bed with him. So it’s likely Chris mentions his mom, which then causes Buck to look at the picture on Chris’ desk.

It makes sense for Buck to then have a talk with Eddie about what Christopher confided in him. Which further strengthens the theory that Buck and Eddie are in fact coparenting Chris together.

Buck either tells Eddie exactly what Chris said or hints at the topic, which then prompts Eddie to bring out Shannon’s letter.

Now why are all these things important? Well Tim has always been pro Buddie whether we wanna believe it or not. He’s always put on a front where he neither confirms or denies it but just his recent actions have proved that he’s leaning more towards keeping this Buddie dynamic the way we all know and love. Him sharing all those Buddie related stills, talking about how they’re reenforcing dynamics and then showing us these three as a family unit can only be a good thing for us. I just don’t see how Tim could bring up Shannon and then not acknowledge the will of it all. Buck is there for a reason. Also, Chris doesn’t look all that sad after that letter has been opened. Which makes me think he’s slowly working through his grief and is in a place now where he doesn’t have to hurt as much when thinking of his mother. This also can be because if Eddie does bring up the will and Buck being Christopher’s legal guardian, maybe that’s why he’s content and not all that sad. Maybe Chris himself has accepted that Buck plays a parental role in his life and just having his father confirm that is a huge relief to him.

All this to say, I think Tim has been slowly pushing the Buddie agenda. And I am interested to know if he’s doing that because he fully has plans to have them be together romantically or he’s just giving us this family dynamic to appease us without actually giving us anything more. Suffice to say but I truly don’t see how they would even come back from reaffirming these three as a family unit on a new network only to have both gentlemen end up with other people. Now is the time for them to either truly distance these men or continue building this family unit. And given the stills we’ve received, I mean it’s not hard to see what choices they’ve made.

#buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #christopher diaz #tim minear #911 spoilers #911 speculation #jujus having thoughts #I’m sleep deprived #idk if this makes sense #sorry if it doesn’t #thank you to anyone who reads it ❤️

[sevensoulmates]

Buddie 7x01 Meta

Okay! Finally, I was able to watch the full episode uninterrupted and have had a couple days to gather my thoughts. Quite simply this episode was fucking fantastic. My meta does sometimes include some spec, so if that's not your thing feel free to ignore those parts. Those of you who follow me know I write long ass essays, so fair warning for a long meta under the cut. ((Also idk how to make gifs, so enjoy my shitty screenshots)).

First, I love to see Buck and Eddie back at it again in their natural element being partners on a scene.

This was very obviously a call back to season 2, even down to the positioning, having Buck watch Eddie be competent in defusing a bomb. Buck has complete faith in Eddie's abilities, it's the fighter pilot whom he distrusts. In the end, they narrowly avoid getting blown up, just like they did in 2x01. This one scene re-establishes the Buck/Eddie work dynamic and shows how they inherently trust each other on and off the field.

Next, we get a scene of Buck and Eddie getting dressed in the locker room. Notably, Buck is fully dressed and Eddie is without his shirt until halfway through the scene. Buck also keeps his eyes on Eddie's naked torso pretty much through the whole shirtless section. This is another blatant callback to season 2x01 when Buck's first introduction to Eddie is when he's shirtless. This draws attention specifically to Eddie's physical attractiveness and how that affects Buck. This scene is odd to have with Eddie half-naked if we're then gonna make comments later on about "sexual tension" with friends, no?

In the same scene we are reintroduced to Buck and Eddie's separate love lives. Eddie is just now learning that Buck and Natalia broke up, and gives an odd facial expression that looks far too much like vindication. We know from the graveyard scene in 6x17 that Eddie wasn't really a fan of Buck's relationship with Natalia (I don't think there's ever been a relationship Buck's had where Eddie has legitimately been happy about it, which is weird if they're just friends, right?) so to him, this was always coming down the road. He seems proud that Buck was able to end it this easily.

Meanwhile, Eddie's going on a "not-date" with Marisol to chaperone Christopher's date with Penny. It's telling to me that Eddie doesn't classify this as a date with Marisol, but Buck does. Buck considers being at home watching Christopher as a date, and yet he seemingly doesn't classify all the times he's been over at Eddie's hanging out with just him and Chris to be a date? To me, this shows the first big disconnect in Buck/Eddie's brains that the show will likely dismantle this season: what is classified as platonic and what is classified as romantic, and which gender is allowed to be in each category. We'll come back to this when we get to the next scene.

Eddie is very supportive of Buck breaking up with Natalia. He doesn't say it directly to his face, but it's implied that Buck really lost himself when he was with Natalia, hence Eddie's "Welcome back to the land of the living". While Buck did struggle with figuring out his life purpose at the end of season 6, he falsely prescribed that purpose to Natalia. Thankfully, this was rectified here. This also shows significant growth for Buck from his last relationship with Taylor Kelly. Buck was able to identify issues in his relationship quicker and was able to cut the relationship short when he realized it was no longer healthy to maintain for him. I am extremely proud of Buck in this moment, as is Eddie, which is the first of two big moments in this episode where Buck and Eddie really showcase their pride in the other's personal growth. "You were missed" is such a simple yet perfect line for Eddie to give to Buck. To show Buck that Eddie has always seen him, and will always see him, even through personal lows, and will still remain by his side when they come out the other side. I really love this showcase of unconditional love here.

The next time we see Buck and Eddie, the chaperone date has already passed. Eddie and Marisol are seen watching Chris and Penny from behind the wall, but it's highkey awkward to watch and the focus of this scene is really not Eddie/Marisol but rather Chris and Penny and Eddie relaying this info to Buck. I first want to point out that we don't actually get to see Eddie/Marisol's first date, we don't see any subsequential dates, and the first time we DO see her, in an episode meant to be establishing couples, she's so blink-and-you'll-miss-it that I had to try 3 times to get this screenshot because it went by so fast. It's never a good sign when we don't actually get to see the beginnings of a non-established relationship.

Additionally, Eddie/Marisol's relationship is framed WITHIN Eddie recounting the night to BUCK. The important Eddie relationship we're supposed to be paying attention to in this scene is not Eddie/Marisol but Eddie and Buck's. It's not important for us to see Eddie and Marisol hanging out, but it IS important for us to see Eddie TELLING Buck about the night. That isn't insignificant. This means the show is clearly placing far more importance on Eddie/Buck than on Marisol, and for a pointed reason to be revealed hopefully later this season.

This is the only line that Marisol has in the entire episode. This being the one line she has is interesting because it's a callback to Eddie's arc last season ie. "Eddie has no game with women". Christopher makes a pointed comment about it in 6x18. And of course, it's a callback to Performance Anxiety 6x14 where Eddie was being pressured about dating women and 6x17 Love Is In The Air where he once again pressures himself into dating women until he finally settles on Marisol. It's an interesting call back to have, considering this scene could have been considered Eddie successfully dating a woman. And of course this ties into later in this episode where we get the "turning women off" comment, which I'll talk more about later.

Eddie goes on to tell Buck that he didn't really see any difference between Christopher hanging out with his male friends vs hanging out with his female friends. This is drawing attention to two things. The first is a call-back to Buck and Eddie's previous scene where we saw that Buck and Eddie have two different ideas of what constitutes "a date" when it's with a man versus a woman. Buck thinks that an at-home date with Marisol to watch Chris counts as a date, Eddie doesn't. Yet Buck doesn't consider his own at-home "hang-outs" with Eddie and Chris to be a date despite them being far more frequent and more meaningful than what we just saw with Marisol. Eddie also doesn't see it that way. This line is an indicator that both Buck and Eddie have blinders on currently when it comes to their interactions with each other, interactions which very much COULD be considered a date (including the later mentioned "underlying sexual tension") if they had done the same thing with a woman. They're just unable to recognize the truth of it at the moment, and this is clearly demonstrated when Eddie can't tell the difference between Chris having his date with his male friends vs. female. My prediction is that this will become more defined for Eddie by the end of the season or leading into next season.

But it's very interesting that this idea of not being able to recognize the possibility of romance except for the heteronormative options is coming into play now because there's really only one gay way to subvert that.

Which is then doubled down by Buck in the very next scene.

This is blatantly not a true statement. Buck is not only assuming Chris's sexuality, but he's assuming the same would be the case in general, which is not true. Buck knows many queer people, but at the same time, every queer person he knows canonically falls more into the gay-lesbian binary, and not really anywhere in the middle (ie. bi/pan people). It's an oddly heteronormative statement coming from Buck, who is known to be very open-minded and also researches a shit ton? So why are we being shown that Buck has this sort of narrow-mindedness specifically when it comes to the possibility of people being bisexual?

(Spec) Firstly, I think this is to set up for a bisexual Buck arc. It's showing that Buck actually 1.) hasn't ever been with a man before so this is not just a casual bi reveal and 2.) that he's never actually considered it a possibility to have sexual tension with a man before. This is what we in writing call "the character's fundamental misbelief" and it is brought in specifically to be challenged, and I'm near-positive it will be at some point in the season.

Secondly, On the surface, this statement is telling the audience that obviously Christopher would only have tension with his female friends, right? (sarcasm). But what's interesting is that this statement is purposefully gender-neutral. It leaves the real meaning up to the audience to decide. Why? Because this part of the conversation is not really about Christopher. On the surface, yes, but beneath that, this line and the line before it are about Eddie and Buck's relationship with each other. Buck's not out here talking about Christopher having sexual tension with people, and even Eddie recognizes that it's weird to talk about in relation to their child. He's still in the nest for christ's sake! These lines are in relation to Buck and Eddie's friendship and how both of them are blind to the fact that it very much IS possible to have sexual tension with your female AND male friends.

And this is where the gender-neutrality of that phrase gets extra interesting. Because as we've seen before, Buck and (more prominently) Eddie often lack chemistry with their female love interests. It's up for debate, but the general consensus was that most people did not feel any chemistry between Buck/Natalia, and Eddie/Ana or Eddie/Marisol. What's fascinating is that Buck has had chemistry with some of his female love interests, but Eddie hasn't had any since Shannon (and this is not an endorsement of Eddie/Shannon's romantic relationship. I'm not getting into the extreme nuances of that right now.) Some argue Eddie's had chemistry with Felisa or Vanessa, but they aren't the ones Eddie's dating right now, are they? So Eddie, unlike Buck with his female LI's, hasn't really had any sexual tension with Ana or Marisol. The only person that (most) people agree Eddie has had sexual tension with is Buck. And we had a scene with them earlier with Buck watching a half-naked Eddie change too. So in this case, the line might also be a reference to Eddie having chemistry with men, but not really with any of his female LI's. I think the purposeful vagueness here though was a very telling choice on Tim's part.

Additionally, the use of the word "underlying". Underlying implies that the sexual tension isn't overt, but rather is something that lingers unspoken. Under the surface. Subtextual, if you will. Of course, it's possible to have subtextual sexual tension between an M/F pairing. But placing it in the context of this scene, where Buck is being weirdly heteronormative, it feels contradictory. If Buck believes that he (and Chris by proxy) can only have sexual tension with a female friend, why is it something that is hidden under the surface? If anything, due to heteronormativity, the sexual tension between a boy and girl should be plain as day for anyone to see, on the surface, very much textual and with no room for interpretation (ie. "He was a boy, she was a girl, could I make it any more obvious?"). But let's flip this around. With queer pairings and couplings, there's a huge history of their sexual tension and romance only being able to live and breathe in the subtext. This line being spoken between two men that many people for years have pointed out are heavily queer-coded and have a romantically-coded "bro" relationship with each other that so far has only been able to exist in subtext? Tim, you're not sly. I see right through you.

After that, Eddie tells Buck about Christopher seeing 5 girls at the same time. Everyone's shocked and Eddie insinuates that Christopher didn't get this from him. By pointing out that Buck is a reformed playboy (I personally disagree with aspects of this statement but that's neither here nor there), Eddie is implying that Christopher may potentially be getting this trait from Buck. Which is an interesting thing to say to someone if they're not already heavily involved in the process of raising your child. Eddie claims that he's a "nester", which in my mind means someone who is very paternal/maternal, or constantly trying to build the home or the family. ((Sidebar: I googled nesting and apparently it's ALSO a term used in both polyamorous spaces and was later separately coined as a term referring to "where men treat women like they’re in a relationship, but they expect those women to know that it will never lead to real one." I don't interpret this line to mean either of those other definitions, I just think it's interesting that this is what popped up when I googled Nesting)).

Eddie then says he "married the first girl he dated" and Buck instantly volleys back with "think you mean slept with", which is EXTREMELY telling of a few things. First, I want to point out, that I don't believe this is Buck denouncing or disrespecting Shannon's important role in Eddie or Chris's life, but rather recontextualizing it.

We got clarification last season that Eddie fell into his relationship with Shannon almost in the same way that he fell into one with Ana and Marisol. It was heavily implied that Shannon was the pursuer, the one who made their relationship happen. Not Eddie. While Eddie was a little less passive with Ana and Marisol, being the one to ask both of them out, he still exhibits extreme passivity in the furthering of each of these relationships, preferring to "stick it out" rather than actually end it when it's not working. This is the exact same thing he did with Shannon. It's interesting that Buck argues that Eddie married the first girl he slept with rather than the first girl he dated.

Dating someone implies you really genuinely want to form a deep romantic relationship with someone (ie. call back to Buck's line to Maddie "at least when I date someone, I date them"), whereas sleeping with someone does not have to immediately mean wanting to be with them romantically. To me, this implies that while Eddie might've deeply loved Shannon as a friend and eventual mother of his child later and had sexual chemistry with her, the reason why he stayed with her is not because he wanted to continue dating her or being with her because he was IN LOVE with HER but rather because they slept together. And what came about from sleeping with her? A fucking traumatic teen pregnancy.

Both Buck AND Eddie recognize that in this scene (which is huge, especially for Eddie). I'm kinda blown away honestly. It's extremely important for the audience to see that while Eddie did, does and will always love Shannon, it is NOT romantic love, and may have not ever been. Which is FINE. They were literal teenagers for god's sake.

This is once again a recurring theme in Buck and Eddie's story in this episode. Defining what is considered romantic and what is considered platonic AND the possibility of redefining those distinctions years later. And it's interesting that in this case with Shannon, a woman, it's finally being acknowledged that it might not have been as romantic as Eddie may have believed for all these years.

Eddie then asks Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about his relationship indiscretions. We see Eddie making the active choice to bring Buck deeper into the co-parenting role that's already been established in seasons 2-6. Right after Eddie talks about being a nester, a home-builder, he brings Buck deeper into his family in a parental role. To me, this scene doesn't imply that Eddie can't do it, or that it's out of his wheelhouse, but rather because he feels like Christopher might relate to Buck more about this. But even more so, it shows that Eddie inherently trusts Buck to be the one to talk to Christopher about this, because he's seen how Buck has grown over the years.

Eddie doesn't want Christopher to continue making bad choices in life and he tries to convey this to Buck, but Buck, with his own self-esteem issues, assumes that Eddie doesn't want Christopher to end up like Buck. Which is fascinating because Buck's made it a huge point throughout the series to show that he's grown past his sleeping-around phase (which was never about disrespecting or using women, it was always about Buck's own desire for love and connection that he felt he could only get through sex). And yet with this line, we see that Buck still doesn't realize how far he's come. He still feels like he isn't worth emulating or being someone to look up to. But Eddie does. Eddie sees and loves Buck to his core, and so he points it out to Buck that no, Buck actually didn't become that person, and that Buck is, in fact, worthy of being the one to parent Christopher in this situation. Once again, this is a great moment of showing how these two are able to see past their facades to the truth of each other's issues and provide strength, reassurance, and clarity to each other, as an ideal life partner would be able to do.

Then we get to see this amazing scene of Eddie talking down a panicking woman using his own unique "jello" methods. This coping mechanism tool he walks her through really does sound like something a therapist might teach their patient. Eddie not only is able to admit to having panic attacks but he's able to do it in front of strangers and his team alike with no shame (even a bit of pride at the end). This scene, which could've gotten very awkward very fast, ended up becoming a very sweet, serene moment where we also get to see that love reflected on Buck's face just how proud he is of how far Eddie has come. This episode made a point to show Buck and Eddie recognizing the other's growth and their pride in the other, as well as demonstrate how both are able to be there for the other emotionally in their times of need.

What's interesting is that this is all stuff that we've seen before. Buck and Eddie have been each other's emotional pillars for many years now. This is just a re-establishing episode. We know that this season their relationship is going to be shifting, growing, and showing a new side to it. So I'm intrigued to see how that will manifest given that we have already seen in one episode how Buck and Eddie are each other's closest person. Some might argue that this episode actually frames them to be closer and more emotionally supportive of each other than two of the other canonically romantic couples on the show.

Bathena are shown to be having marital problems in this episode, with Athena worrying she and Bobby might not actually have that much in common outside of the chaos. Madney is shown with pre-martial problems, with Chimney unnecessarily worrying he and Maddie's spark might fizzle out over the years and they might grow to resent each other. I'm not saying either of these relationship problems is really accurate, but it's just interesting to look at in comparison to how Buck and Eddie were framed in this episode, despite not being in a canonical romantic relationship at the moment.

This exchange absolutely took me the fuck out. Because this line did not need to be there. Even for the giggles. It could've even been a line of Buck being sincere and saying that he's proud of Eddie or something. Instead, we get this. "I've never seen a man turn a woman off with such skill". This line connected with the line from Marisol are both callbacks to Eddie's series-long issue with dating women. We get this in conjunction with Buck pointing out that Eddie doesn't really date these women he's in relationships with. He's just with them due to circumstances. Even if the circumstances are of his own making (which could be a symptom of compulsory heterosexuality). Eddie has never once talked about dating women like he's actually attracted to women. I'm so sorry. AND combined with the line where Buck and Eddie actually acknowledge that Eddie wasn't really with Shannon because he wanted to be with her but because of the family they accidentally created. All of this in ONE episode leading up to this line where it's heavily implied that Eddie's skill is his inability to turn women on, and to actually be able to turn them all the way off. And I'm just going to say it, but this line HEAVILY implies queerness. This is the kind of line you'd expect someone to say to a gay man or someone who doesn't actually want the sexual attention of a woman. This, again, in conjunction with Eddie not being able to tell the difference between a date with a woman vs. a man, is all too pointed.

This line alone in a vacuum could maybe not mean queerness, but alongside the whole rest of the episode where beat after beat after beat implies that Eddie has in fact NEVER been in a relationship with a woman 100% of his own active desire for her as a person and not just for what she can provide to his or his son's life?

This points to a very particular direction with Eddie that I'm expecting to see him fight against really hard this season. I would not be surprised if he ends up holding onto Marisol as the last shreds of perceived "normalcy" (ie. heterosexuality) are being threatened. Hopefully, he'll be able to reconcile the truth by the end of the season or going into season 8.

God this is so long and we haven't even gotten to the buddifer scene yet. This part will be a bit more condensed because I'm not really analyzing Chris as a character here or his relationship with Shannon. Maybe I will later.

I'm really loving seeing Christopher become his own person this season. But what really fascinates me here is Chris as a parallel to both Buck and Eddie. Christopher's abandonment trauma is starting to manifest in him through his choices with his love life. The same thing happened with Buck and with Eddie individually. Buck's trauma growing up informed his choices of sleeping around and seeking love from a myriad of individuals who didn't necessarily have his best interest at heart. Eddie's trauma manifested in him being so self-sacrificing that he can't ever choose a relationship for himself, but it always has to be in service of someone else or in pursuit of a perceived "Normal" standard.

In this case with Chris, his trauma is manifesting in a way more similar to Buck's, which is another reason why it's so perfect to see Buck being the one to discuss this with Chris, even though they don't necessarily delve too deep into it. There's no question Buck sees his own issues reflected in Chris. This has been true since 4x08 Breaking Point when Chris runs to Buck's house and confides in Buck his worries about people leaving him. Chris demonstrates a similar issue that Buck and Eddie both hold individually. That being the notion that "it doesn't matter what I do, or how good of a person I am, or how good of a partner I am, I am not worth staying for."

But the difference here is that Eddie and Buck, like the amazing co-parents they are, recognize the problem and take steps to address Christopher's trauma in a way that gives Chris autonomy and isn't condescending or out to make Christopher feel bad about making mistakes. The Buckley parents and the Diaz parents both failed Buck and Eddie in these ways because they blamed their children, never actually took the time to see the underlying issues let alone address them, and made them feel like everything was their fault, even going so far as to actively put their children down over and over and over again. Eddie and Buck get the beautiful chance to break the cycle here with Chris and get to be the parents that they never had.

It was so amazing to watch this episode with Buck and Eddie being supportive partners to each other and supportive parents to Christopher. It was an episode of growth just as much as it was an episode of reintroduction to a new audience. It was also extremely telling of what the future conflicts and themes will likely continue to be for Buck and Eddie for the rest of this season. I'm so excited to see what the rest of this season brings! And thank you from the bottom of my heart, ABC.

#911 abc #911 meta #buddie #buddie meta #buck meta #eddie meta #911 #911 spoilers #911 analysis #buddie analysis #damn this was long as fuck #thank you to anyone who actually sat here and read all this #I will likely do one for episode 2 once I get back from my trip #this episode was fucking amazing #and it's only the beginning of the season

[favvn]

I must create and share it, not for the note counts but for the love of it. Note counting is the joy-killer. Note counting is the little death of creativity that brings total burnout. I will create without care. I will share it online and let the notifications pass by without a sound. And when the hellsite hides my creation, I will let the disappointment pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past, I will turn my eye to the inner truth: that my love for what I created will remain.

#litany against notes #maureen thank you for your help with the wording <3 #i have not read/seen a dune in absolute eons #inspired by the perils of gifmaking #but i left it vague enough for anyone who creates anything and shares it online #engagement metrics don't matter! your feelings about what you made do <3

[itsdefinitely]

If it's okay you should totally draw Richie being possessed/Is Wiggly-

Also I love your art style so much it's so adorable!

“That’s how it works, he promises to fix all the holes, but he doesn’t.”

#id in alt text #richie lipschitz #hatchetfield #wiggog y'rath #<- implied #trypophobia #body horror #just in case #definitely art #“your artstyle is so cute” hey watch this. #jokes aside thank you for the compliment :] thank you to anyone who leaves a compliment in my inbox #i read every ask i just dont have the energy to respond to them all #this is my 666th post. how bout that

[stil-lindigo]

the machine.

a comic about being a 'creator' online.

creative notes:

#in light of recent online 'success' i feel like this may come off as ungrateful #just wanna say that all the comics i make in this series are written about experiences i felt in 2022 #which was a rough year personally and creatively #and i very luckily don't feel this way anymore #and this also isnt to shame anyone who DOES feel this way #its easy to start to feel like all you are is a vending machine of art #and like thats all you are to people #theres nothing human to you #it can be a bit of a pit #and on some level this damage is self inflicted but social media really doesnt help that feeling #this wont work for everyone but having friends around you who you can talk to about stuff that ISNT art #going outside for dinner #maybe walking around #its good for when you need that feeling to go away even a bit temporarily #youre a human being #not a mindless content creation machine #and i hope anyone who feels like this now can get to a place where they have a healthier relationship with their own work #good luck to all of you #and thank you for reading #comic art #its 10pm #stillindigo art

[dailynakaharachuuya]

6. Yokai AU

#bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs chuuya #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bungou stray dogs dazai #bsd #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #skk #soukoku #inktober 2023 #(No ones gonna understand what this means other than me since I have not mentioned anything about it) #(But thats okay haha) #(I love yokai au) #(Did you know I use to run a BSD yokai ask blog?) #(Do ask blogs still exist? Or am I too old) #(I wonder if theres any skk discords to join) #(I dont want to be the owner I can never keep a server alive) #(Okay okay enough of my rambling hahah thanks to anyone who even reads these tags)

[losnordiquitos]

did yuo know,,,,,april is autism acceptance month!!!!!!!! can we see sweden being autistic

yaaaay, um !!! i feel like big part of sve being autistic is him being nonverbal/having selective mutism so i tried to give him an aac device for the drawing... happy autism acceptance month gang...

#hws sweden #aph sweden #art log #for anyone who is more familia with this stuff feel free to comment #i'll like to if illustradedincorrectly or if there a better way to show off him using it... ! #i specifically used the ´talkpad wego' model for this ! #hope u like it ! i wanted to make it something a little more high effort... i was a little stumped in what to do at first for this request. #but i was excited to do it! i wanned to try my hands at it... hehe . i wasnt confident in how to illustrate sweden being autistic ... #first idea was to drawhim stimming ... but i felt like that was too idk... overdone? cant find a word for wat i wanna say... #Not a dig to ppl who draw charater stimming!! i think i just wanted to something that i haven't seen depicted as much #although it is harder to depict things like being nonverbal and that ... but anyways! im rambling too much!!! #to anyone who read all these ramble thank you & im sorry ... #HOPE U SEE THIS ANON... LOV 2 U...